by Earl
Jan suddenly swung his ship around. Passing low over one asteroid, he had seen human figures in spacesuits. And it looked as though they were fighting.
Jon landed his ship and leaped out in his spacesuit almost at the same instant. He dashed forward, pulling his ray gun. For he saw three hard-looking men attacking a lone Space Patrolman, one of Jon’s fellow lawmen! Ray gun shots hissed between them.
Jon dashed to the side of the Patrolman, ready with his gun. The Patrolman seemed astonished rather than relieved.
“Three against one, eh?” Jon yelled through his visor phone. “Now it’s three against two! I’ll pick off the one at the left!” Jon aimed for one of the three desperadoes lunging at them.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” groaned the Patrolman. “Stop, you fool!” And to Jon’s surprise, he knocked his gun away before he could fire.
“Are you crazy?” Jon snapped. And then, gunless, he leaped desperately at one of the three attackers and slammed him to the ground. Jon whirled at the other two, but then he stopped in utter bewilderment, for they flung down their guns as if in disgust.
“Who let this maniac in?” one of them growled. “He sure ruined this scene!”
“Scene?” gasped Jon.
“Cut!” a voice sounded wearily from the side.
Jon turned, and he noticed the wheeled camera poking around a big rock. And a short excited man with wild hair came running up, screaming. “Idiot! Nincompoop!” he screeched. “You ruined this take!”
Jon gulped. “Oh, you’re only making movies,” he said weakly, his face red. He noticed the identification on the little man’s spacesuit—Lloyd DePaugh, Director, Interplanetary Films, Inc.
“I’m sorry,” Jon apologized. “But you see, I thought this was the real thing, space criminals attacking and all that, so I naturally—” Suddenly, Jon burst out laughing at himself. “Of all the fool things! I come busting into your scene like the hero in the knick of time, and it’s all just actors playing their parts!”
“Very funny!” growled DePaugh, turning away. Then he bawled out orders and the actors did the scene over. Jon watched in curiosity. So this was the movie-making of 2261 A.D.! He had never run across it before.
Jon turned, and off in space he could now see the gigantic ship with the name on its side—GIGANTICOLLOSSAL MOVIE STUDIOS. Since space travel, Hollywood had set up a dozen studios on other worlds, and sent its giant ships roaming everywhere for space scenes. This ship was “on location” among the asteroids, filming some thrilling interplanetary epic. Within the huge ship were all the actors and extras and propmen and equipment needed for turning out movies on the spot.
But Jon had his duty to follow and he left in his own ship, cruising deeper into the asteroid belt. When he reached Sector Z-14, on the maps, he stopped and swung in slow circles for long hours. There were rumors that Meteor Monk lurked in hiding in this vicinity. But Jon found no sign of him and finally left.
Suddenly he grabbed up his space binoculars. Something far more important was happening. A small asteroid was streaking at right angles out of its orbit. It happened at times in the gravitation mix-up of the crowded asteroids. It was now a runaway asteroid! If it continued, it would eventually reach the space lanes and menace shipping. It had to be stopped.
Jon frowned. Even though it was a small body—hardly more than a big round rock—it would require a powerful space tug to turn it. Jon’s small ship couldn’t do it. But then Jon grinned and worked his controls. By playing a sort of game of space billiards, he could destroy the runaway asteroid.
Jon calculated carefully and then eased his ship up to an asteroid which was only of meteor size. This he could push with blasting rockets, and shove it against a larger body. They caromed apart and the larger one then struck one still larger. The latter ricocheted at an angle and rumbled directly in the path of the runaway asteroid.
There was a soundless crash in airless space, and the two bodies burst to bits, like worlds colliding. It didn’t matter if an asteroid or two was destroyed out of the many thousands.
Jon was just congratulating himself on stopping the runaway asteroid when a voice and face cut into his automatic televisor. Jon gulped. It was the angry face and still angrier voice of Lloyd DePaugh, movie director!
“You again?” DePaugh screeched. “Do you realize you just messed up another take for us? We purposely made that runaway asteroid with a space tug. It was supposed to represent an enemy world attacking us from outer space—and you go and destroy it!”
