Children of the Void

by William Dexter

  Cold terror seized us as we called to mind the significance of our mishap. Beneath the surface of this unknown world we were completely and inexplicably lost.

  So far, we had seen nothing besides ourselves in the dim cavern. But... what might be round the curve that lay ahead?

  After hurrying along our tunnel for the best part of an hour ' —it might have been much more or much less—we stopped again.

  Arabin drew the back of his hand across his forehead. We sat down, leaning against the wall. “Let’s think it out before we waste our strength,” he said wearily.

  We pondered silently. For some minutes I had thought I heard our footsteps echoing down the long corridor. Then I noticed that Arabin was bending his head to one side and listening.

  “Hear that?” he asked. “Like a lot of little footsteps?”

  I listened more intently and realised that the faint sound we heard was not an echo of our own movements, but a tiny sound like the clapping of hands in the distance.

  And slowly the sound increased in volume.

  “Could be the Nagani digging us out,” said Leo, though not with any conviction.

  To me, the sound seemed to come from the corridor to our right rather than from overhead.

  Suddenly, my belief was confirmed. The sound did come from our right, and we almost stopped breathing as we waited for it to bring something—we dared not think what—into view.

  Minutes seemed to pass before we saw the things that made the sound. And then, rolling gently towards us with a tiny clicking noise, came a number of spherical objects, as big as footballs.

  We got up, ready to run in the opposite direction.

  Then Arabin made our decision for us.

  “If we run,” he whispered, “we’re no better off—we’re still lost. If these things live here, they may be friendly and. get us out of it. If not, at least we may learn something by watching them.”

  We stood and allowed the trundling spheres to reach us. At our feet they halted, and seemed to adjust their positions by turning a little one way or the other, almost as though they were eyeing us up and down.

  There was a pause, in which nothing happened. Then from the opposite direction came the clicking sound again and soon more of the spheres came hurriedly round that curve.

  There must have been a dozen or more of the objects round our feet now, and we began to feel considerable fear.

  If they were friendly, they might help us to return to the Disc. If not, Heaven knew what would happen to us amid this completely incomprehensible and, alien race.

  For we were convinced that the things were alive and sentient.

  We now had the chance to examine them more closely, and could see that each creature was composed of an ivory-like casing in the form of a ball. This was perforated with precisely accurate hexagonal holes about an inch in diameter.

  And through the holes we could see moving creatures.

  What manner of creature it was inside each ivory ball we could not see, as the light was too dim. But we could just distinguish a dark mass, apparently pliable and soft, that manoeuvred inside each casing.

  Was this the ruling life-form of Varang-Varang? We could not even pretend to answer. We had seen something of the unpredictable way in which extra-terrestrial life had developed, in the form of the industrious little Nagani. We had seen the horrific giant vegetable-like creatures that we had called the Vulcanids, who had come to Vulcan from outer space. And we had seen our own kindred race, the Virians who had spent long centuries as captives on Vulcan.

  Now we were faced with something we could only liken to hermit crabs. The uniform size and modelling of each horny shell, and the close resemblance between the artificial markings on each shell, convinced us that the containers were artifacts, used for protection, and that the creatures within were separate individuals.

  So far, we had not dared to touch one of the spheres. But when a tight ring of them formed round Arabin’s feet, seeming to press him towards the wall, he stooped and thrust one of them away.

  The sphere rolled away, and then came back at him.

  “I feel sure they aren’t hostile,” he gasped, though with some horror in his voice. “If only we knew what they want us to do ...”

  As if they understood him, the ring at his feet broke open at one side, while the creatures opposite to the break closed in. Arabin stepped gingerly in the direction of the break. That was what the creatures wanted. Once they had us moving in the direction they wished, they followed mildly enough.

  And so down the curving tunnel we walked, with the ivory globes clicking away behind us. Sometimes the sound would increase in intensity and pitch; at others it would become a mere rustling.

  For some minutes only—I swear it was no more—we led the weird parade. And then we halted in a larger chamber.

  Neither of us had seen it before, although we both felt that we must have passed through it. But by now the spatial paradox of the tunnel, as well as the temporal paradox, had ceased to occupy our minds so much.

  We now saw that the chamber we were in held numerous entrances.

  “Notice the size of these tunnels?” asked Leo. “Far too high to have been made for these hermit crabs.”

  And so they were. The roof was at least eighteen inches over our heads, whereas the globe creatures stood no higher from the ground than ten inches.

  The globes formed a half-circle round us and, like trained sheep dogs, hustled us towards one of the entrances to the chamber. Down an exactly similar tunnel we walked, and again emerged in a large chamber. Again and again we went out of one large cavern, into a tunnel, into another cavern and out of it; then the same repetition of cavern, tunnel, cavern, tunnel, until Arabin stopped determinedly.

  “We’re going round in a circle,” he said. “I dropped a bit of paper some time ago, and we’ve come back to it.”

  There, in our path, lay the corner of a sheet of paper, with handwriting showing on it.

