by Various
The Meteor Girl
_By Jack Williamson_
_She seemed to scream, though we could hear nothing._]
[Sidenote: Through the complicated space-time of the fourth dimensiongoes Charlie King in an attempt to rescue the Meteor Girl.]
"What's the good in Einstein, anyhow?"
I shot the question at lean young Charlie King. In a moment he lookedup at me; I thought there was pain in the back of his clear browneyes. Lips closed in a thin white line across his wind-tanned face;nervously he tapped his pipe on the metal cowling of the _GoldenGull's_ cockpit.
"I know that space is curved, that there is really no space or time,but only space-time, that electricity and gravitation and magnetismare all the same. But how is that going to pay my grocery bill--oryours?"
"That's what Virginia wants to know."
"Virginia Randall!" I was astonished. "Why, I thought--"
"I know. We've been engaged a year. But she's called it off."
Charlie looked into my eyes for a long minute, his lips stillcompressed. We were leaning on the freshly painted, streamlinefuselage of the _Golden Gull_, as neat a little amphibian monoplane asever made three hundred miles an hour. She stood on the glisteningwhite sand of our private landing field on the eastern Florida coast.Below us the green Atlantic was running in white foam on the rocks.
In the year that Charlie King and I had been out of the Institute ofTechnology, we had built the nucleus of a commercial airplanebusiness. We had designed and built here in our own shops several verysuccessful seaplanes and amphibians. Charlie's brilliant mathematicalmind was of the greatest aid, except when he was too far lost in hisabstruse speculations to descend to things commercial. Mathematics ispainful enough to me when it is used in calculating the camber of anairplane wing. And pure mathematics, such as the theories ofrelativity and equivalence, I simply abhor.
I was amazed. Virginia Randall was a girl trim and beautiful as ourshining _Golden Gull_. I had thought them devotedly in love, and hadbeen looking forward to the wedding.
"But it isn't two weeks, since Virginia was out here! You took her upin our _Western Gull IV_!"
* * * * *
Nervously Charlie lit his pipe, drew quickly on it. His face, lean anddrawn beneath the flying goggles pushed up on his forehead, soughtmine anxiously.
"I know. I drove her back to the station. That was when--when wequarreled."
"But why? About Einstein? That's silly."
"She wanted me to give it up here, and go in with her father in hisWall Street brokerage business. The old gent is willing to take me,and make a business man of me."
"Why, I couldn't run the business without you, Charlie!"
"We talked about that, Hammond. I don't really do much of the work.Just play around with the mathematics, and leave the models andblueprints to you."
"Oh, Charlie, that's not quite--"
"It's the truth, right enough," he said, bitterly. "You designaircraft, and I play with Einstein. And as you say, a fellow can't eatequations."
"I'd hate to see you go."
"And I'd hate to give up you, and our business, and the math. Reallyno need of it. My tastes are simple enough. And old 'Iron-clad'Randall has made all one family needs. Virginia's not exactly apauper, herself. Two or three millions, I think."
"And where did Virginia go?"
"She took the _Valhalla_ yesterday at San Francisco. Going to join herfather at Panama. He cruises about the world in his steam yacht, youknow, and runs Wall Street by radio. I was to telegraph her if I'dchanged my mind. I decided to stick to you, Hammond. I telegraphed acorsage of orchids, and sent her the message, 'Einstein forever!'"
"If I know Virginia, those were not very politic words."
"Well, a man--"
* * * * *
His words were cut short by a very unusual incident.
A thin, high scream came suddenly from above our neat stuccoed hangarsat the edge of the white field. I looked up quickly, to catch aglimpse of a bright object hurtling through the air above our heads.The bellowing scream ended abruptly in a thunderous crash. I felt atremor of the ground underfoot.
"What--" I ejaculated.
"Look!" cried Charlie.
He pointed. I looked over the gleaming metal wing of the _GoldenGull_, to see a huge cloud of white sand rising like a fountain at thefarther side of the level field. Deliberately the column of debrisrose, spread, rained down, leaving a gaping crater in the earth.
"Something fell?"
"It sounded like a shell from a big gun, except that it didn'texplode. Let's get over and see!"
We ran to where the thing had struck, three hundred yards across thefield. We found a great funnel-shaped pit torn in the naked earth. Itwas a dozen yards across, fifteen feet deep, and surrounded with apowdery ring of white sand and pulverized rock.
"Something like a shell-hole," I observed.
"I've got it!" Charlie cried. "It was a meteor!"
"A meteor? So big?"
"Yes. Lucky for us it was no bigger. If it had been like the one thatfell in Siberia a few years ago, or the one that made the Winslowcrater in Arizona--we wouldn't have been talking about it. Probably wehave a chunk of nickel-iron alloy here."
"I'll get some of the men out here with digging tools, and we'll seewhat we can find."
