“I’m glad you did make that experiment,” said the President of the United States. “I doubt if the scientists will fail to approve your plan now.” There was a little twinkle in the level gray eyes. “Even if they do, I have authority under martial law to order you to build your Earth Shield, and to give you every assistance you require.”
The big figure turned toward the audience, and the President waved at the group of reporters.
“Put that on your front pages, boys. Stephen Court’s in charge!”
* * * * *
WITH silent, incredible speed, Earth swung into action to fight the cosmic menace. Stephen Court was in charge. Beside him Ardath worked, untiring, unsparing of himself. Li Yang, Scipio, and Marion Barton lent their aid.
Staffs of trained scientists gathered from all over the world. Factories were hastily commandeered, and their machinery altered so they could turn out quantities of the atomic energy portable guns.
From San Francisco to New York, from New Orleans to Chicago, trained men went busily to work. Production of the guns was left to subordinates. Once provided with the plans, they executed their orders with swift precision.
Troops of militia were armed with the weapons and sent into Plague-infested areas. New York was cleared of the Carriers, and the other cities as well. Dozens of the guns were stored in airports, ready for instant transportation whenever a case of the Plague was reported. Such reports were constant these days. Earth was approaching dangerously close to the nucleus of the cosmic cloud.
Ardath flew to China, with Li Yang and two hundred famous scientists. A job had to be done there. Two gigantic towers had to be erected, on each side of the Earth—one in the Orient, one in America. Court was in charge of constructing the latter. He remained in constant telephonic communication with Ardath.
Speed was essential. Every resource of the country was turned to building the Earth Shield. Business was neglected. The Government issued their orders, delegating certain jobs to certain groups. The people had to be fed, of course, but every capable man was mustered to the task for which he was best fitted. Factories worked day and night.
Every other country lent its aid. Canada, England, Germany, France, Italy, Japan—all forgot their imperialistic and trade quarrels in order to battle the common enemy. There was no time for war.
Build the Towers! Create the Earth Shield! These aims were foremost.
Slowly the mighty obelisks rose. They resembled the Eiffel Tower, but were far taller and larger. Immense girders buckled huger beams together as the monoliths rose against the sky day by day. Faster, faster, the men worked.
At night, searchlights were used. New roads were built and old ones widened, all converging on the Towers. A railroad was laid to each one from the nearest line.
Nearby towns found themselves incredibly augmented in populations. Emergency barracks rose. Dapper physicists and chemists slept side by side with burly roustabouts and riveters.
No thought of class, and few quarrels, arose. Each man knew that the Plague might strike his own family next. Under his breath he whispered:
“Build the Earth Shield! Hurry! Hurry!”
Two Towers loomed at last, visible for many miles. Each one was topped with a shimmering, bright sphere of metal, fifty feet in diameter. From these globes the atomic energy would flame out, to encircle the planet and transform the atomic structure of the Heaviside Layer into an impregnable barrier.
CHAPTER XX
Thordred Returns
COURT had little time to rest. He had frequent reports from the Chief of the F. B. I., whom he had requested to track down the vanished Thordred. But the bearded giant had disappeared without trace. His continued presence meant danger, however. Thordred possessed the knowledge he had stolen from the minds of both Ardath and Court. The drag-net searched for him vainly.
One night Court, Scipio and Marion stood in the control room just beneath the huge globe that topped the Tower. The task was finished. The last workman had just departed in the elevator that led to the ground. The three stood quietly, staring out at the land that stretched far beneath them. Bright moonlight bathed everything weirdly, yet beautifully.
The room was fifty feet square, a flat platform around which a low railing ran. There were no walls. Metal supports stood up like thick columns at intervals. The globe above their head was hollow, else not even the tough reinforced steel of the Tower could have supported its weight.
They could not see the sphere. Nine feet above their heads, the ceiling was plated with thickness after thickness of Ardath’s alloy, the only thing that would halt the radiation of atomic energy. Court fumbled with a televisor.