“Omigosh!” Jon groaned. “I did it again!” He saw the immense bulk of the Hollywood ship, hidden before by an asteroid. They had cruised here also, to continue their movie-taking!
“Will you please go away!” DePaugh was screaming. “I’ll never get my movie done with you around. I’ll go mad. Go far away! Go to Pluto. Go to the next star! And don’t . . .”
Jon cut off the rest of the tirade without any attempt to answer or apologize. He had put his foot in it again. Red-faced, Jon shot away, but then he noticed the uneven sound of his rockets. Something was wrong with the motor. It would be dangerous to go on. He would have to land on some asteroid and tune it up.
Jon quietly sneaked to a nearby asteroid, hoping DePaugh wouldn’t be using it. But after landing, Jon had to wait for the rocket tubes to cool down. He took a short walk in his spacesuit among the jumbled rocks of the asteroid.
Suddenly he stopped as if shot. Around a boulder, he came upon a scene of a space pirate herding a man and girl along at gun point.
Another movie scene! Jon crouched down, letting out his breath in relief. He had almost walked smack into it, ruining another scene! And the effect on DePaugh would have been disastrous!
Jon couldn’t see the director or the camera, but then the boulder cut off his view. Jon just watched the scene, not daring to move for fear of cutting into a camera field. The actors were playing their parts magnificently. Jon was close enough to see the frightened face of the actress, and the dismayed face of the man.
Jon could even hear the snarling voice of the ‘villain.’ “Snap it up, you two! I’m hiding you here and holding you for ransom!”
Jon smiled. Quite a melodrama!
Suddenly the “space pirate” swung about, spying Jon’s bright uniform beside the boulder. “A space cop, eh?” he growled, and began firing.
“No, no!” Jon hissed at him. “You’ve got me wrong. I’m not an actor. I’m not in this scene. Just ignore me or DePaugh will have a fit!”
But the actor didn’t seem to hear and kept firing at Jon.
“Now what do I do?” Jon groaned. “I wish that guy would stop, even though those are blank shots!”
Jon choked. Blank shots? One ray shot clipped past his ear—burningly and chipped off rock!
In one blinding flash, Jon knew the truth. This was the real thing! That pirate, instead of being an actor, was Meteor Monk! He had kidnapped the two key actors for ransom, knowing rich Interplanetary Films would pay anything to get them back.
Jon became a human meteor now. He ducked a shot, then leaped straight up 30 feet in the light gravity. At the same time, he drew his ray gun and shot down at Meteor Monk from mid-air, knocking the gun out of the outlaw’s bewildered hand. And when Jon landed from his jump, he came straight down on the criminal’s head, crashing him flat.
Soon, a ship landed and DePaugh came running. “Sensational! Colossal!” he gasped. “One of my cameras got a telephoto record of the whole thing! Not only did you save my actors, but you put on a terrific one-man show. I’ll rewrite the script and put you in. How about it, Lieutenant Jarl? Hey, where are you going?”
Jon didn’t stop in his stride, dragging his prisoner away.
“To Pluto,” he said with a grin. “Include me out!”
MAN FROM THE PAST
The rocketship of Lieutenant Jon Jarl of the Space Patrol cruised past the moon on routine duty. Within, Jon Jarl had long hours to himself and was reading a history of the 20th centur
y, over 300 years before. Jon noticed that the record was not complete. Certain things were unknown about the 20th century.
For instance, it was not known when the first trip into space had been made. As early as 1950 a rocketship had aimed for the moon, but had never come back. Also several more ships had been sent off, and never returned. Had any of them reached the moon? Nobody knew. The records were blank. All they could say was that in 1961, a ship had finally returned from space, for the first time.
Jon glanced at his meters to see if all was right with the engine. Suddenly he looked out the port window. Something was floating in space ahead. It was a small rocketship, but dead and silent. A derelict of space.
Jon cut his rockets and circled. As he drew close, he saw that the small ship was of a very strange design. And it looked old somehow, as if it had floated there in space a long time. Excited, Jon stopped his ship and jumped across in his spacesuit. He found the hatchway door hanging open. No air was inside the ship. The pilot must have suffocated.