Our mechanics were already hurrying across the field. I shouted atthem to bring picks and shovels. In a few minutes five of us were atwork throwing sand and shattered rock out of the pit.
* * * * *
Suddenly I noticed a curious thing. A pale bluish mist hung in thebottom of the pit. It was easily transparent, no denser than tobaccosmoke. Passing my spade through it did not seem to disturb it in theleast.
I rubbed my eyes doubtfully, said to Charlie, "Do you see a sort ofblue haze in the pit?"
He peered. "No. No.... Yes. Yes, I do! Funny thing. Kind of a bluefog. And the tools cut right through it without moving it! Queer! Musthave something to do with the meteor!" He was very excited.
We dug more eagerly. An hour later we had opened the hole to a depthof twenty feet. Our shovels were clanging on the gray iron of the rockfrom space. The mist had grown thicker as the excavation deepened; welooked at the stone through a screen of motionless blue fog.
We had found the meteor. There were several queer things about it. Thefirst man who touched it--a big Swede mechanic named Olson--wasknocked cold as if by a nasty jolt of electricity. It took half anhour to bring him to consciousness.
As fast as the rugged iron side of the meteorite was uncovered, awhite crust of frost formed over it.
"It was as cold as outer space, nearly at the absolute zero," Charlieexplained. "And it was heated only superficially during its quickpassage through the air. But how it comes to be charged withelectricity--I can't say."
He hurried up to his laboratory behind the hangars, where he hadequipment ranging from an astronomical telescope to a delicateseismograph. He brought back as much electrical equipment as he couldcarry. He had me touch an insulated wire to the frost-covered stonefrom space, while he put the other end to one post of a galvanometer.
I think he got a current that wrecked the instrument. At any rate, hegrew very much excited.
"Something queer about that stone!" he cried. "This is the chance of alifetime! I don't know that a meteor has ever been scientificallyexamined so soon after falling."
* * * * *
He hurried us all across to the laboratory. We came back with a truckload of coils and tubes and batteries and potentiometers and otherassorted equipment. He had men with heavy rubber gloves lift thefrost-covered stone to a packing box on a bench. The thing wasirregular in shape, about a foot long; it must have weighed twohundred pounds. He sent a man racing on a motorcycle to the drug storeto get dry ice (solidified carbon dioxide) to keep the iron stone atits low temperature.
&
nbsp; In a few hours he had a complete laboratory set up around themeteorite. He worked feverishly in the hot sunshine, reading thevarious instruments he had set up, and arranging more. He contrived tokeep the stone cold by packing it in a box of dry ice.
The mechanics stopped for dinner, and I tried to get him to take timeto eat.
"No, Hammond," he said. "This is something big! We were talking aboutEinstein. This rock seems energized with a new kind of force: allmeteors are probably the same way, when they first plunge out ofspace. I think this will be to relativity what the falling apple is togravity. This is a big thing."
He looked up at me, brown eyes flashing.
"This is my chance to make a name, Hammond. If I do something bigenough--Virginia might reconsider her opinion."
Charlie worked steadily through the long hot afternoon. I spent mostof the time helping him, or gazing in fascination at the curious hazeof luminous blue mist that clung like a sphere of azure fog about themeteoric stone. I did not completely understand what he did; thereader who wants the details may consult the monograph he is preparingfor the scientific press.
He had the men string up a line from our direct current generator inthe shops, to supply power for his electrical instruments. He mounteda powerful electromagnet just below the meteorite, and set up an X-raytube to bombard it with rays.
* * * * *
Night came, and the fire of the white sun faded from the sky. In thedarkness, the curious haze about the stone became luminescent,distinct, a dim, motionless sphere of blue light. I fancied that I sawgrotesque shapes flashing through it. A ball of blue fire, shimmeringand ghost-like, shrouded the instruments.
Charlie's induction coil buzzed wickedly, with purple fire playingabout the terminals. The X-ray tube flickered with a greenish glow. Hemanipulated the rheostat that controlled the current through theelectromagnet, and continued to read his instruments.
"Look at that!" he cried.
The bluish haze about the stone grew brighter; it became a ball ofsapphire flame, five feet thick, bright and motionless. A great sphereof shimmering azure fire! Wisps of pale, sparkling bluish mist ringedit. The stone in its box, the X-ray bulb and other apparatus werehidden. The end of the table stuck oddly from the ball of light.
I heard Charlie move a switch. The hum of the coils changed a note.
The ball of blue fire vanished abruptly. It became a hole, a window inspace!
Through it, we saw another world!
The darkness of the night hung about us. Where the ball had been was acircle of misty blue flame, five feet across. Through that circle Icould see a vast expanse of blue ocean, running in high, white-cappedrollers, beneath a sky overcast with low gray clouds.
