by Don Wilcox
“They are not mine, sorry to say. But they are as interesting as a herd of elephants. I have decided, Kirk, that if I get ready to take a vacation I will buy a cot and camp right here where I can look up at them.”
“Strange ambition,” Kirk commented, “but I suppose you are turning biologist. I know of one perfessor who gave his life to the study of snails.”
“They are all of fifty yards long,” said Allison, “from the point of their longest arm to their shortest.”
“I supposed you crawled up there and measured them.”
“I measured the shortest,” said Allison. “They run pretty even, don’t they? But you would be surprised. They have their individual differences. Now, you take those three over in the far corner. They are not only smarter, but they are active. Maybe some of these others are sick.”
Kirk studied Allison’s expression curiously. The more Allison talked, the more he seemed to be in earnest. Kirk gave up trying to identify the expressions of intelligence which his friend attributed to these animals. But Kirk saw more than he had seen in the first place.
Most of the beasts continued with their gentle motions, and if one watched them closely, it did seem that they were particular which of their several arms they chose to move. So soft was their skin that these fan motions were made in complete silence.
“Do you see those men across the way?” Allison asked. “They are the new caretakers. They used to work for Ubruff’s. We had a little tussle with one of them at the Haycox Institute.”
“Champ,” said Kirk. “I remember him. And that taller fellow looks like Bill Kite. Do the boys know you?”
“Oh, we are quite buddies. They have what they want, and they don’t mind letting me sit around like a schoolboy at a circus.”
The manager of the Ohio Zoo came to the pen a few minutes later, and he and the group of caretakers fell into a noisy argument.
“We have got to get rid of them,” the manager asserted. “It costs too much to feed them.”
There was considerable quarreling, and it continued until Allison and Kirk strolled over and called the manager aside.
“How much?” Allison asked, “would it take to keep feeding these monsters for another month?”
“Too much. The Zoo Board says we have to get rid of them.”
“If I could collect a five thousand dollar donation,” suggested Allison, “would you go on with them?”
“These are not times to be throwing money into dumb beasts. We can’t even collect taxes. When we got them in here, we thought we could bring the crowd back. But everyone’s too busy building. We’re losing money.”
Allison repeated, “Would five thousand dollars change your mind?”
“Well, at the rate they eat it won’t take them long to run through it, but if you know where we can get five thousand dollars—”
To Kirk’s bewilderment, Allison wrote a check for the entire sum.
“There. Treat them right. Don’t let them go hungry.”
CHAPTER XXII
The Earth on a Tripod
Somewhere on the outer limits of the universe the Earth came to a gradual stop.
This was a strange experience indeed for the denizens of this solar planet. No one could get used to the idea of days without a succession of light and darkness. But now there was a soft white light on all sides of the planet. The shell which had once given a yellowish cast to the sunlight was still hovering round the Earth, but the swift race through space had transformed it into something clearer. People could gaze through it as if it were a thin pane of purest glass—an endless window curving three thousand miles above the Earth’s surface.
Astronomers thought that their telescopes could discern signs of their own lost universe. But all this new outlook was so vague that the Earth had lost its sense of direction.
The new objects which loomed up were huge shadows like heads as large as little moons. Sometimes these shadows came quite close to the outer shell, and it could be seen that they were not only heads but also bodies. In size they compared with the largest continents. Under certain light these bodies had a greenish cast. If the Earth had been back in its own orbit, these unnatural appearances would have been unnerving. But mankind had already gone through the crisis of facing ultimate destruction, and had been left stunned, fatigued. Like one who has gone through a thousand deaths and still finds himself alive. Mankind was slowly rallying.
“We’re seeing them at least,” was about all the astronomers could say. “We knew there were few tracks along our trail through the universe. Here then are the creatures they have clambered through the planets, dragging us away.”
The astronomers were baffled by the base upon which the Earth had come to rest. They could not determine whether it was a dead star or some new type of heavenly body. Through their telescopes it appeared to be flat rather than round—a floor that stretched endlessly until its smooth surface was lost in the purple haze of distance.
Three great towers had been built upon this floor to form a sort of tripod. Upon these three towers the Earth’s surrounding shell had been placed.
Oddly enough, the gravitational forces were too slight to draw the Earth down to the bottom of the shell. Instead, it remained centered. Its own gravity had undergone very little change. The pull of the moon and the sun upon the tides was missing. The effect of such bodies upon the weight of all things on the Earth had been lost.
The cushioning effect of the air had played its part in more ways than one. The friction had slowed the Earth down. After those terrible times when the Earth and its shell made contact, the speed of rotation had gradually diminished.
Now the Earth hovered like something lifeless within its glass prison. Its people would look out upon the moving shadows and call them “green moons.” Already man was nerving himself to explore the unknown.
Among the green moons and green Milky Ways—the heads and bodies of those great creatures outside the shell—something else was distinguished. At first it was called “the black moon.” Telescopes revealed that it was an instrument whose cannon-like projection was pointing at the face of the Earth.
