The Great White Space

by Basil Copper

  As he spoke, he showed me round the interior of the craft which seemed to me extremely ingenious and spacious. The control room, which had observation windows masked by sliding metal shutters, also incorporated a sort of chart-table and a rack for all the Professor’s books and instruments.

  Beyond was a bedroom which could sleep three crew-members in comfort; beyond that again a small galley fully equipped for cooking. There was even a minute toilet and shower stall and wash-basin.

  ‘The other tractors are identical,’ said the Professor, ‘so that if something happens to one we can merely change over without difficulties of any sort.’

  He paused before he went on.

  ‘You have no objection to learning to handle the machine, I suppose?’

  ‘I should be delighted,’ I said. ‘I intend to make myself fully useful in addition to my photographic duties.’

  ‘I ask for a particular reason,’ Scarsdale said. ‘The machines will go with us by sea in the first instance, of course. To get them to our destination means that we must have a driver for each. That commits four out of five, with one man acting as cook and reserve driver. So you can see we shall need the help of everyone.’

  ‘You won’t be engaging the help of any porters?’ I said.

  The Professor shook his head.

  ‘You will see the reason why in due course,’ he replied. ‘We must have another two months in England before embarking. As you have seen, Van Damm is still far from perfect at piloting these things and I’m sure you’ll want to be thoroughly conversant before taking over.’

  I agreed. Then another thought struck me.

  ‘As I’m to be the official photographer, ought I not to record some of these preparations on film?’ I said. ‘I have my equipment outside and would be delighted to start this afternoon.’

  The Professor looked pleased but then his face clouded over. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I’m sure you won’t take this amiss, my dear fellow, but I must rely on your discretion.’

  ‘I’m not quite sure I follow you,’ I replied.

  The Professor operated the mechanism which let down the shutters from in front of the forward windows. There was the hum of electric motors in this warm little world which seemed remote from the wet Surrey countryside about us.

  ‘This is a highly secret project,’ Scarsdale continued. ‘I’m at great pains that it should remain so. If the press should get wind of it, there might be difficulties involved in the country for which we are heading. So your prints must be shown to no-one but myself and your colleagues here.’

  So worried did he look that I readily gave him my assurance, adding that if he wished I would leave the undeveloped film with him and print the material with my own equipment the next time I came down.

  He seemed pleased at this but as I left the tractor to seek my camera, he halted me at the doorway.

  ‘To be quite fair to you, Plowright, I will tell you a little more about this business before you go. My conscience will then be clear.’

  I assured him that I had already made up my mind to accompany him as official photographer but if he liked to let me know more about his plans and the circumstances surrounding the expedition, then I would, of course, fully respect any confidences he cared to place in me.

  2

  The next hour was an extremely busy one; I took something like seventy photographs in that time, with particular regard to the detail of the specialised equipment Scarsdale and Van Damm had perfected. I knew this would be appreciated by the Professor. He, together with the scowling Van Damm, was persuaded to pose on the steps of one of the tractors. Then I went out again into the drizzling rain to photograph Van Damm’s extraordinary manoeuvres in the orchard, watched by an alarmed Collins, who had strict orders from Scarsdale to report even so much as a bruised pear from the fruit trees.

  I went on from there back to the workshop where I recorded the others at work, until I had a fairly comprehensive picture record of the Great Northern Expedition’s activities to date. By this time it was five o’clock and I was already so far committed to the as yet mysterious preparations of my companions that I was delighted when the Professor suggested that I should stay the night and at once fell in with his suggestion.

  One of Collins’ stranger duties was the formal serving of tea, complete with silver teapot and all the accoutrements of toast, crumpets and scones, among the rough surroundings of the workshop, when the scientists were too busy to come indoors to the house. He had a strange contraption like a hospital trolley, with a collapsible hood to keep the rain from his heated delicacies and he trundled this solemnly out to the courtyard at five o’clock.

  So it was that I found myself sipping almost boiling tea from fine china at the chart-table of the Professor’s tractor while he sombrely explained to me something of the difficulties we would be facing. He repeated that he had been somewhat alerted to the dangers facing the world by his researches into certain forbidden books many years before, in the early twenties. It was not until very much later that he began to connect them with the inscriptions found on stone tablets in various parts of the world; and then, eventually, with last year’s strange spring; the shifting lights in the sky, which were observed almost on a global scale and which were connected, Scarsdale maintained, with something he called the Coming.

  It was such a spring and such a sequence of events, he said, which were hinted at in blasphemous old books and forbidden treatises in Arabic and Hebrew which he had studied for years on end and which he eventually made to yield up their secrets. It was the Latin volume. The Ethics of Ygor, he added, which had produced the most worthwhile results; and the key-sig’ns and notably the Magnetic Ring which was said to spin beyond the farthest suns of the universe, had eventually been the cause of his stumbling on to some fantastic and unbelievable facts which the Professor hesitated even to mention to his most learned colleagues.