It was no flat picture like a movie screen. The scene had vast depth;I knew that we were really looking over an infinite expanse of stormyocean. It was all perfectly clear, distinct, real!
* * * * *
Astounded, I turned to find Charlie standing back and looking into thering of blue fire, with a curious mixture of surprise and delightedsatisfaction.
"What--what--" I gasped.
"It's amazing! Wonderful! More than I had dared hope for! Thecomplete vindication of my theory! If Virginia cares for scientificreputation--"
"But what is it?"
"It's hard to explain without mathematical language. You might saythat we are looking through a hole in space. The new force in themeteorite, amplified by the X-rays and the magnetic field, is causinga distortion of space-time coordinates. You know that a gravitationalfield bends light; the light of a star is deflected in passing thesun. The field of this meteorite bends light through space-time,through the four-dimensional continuum. That scrap of ocean we can seemay be on the other side of the earth."
I walked around the circle of luminous smoke with the marvelouspicture in the center. It seemed that the window swung with me. Isurveyed the whole angry surface of that slate-gray, storm-beaten sea,to the misty horizon. Nowhere was it broken by land or ship.
Charlie fell to adjusting his rheostat and switches.
It seemed that the gray ocean moved swiftly beyond the window. Vaststretches of it raced below our eyes. Faint black stains of steamersmoke appeared against the blue-gray horizon and swept past. Then landappeared--a long, green-gray line. We had a flash of a long coast thatunreeled in endless panorama before us. It was such a view as onemight get from a swift airplane--a plane flying thousands of miles perhour.
The Golden Gate flashed before us, with the familiar skyline of SanFrancisco rising on the hills behind it.
"San Francisco!" Charlie cried. "This is the Pacific we've beenseeing. Let's find the _Valhalla_. We might be able to see Virginia!"
* * * * *
The coast-line vanished as he manipulated his instruments. Staringinto the circle of shining blue mist, I saw the endless ocean racingbelow us again. We picked up a pleasure yacht, running under barepoles.
"I didn't know there was such a storm on," Charlie murmured.
Other vessels swam past below us, laboring against heavy seas.
Then we looked upon an ocean whipped into mighty white-crowned waves.Rain beat down in sheets from low dense clouds; vivid violetlightnings flashed before us. It seemed very strange to see suchlightning and hear not the faintest whisper of thunder--but no soundcame from anything we saw through the blue-rimmed window in space.
"I hope the _Valhalla_ isn't in weather like this!" cried Charlie.
In a few minutes a dark form loomed through the wind-riven mist.Swiftly it swam nearer; became a black ship.
"Only a tramp," Charlie said, breathing a sigh of relief.
It was a dingy tramp steamer, her superstructure wrecked. Her firesseemed dead. She lay across the wind, rolling sluggishly, threateningto sink with every monstrous wave. We saw no living person aboard her;she seemed a sinking derelict. We made out the name _Roma_ on herside.
Charlie moved his dials again.
In a few minutes the slender prow of another great steamer camethrough the sheets of rain. It was evidently a passenger vessel. Sheseemed limping along, half wrecked, with mighty waves breaking overher rail.
Charlie grew white with alarm. "The _Valhalla_!" he gasped. "And she'sheaded straight for that wreck!"
In a moment, as he brought the liner closer below our blue-rimmedwindow, I, too, made out the name. The wet, glistening decks werealmost deserted. Here and there a man struggled futilely against theforce of the storm.
* * * * *
In a few minutes the drifting wreck of the _Roma_ came into our view,dead ahead of the limping liner. Through the mist and falling rain,the derelict could not have been in sight of the lookout of thepassenger vessel until she was almost upon it.
We saw the white burst of steam as the siren was blown. We watched thedesperate effort of the liner to check her way, to come about. But itwas too much for the already crippled ship. Charlie cried out as amighty wave drove the _Valhalla_ down upon the sluggishly driftingwreck.
All the mad scene that ensued was strangely silent. We heard no crashwhen the collision occurred; heard no screams or shouts while the mobof desperate, white-faced passengers were fighting their way to thedeck. The vain struggle to launch the boats was like a silent movie.
One boat was splintered while being lowered. Another, already filledwith passengers, was lifted by a great ware and crushed against theside of the ship. Only shivered wood and red foam were left. The shiplisted so rapidly that the boats on the lee side were useless. It wasimpossible to launch the others in that terrible, lashing sea.
"Virginia can swim." Charlie said hopefully. "You know she tried theChannel last year, and nearly made it, too."
He stopped to watch that terrible scene in white-faced, anxioussilence.
The tramp went down before the steamer, drawing fragments of wreckedboats after it. The liner was evidently sinking rapi
dly. We saw dozensof hopeless, panic-stricken passengers diving off the lee side, tryingto swim off far enough to avoid the tremendous suction.
