by Earl
And suddenly Jon knew where he was. It was the strange Sargasso Sea of Space!
“Yep, that’s what it is,” the old beachcomber was explaining as Jon stared unbelievingly. “The Sargasso Sea of Space. For some reason, like maybe ether currents, all space wrecks drift here into one mass. For hundreds of years, since space travel began, those hulks and derelicts have been drifting in, like shipwrecks drift to the shore of an ocean on earth!”
Jon shook his head. “I’d heard of this, but never saw it before. It’s weird. And you’re a beachcomber here. You mean that you make a living at it?”
The old beachcomber nodded. “Yeh, that’s it. You see. I hate work. One day I took an old space tub and searched for this Sargasso Sea of Space and found it. The ship was wrecked as I landed and since then, I’ve been living on whatever drifts in. The ships are smashed, but they always have stuff aboard I can salvage—like canned food, tanks of water, clothes, books, and lots of things. But when your ship drifted in, I was startled to find you in it—alive. All the others arrive dead.”
Jon looked over his ship. “Rockets blasted away. Useless. Can’t leave in my ship.”
“Nope, son,” agreed the old man. “Guess you’ll have to live with me and make the best of it. But it isn’t so bad. I live pretty good. Come see my diggings.”
The beachcomber led the way and they hopped across the stretches of the Sargasso Sea, from one old hulk to the next. Jon peeped into some windows and shuddered. Skeletons. Many a ship had drifted here with all its crew dead.
The beachcomber proudly waved and ushered Jon into one huge spaceship hull that was intact. Inside, fresh air was pumped out of pressure tanks, salvaged from some other ship. The inner space was jammed with all kinds of furniture, dishes, books, draperies, cushions, and clothing—all gleaned by the beachcomber.
“All the comforts of home,” chortled the beachcomber. “I even have a phonograph and lots of records. And a movie projector. And not only that—look—”
He opened a huge chest and Jon gasped. It was filled with gleaming golden coins, paper money, and a heap of jewelry and rings and watches. Jon was amazed. “You mean you went from wreck to wreck and found all these things? Why, that makes you rich.”
The beachcomber shrugged. “What good does it do me? No ship will ever come to pick me up. And I can’t leave because every ship’s engine is always wrecked. I can’t even radio anybody because the radios are smashed, too. So I’m just stuck here, like a hermit.” He eyed Jon solemnly. “And so are you, son. Make up your mind to it. You’ll have to become a beachcomber, like me, to live!”
Jon went cold, but the logic was sound. It was only a moment later that they saw a glint of metal far off in space, and a new wreck slowly drifted in. One whole side of it was bashed in, as if it had been struck by a meteor. The derelict became part of The Sargasso Sea of Space.
In a daze, Jon helped the beachcomber take out supplies that were intact—tins of food and such. But Jon suddenly darted to the radio. Partly smashed though it was, Jon saw there was a chance to fix it. He labored for hours and finally got it going.
“It’s a weak signal,” he muttered. “But maybe some ship is near enough to pick it up. Lieutenant Jon Jarl calling from the Sargasso Sea of Space! S.O.S.!”
After weary hours, Jon let the beachcomber take over. The old man had his own idea of making a call . . . “The Space Beachcomber calling from the Sargasso Sea of Space! I have a fortune here! I’ll split half of it with any rescue ship that comes!”
Finally, a ship did appear, approaching slowly and cautiously. Jon and the beachcomber let out yells of joy. But Jon stopped in the middle of a yell. It was the ship of the Space Vulture!
“It’s a pirate!” Jon hissed into the beachcomber’s ear. “Your message about your fortune lured him here. But he’ll take it all and leave you stranded. I’m going to hide. Don’t tell him about me. It’s our only chance.”
And Jon sped away, hiding among the wrecks.
With his crew, the Space Vulture strode up and brutally slapped the beachcomber across the face. “So you’ve got a fortune, eh, old man?” he grated. “Turn it over to us—or else!”
Trembling, the beachcomber led the way to his “home”. Meanwhile, in hiding, Jon thought desperately and finally decided upon a plan. He crept carefully from one old hulk to the next, keeping under cover. Soon he had circled to where the parked ship of the pirates rested on a mass of debris. How many men had they left on guard inside? Jon had to make a surprise attack and hope for the best.