Within the cramped cabin, Jon found a single body, that of a young man, slumped before his controls. When the door flung open, he must have died within a few minutes. The body was perfectly preserved, because in space there are no germs, no oxygen or moisture to decompose bodies.
In fact, as Jon looked closely, the still form seemed almost alive. “Ridiculous!” Jon chided himself. “He certainly couldn’t be alive, after years and years—”
Suddenly, Jon picked up the body, which was stiff and icy cold, and brought it to his own ship. “This is absolutely crazy!” Jon muttered. “But I’ll try it.”
He turned up the heat in his ship and then applied an oxygen mask to the face of the corpse. He kept it up for an hour, waiting for some sign of life. Finally he threw down the oxygen mask in disgust and turned away.
“Dead!” he said. “Dead as a doornail, and I was a fool to try to revive him.”
“Uh—? Wh-what was that you—uh—said?”
“I said he’s dead, and I was a fool to—”
Jon broke off, gasping. Who had spoken? Whirling, Jon saw the young man sitting up weakly—breathing, alive, and very bewildered.
“What happened?” the young man said in strange accents. “The last I remember was when a meteor clipped my ship, and the door flung open. The air rushed out! I felt myself gasping and choking—and I knew I was dying. But I didn’t die, did I?”
“Suspended animation!” Jon said in awe. “The sudden outrush of air, and then the cold of space creeping in, didn’t kill you. It only threw you into a suspended state. But your ship is strange and old looking. And your accent is old-time. What year are you from?”
“1950,” returned the young man. “I’m Chuck Halloran, of 1950.”
“1950?” choked Jon Jarl, thunderstruck. “Good heavens! You were floating in your ship, then, for 311 years!”
But if Jon’s astonishment was great, the reaction of Chuck Halloran was violent. He leaped up with a strangled cry. “You’re crazy! 311 years. Why, that would make this 2261 A.D.! Do you mean to tell me this is the 23rd century? I don’t believe it! I won’t believe it! It’s fantastic.”
Quietly, Jon handed him the book he had been reading. There on the first page it plainly said—Printed in 2261.
Chuck Halloran sat down with staring eyes. “I’m 300 years in the future! Three centuries beyond my time! I had just made the first rocket trip to the moon, but on my return, the meteor struck.”
“Then,” Jon said amazed, “you’re the answer to one of the biggest mysteries in our history records. You were the first man to make a trip to the moon! Wow! Wait’ll I bring you back to Earth and tell them the news!”
It was a sensational event. Newspapers, telecasts, and newsreels blazoned the remarkable story of the “living fossil” from ancient 1950 to all worlds!
As for Chuck Halloran, the world of 2261 was to him a strange and miraculous wonderland. Jon Jarl, in honor of finding him, was assigned by Headquarters to conduct Chuck around, and show him the marvels of their time.
Jon took him to the Thought Movies, where the drama was impressed directly on the mind, in vivid mental images. They took in a robot football game, where two teams of mighty metal men smashed at each like giants. Jon took him around the world in a speedy strato-jet. Then a jaunt around the planets to see the canals of Mars, the rings of Saturn, and the boiling Red Spot of Jupiter.
At first, Chuck took it all in eagerly, fascinated. But gradually, Jon noticed him getting quieter and haunted looking.
“What’s the matter?” Jon asked one day. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Chuck.”
“I’m not,” Chuck muttered. He waved around, his face sad. “This is all so strange to me, you see. It’s not my time at all. I miss my age, “slow” and “backward” though it may have been. Life in 2261 is so bewildering, so vast. I feel like a jungle savage suddenly transported to a big city. I feel lost!”
Jon nodded understandingly. A civilization so far beyond his own was no easy thing to adjust to.
“I wish,” Chuck suddenly blurted out. “I wish you had never found me and revived me, Jon!”
Only then did Jon realize how crushed Chuck was in spirit. He was overwhelmed, snowed under, floundering. And worst of all, he was homesick! Homesick for a world to which he could never return, a world lost back in 300 years of unbridgeable time!
“What you need is a job,” Jon said. “Something to keep you busy. Besides, you have to earn a living for yourself. You have a long life ahead of you.”