Then, with a curious deliberation, the bow of the _Valhalla_ dippedunder green water; her stern rose in the air until the ship stoodalmost perpendicular. She slipped quickly down, out of sight.
Only a few swimming humans, and the wrecks of a few boats, were lefton the rough gray sea. Charlie fumbled nervously with his dials,trying to get the scene near enough so that we could see the identityof the struggling swimmers.
* * * * *
A long boat, which must have been swept below by the suction of theship, came plunging above the surface, upside down. It drifted swiftlyamong the swimmers, who struggled to reach it. I saw one person,evidently a girl, grasp it and drag herself upon it. It swept on pastthe few others still struggling.
The wrecked boat with the girl upon it seemed coming swiftly towardour blue-rimmed window. In a few minutes I saw something familiarabout her.
"It's Virginia!" Charlie cried. "God! We've got to save her, somehow!"
The long rollers drove the over-turned boat swiftly along. VirginiaRandall clung desperately to it, deluged in foam, whipped with flyingspray, the wild wind tearing at her.
About us, the clear still night was deepening. The air was warm andstill; the hot stars shone steadily. Quiet lighted houses were insight above the beach. It was very strange to look through thefire-rimmed circle, to see a girl struggling for life, clinging to awrecked boat in a stormy sea.
Charlie watched in an apathy of grief and horror, trembling andspeechless doing nothing except move the controls to keep the floatinggirl in our sight.
* * * * *
Hours went by as we watched. Then Charlie cried out in sudden hope."There's a chance! I might do it! I might be able to save her!"
"Might do what?"
"We are able to see what we do because the field of the meteor bendslight through the four-dimensional continuum. The world line of a rayof light is a geodesic in the continuum. The field I have builtdistorts the continuum, so we see rays that originated at a distantpoint. Is that clear?"
"Clear as mud!"
"Well, anyhow, if the field were strong enough, we could bringphysical objects through space-time, instead of mere visual images. Wecould pick Virginia up and bring her right here to the crater! I'msure of it!"
"You mean you could move a girl through some four or five thousandmiles of space!"
"You don't understand. She wouldn't come through space at all, butthrough space-time, through the continuum, which is a very differentthing. She is four thousand miles away in our three-dimensional space,but in space-time, as you see, she is only a few yards away. She isonly a few yards from us in the fourth dimension. If I can increasethe field a little, she will be drawn right through!"
"You're a wizard if you can do it!"
"I've got to do it! She's a fine swimmer--that's the only reason she'sstill alive--but she'll never live to reach the shore. Not in a sealike that!"
Charlie fell to work at once, mounting another electromagnet besidethe one he had set up, and rigging up two more X-ray bulbs beside thepacking box which held the meteor. The motion of the boat in thefire-rimmed window kept drawing it swiftly away from us, and Charlieshowed me how to move the dial of his rheostat to keep the girl inview.
* * * * *
Before he had completed his arrangements, a patch of white foam cameinto view just ahead of the drifting boat. In a moment I made out acruel black rock, with the angry sea breaking into fleecy spray uponit. The boat was almost upon it, driving straight for it. Charlie sawit, and cried out in horror.
The long black hull of the splintered boat, floating keel upward, wasonly a few yards away. A great white-capped breaker lifted it andhurled it forward, with the girl clinging to it. She drew herself upand stared in terror at the black rock, while another long surgingroller picked up the boat and swept it forward again.
I stood, paralyzed in horror, while the shattered boat was driven fullupon the great rock. I could imagine the crash of it, but it was allas still as a silent picture. The boat, riding high on a crest ofwhite foam, smashed against the rock and was shivered to splinters.Virginia was hurled forward against the slick wet stone. Desperatelyshe scrambled to reach the top of the boulder. Her hands slipped onthe polished rock; the wild sea dragged at her. At last she got out ofreach of the angry gray water, though spume still deluged her.
I breathed a sigh of relief, though her position was still far fromenviable.
"Virginia! Virginia! Why did I let you go?" Charlie cried.
Desperately he fell to work again, mounting the magnet and tubes.Another hour went by, while I watched the shivering girl on the rock.Bobbed hair, wet and glistening, was plastered close against her head,and her clothing was torn half off. She looked utterly exhausted; itseemed to take all her ebbing energy to cling to the rock against theforce of the wind and the waves that dashed against her. She lookedcold, blue and trembling.
The water stood higher.
"The tide is rising!" Charlie exclaimed. "It will cover the rockpretty soon. If I don't get her off in time--she's lost!"
* * * * *
He finished twisting his wires together.
"I've got it all ready," he said. "Now, I've got to find out exactlywhere she is, to know how to set it. Even then it's fearfullyuncertain. I hate to try it, but it's the only chance.
"You can find out?"