Jon paused, and grinned suddenly. Another idea had struck him. He darted into a big old hulk. At a long table sat a row of skeletons, people who had died instantly when their ship met its doom. It was gruesome work, but Jon hauled a skeleton away, with ragged clothing hanging to it.
Inside the pirate ship, three men were on guard. One of them yelled and pointed to a window, at the apparition of a dancing skeleton. “Lots of people died here in the Sargasso Sea of Space! They’ve come to haunt us! We gotta call the boss and get away fast!”
As they stumbled out the hatchway in panic, they were met by the vengeful figure of Jon Jarl and his ray gun. One pirate tried to draw, only to earn himself a burned hand. Jon then roped them inside, and awaited the return of Space Vulture and the others.
When the others came toward their ship, lugging the stolen chest of valuables, the grim snout of a ray cannon swung at them and Jon’s voice came from within, via helmet-radio. “One false move and this ray cannon goes off! Drop your guns and surrender!”
The pirates had no choice. Jon soon had them safely disarmed, and under his watchful eye and gun, ready to fly the ship away. But at the moment of departure, the beachcomber hung back.
“Aren’t you coming along?” Jon asked in surprise.
The old man shook his head. “No, son! I guess I like this beachcombing. Every time a new wreck drifts in, it’s always like an adventure to see what I can salvage. I’m not doing anybody any harm. So I’ll stay. As for that chest of valuables, give it away to the poor. Goodbye!”
Jon looked back, as the Sargasso Sea of Space slowly faded away, with the tiny figure of the beachcomber standing and surveying the mass of wreckage, like a king surveying his domain.
INTERPLANETARY COLONY
Lieutenant Jon Jarl had been to all the many worlds of the Solar System, performing his duty as a Space Patrolman, hunting down crime. Now he strode past a row of circular Martian houses. Tall Martians with spindly legs and enormous chests passed him. An eating place advertised Martian foods. A canal wound its way nearby and Martian gondolas floated over the cool waters.
Yet Jon Jarl was not on Mars!
Jon Jarl continued and the scene changed. Now it was swampy and dank, and the strange Venusian floating huts were all over. The Venus Frog People, with seal-like bodies and webbed feet and hands, splashed happily through the mud and pools. Their food consisted of various seaweeds and finny creatures, eaten raw.
Yet Jon Jarl was not on Venus either!
He had strolled through a typical Martian village, and an exact replica of a Venus Swamp Town, yet Jon Jarl was on earth!
This was the famous Interplanetary Colony of Earth. It was a huge area in central North America which had been turned over completely to the peoples of other worlds who wished to live on Earth. The various other peoples had been allowed complete freedom in the past century to live as they wished without interference. They had all quite naturally built their own kind of homes and landscape’s, much like on their native worlds. They ate their own kind of food and used their own kind of money.
Jon went on and came to the Jupiter Colony. The squat, powerful Jovians, looking like overgrown gnomes, waddled past, grunting in their guttural native tongue. They had enormous strength, due to their world’s great gravity, and one Jovian was carrying with ease a load of stone that ten Earthmen could not have lifted.
Further on were the strange two-headed people of Uranus. Both faces smiled a
greeting to Jon, and two mouths said hello in friendliness. As the Uranian moved on, his two heads carried on an amiable conversation.
But oddest of all, perhaps, were the Ganymedian Amoeba People. They were huge round blobs of almost shapeless protoplasm. They could roll along like a ball, or form pseudolegs and walk, as they pleased. One of them came by with six pseudo-legs, and waved five protoplasmic arms at Jon, and smiled with a pseudo-face atop it all.
Jon shook his head a bit wryly, and went on. All this was on Earth itself! All kinds of other non-human but intelligent creatures lived here in the Interplanetary Colony. Creatures from Mercury—Saturn—Neptune—Titan—Callisto—and all the other planets and satellites of the sun. And strangely enough, they all lived in perfect harmony. Live and let live was the motto of the place.