“Wish I’d had this finished weeks ago,” he complained. “Ardath showed me how to build it, but I didn’t have time. Let’s see—”
The screen ran riot with color that swiftly faded into a uniform gray.
“Trying for China?” Marion asked, coming to stand close to Court.
He nodded.
“The other Tower. I’m getting it. Here it is!”
On the screen, the fat, butter-colored face of Li Yang appeared. The beady black eyes stared.
“Court? Hello. How is the work?”
“All finished,” Court sighed. “We’re just waiting for you. Bolted the last connection half an hour ago.”
“Fine!” the Oriental applauded. “We’ll be ready tomorrow, perhaps sooner. Wait a moment. Here’s Ardath.”
The Kyrian’s thin, ascetic face replaced that of Li Yang. His eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue.
“So you’re finished, Court,” he said. “Good. My workmen were not much slower. We’ll be done in a few hours, not tomorrow, Li Yang. Then we can turn on the power. Don’t forget—Ardath’s lips thinned—“we must be careful. Both of us must turn on the switches at exactly the same moment. Otherwise there will be disaster.
“The atomic screen must meet just halfway around the Earth. If you turn on your power too soon, your energy screen will smash mine back and destroy this Tower completely. We must be completely accurate.”
Court glanced at an instrument panel near him.
“I will. Wait a minute. Someone’s coming up in the elevator.”
The warning bell was ringing. Presently the lift rose into view. An over-alled figure, half hidden under the weight of a wooden box, stepped out of the cage.
SCIPIO turned from where he had been leaning on the rail and staring down into the black gulf. He peered at the workman. Marion’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
“What’s this?” she asked. “We didn’t—”
The box fell crashing to the floor. The face of the man behind it was revealed. It was no longer bearded; clean-shaven now, and with the hair bleached yellow. Yet the arrogant mouth, hawk nose and the tawny amber eyes could belong to only one man. Thordred!
His hand swept up, a lens blinking bluely in it. The mouth gaped in a snarl.
“Don’t move!” His voice shook with mad fury. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ve come back!”
Court still stood before the televisor. On the screen he saw Ardath’s face watching, immobile and intent. He glimpsed a heavy wrench that was lying forgotten on the ledge of the televisor. It was hidden from Thordred’s view by the instrument’s bulk. Court let his hand gently close over it.
“Don’t be a fool,” he said. “You can’t possibly escape.”
Thordred laughed harshly. “No, you saw to that. Your police have stolen after me. If I hadn’t stolen your memories, I’d never have escaped them. I disguised myself as a workman and rode up here. Nobody stopped me. And I have a weapon now! I made it, with the knowledge and memories I took from Ardath.”
Marion’s face was paper-white. Scipio stood motionless, his gigantic hands gripping the rail behind him.
“What do you intend to do?” Court asked
“Kill you,” Thordred rasped. “Then I’ll turn on the power—I know how to do that—and the energy will destroy Ardath in his Tower. With you t
wo out of the way, I can rule the Earth. My brain, with the combined knowledge of yours and his, is wiser than any other in the world.”
“You may do that,” Court admitted, warily watching for an opening. “But what about the Plague?”
“I haven’t forgotten that. The Towers can be repaired. The Earth Shield can be created, even without you and Ardath. But then I shall rule this planet!”
Softly, without moving his lips, Court whispered into the televisor.
“Turn on your power, Ardath. It’ll destroy Thordred. We’ll go with it, but that’s the only way.”
The Kyrian did not speak, but he shook his head slightly. Thordred moved forward. The blue lens in his hand lifted.
“Now,” he said. “Now you die!”
Court’s muscles tensed for a hopeless leap. He knew he could not reach the other in time. His fingers tightened over the wrench. Scipio had not moved. His eyes were aglow.
Murder-lust sprang into Thordred’s dark face. He aimed the crystal—
“Thordred!”
ARDATH’S voice rang out from the televisor. Startled, Thordred involuntarily glanced toward the instrument. Simultaneously on the screen a beam of blinding white light flashed from Ardath’s hand. It flamed into Thordred’s eyes, blinding him.