"Yes. From the spectral shift and other factors. I'll have to get someother apparatus." He ran up to the laboratory, across the level fieldthat lay black beneath the stars. He came back, panting, withspectrometer, terrestrial globe, and other articles.
"The tide is higher!" he cried as he looked through the blue-rimmedcircle at the girl on the rock. "She'll be swept off before long!"
He mounted the spectrometer and fell to work with a will, takingobservations through the telescope, adjusting prisms and diffractiongratings, reading electrometers and other apparatus, and stopping tomake intricate calculations.
I helped him when I could, or stared through the ring of shining bluemist, where I could see the waves breaking higher about the exhaustedgirl who clung to the rock. Clouds of wind-whipped spray often hid herfrom sight. I knew that she would not have the strength to hold onmuch longer against the force of the rising sea.
Although driven almost to distraction by the horror of herpredicament, he worked with a cool, swift efficiency. Only the pale,anxiety-drawn expression on his face showed how great was the strain.He finished the last spectrometer observation, snatched out a pad andfell to figuring furiously.
"Something queer here," he said presently, frowning. "A shift of thespectrum that I can't explain by distortion through three-dimensionalspace alone. I don't understand it."
We stared at the chilled and trembling girl on the rock.
"I'm almost afraid to try it. What if something went wrong?"
He turned to the terrestrial globe he had brought down and traced aline over it. He made a quick calculation on his pad, then made a finedot on the globe with the pencil point.
"Here she is. On a rock some miles off Point Eugenia, on the coast ofthe Mexican State of Lower California. Most lonely spot in the world.No chance for a rescue. We must--
"My god!" he screamed in sudden horror. "Look!"
* * * * *
I looked through the blue-ringed window and saw the girl. Green waterwas surging about her waist. It seemed that each wave almost tore heroff. Then I saw that she was struggling with something. A greatcoiling tentacle, black and leathery and glistening, was thrust upout of the green water. It wavered deliberately through the air andgrasped at the girl. She seemed to scream, though we could hearnothing. She beat at the monster, weakly, vainly.
"She's gone!" cried Charlie.
"An octopus!" I said. "A giant cuttlefish!"
Virginia made a sudden fierce effort. With a strength that I had notthought her chilled limbs possessed, she tore away from the dreadfulcreature and clambered higher on the rock. But still a hideous blacktentacle clung about her ankle, tugging at her, drawing her backdespite her desperate struggle to break free.
"I've got to try it!" Charlie said, determination flashing in hiseyes. "It's a chance!"
He closed a switch. His new coils sung out above the old one. X-raytubes flickered beside the blue fire that ringed the window. Headjusted his rheostats and closed the circuit through the new magnet.
A curtain of blue flame was drawn quickly between us and the round,fire-rimmed window. A huge ball of blue fire hung, about the meteoriteand the instruments. For minutes it hung there, while Charlie,perspiring, worked desperately with the apparatus. Then it expanded;became huge. It exploded noiselessly, in a great flash of sapphireflame, then vanished completely.
Meteor, bench, and apparatus were gone!
In the light of the stars we could make out the huge crater themeteorite had torn, with a few odds and ends of equipment scatteredabout it. But all the apparatus Charlie had set up, connected with themeteoric stone, had disappeared.
He was dumbfounded, staggered with disappointment.
"Virginia! Virginia!" he called out, in a hopeless tone. "No, sheisn't here. It didn't draw her through. I've failed. And we can't evensee her any more!"
* * * * *
Desperately I searched for consolation for him.
"Maybe the octopus won't hurt her," I offered. "They say that most ofthe stories of their ferocity are somewhat exaggerated."
"If the monster doesn't get her, the tide will!" he said bitterly. "Imade a miserable failure of it! And I don't know why! I can'tunderstand it!"
Apathetically, he picked up his pad and held it in the light of hiselectric lantern.
"Something funny about this equation. The shift of the spectrum linescan't be accounted for by distortion through space alone."
With wrinkled brow, he stared for many minutes at the bit of paper heheld in the white circle of light. Suddenly he seized a pencil andfigured rapidly.
"I have it! The light was bent through time! I should have recognizedthese space-time coordinates."
He calculated again.
"Yes. The scene we saw in that circle of light was distant from us notonly in space but in time. The _Valhalla_ probably hasn't sunk yet atall. We were looking into the future!"
"But how can that be? Seeing things before they happen!"
I have the profoundest respect for Charlie King's mathematical genius.But when he said that I was frankly incredulous.
"Space and time are only relative terms. Our material universe ismerely the intersection of tangled world lines of geodesics in afour-dimensional continuum. Space and time have no meaningindependently of each other. Jeans says. 'A terrestrial astronomer mayreckon that the outburst on Nova Persei occurred a century before thegreat fire of London, but an astronomer on the Nova may reckon withequal accuracy that the great fire occurred a century before theoutburst on the Nova.' The field of this meteorite deflected lightwaves so that we saw them earlier, according to our conventionalideas of time, than they originated. We saw several hours into thefuture.