But Jon was not just an idle sightseer here. He was on duty. Everywhere, he asked the same question. “Have you seen an Earthman here? A notorious interplanetary jewel-thief, known as ‘Stony’ Slade? I trailed him all the way from Saturn to Earth. And the clues I’ve been able to pick up have led me here to the Interplanetary Colony.”
But always the answer was the same: “No Earthman has been seen here at all.”
Jon was baffled. His clues must be wrong. Besides, it would be almost stupid for Stony Slade to try to hide here. He would stick out like a sore thumb, among all these non-human people. Jon sighed and decided to give up. He turned back through the Callisto Colony on his way to his parked rocketship.
Suddenly, he stopped with an exclamation. There was an outdoor Callistoan shop, displaying odd wares, and among them a group of jewels, sparkling brightly. There was nothing wrong in selling such jewels—Callisto was famous for them—except that these jewels Jon recognized. They were part of the stolen loot of Stony Slade, from his last haul in space.
Then the cunning jewel-thief must be here in the Interplanetary Colony after all!
Jon strode up to the proprietor. The Callistoan had enormous saucer-eyes, a pointed nose, and a wide mouth with heavy lips. Two long feathery antenna, like those of a butterfly, extended from his forehead. The rest of his body was almost human-like, except for a short tail.
“Those jewels!” Jon snapped, pointing to them. “Where is the Earthman who sold them to you?”
The Callistoan looked puzzled. When he answered, his lips did not move. Instead, his antenna vibrated rapidly and produced hissing sound which formed words. The Callistoans had no vocal chords. Only by vibration of their antenna could they communicate with others.
“It was not an Earthman who sold me the jewels,” the hissing vibrations said. “It was just another Callistoan, like me!”
Jon was thunderstruck. What was the answer? How could part of Stony Slade’s loot show up here, and yet nobody see the Earthman himself? Was the other Callistoan a partner of his in the illicit jewel trade? How was it all worked? What cunning scheme had Stony Slade worked out here in the Interplanetary Colony? How could he hide so cleverly that no one ever saw him?
Jon turned away, baffled. But suddenly, he snapped his fingers and straightened up. Now he knew what to do. Going around openly as a Space Patrolman, in uniform, was no good. He was too conspicuous, too easily seen and avoided. Jon hastened back to his ship and rummaged in the storage chest and finally pulled out a kit labeled Interplanetary Disguises.
An hour later, it was a Callistoan, seemingly, who stepped from the ship. By means of plastics, greasepaint, and other materials, Jon had altered himself into a Callistoan. Even two artificial feathery antenna extended from his forehead. And he was robed in white swatchings, like a native of Callisto.
Returning to the Callisto quarter, John took up a position outside the shop he had visited before. He pretended to be an idling Callistoan. From here he could watch all going in and out. Sooner or later more stolen jewels would be brought, to be sold cheaply. Not daring to dispose of the jewels elsewhere on Earth, Stony Slade had obviously begun operations in the Interplanetary Colony to get rid of them. He had some Callistoan accomplice, and Jon could follow him to the hiding place of Slade.
Jon had a weary wait. It was not till the next day that a native entered the shop and opened a wrapped bundle. Jon saw the sudden sparkle of jewels. After some wrangling with the proprietor, money changed hands, and the Callistoan came out.
Jon shadowed him down the street. His quarry turned several corners, and began glancing back, seeing he was followed. Jon tried to be careful, but around the next corner the native was waiting, angrily. “Why are you following me?” came the hissing sound, as his antenna vibrated.
Jon grabbed his arm. It was no use making any excuses. Time for action now. “Those stolen jewels!” he barked in return. “You got them from Stony Slade. Lead me to him, or you’ll be in trouble with the Space Patrol!”
The Callistoan became frightened. “I didn’t know they were stolen jewels! They arrived by mail, in a package with a note saying to sell them and donate the money to charity. That is all I know!”
Jon groaned. It was getting crazier all the time. There was little chance of tracing Stony Slade, if he mailed away the jewels, evidently deciding they were too dangerous to keep. The Callistoan was now turning away, and Jon could not arrest him since he was an innocent dupe.
But suddenly, with a yell, Jon Jarl sped after him and threw him down heavily. Then he pulled at the face and away came a disguise! Soon there was revealed an Earthman’s hard face!