  We went on, pressed by the globes, and in the next cavern saw the same bit of paper.

  “I give up!” said Leo angrily, snatching up the shred of paper. “It wouldn’t surprise me now if this piece of paper confronted us in every cavern.”

  But we saw no more paper lying on the floor.

  After other large cavernous halls, we came to one that was different. This time, the apertures in the walls were covered with a net-like substance, tightly stretched and secured. Despite the obstruction, though, the globes compelled us in the direction of one particular entrance, and we found that we were able to pass through the filmy net easily. We turned, and saw that the fabric, or whatever it was, had closed behind us.

  “Either we are now able to dematerialise and materialise ourselves, or else that stuff is self-sealing,” said Leo. “One thing’s altered, though—we’ve left the hermit crabs behind.” The globes now stood in ranks on the far side of the thin barrier through which we had passed.

  Leo stepped back towards the translucent net and drew in his breath sharply as he made contact with it.

  “Hard as iron!” he gasped in shock.

  I pressed forward and thrust a hand against the flimsy wall, and found it rigid and secure. Our new situation seemed as difficult as the old. True, we were no longer lost, in the sense that we felt to be abandoned, but we were now immured, where before we had been free.

  On our side of the one-way barrier we found three large caverns, hewn more accurately as to the floor, and walled and roofed more neatly and smoothly. In each was a large plinth, about ten feet by five, and standing some two feet from the ground. In substance, these seemed to be similar to the resilient floor surfaces, and we prodded each gingerly before sitting on one.

  They seemed comfortable enough, and we assumed that they were some form of resting place. If we were imprisoned here, at least we were imprisoned in some place that had once held larger creatures than the hermit crabs, for these constructions would have been quite useless to them for any purpo
se that we could divine.

  To me the time seemed overdue for food. I felt that I had been wandering in this labyrinth for many hours. Arabin, however, disagreed, and put the time down as perhaps something less than one hour.

  We examined our three caverns closely, and agreed that they were proof against breaking out. On inspection, we saw that the walls bore the dim remnants of some regular inscriptions, but which held not the slightest meaning for us. At first we thought the markings to be pictographs, but later believed that they were a form of heiroglyphic writing.

  Once our initial curiosity was satisfied, we came upon another puzzle. Two factors down here were vastly different from those on the surface: the gravity was, if anything, higher than on Earth (for we were tired with the effort of walking, and felt a great sense of heaviness), and the temperature was high. The sharp chill we had felt on the surface had gone, and in its place we felt the stirring of a warm current of atmosphere.

  There may be other worlds with varying degrees of gravitational attraction; I am not able to say anything of that. But the fact that there was a warm current of air told us that the caverns were designed for living in, or perhaps for working in, and were designed for warm-blooded creatures.

  We had discussed our situation for some time when we heard the unmistakable sound of the globes chattering again. We went to our entrance, and saw that two large round platters, bearing some granulated substance, had been thrust through the barrier. The platters, made of some mineral resembling soapstone, were light in weight, but the food—for we had to believe that we were meant to eat it—was heavy indeed.

  However, we dared to try a mouthful and swallow it. There seemed a complete negation of taste or any other sensation about it, but we were unable to eat more than three mouthfuls each. The food seemed to be of mineral origin, which tallied with our growing belief that there was no vegetable matter on this world. Everything we had seen was a fabricated substance, patently mineral, or mysteriously animal.

  There seemed to be some sustenance in this unattractive granulated diet, for we certainly felt refreshed after taking it. Moreover, we felt no need for water.

  We walked all around our problem—and it was a grave -problem indeed!—and at last decided to rest. I should mention that the dim light of the tunnels had given way to considerably brighter light in our three chambers, and now we noticed a diminution of the brightness. It was almost as though the imperceptible source of light waxed and waned with the daylight.

  There is little I can add to this account of our first “day” in the labyrinth of Varang-Varang which would distinguish it from the days that followed. By our tally ten days had gone by when we had momentous news.

  On the tenth day there was a busy rattling of the globe creatures at our entrance. We rushed to see what was happening, and were met by Karim and Karinga Varga.

  We had talked of them long and often, wondering what had become of them.

  Now we were shocked when we saw them. Karim had lost much of his weight, and the Virian stumbled and was almost unable to walk. The one-way barrier had closed behind them before we could observe its operation, and we were more concerned in tending them than in trying to escape.

  We led them to the great resilient plinth in the cavern in which we had been living, and saw them collapse thereon.

  After some minutes, Karim lifted his head.

  “How long have you been here?” he gasped.

  We told him, ten days.

  “But that cannot be!” he replied; “We have been in the great spiral hall for ninety days! Now you tell us that the time has been only ten days!”

  VI

  We realised early that time spent in discussing these paradoxes in space and time would be wasted. Now that there were four of us we gained not only courage but the incentive to escape. And so, rather than try to solve the mysteries of the varying time scales we had experienced, we gave our attention to the more urgent problem of returning to the surface of the planet.