"And the amplified field of the magnet, though strong enough to moveVirginia through space, was not sufficiently powerful to draw her backto us across time. Yet she must have felt the pull. Some dreadfulthing may have happened. The problem is rather complicated."
* * * * *
He lifted his pencil again. In the glow of the little electric lanternI saw his lean young face tense with the fierce effort of his thought.His pencil raced across the little pad, setting down symbols that Icould make nothing of.
My own thoughts were racing. Seeing into the future was a ratherrevolutionary idea to me. My mind is conservative; I have always beensceptical of the more fantastic ideas suggested by science. ButCharlie seemed to know what he was talking about. In view of themarvelous things he had done that night, it seemed hardly fair todoubt him now. I decided to accept his astounding statement at facevalue and to follow the adventure through.
He lifted his pencil and consulted the luminous dial of his wristwatch.
"We saw that last scene some twelve hours and forty minutes before ithappened--to put it in conventional language. The distortion of thetime coordinates amounted to that."
In the light of dawn--for we had been all night at the meteor pit, andsilver was coming in the east--he looked at me with fierce resolve inhis eyes.
"Hammond, that gives us over twelve hours to get to Virginia!"
"You mean to go? But just twelve hours! That's better than thetranscontinental record--to say nothing of the time it would take tofind a little rock in the Pacific!"
"We have the _Golden Gull_! She's as fast as any ship we've everflown."
"But we can't take the _Gull_! Those alterations haven't been made.And that new engine! A bear-cat for power, but it may go dead anysecond. The _Gull_ can fly, but she isn't safe!"
"Safety be damned! I've got to get to Virginia, and get there in thenext twelve hours!"
"The _Gull_ will fly, but--"
"All right. Please help me get off!"
"Help you off? It's a fool thing to do! But if you go, I do!"
"Thanks, Hammond. Awfully!" He gripped my hand. "We've got to makeit!"
* * * * *
With a last glance into the gaping pit from which we had dug themarvelous stone, we turned and ran across to the hangars. As we ranthe sun came above the sea in the east: its first rays struck us likea fiery lance. The mechanics had not yet appeared. Charlie pushed thedoors back, and we ran out the trim little _Golden Gull_, beautifulwith her slender wing and her graceful, tapering lines.
I seized the starting crank and Charlie sprang into the cockpit. Icranked until the mechanism was droning dismally, and pulled the leverthat engaged it with the engine. I had been in too much haste to getup the proper speed, and the powerful new engine failed to fire.Charlie almost cried with vexation while I was cranking again.
This time the motor coughed and fell into a steady, vibrant roar. Withthe wind from the propeller screaming about me, I disengaged the crankand stood waiting while the motor warmed. Charlie gave it scant timeto do so before he motioned me to kick out the blocks. I tumbled intothe enclosed cockpit beside him, he gave the ship the gun, and weroared across the field.
In five minutes we were flying west, at a speed just under threehundred miles per hour. Charlie was crouched over the stick, scanningthe instrument board, and flying the _Gull_ almost at her top speed.Again and again his eyes went to the little clock on the panel.
"Twelve hours and forty minutes," he said. "And an hour gone already!We're got to be there by five minutes after six."
We were flying over Louisiana when the oil line clogged. The engineheated dangerously. Reluctantly, Charlie cut off the ignition, andfell in a swift spiral to an open field.
"We're got to fix it!" he said. "Another hour gone! And we neededevery minute!"
"This new engine! It's powerful enough, but we should have had time tooverhaul it, and make those changes."
* * * * *
Charlie landed with his usual skill, and we fell to work in desperatehaste. A grizzled farmer, a wad of tobacco in his cheek and threeragged urchins at his heels, stopped to watch us. He had just been tohis mailbox, and had a morning paper in his hand. Charlie questionedhim about the storm.
"Storm-center nears the American coast," he read in a nasal drawl."Greatest storm of year drives shipping upon west coast. Six vesselsreported lost. _S. S. Valhalla_, disabled, sends S. O. S.
"A thousand lives are the estimated toll to-night of the most terrificstorm of the year, which is sweeping toward the Pacific coast, drivingall shipping before it.
Radiograms from the _Valhalla_ at 5 P. M.report that she is disabled and in danger. It is doubtful that rescuevessels can reach her through the storm."
We got the engine repaired, took off again. Charlie looked at thelittle clock.
"Five minutes to ten. Eight hours and ten minutes left, and we've gota darn long ways to go."
We had to stop at San Antonio, Texas, to replenish gasoline and oil.
"Ten minutes lost!" Charlie complained as we took off. "And thatmonster--waiting in the future to drag Virginia to a hideous death!"