But that was the worst thing, as it proved. Chuck’s first job was as a mechanic. He quit in a week, unable to understand or master the intricate machines of 2261. Jon then placed him as a pilot, but Chuck, unable to handle the controls, nearly crashed a ship.
“It’s hopeless!” Chuck groaned to Jon. “I can’t hold a job in 2261. It’s all over my head. I’m as helpless as a baby here. Everybody looks at me pityingly, as if I were a freak, or a throwback to the apeman. I can’t stand it, Jon!
And at that moment, staring at the wretched young man in pity, Jon almost wished, too, that he had never found him. He would go down in history with double fame, as the first I man to fly into space, and the only man to live 300 years! But he couldn’t hold a job in 2261, and, facing a perplexing new world so different from his own, he would likely crack-up mentally.
Chuck led him to the museum where his “flying coffin” spaceship was preserved. He stared broodingly. “If only it could take me back to 1950,” he murmured with wild eyes.
Jon started. Chuck must be snapped out of it, somehow. Jon led him firmly to his rooms and told him to wait. Jon had an idea. But when he returned that night, Chuck was gone. A hunch told Jon where to go, and at the museum, there was a gaping hole in the roof. Wild-eyed, berserk, Chuck had driven away into space in his original ship.
Jon’s own speedy ship flashed after him. It was near the moon that Jon saw the ancient vessel take a death plunge, down to the rocky, cratered surface. Chuck was seeking the only “escape” he could think of! Could Jon save him?
It seemed an eternity had passed when Chuck Halloran’s senses slowly swam back. He sat up, gasping. He was back in 1950! There before him was a typical street of his time, with its shiny Buicks and Chevvies! There were the usual subway entrances, and hot dog stands, and store windows with 1950 style clothing in them. Miracle of miracles, he had somehow gone back in time to his own age!
But there was one jarring note—nothing was moving. It was still, static. Figures of people ahead were just motionless dummies.
“It’s just a museum,” came Jon’s quiet voice behind him. “But a giant museum, with replicas of many 1950 streets and farms and villages. I saved you up at the moon and brought you back, Chuck. Now the big question is, how would you like the job of conducting guided tours through here, explaining to my people what your times were like?”
Chuck didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Eyes shining, he was already sitti
ng at the wheel of a 1950 car, ready to cruise through the miles of the gigantic museum of the 20th century.
Chuck leaned out the window as he drove past a taxi whose dummy driver sat within woodenly. “Aw, shaddap, ya big ape! I got the right of way!”
Then he grinned at Jon, returning. “I’ll even give your people the authentic atmosphere of 1950—all its slang, and brawls, and noise! Good old 1950!”
Jon smiled. All was well. The lost soul from 1950 had found his place in 2261.
THE MAN WITHOUT A WORLD
Lieutenant Jon Jarl of the Space Patrol was cruising near Saturn when he picked up a radio call from space. “Attention. Patrol ship! My engine disabled! Come quickly!”
Jon read the direction dial and veered his ship. Soon he came upon a huge space-yacht drifting aimlessly. Evidently the ship belonged to some rich man. Locking his controls, Jon donned a spacesuit and jumped across to the other ship, where the side lock opened invitingly. Jon stepped inside the luxurious ship. There were fittings of shiny gold all over. The walls were silver plated. Jewels studded the resplendent furniture. The owner evidently was a fabulously wealthy tycoon.
A robot servant bowed to Jon and opened a door. Jon gasped as he saw the white-haired man who entered, extending his hand. Jon recoiled, not touching his hand. “Why, you’re Joaquin Van Darkel!” Jon said, and his voice held infinite repugnance. “The Man Without A World!”
Van Darkel smiled bitterly. “Yes, I’m the Man Without a World—shunned, scorned, reviled by all! My engine isn’t disabled at all. It was just a trick to get you here.” Suddenly, his voice and face were filled with appeal. “I never have anyone to talk to, only my robot servants. Please stay and talk to me. Just for a few minutes. Please, Lieutenant . . .?”
But Jon was already moving for the door, shaking his head. “Sorry, Van Darkel,” Jon snapped. “You’re the most despised man in the universe, and rightly so. No self-respecting man wants to stay in your presence. I’m going.”