Roaring, the giant shook his head, a ray of blue radiance spearing wildly from the lens he held. Court snatched up the wrench and hurled it with all his strength. It struck Thordred’s hand. The lens was hurled away, to shatter on the metallic floor.
Ready to hurl himself at Thordred, Court was halted by Scipio’s bull voice. The Carthaginian roared:
“Back, Court! He is mine—mine to slay!”
No longer blinded by the ray, Thordred turned to face this new menace. With the snarl of a cornered beast, he closed with his attacker. The mighty, hair-covered hands closed about Scipio’s throat. The Carthaginian tore them away, and the two men gripped each other about the waist.
They reeled back and forth, each striving to throw the other. To and fro on the platform they wrestled, hundreds of feet above the grounds. Staggering to the railed brink and back, Thordred bellowed with insane rage. His mouth gaped open as he sought to sink his teeth in Scipio’s throat.
The Carthaginian swung his fist in a short arc. The power of the blow brought blood gushing from Thordred’s cheek.
Court and Marion—and, on the screen, Ardath and Li Yang—watched the two titans battle. The men were well matched. Thordred was the taller, but Scipio seemed to weigh a trifle more. Yet the raging, murderous frenzy that filled them both was exactly equal.
Abruptly Thordred drove a foul blow at Scipio’s middle. The Carthaginian grunted, and his guard dropped for a moment. Instantly Thordred hurled himself upon his opponent. The two went down, Thordred on top. The hairy hands again sank in Scipio’s corded throat.
Court sprang forward, the wrench in his hand. Scipio turned his head slightly. His deep voice roared a warning.
“Back, Court! He is mine to slay!”
Then the iron hands of the gladiator from Carthage found their mark—the throat of the savage from the Earth’s youth.
And they sank deep, deep! All the tremendous strength in Scipio’s muscles seemed to flow into his arms. Cords and knots stood out under his bronzed skin.
Thordred’s face was suddenly gorged with purple. Blood stained his shaved chin, began trickling down. Desperately he strove to throttle his opponent. Abandoning the effort, he released his grip and stabbed his fingers down at Scipio’s eyes.
THE Carthaginian expertly rolled his head, and the foul missed its mark.
Thordred was suddenly clawing at the terrible hands that shut off his breath. His body jerked and writhed like a hooked fish. His eyes were distended and protruding. Frantically he tried to tear himself free, and could not. . . .
“You left her to die,” Scipio whispered.
Court knew that he spoke of Jansaiya, the Atlantean priestess.
One last frightful effort Thordred made. Something snapped with a brittle, crackling report. Simultaneously the giant flung himself up with one uncoiling motion. He stood upright, amber eyes glaring, breath hissing and rattling into his starved lungs.
Suddenly the huge head lolled forward slackly on its broken neck. For a heart-beat, Thordred stood silhouetted against the dark sky. Then he crashed lifeless to the floor.
Scipio sprang up. He heaved up the heavy body of Thordred and went staggering toward the railing. He flung the body out into the abyss, and stared after it with brooding eyes.
“Your vengeance, Jansaiya,” he whispered. “And mine!”
Then Scipio Agricola Africanus, the man from Carthage, put his head down on his arms. He began to weep great, choking sobs that ripped harshly from his throat.
Court looked away in sympathy and walked toward the televisor screen. Against it Marion leaned, faint with reaction. Both Ardath and Li Yang were watching. Though the Oriental’s gross yellow face was immobile, his lacquer eyes were suddenly aglow with pity.
“Ohé,” Li Yang sighed softly. “Alas for such men as Scipio, who find neither thrones nor love.”
Ardath turned when a man appeared behind him on the screen. After a few words, he faced Court.
“The work has been done sooner than I expected. We can turn on the power now. Compare your chronometer with mine.”
The two delicate time-pieces checked precisely.
“At exactly eleven, throw your switch,” Ardath instructed. “I shall do the same.”