Two hours later the plane developed trouble in the ignition system.The motor was new, with several radical changes that we had introducedto increase power and lessen weight. As I had objected to Charlie, wehad not done enough experimental work on it to perfect it.
* * * * *
We limped into the field at El Paso and spent another pricelesshalf-hour at work. I got some sandwiches at a luncheon counter besidethe field, and listened a moment to a radio loudspeaker there.
"Many thousands are dead," came the crisp, metallic voice of theannouncer, "as a result of the storm now raging on the Pacific coast,the worst in several years. The storm-center is spending its force onthe coastal regions to-day. Millions of dollars in damage are reportedin cities from San Francisco to Manzanillo, Mexico.
"The greatest disaster of the storm is the loss of the passenger liner_Valhalla_, of the Red Star Line. It is believed to have collided withthe abandoned hulk of an Italian-owned tramp freighter, the _Roma_,which was left by its crew yesterday in a sinking condition.Radiograms from the liner ceased three hours ago, when she was said tobe sinking. The officers doubted that her boats could be launched insuch a sea--"
I waited to hear no more. Charlie checked our route while we werestopped. And we took off; we crossed the Rio Grande and flew acrossthe rocky, brush-scattered hills of Mexico, in a direct line for therock in the sea.
"If anything happens so we have to land again--well, it's just toobad," Charlie said grimly. "But we've got to go this way. It'ssomething over six hundred miles in a straight line. Fifteen minutesto four, now. We have to average nearly three hundred miles an hour toget there."
He was silent and intent over his maps and instruments as we flew onover the lofty Sierra Madre Range, and over a long slope down to theGulf of California. Head-winds beset us as we were over the stretchof blue water, and we flew on into a storm.
"We had hardly time to make it, without the wind against us," Charliesaid. "If it holds us back many miles--well, it just mustn't!"
* * * * *
Purple lightning flickered ominously in the mass of blue storm-cloudsthat hung above the mountainous peninsula of Lower California. I had aqualm about flying into it in our untested machine. But Charlie leanedtensely forward and sent the _Golden Gull_ on at the limit of herspeed. Gray vapor swirled about us, rent with livid streaks oflightning. Thunder crashed and rumbled above the roar of our racingengine. Wild winds screeched in the struts; rain and hail beat againstus. The plane rose and fell; she was swirled about like a fallingleaf. The stick struggled in Charlie's hands like a living thing. Withlips tightened to a thin line, he fought silently, fiercely,desperately.
Suddenly we were sucked down until I had an uneasy feeling at the pitof my stomach. I saw the grim outline of a bare mountain peakdangerously close below us, shrouded in wind-whipped mist.
In sudden alarm I shouted, "We'd better get out of this, Charlie! Wecan't live in it long!"
In the roar of the storm he did not hear me, and I shouted again.
He turned to face me, after a glance at the clock. "We've less than anhour, Hammond. We've got to go on!"
I sank back in my seat. The plane rolled and tossed until I thanked mylucky stars for the safety strap. In nervous anxiety I watched Charliebring the ship up again, and fight his way on through the storm. Foran eternity, it seemed, we battled through a chaos of wind-drivenmist, bright with purple lightning and shaken with crashing thunder.
Charlie struggled with the controls until he was dripping withperspiration. He must have been utterly worn out, after thirty-sixhours of exhausting effort. A dozen times I despaired of life. Thecompass had gone to spinning crazily; we dived through the rain untilwe could pick up landmarks below. Three times a great bare peak loomedsuddenly up ahead of us, and Charlie averted collision only by zoomingsuddenly upward.
Then slate-gray water was beneath us, running in white-crestedmountains. I knew that we were at last out over the Pacific.
"We've passed Point Eugenia," Charlie said. "It can't be far, now. Butwe have only fifteen minutes left. Fifteen minutes to get toher--before the attraction of the meteor jerks her away, perhaps to ahorrible fate."
* * * * *
We flew low and fast over the racing waves. Charlie looked over hischarts and made a swift calculation. He changed our course a bit andwe flew on at top speed. We scanned the vast, mad expanse of sea belowthe blue-gray clouds. Here and there were lines of white breakers, butnowhere did we see a rock with a girl upon it. Presently the greenoutline of an island appeared out of the wild water on our right.
"That's Del Tiburon," Charlie said. "We missed the rock."
He swung the plane about and we flew south over the hastening waves. Ilooked at the little clock. It showed two minutes to six. I turned toCharlie.
"Seven minutes!" he whispered grimly.
On and on we flew, in a wide circle. The motor roared loud. An endlessexpanse of racing waves unreeled below us. The little hand crawledaround the dial. One minute past six. Only four minutes to go.
We saw a speck of white foam on the mad gray water. It was miles away,almost on the horizon. We plunged toward it, motor bellowing loud.Five miles a minute we flew. The white fleck became a black rocksmothered in snowy foam. On we swept, and over the rock, withbullet-like speed.
