Godson of Almarlu: A Collection of Science Fiction Novellas

by Raymond Z. Gallun

  Delicate leaves were withdrawing, like animate things, into hard sheaths that would protect them from the hungry maws of the Tegati, that presently would be swarming down in incalculable hordes from above the barrier, and from the coming cold. Even warm Wan, unexposed to the Sun’s rays during a night two weeks in length, could become a blizzard-racked hell.

  Other plants, whose environmental adaptation had not provided them with means to protect themselves, but had given them the faculty of swift and fecund growth, waited stolidly motionless for the end, which only their myriad spores could cancel at the coming of dawn.

  And the furry elves retired to the shelter of their dwellings. Not even their fear of blasting death from Ikaah could smother their terror of the ghastly Tegati. The latter loved a moving, animate quarry best; thus they always swarmed thickest about the Wanite villages.

  So when two grotesque figures emerged from their workshop, they looked out upon a deserted valley. Far up toward the west, where bright stars were beginning to burn, a ruby streak of sunset still lingered. Against it were thousands of black specks, wavering and hurtling nearer. The whisper of their flight was already audible.

  Raah and Treb had acquired a limited immunity from attack by the weird monsters. They wore no material armor, but an aurae of soft, amber flame streamed from the conical caps on their heads and enveloped their entire bodies, protecting even the soles of their bare feet with a thin film of insulating energy.

  The flame, invented in a dimly remembered age, had several functions. Within limits, its tough, substance-less texture could resist violence delivered by sharp weapons such as the fangs of the Tegati. It also could maintain normal atmospheric pressure within its shell; for, in effect, the aurae were like any tough, air-tight garment, such as a diving suit.

  Moreover, the air contained in the purposely enlarged cephalic portions of the flame mantles was constantly kept pure by the action of the energy, the carbon dioxide exhaled by the wearers of the caps being split up, the oxygen being freed for rebreathing, and the pure carbon being expelled in the form of microscopic diamond granules, through the texture of the mantles.

  Their movements completely unhampered by the aurae, Raah and Treb made their way down to the rocky shores of Ikaah. Here they paused at the brink of an abrupt hundred-yard drop to the seething surface of the water beneath.

  While acrid vapors coiled around them, they fastened long copper bars to their waists with part of the rope they carried. The bars would act as weights while the adventurers were making their dive to the bottom of the lake; and they might prove useful as tools during the submarine exploration.

  Raah, forgetting the peculiar properties of the aurae, attempted to loop the rope, which he had tied to his bar, around the belt of his breech cloth, only to discover that this was impossible. His flame mantle resisted the effort just as any other stout, flexible garment, put on over his belt, would have done. He chuckled sheepishly, and, aping Treb, tied the ends of the rope around his waist, over his aura.

  The ancient, metal sphere, which was their most important piece of equipment, was, except for a boss of black mineral set in its surface, perfectly smooth and shiny. There were no hooks or projections to which one might cling, or to which anything might be fastened in an ordinary manner.

  When Treb’s tiny tentacular fingers turned the boss a trifle, there was an interesting effect: The sphere floated in the air without visible support. Raah felt a gentle tug, as if he were a bit of steel attracted to a magnet. His hands were drawn back into contact with the silvery globe. A gentle surge of power was now active in its mechanism and could be increased when necessary.

  Wanite and Earthman peered from the clifftop at the churning surface of Ikaah far below. The frothy, steaming water was almost boiling-hot. Floating masses of scum bobbed and danced here and there, like the foam in a bubbling caldron. Poisonous vapors writhed lazily up the face of the cliff.

  But there was a mounting whisper that mingled with the seething voice of the lake. The adventurers glanced over their shoulders. The air behind them swarmed with balloon-like monstrosities that, with odd, jerking, pulsating movements, approached nearer. From them, like trailing, tattered streamers, dangled slender tendrils, covered throughout all their length with sharp, curved claws. These aerial devils were the Tegati.