There were ten seconds to go—five—three—
Court’s hand trembled on the switch.
Two. One. . . .
Now!
Deafening thunder bellowed out from the summit of the Tower. For miles around, the roaring blast shattered windows and awakened sleepers to panicky fright. White light made the country bright as day. For a second, the maelstrom of raving light and sound continued. Then it swiftly died. There was silence, save for a low humming.
“Good!” Ardath said on the screen. “We timed it exactly right. In two minutes, watch the sky. If it lights up, we have succeeded.”
WITH one accord, Court and Marion hurried to the railing. Even Scipio lifted his head to stare at the black sky.
Two minutes to wait. The incredible barrier of electrons, the curtain of atomic energy, was rushing around the Earth, spreading out from the points of origin in the twin Towers.
One minute dragged by. Then, without warning, the sky turned white. The dim stars vanished. A curtain of pallid white brilliance hung over the Earth, like a shining ivory bowl overturned upon the land.
A single heart-beat it remained, and then faded and was gone. But Court knew that the Earth Shield had been created. That barrier would forever safeguard mankind.
“We’ve won!” His voice was hoarse with triumph. “Marion, we’ve saved humanity!”
There was something inexpressibly tender in the girl’s eyes as she watched him. For now she knew that Stephen Court was a man whom she could love and cherish—not a cold, inhuman machine. In the hour of his triumph, he exulted not because he had solved a terrible problem with his keen brain. Court rejoiced because he had saved human beings from horror and death.
“Yes,” Marion said softly. “We’ve won, Steve. Both of us have won what we wanted.”
From the metallic sphere overhead, invisible energy flared out, challenging the stars as it poured its mighty power into the Earth Shield. . . .
EPILOGUE
ONE year later, a little group stood on the Wisconsin hills, examining a huge golden space ship that loomed against the green slope and the summer sky. It had taken months to build a new vessel to Ardath’s specifications. But at last the task had been finished, the equipment installed, and the provisions taken aboard. In every respect, the craft was a duplicate of the Kyrian original, save for a few new devices which Ardath and Court had perfected.
Scipio, Li Yang and Ardath stood together at the open air-lock, Marion and Cour
t a few feet away. It was difficult to find words at this moment of sad farewell.
“I am sorry you will not go with us, both of you,” Ardath said after a time. “Yet you may be right.”
“You know how I feel about it,” Court returned. “The Plague is destroyed. It will never come again, thanks to the Earth Shield. But new dangers may arise. These people among whom I was born are my people. I must be ready to serve and help them. I think that was the reason I was given a mind evolved beyond my time.
“I can help in so many ways, Ardath. There is so much I can do to improve this world of mine. Already, in one year, vast strides have been made. Atomic power has outlawed war. When I die, I want to die in a Utopia that I have helped to build.”
Ardath nodded with an understanding. “I came through time to find a super-mind whom I could abduct to start a new race. Well, I have found that super-mind—and you are wiser than I, Stephen Court. We are all part of some cosmic pattern, and this pattern works toward good and not evil. It builds and does not destroy. So I shall go on in my search for a race where I can find kinship and happiness. Perhaps, a thousand years from now, I shall stand beside your grave, Court.”
“I, too,” Scipio broke in. “Your world is a fine one, Court, and some of it I like. But I follow a dream. Mayhap I can carve out a kingdom in some distant future—” He did not finish, but his face was suddenly somber. “I cannot stay here,” he said at last. “Jansaiya died here, and that would always be an aching pain in my heart.”
“Nor will I remain,” Li Yang murmured. “Perhaps it is merely curiosity that impels me to go on with Ardath. I do not know. But the unknown has a certain fascination, and I am anxious to know what will exist a million years from now. So farewell, and”—the tiny mouth twisted grotesquely—“and do not forget fat old Li Yang.”
The gross figure turned hastily and disappeared into the ship.
Scipio bent and touched his lips to Marion’s brow before he squeezed Court’s hand in a mighty grip.
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