  The permeable network that covered the entrance to our caverns still remained a barrier which could only be penetrated from the outside. Time and time again we attempted to break through, but never with any success. And while we waited in the caverns, we heard the story of Karim and Karinga Varga.

  They had stayed in the tunnel where we left them, for a time that might have been hours or minutes; we agreed to as wide a margin as that Then they had set off together to search for us. Like us, they had walked through endless corridors, but with the difference that they had found many side tunnels, and had become lost almost at once.

  Again, for an unknown period of time they had threaded the maze of tunnels, at last emerging into a vertical chamber with a broad spiral ledge running round its walls. This had seemed to them to represent a way to the surface of Varang-Varang, and they had ascended the spiral for a long time before finding that it led them nowhere.

  As long as they continued to climb the spiral track, they appeared to ascend, but at each halt they saw that there still remained apparently limitless stretches ahead of them, while the floor seemed to be no further away than when they had first started.

  They assessed the length of time they had been engaged on this crazy climb as ninety days, judging by the waxing and waning of the light. During this time they had lived on what appeared to be a kind of fungus which they found growing on the walls.

  At first, they told us, they had been terrified to find that the passage by which they had entered the vertical chamber had closed behind them. Then, their efforts to mount higher up the spiral had occupied them until they found that they were making no headway. Still they had continued, and had apparently been on the point of giving up all effort, when they found the passage at the bottom of the vertical pit open again. This had led them almost at once to the honeycomb of hewn chambers where they had found us.

  They, too, had been herded into the chambers by the rolling, ball-like creatures. By the time they came upon us, both Karim and Karinga Varga had strong doubts as to their own sanity.

  However, the fact that we were reunited cheered us all, and we gave much time to discussing escape.

  It is amazing to contemplate the degree of adversity that the human mind will bear. Had I read of these hardships, instead of undergoing them, I would have believed it impossible to sustain them. The twists and warps in space and time that we endured down in the labyrinths of Varang-Varang would be enough, I should have thought, to drive the mind to distraction.

  But perhaps it was the very impossibility, the dream-like substance, of our experiences that kept us not only alive and sane, but moderately optimistic and cheerful.

  Day upon day, by our reckoning, passed while we thought around our problems, and planned our moves if we could escape from our present prison. Day after day we attempted to break through the seemingly flimsy web that stretched across the entrance to our caves, and each time we found it as strong as steel.

  And then came the day when we found the web gone.

  At first we thought that the open mouth of the caverns hid a trap, and we stood at the entrance while we debated whether to emerge. But we could see nothing that might threaten our safety. Indeed, we could see nothing at all, except the walls, roof and floor of the rock-like corridors. There was no sign of the creatures we had come to know, among ourselves, as the hermit crabs.

  All was quiet, and all was safe, as far as we could judge.

  With many doubts, though, and with much fear, we stepped out into the less brightly illuminated tunnel. To the right we found that the tunnel came to sudden end, and so were compelled to take the left-hand way.

  At first with caution, then with some speed, we followed this for some hours. The fact that we found no side corridors and no large halls, such as we had passed through on the way there, did not disturb us. We had accepted the fact that by some means the conformation of the underground passages changed from time to time. It was sufficient for us that we were free now, and that there was an
open way ahead.

  There was no sign of the clicking, chattering hermit crabs anywhere now, and as we progressed, the tunnel seemed to become more brightly illuminated from some hidden source. The light, I am sure, came from the very substance of the walls and roof, but not from the floor, for sometimes we noticed a distant shadow of ourselves on the flooring, but never on the walls or roof. Radio-activity, fluorescence, or artificially created light from the substance forming the lining of the tunnels may have accounted for the lighting of this underground world.

  We kept together in close formation, of course, and ran no risk of being separated again, and at last came to something that seemed a link with Terrestrial modes of thought.

  We found a door barring our further passage.

  It was a heavy stone construction, quite definitely made by hands, and mounted upon a long hinge. The centre of the door held a single large loop, again of stone, which could only be the means of opening the door.

  Arabin at last grasped the stone staple, and pulled. The door opened, and we found ourselves faced with a long incline. Here the working of the walls and roof of the tunnel was more positively artificial, and there were long panels of worn inscriptions, in some unknown hand, lining the walls.

  At last, we thought, we had the chance of returning to the surface. The steep rise in the tunnel seemed to indicate that every yard we travelled would bring us some inches nearer to the surface of this strange world. But still we climbed and climbed without any sign of emerging from the tunnel.

  The course of the tunnel changed from time to time, now twisting slightly to the right, and then to the left. It was on turning one of these bends that we came to end of the passage, with yet another heavy stone door in front of us.

  “This’ll be it,” panted Arabia—we were all out of breath after our climb.

  He tugged the door open. We could have collapsed from weariness and mortification at what we now saw. There, in much brighter lighting, but nevertheless as solid as our tunnels, stretched a large hall, with no other source of exit that we could see.