As we plunged by, I saw Virginia's slender form, tattered,brine-soaked, straggling in the hideous tentacles of the monsteroctopus. It was the same terrible scene that we had viewed, throughthe amazing phenomenon of distortion of light through space-time, fourthousand miles away and twelve hours before.
In a few minutes the time would come when Charlie had ended our viewof the scene by his attempt to draw the girl through the fourthdimension to our apparatus in Florida. What terrible thing mighthappen then?
Charlie brought the ship about so quickly that we were flung againstthe sides. Down we came toward the mad waves in a swift glide. Insudden apprehension, I dropped my hand on his shoulder.
"Man, you can't land in a sea like that! It's suicide!"
Without a word, he shook off my hand and continued our steep glidetoward the rock. I drew my breath in apprehension of a crash.
* * * * *
I do not blame Charlie for what happened. He is as skilful a pilot asI know. It was a mad freak of the sea that did the thing.
The gray waste of mountainous, white-crested waves rose swiftly up tomeet us, with the rock with the girl clinging to it just to our right.The _Golden Gull_ struck the crest of a wave, buried herself in thefoam, and plunged down the long slope to the trough. We rose safely tothe crest of the oncoming roller, and I saw the black outline of therock not a dozen yards away.
Charlie had landed with all his skill. It was not his fault that theblustering wind caught the ship as she reached the crest of the waveand flung her sidewise toward the rock. It is no fault of his that thewhite-capped mountain of racing green water completed what the windhad begun and hurled the frail plane crashing on the rock.
I have a confused memory of the wild plunge at the mercy of the wave,of my despair as I realized that we were being wrecked. I must havebeen knocked unconscious when we struck. The next I remember I wasopening my eyes to find myself on the rock, Charlie's strong arm on myshoulder. I was soaked with icy brine and my head was aching from aheavy blow.
Virginia, shivering
and blue, was perched beside us. I could see nosign of the plane: the mighty sea had swept away what was left of it.Clinging to the lee side of the rock I saw the black tentacles of thegiant octopus--waiting for a wave to dash us to its mercy.
"All right, Hammond?" Charlie inquired anxiously. "I'm afraid you gota pretty nasty bump on the head. About all I could do to fish you outbefore the _Gull_ was swept away."
* * * * *
He helped me to a better position to withstand the force of the greatroller that came plunging down upon us like a moving mountain.Virginia was in his arms, too exhausted to do more than cling to him.
"What can we do?" I sputtered, shaking water from my head.
"Not a thing! We're in a pretty bad fix, I imagine. In a few secondswe will feel the attraction of the meteor's field--the force withwhich I tried to draw Virginia to the crater through the fourthdimension. I don't know what will happen; we may be jerked out ofspace altogether. And if that doesn't get us, the tide and the octopuswill!"
His voice was drowned in the roar of the coming wave. A mountain ofwater deluged us. Half drowned, I clung to the rock against the madwater.
Then blinding blue light flashed about me. A sharp crash rang in myears, like splintering glass. I reeled, and felt myself fallingheadlong.
* * * * *
I brought up on soft sand.
I sat up, dumbfounded, and opened my eyes. I was sitting on the steepsandy side of a conical pit. Charlie and Virginia were sprawled besideme, looking as astonished as I felt. Charlie got to his knees andlifted the limp form of the girl in his arms.
Something snapped in my brain. The sand-walled pit was suddenlyfamiliar. I got to my feet and clambered out of it. I saw that we wereon our own landing field.
Astonishingly, we were back in the meteor crater. Charlie's vanishedapparatus was scattered about us. I saw the gray side of the roughiron meteorite itself, half-buried in the sand at the bottom of thepit.
"What--what happened?" I demanded of Charlie.
"Don't you see? Simple enough. I should have thought of it before. Thefield of the meteorite brought Virginia--and us--through to this pointin space. But it could not bring us back through time; instead, theapparatus itself was jerked forward through time. That is why itvanished. We got here just twelve hours and forty minutes after Iclosed the switch, since we had been looking that far into the future.The mathematical explanation--"
"That's enough for me!" I said hastily. "We better see about a warm,dry bed for Virginia, and some hot soup or something."
* * * * *
Now the rough gray meteorite, in a neat glass case, rests above themantel in the library of a beautiful home where I am a frequent guest.I was there one evening, a few days ago, when Charlie King fell silentin one of his fits of mathematical speculation.
"Einstein again?" I chaffingly inquired.
He raised his brown eyes and looked at me. "Hammond, since relativityenabled us to find the Meteor Girl, you ought to be convinced!"
Virginia--whom her husband calls the Meteor Girl--came laughingly tothe rescue.
"Yes, Mr. Hammond, what do you think of Einstein now?"