  They concerned, Scarsdale believed, a portion of the universe which he called ‘the great white space’; it was an area which the Old Ones particularly regarded with awe and which they had always formally referred to, in their primeval writings as The Great White Space. This was a sacred belt of the cosmos through which beings could come and go, as through an astral door, and which was the means of conquering dizzying billions of miles of distance which would have taken even the Old Ones thousands of years to traverse.

  Scarsdale believed he had discovered a key to the identity of the Old Ones, through the hieroglyphs discovered on earth and after long and profound study of the writings, coupled with the key books of The Ethics of Ygor, he had come to the conclusion that the riddle of their existence might be probed here on earth. It was then that he had set out on the first and most difficult of his exploratory journeys, which he had already mentioned.

  If Scarsdale feared that I should disbelieve what to a layman might appear to be a somewhat wild narrative, my demeanour must have rapidly given him confidence, for he was able to speak more clearly and confidently as the minutes ticked past. For my part I had no cause to doubt his sincerity or sanity and the distinction of his colleagues on the expedition, plus the sober and impressive scientific preparations going ahead, were evidence in themselves that something serious and solidly based was afoot.

  He searched for reassurance in my eyes and my continued silence encouraging him, he continued. We must have made a strange sight, he large and bearded, myself with one fragile china cup in my hand; the pair of us in earnest conclave within the conning tower of a grey metal tractor in a large shed set in the midst of the drizzling Surrey uplands. Yet neither of us thought it incongruous so sincerely did Scarsdale believe the truth of what he was relating; and no less sincerely did I receive his confidences.

  ‘Believe me, Plowright, if I could at this stage reveal the exact location of our destination I would do so,’ he said, fixing me earnestly with those arresting eyes. ‘Too much is at stake.

  Let me just say, for the sake of c
oherence that it was Peru. It was not Peru, but no matter. I had spent years working on my calculations. There was no doubt in my mind that they were correct. My problem was that the need for secrecy meant my party must be small; there were but three of us. To my great sorrow and misfortune, there was treachery on the part of a local agent I trusted; my two companions fell sick. Foolishly, I decided to go on with the large party of porters. I had to engage bearers as the vast amount of equipment made it a necessity. Had I had the present vehicles, well then, I should have succeeded triumphantly. As it was, my efforts were foredoomed to failure.’

  Scarsdale was not a man given to emotion, as I later came to know, but the recollection evidently moved him for his voice trembled and he drummed impatiently with strong, spatulate fingers on the chart-table before him. He recollected himself and the impassive exterior resumed itself again.

  ‘The wonder of it is that I got so far,’ he said. ‘I gained the mountains and the outer caves before the porters deserted. I won’t go into details because I want every man of you to start this venture with a fresh, clear mind. But there were the inscriptions, there were the tunnels you have seen in the library of the house; I took a pack and some provisions and marking my way, I went on. The nights were the worst. I spent many days in the tunnels and I slept badly. Then I came to a vast underground lake; and there, hunger, plus the sheer physical impossibility of continuing without specialist equipment, overcame me. I almost failed to make it, I was so weak by the time I gained the outer air. Fortunately, some of the guides had remained on the mountain and brought me down. The full affair never got into the papers. And that’s about it.’

  He pointed out through the thick quartz windows to the far side of the hangar.

  ‘Collapsible rubber boats of specially toughened material. If necessary, four of them, suitably girdered could act as pontoons for ferrying tractors. I don’t think we’ll fail this time. We dare not fail.’

  He clenched his fist on the table in front of him as he spoke and it seemed to me as though shutters momentarily closed over his eyes, but not before I had seen chaotic fires burning within. I then realised that Clark Ashton Scarsdale was a man of immense strength whose mental fortitude was under siege by equally strong pressures. I cleared my throat and the trivial sound seemed to recall the Professor to his surroundings. It appeared to me then as though he had been far away physically, and that once again he stood upon the shore of a vast tideless underground sea.

  ‘The clay oval upon the model depicts the underground lake?’ I said.

  The Professor nodded. ‘Exactly. I could, in fact, have gone beyond this in the model but I did not feel it politic to do so.’

  Seeing the surprise upon my face he went on.

  ‘I have formulated theories from my earlier research but as I have myself not seen with my own eyes what lies beyond the lake it seemed pointless to give it physical features in a model of that sort.’

  ‘What do you expect to find beyond the lake?’ I asked bluntly.

  Scarsdale smiled. He became at once far less serious.

  ‘I have, as I indicated, definite theories. What these are it would be both premature and unwise to reveal at this stage. It might take the zest out of the exploration for the other members of the expedition. And we must, must we not, have soijie speculative topics to discuss during the long nights in camp?’

  I agreed. Just one point of curiosity remained for the moment.

  ‘The tractors, Professor. Supposing we venture beyond visual touch?’

  Scarsdale became the practical man again.

  ‘Powerful searchlights for underground work, plus lanterns for pre-arranged signals. Short-wave radio sets for verbal contact, effective up to a range of five miles. You’ll be given instructions on this equipment also before we start. But here’s Collins. He’ll be wanting the tea-things. Are you satisfied with the Great Northern Expedition?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ I said.