  The most prominent organ of a Tegati ’s body was a large bladder of parchment-like skin, the latter roughened by many dead-air cells, as a protection against cold. The vital organs were grouped close around the fanged mouth orifice, from the lips of which trailed the creature’s poisonous tendrils. Breathing was one of the functions of the bladder; but it also served as the mechanism of flight.

  By spasmodic contraction it could eject through the mouth of the creature puffs of air which served not only to propel the lightweight body somewhat after the fashion of a rocket, but could sustain its altitude against the weak force of gravity. Blood, rich in haemoglobin—the oxygen-collecting pigment in red corpuscles—veined the thin, translucent texture of the bladder. To the Tegati, this blood development was necessary, for they lived much of their lives in an extremely rarefied atmosphere.

  Treb and Raah looked at the swarming, voracious hordes of them, and then back at malevolent Ikaah. Any fear they may have felt at the prospect of descending into the latter suddenly seemed trivial in the face of a greater, more repugnant evil.

  Treb turned the boss on the metal globe a trifle farther, feeding its mechanism more energy. At once the bodies of both himself and his companion were pulled firmly against its shiny surface, and with it, floated free of the ground.

  A sucking down draft of cool air, drawn toward the hot waters of the lake, wafted them from the clifftop. Gently they began to settle, at the same time moving forward above Ikaah.

  The Tegati caught up with them. They felt, through their flame mantles, the vigorous jabs of sharp, poisonous fangs and claws; and, cold with revulsion, they struck back.

  III.

  At last Earthman and Wanite alighted in the water. Still held firmly to the metal sphere, along with dozens of Tegati which the attraction of the device had captured, they began to skip over the surface of the churning lake by kicking at the water with their feet. Their weight, under the influence of the silvery ball, was still almost nothing.

  Presently they reached a place close to the shore of an island, whose jagged pinnacles reared, black and awesome through the dusk and murk, like some lost soul in hell groping for the stars. The water here was coated with thick slime.

  Tegati, braving the acrid vapors with devilish persistence, were trying to reach and devour the slime, but the choking gases forced most of them back.

  “Here we go down,” said Treb, his musical voice muffled by his aura.

  He readjusted the boss on the sphere, shut off the power. Relieved of the mechanism's buoying force, and dragged by the density of the copper bars tied to their waists, the two adventurers sank at once into Ikaah, and the globe sank with them.

  Their flame mantles continued to function normally in the new medium, protecting them from heat and supplying them with fresh air to breathe.

  Minutes passed. They could feel pressure building up around them, though this process was not nearly as rapid as it would have been under similar conditions on Earth, and their flame mantles fought back its force to a certain extent.

  Buffeted by boiling currents, enveloped by thick darkness, the adventurers continued to sink. And at last they settled deep into mucky ooze that trembled with sharp seismic vibrations.

  They groped around for the sphere, which had slipped from their grasp during the descent. Finding it, each fastened an end of the remaining rope to a rocky projection near by.

  Each grasped the other end of his rope, and began to circle in the thick darkness, seeking the unknown thing which must lie submerged here.

  Presently Raah’s groping fingers came in contact with a curved surface. Tactile exploration of it revealed the riveted frame of what w
as obviously a small circular window. This was the corroded hull of the space ship they were looking for!

  He cried out to his Wanite companion: “Reeoo! Treb! Come quickly! Here is what we seek!” The excited sound of his words penetrated his flame mantle and was transmitted easily by the surrounding water, in spite of the grinding rattle of seismic shocks.

  From a little distance came the wizard’s reply, sounding eerie and slurred in the strange medium: “I come! I come!”

  A few moments later Treb and Raah began to creep slowly around the slim thing. It was long and beautifully tapered. One end was finned. Great, tubular vents, like the flaring nostrils of a demon, were set between the fins. The other end was crumpled and embedded in Ikaah’s bottom.