Stony Slade, too, had been disguised as a Callistoan all the time!
“Pretty clever, Stony Slade,” Jon snapped. “As a seemingly innocent Callistoan, you could dispose of the jewels, and be safe from detection. But jail for you now.”
Jon had also removed his disguise, and the jewel thief was dismayed at his capture. “But how did you suspect me? My disguise was perfect!”
Jon grinned. “A Callistoan speaks by means of vibrating his antenna—remember? But you were moving your lips! You should have taken up ventriloquism to pass for a true Callistoan!”
THE TIME TRIP
“Help! I’m in trouble! Hurry!”
Those exciting words rang out of the radio of Lieutenant Jon Jarl of the Space Patrol, as his ship cruised between the Earth and the Moon. Jon quickly used his radio directional finder and traced the call to a remote spot in Greenland. Even in the year 2261 A.D., Greenland was still mainly a deserted frozen place. Who was trapped there? Jon could pick up no more signals, and he flashed his ship down toward Greenland.
Jon spotted a cabin nestled among the eternal glaciers. Landing his rocketship, he ran in. His first glance showed him that the interior of the cabin was outfitted as a laboratory. Was some scientist in trouble? Where was he?
Jon did not see the scientist stationed silently behind the door, holding a small club. Without a word, the man neatly clipped Jon on the head, knocking him cold.
When Jon’s senses swam back, he found himself strapped in a strange device that looked like an electric chair. Then he saw the little scientist staring at him with a fanatic leer. Suddenly it was all clear to Jon.
“I walked into a trap!” Jon groaned bitterly. “You’re a scientific criminal, and an enemy of the Space Patrol, I suppose. And I fell for your fake S.O.S.! Well, get it over with—finish me off with this electric chair.”
The scientist raised a hand in protest. “Please,” he said, “you wrong me. I’m not a criminal and I’m not going to kill you. Far from it. Instead, I’m going to send you into the future!”
Jon turned pale. If anything, it was worse being in the hands of a madman than a criminal!
“No, I’m not insane either,” said the scientist quickly. “Listen to my story. I’m Professor McLane. As you know, I was hounded and criticized when I said I knew a way to travel through time. I then built this isolated cabin in Greenland, and carried on my experiments. And I’ve succeeded! In that chair, I just sent a dog into the future, and brought him back. But a dog can’t tell what he saw. My next problem was to get some wi
lling human subject to visit the future—but, of course, I knew nobody would agree.”
“So you cooked up that fake distress call to lure me here,” Jon said angrily. “I’m to be your human guinea pig, is that it?”
The professor nodded firmly. “But please don’t look up on me as a heartless fiend. I promise you that your life is not in danger at all. I’ll only leave you in the future for one day, then bring you back. It’s all for the cause of science. You will have the great thrill of seeing the future!”
“And why don’t you take the trip yourself?” Jon asked cynically.
“I can’t,” returned McLane. “Only I know how to handle these complicated controls. But to waste no further time, off you go to the future—to the year 10,000 A.D.!”
The scientist manipulated dials on a complicated switchboard. A violet glow radiated eerily around Jon. He felt his senses slowly fading. But he could still hear the last words of the scientist.
“You will visit an amazing and wonderful future world, Jon Jarl! By 10,000 A.D., civilization will have reached a great peak. You’ll find tremendous cities and miraculous scientific wonders. You’ll probably feel like a savage from the Stone Age, in their mighty civilization . . .”
That was all Jon heard. There was a sudden snap, and then Jon found himself blinking in bright sunlight. He was out in an open field. Was this the future? Had Jon really been hurled through space and time to the Earth of 10,000 A.D.?
Jon began walking. He seemed to have landed in deserted prairie land. He must find a city and see the super-civilization of this time. Jon passed some trees and felt a chill down his spine, as if hidden eyes watched him. Suddenly, a huge beast of prey sprang out at him. It was a clawing lion!
Trained to a life of trigger-quick action, Jon rolled aside and evaded the razor-sharp claws. He just had time to whip out his raygun and shoot. Panting, he stared at the dead beast. Wild lions roaming around. What kind of a world was 10,000 A.D.?