  Thus casually did I commit myself to the most appalling experience of my life.

  Four

  1

  Having completed my arrangements in London I drove back down to Surrey the following week in a mood which blended contentment with apprehension. In the interim I had time to consider the implications of the Professor’s cryptic statements; divorced of his personality and the sincerity of his voice they left a good deal to be desired. And yet, wild as some of his assertions had been and as mysterious as our destination still appeared, I was inclined on balance to believe him. There was no doubt of his sanity in my mind and his field record was an impressive one.

  I had been to the reference books during the past few days and my old friend Robson had added his own personal reminiscences of Scarsdale’s personality; third-hand, I must admit, but they had reinforced my own belief in his integrity. Robson too was a dabbler in outre and bizarre things on the fringe of the world’s knowledge; one of his own friends had accompanied. Scarsdale on what he was pleased to call one of his ‘hikes’. He was full of admiration for a man he regarded as one of the most outstanding field workers of the twentieth century.

  All this was good enough for me. With Robson’s assurance that he would ‘look in’ at my flat from time to time and deal with any mail of a business nature, and my own promise that I would write as and when I was able, I packed my few personal belongings, together with a plethora of photographic equipment, bundled it all in my old car and set off. On my arrival at The Pines I was at once flung into such a routine of work, research, preparation and tests that on looking back I regarded it as one of the most enjoyable - if occasionally traumatic experiences — of my life.

  In addition to my special photographic work - and I had to set up a minute dark room for my own purposes in Number 1 tractor — and the general manhandling of supplies inescapable in such a project where the five principals are desirous of keeping their preparations secret - I had also to learn the mysteries of tractor driving, plus the operation of the radio equipment linking the mobile bases. Scarsdale, to my surprise, had designated me his sole companion in Number 1 with Van Damm in charge of Number 2, Holden and Prescott acting as his crew. I asked if that were not causing an imbalance among the expedition’s scientific personnel but the Professor’s reply somewhat startled me.

  ‘The technical qualifications have little to do with this aspect,’ he assured me. ‘All I am concerned with is that the two physically strongest people shall be in the leading vehicle.’

  This factor, together with the other special equipment being loaded, filled me with some disquiet. Rifles, revolvers, grenades, Very pistols and even what looked like a rack of elephant guns were among the formidable armaments being screwed into position within the vehicles.

  I had meant to ask Scarsdale about this but something in his eyes made me hold my own counsel. Certainly, none of the others saw any reason for comment or alarm in the material currently loading and I wondered if perhaps they had discussed it all earlier. I understood the four of them had been at the Surrey house for something like a year and certainly they all worked smoothly together with a score of private jokes and special references that I, as a newcomer, could not be expected to comprehend.

  The only outward opinion expressed was Holden’s jocular remark to Prescott one afternoon. Scarsdale was absent on some business in Guildford and Holden was lifting one of the massive elephant pieces through the sliding door of Number 2. He made some grave comment about Van Damm’s forthcoming ‘sparrow shoot’. To my surprise both he and his companion went into veritable paroxysms of laughter and the subject of their amusement, whom I had not earlier seen in the hangar doorway, joined in, Van Damm’s high, snickering laugh echoing among the roof girders.

  They had more cause for amusement shortly as it was soon discovered that I was an even more inept pupil than Van Damm at tractor-driving; try as I would, I could not at first remember exactly how to operate the two confounded levers and the complicated gear-stick that Scarsdale and Van Damm had devised to
drive the things and my efforts in the misty orchard, with Collins hopping frantically out of the way and the Professor bellowing about the high cost of fruit trees, raised echoes of mirth long after their physical manifestations had ceased.

  Van Damm, I think, was secretly pleased at this, as it gave the Professor another scapegoat though he did not, of course, bully me in the same manner and his arguments did not take the same form that his mock rows with the doctor took. But he did take me aside on one or two occasions to express his gentle concern at my ineptitude and it was this, more than anything, which forged in me the ambition to succeed That I succeeded in becoming the best driver among them, with a ground-work of only three weeks’ training, was a tribute, I feel, to the Professor’s personality rather than to any special aptitude on my part.

  When the Professor went to the bank one morning to draw out a number of charts, books and other documents he had deposited there, we then knew that the time of departure must be near. We were not leaving, initially, by ship, but the Professor had arranged for the vehicles to be taken through France and Italy by road, in three great lorries and we could, of course, leave at almost any time, being subject to no sailing schedules other than those maintained by the Channel boats.

  We ourselves were flying to Rome where the Professor intended to carry out certain field trials in a desolate sandy region to the north of the city. I think Collins was the most disappointed person at The Pines on learning that he was not to accompany the Professor. Scarsdale told him one afternoon when the lugubrious manservant was helping to break down the sand-table model a few days before our departure. We would miss Collins also, as his stiff, correct figure, always trying to maintain protocol in face of chaos was a never-ending source of good-natured amusement among us.