  The dim glow of the flame mantles was of almost no use to them in making their inspection in the murky, turbid water; but they still had their senses of touch.

  Now they clambered to the curved back of the thing. Here there was a long hump, fitted into a groove. They soon found that the hump was not properly a part of the greater metal fabrication; for it was fastened into the groove with stout bands, the ends of which were joined by means of what a native Earthman would have thought of as complicated buckles. The hump was a tapered cylinder with a finned tail, like its parent enigma.

  The adventurers, attracted by more intriguing mysteries, sought means of entrance to the larger vehicle. Presently, they found in its flank what seemed to be a door.

  Clumsy with eagerness, they tugged and twisted at the T-shaped handle projecting from the edge of the door. At first it refused to yield to their efforts, for corrosion must have welded the metal a little. Then Raah untied the copper bar from his waist, and, using it as a hammer, tapped lightly on one arm of the door handle. The latter turned on its pivot, and rusty bolts responded to the movement. Treb’s tiny hands tugged at the handle. The portal opened.

  There was a gurgle of bubbles, and a momentary suction, as water rushed into the small, closet-like compartment which had been sealed behind the door.

  Now the Wanite and the Earthman clambered into the compartment. Again their way was blocked by a second portal, identical to the first. Raah groped for the handle that worked its lock, but the wizard checked his intended act with a warning hand.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Whatever lies beyond this valve may be injured if the flood of Ikaah is allowed to enter. We must close the outer portal first.”

  The Elf of Wan pulled the external door to, sealing himself and his friend in what might easily become their tomb if the bolts chanced to jam. Almost coincident with his act, a particularly violent temblor of the lake bottom caused the stout metal around them to groan and crackle.

  Tensely he and Raah waited for the vibration to end, not knowing whether, in the next second, they would be alive or dead.

  Raah found the inner valve of the air lock easy to open, for there was no corrosion here. As the hinged mass of metal folded inward, there was a gurgling, rushing sound, and the water in the compartment—approximately two cubic meters of it—flowed from around them. They were standing free, in air.

  Automatically they advanced into the black hole before them. The amber glow of their flame mantles relieved the dense gloom to some slight extent—enough to reveal curved, untarnished walls and banked instruments.

  At first Raah was dumb with awe, knowing that all these strange miracles around him might have told tales of fear, courage, love and devotion on another planet—a planet which was his real home.

  But soon he grew more accustomed to his surroundings. He chuckled and clucked as any pleased savage might have done in the presence of civilized novelty. Now he began to wander about, touching and fingering this and that.

  Thus, inevitably, he found a light switch, pressed it. At once the compartment was flooded with hard, white radiance, as rarefied gases in quartz bulbs, responded to an electrical stimulus. To the young Earthman who had never seen Earth, this was like a major accomplishment of the gods. He gasped raggedly, but, recovering himself, he gave a nervous laugh.

  Treb’s wider experience, with even greater marvels, made him less responsive, though there was no doubt that he was intensely intrigued, too. He advanced to a little black box, surmounted by a screen of ground quartz. Experimentally, he twisted dials and snapped switches. Presently a glow of activity awoke in the vitals of the apparatus. A dim, electrical crackle followed. Then a voice spoke, an Earthly voice, uttering words beyond the comprehension of these two from Wan.

  Raah wheeled about, stood staring at the box. Treb remained impassively near. Neither understood anything that the voice from the radio said, but they listened anyway, bound by a spell of fascination, and sensing in the tone of the words an indefinable suggestion of tragedy and defiance.

  “To lose hope would mean the end, without question,” said the voice. “We must not do that. We must always believe in our powers. Perhaps some whim of chance will favor us. Till a thing is finally accomplished, we cannot be certain of its outcome. I have the means to assure our survival, if only there were sufficient time to develop it. Three months is all I ask. Many say that the remaining refuges cannot stand longer than a few weeks. But they must! You of the Pittsburgh refuge and of the Los Angeles refuge must fight with all you have, as we of Kansas City are fighting. The destiny of mankind is in our hands, for there are no other strongholds left.