The green creatures could be seen manipulating this dark instrument so that its shadowy barrel aimed first at one continent and then at another.
Conventions of space men and astronomers met to consider what might be done. It was taken for granted that a weapon of some sort was being made ready to effect the Earth’s complete disintegration. This black moon was nothing more nor less than a gigantic cannon. One blast from it would blow the planet into smithereens.
Pictures of the instrument were assembled from a series of gigantic photographs. Every newspaper carried a series of these, and each day other details became more refined. At last earth men knew the terrifying truth, that the great green two-legged monsters were settling themselves down into the seats on either side of the leviathan cannon. They were operating wheels and levers which turned the instrument and adjusted its length. The great barrel would center upon a single point for a time and follow it with the Earth’s gentle turning.
When the people of this chosen region were told that they were directly in line with the aim of the instrument, they were losing no time moving themselves from this spot. It was a natural thing to do, though the astronomers chided them for their trouble.
If an explosion was destined to come from that cannon, the whole Earth would be gone at once.
There were great speculations on the possibility of a mass migration.
“We’re in a trap,” the news commentators would howl. “Death is in store. We don’t know what lies beyond this shell. But there must be atmosphere, and that is enough. Why don’t we have our expert space men cut tunnels through this shell and take us out of here?”
“We can’t agree with those calamity howlers,” the astronomers would retort, “who assure us that there is atmosphere outside our shell. There are living creatures, to be sure, but we are in another universe now. We do not know
whether these living creatures require air to breathe, as we do, or whether they run on some other kind of fuel. However, if the expert space men are willing to make an expedition to investigate the conditions that lie beyond, this should be done at once.”
The space men answered this challenge. “We are probably too late. All the space ships in the world could not handle one percent of the Earth’s population for an immediate mass migration. For years we have argued for huge space fleets, but our argument has been ignored. Whether there is any escape for us, it will soon be known. We can break through the shell. The Battering Rams equipped with augers are equal to the task. And everyone knows we can count on Lester Allison to lead the way.”
Something in this proposal caught the imagination of the people. No longer were they paralyzed with fear. This panic in contrast to former ones was a call for action.
“Build more ships! Cut tunnels through the shell! Break away from this civilization! Start afresh!”
Perhaps it was more a mania of unrest than a sane, calculated plan of action. The conservative engineers were sure that the proposal was utterly impossible.
Kirk Riley was one of the first to go to work. He knew the Battering Rams by now, and he had helped Allison with one drilling job. While other Battering Rams were being prepared with the automatic boring mechanisms, Kirk selected a crew of his own and opened his power drive upon the crystal wall.
Meanwhile, June Allison and Diana Scott went to the Ohio Zoo to appeal to Lester. Their meeting was disheartening. Allison did not want to talk. He was taking a vacation, he said.
They came away resolved to leave him alone until he had had a rest. It was true he had been under great pressure in recent weeks.
But the space men were sending out such urgent calls for him that June decided to make another effort. She and Diana Scott enlisted Professor Haycox in the cause, and the three of them went back to Ohio.
Haycox was not much help. In the presence of these huge specimens, flapping silently against the top of a pen, he was something of a goggle-eyed schoolboy himself.
“I think it was a mistake,” June whispered, “for us to bring him along. Now we can’t get a word out of either of them.”
“I was that way the first time I saw an elephant,” said Diana, “but those boys act a little goofy to me. ’Scuse me, June, I didn’t mean to insult your husband.”
“That’s all right. I know Lester’s not goofy.” But June’s voice was troubled.
Then, to make matters worse, the manager of the zoo sauntered past and made a comment.
“Were you noticing that tall, good-looking fellow sitting over there on the bench? Well, he sits there all day long, just watching. It’s too bad, isn’t it? But don’t be afraid of him. He’s harmless.”
CHAPTER XXIII
Bright Lights for Starfish
Kirk was a hero now. He had succeeded in cutting a straight tunnel through the shell. He had gone out and come back and lived to tell the story. He had even taken the supreme risk of drawing breath while outside the shell. Yes, there was oxygen to be breathed.
The air had been so thick, in fact, that he had not chanced a long flight outside the shell. The friction was as great as at a takeoff from sea level. But he had gone far enough to get a clear view of the amazing green creatures. He had been much too small for them to see. He had flown around the head of one and had circled back between the creature’s horns.
His most startling news from this expedition was that he had seen no signs of any ammunition in the vicinity of the weapon. He believed that it was not a mammoth gun, but a telescope.
In the next few days other space travelers ventured out to corroborate these findings. They came back with tales of an endless host of the great green creatures, who were said to be parading along the flat green plain.
These discoveries were revolutionary. The whole program of space ship building was temporarily shelved. If no gun was going to blow up the Earth, the migration would be folly.
The new plan was to cut more tunnels through the crystal wall and build within them colossal telescopes.
This plan received immediate action from the heads of the various scientific groups. Since the job would require much co-operation between space men and other engineers, they decided that Lester Allison should be called in to direct the project.
Kirk conferred with June and Diana on this matter. He could not understand their reluctance to ask Lester to accept this responsibility.
“But he’s the only man for the job,” Kirk insisted. “Everyone says so. I will go to him. He will be rested up by this time.”
Kirk found Allison perched high in the side of a concrete cliff which had once been the domicile of the monkeys. It was raining, and Allison called down to Kirk.
“Come on up. It’s dry up here.”
Kirk circled the stony path and presently found himself under the ledge of concrete. He removed his raincoat and settled down on the burlap rugs.
“Well, Les, this is a surprise. So you’ve turned monkey. Nice little cave you’ve got here. Kind of lonely, isn’t it?”
Allison laughed softly. “A little, but I don’t notice that as long as I am busy.”
Kirk scrutinized the surroundings. He saw nothing that had the remotest connection with space ships or flight plans. A dim electric light burned overhead, and wires were strung around. There were papers with sketches of the flying starfish, some of the arms turned in curious positions. These, and the wires, and a set of electric switches, were the extent of Allison’s scientific equipment.
“You don’t have much to entertain yourself with,” Kirk observed.
“I still have the flying starfish. There’s an excellent view from here. Not so good just now, with these clouds spilling down.”
“You have a radio?”
Allison patted the pocket of his space coat. “Can’t get over the habit of relying on a portable. I must say the news has been better the past few days.”
“All right, you know what’s going on. There was no point in my coming here. You know you have been appointed Director of the new projects to get outside the shell. They are going to start with telescopes, but the big plan is still to locate greener pastures somewhere beyond.”
“Something tells me,” said Allison, “that there will never be time to do much exploring beyond our present position.”
“Why? Do you have some inside dope?”
“Not a bit. I just hear the radio reports. But I know what I would do if I were one of those great green creatures outside the Earth.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you are studying these flying starfish to read the thoughts of other world creatures.”
Allison smiled. “Not a bad idea at that. But here’s the point. These creatures, whatever they are, have gone to lots of trouble to pick us out of the middle of our universe. It’s obvious that they sent these flying starfish to do the preliminary surveying. Now that they have followed through and captured us, do you think they are going to stop?”
Kirk was puzzled. He could not see his way through Allison’s thoughts. He took refuge in a facetious comment. “So you said to yourself, ‘It’s time to take to the caves. Let the rest of mankind look out for itself.’ You will go back to Nature. Maybe change back into a gorilla or something, and be safe. What’s the game, Allison? Trying to turn evolution in reverse?”
Allison laughed, and for a few minutes Kirk felt that he was back on the old friendly footing.
“But here’s what you have to consider,” said Allison. “These green creatures will go right on with their investigation. This big telescope they have turned on us is just the beginning. The next thing you know, they will be collecting human specimens by the hundreds and putting them under the microscope. Wouldn’t you do it, too, if you were they?”
The clouds thickened until the soft light of the eternal day was almost lost.
Kirk could barely see the huge starfish in the wide pen on the nearby hi
lltop.
“Some of these times,” said Kirk, “they will pull away from you in a heavy fog. Anyway, if they get smart enough, I have a hunch they could tear those bars apart and fly off.”
“I keep a light burning for them,” said Allison. “When I show you this you will think I am very fond of them. Well, I am. I am devoting the rest of my life to writing a book on the home life of flying starfish.”
Allison pressed a switch, and a cluster of light bulbs flashed on in the ceiling of the hilltop cage. Looking up through the rain, Kirk could see that those lights formed the shape of a star with six points. Another switch brought forth another illuminated star nearer at hand. Until this moment Kirk had not noticed the similarity between the top of the pen and an electric signboard. When he had flown over, Kirk had looked down upon this pen. It was fully half a mile long, and its thin steel bars were almost invisible from the high altitude. What Kirk had seen was simply the dark forms of the starfish themselves, black against the wide white concrete floor.
“When I flew over I could hardly see the pen,” said Kirk. “What I saw looked like a bunch of black stars waving their points. You must have had a sweet time climbing over that network of steel, stringing up your lines. What’s the idea? Trying to teach the brutes to play night baseball or something?”
“Just a little notion about experimenting,” said Allison. “I will give Professor Ubruff some credit for helping work out the idea. He used to experiment with the electric light bulbs and goldfish, he said, with the most amazing results. But this sort of thing takes a lot of patience, and the professor had worn his patience down on the goldfish, so he left this to me.”
Kirk was staring at Allison now, and for some reason he recalled the troubled expressions of June and Diana. Was it possible that Allison had become so fatigued or worried that he had suffered a mental lapse?
“I think I will be going,” said Kirk. “If you need me you can get in touch through the Rocky Mountain Observatory.”
“Come again,” said Allison, “and notice how that big starfish down at the end is performing. I’ll leave the lights on while you sail over.”