  “But now, back to our subject: What, in general, is life? Few things are more difficult to define. Though protoplasm is the basis of all known organisms, life is not protoplasm, but a process which goes on within protoplasm. It is a complex phenomenon of motion and of change, involving complicated compounds of hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon, though, unknown to us on distant worlds, it might possibly involve the compounds of other elements.

  “It is capable of feeling and responding to sensation, and it can propagate. It has the will or desire to continue to exist, and in its higher forms it possesses consciousness and intelligence. In many respects it is the strangest, most unfathomable miracle of the universe.

  “Never yet, in spite of extensive study, has the nature of its driving forces been quite understood. Not so long ago it was actually considered a supernatural phenomenon.

  “Science has long known that the normal, complex organisms of the Earth were developed through a process of evolution. But how, in the beginning, did the first one-celled amoebas and bacteria, which supplied the raw material for evolution, arrive here?

  “Arrhenius conceived brilliantly when he advanced the theory that the normal fauna and flora of Earth may be descended from minute spores propelled here from other inhabited planets by light pressure and by the negative electrical repulsion of stars. The latter force is the reason why comet’s tails, composed of tenuous gases, are always directed away from the Sun, which, of course, is much like any of the other stars.

  “But brilliant though Arrhenius's idea was, it evaded an issue; it explained the origin of organisms on Earth, but it failed to explain the real birth of life itself—the misty transformation of inanimate elements into the moving, changing substances of animate tissue. Where, in the great cosmic plan, lies the hidden spark of genesis?

  “We have been through much in recent years. But in spite of our rapid reduction in numbers and resources, we have learned much. We were misled at first. We thought the diseases, which we have now controlled, and the slime which promises our extinction, came to Earth in the form of spores, either in the manner that Arrhenius outlined, or, more probably, in pits and crevices in the many meteors that fell.

  “But I feel sure now that the whole spore theory is incorrect. It would be impossible, of course, for us to detect the arrival of isolated spores into our atmosphere; but in the case of the meteors at least, repeated culture tests and microscopic examinations have failed to provide us with the slightest evidence that they are anything but sterile.

  “No, I am sure that we have seen a greater wonder than we have ever more than dreamed o
f. I have checked the evidence and now, after all these years, I think I have a glimmering of the truth!

  “New, alien life was actually created here on Earth, just as at the beginning of this planet’s biological history! By a combination of natural circumstances somewhat out of the ordinary, anachronistic forces were set in motion. They were of the same character as the original forces of creation, but probably of greater intensity, and of much lesser duration. But while they lasted they did their diabolical work well, producing forms of life far too young to be highly organized, but possessing the vitality and the fecundity to crowd out all lesser organisms, and to promise death even to mankind.

  “I am sure that I know something of the nature of those forces, and of the causes of their release. I am sure—”

  IV.

  So the sonorous tones continued, probing a detail in the vast plan of the universe. Yet the ideas expressed remained hidden to the two listeners on the bottom of Ikaah. Of English they knew nothing; but catastrophe, masked yet terrible, they could sense, and mystery still could intrigue them; so they faced possible death here in a metal coffin on the floor of the volcano lake, to listen. And the voice droned on, while the two listened to sounds they could not understand.

  Raah toyed with a small silver mirror which he had picked up from the wet plating under his feet. The article, he could guess, had belonged to the dim, beautiful, legendary entity—his mother. Treb, his first surprise gone, began absently to fumble again with the controls of the radio. Thus, after a moment, the television plate went into action.

  As if by some enchantment, the gaunt, austere visage of the speaker appeared on the screen of ground quartz. His lips moved with his words, his gray, leonine head nodded in defiance and emphasis. There was bitterness in the angle of his jaw, but there was courage and determination there, too. The two from Wan looked at his image in mute surprise. Though they could not have known it, he was John Maynard, friend of Raah’s long-dead father.