Death Dimension

by Denis Hughes

  “Rum old coot, isn’t he? What’s going on, Bob?”

  Varden ignored the question, turning and moving off with the woman. The others watched him curiously, then gave their attention to the dome again. Blake resumed his watch on the dials as if nothing had happened. After one look at his back, the second Varden followed Rhonna and her companion. They reached the screen room. Varden sank into a chair, covering his face to blot out the sight of the thing that was haunting him so remorselessly.

  Rhonna put a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to notice it, Bob,” she pleaded. “I’m switching on the set.”

  Varden raised his head, staring blankly at the screen. “I’ll try,” he said. “It’s right there beside you, though, and my eyes…aren’t as good as they were.”

  The woman glanced apprehensively round, but her chin was firm and she determined not to show any fear.

  Varden Two was laughing quietly. “As if I’d hurt her!” he said sarcastically. “Tired yet, Bob?”

  “No, I’m not tired! I’ll never be tired again!” Rhonna glanced at him, but said nothing. The screen was coming to life now. Varden Two settled himself on the back of Varden’s chair, one arm round Rhonna’s neck and the other on his solid counterpart’s shoulder. He was just as intent as they were on the scene shown by the video.

  At first it was similar to what Varden had already witnessed. Great fleets of war machines and aircraft moving relentlessly into battle in a dozen different zones. Then gradually a change was taking place. The mighty warships seemed to falter, slowing as they ploughed through the seas; the tanks rolled to a halt; men walked about in an agitated fashion searching, probing for faults; the vast squadrons of aircraft hesitated in flight, some dropped away towards the distant earth, out of control, others succeeded in gliding to safety, their engines dead.

  “My God!” muttered Varden in amazement. “What’s happening?”

  “Immobilisation of equipment,” she said with a smile. “It’s horribly drastic, of course, and will cost many lives, but there’s nothing else to be done. We were too late to get Merrick before he struck. This is the result.”

  Varden Two gave a sigh. “It’s a shame to spoil a good war before it starts,” he complained. “Still, I take off my hat to Blake. Never seen a trick like it! Ask her how it’s done, Bob.”

  Varden, too, was curious. He put the question to Rhonna, but she shook her head. “Honestly,” she said, “I couldn’t explain it properly. You’ll have to wait till Dad tells you.”

  Varden grunted, rubbing a hand over his face as his vision dimmed again. The woman shot him an anxious glance. Varden said, “Don’t take any notice of what I say next, Rhonna. I’m going to ask my—my shadow something.”

  She nodded. Her hands were busy with the tuning controls of the video.

  Varden said, “Listen, is your eyesight all right?”

  “Never been better, brother! You suffering? Maybe it’s because you’ve led such a wicked life! I’ll let you know if I can’t see properly.”

  Varden was quiet. They differed in that respect anyway, he thought bitterly. He was going blind again. He knew as surely as he knew anything, and the knowledge did little to cheer him in his already unhappy state of mind.

  Blake and several of his assistants came in then. Varden Two contented himself with passing remarks, mostly obscene, about their characteristics. Varden did not pass them on. Most of the assistants, talking quietly and grimly among themselves, took their places at other videos, tuning the sets over a wide area of the world’s surface.

  Blake joined Varden and Rhonna. “Well?” he said slowly. “How is it now?”

  Varden smiled dispiritedly. “What have you achieved?” inquired. “I’m amazed by what seems to be going but don’t quite follow. How does this immobilisation stop war? If men lose their aircraft, tanks or ships, they use their feet and fight with their hands.”

  Blake gave a grim smile. “You haven’t seen it all, my friend,” he said. “Take a close look at the screens. What do they tell you?”

  Varden glanced round hurriedly, noting that his other self was on the opposite side of the room, leaning over the shoulder of a young man with blond hair and spectacles, a tired young man. Then he gave his attention to the screen Rhonna was working.

  As she moved the controls he saw a large powerhouse on the outskirts of a city. There was snow on the hills in the background, and a partly frozen river wound its course through wooded country. Crowds of people, men and women, stood about in front of the powerhouse, helpless expressions on their blank, white faces.

  “The machinery is dead,” murmured Blake. “In that city, Bob, there is no light, no heat from electrical sources or the local atomic pile, no communications or video. Everything of a mechanical nature in which electricity plays any part whatsoever is useless. Now do you begin to understand how we stopped the war?”

  “But how?” he demanded. “I see that everything’s halted, but how? And what’s to prevent them fighting on in a more old-fashioned manner?”

  Blake permitted himself a smile. “They’ll have to fight with short range rifles and pistols,” he said. “Don’t forget that the majority of modern weapons are fired electronically, as well as sighted and ranged by the same medium. No, Varden, the war is virtually over before it began, unless we give the nations time to readjust themselves and get in touch with one another, when they may start up again on the lines I mentioned.”

  “It’ll take time, of course,” Varden mused. He was still dazed by what he had seen, and stunned, too, by the magnitude of the resultant chaos.

  “But look,” he said suddenly. “What about the starvation and disease arising out of this? The whole world depends for its food and medicine on transport and electrical equipment. Now that you’ve worked some magic to destroy that source of power the people will die in their millions!” He glared at the scientist savagely for an instant. “My God, you’ve committed a worse sin than Merrick ever did in starting this business!”

  Blake only shook his head, not condemning Varden for what he said. “Soon,” he said, slowly, “my men will go out to right the position. They will make broadcasts from the sky above every city of importance, explaining, calling for a sensible approach to permanent peace.”

  Varden hesitated. “And if it fails?”

  Blake shrugged. “In that case we shall have to use our power as a weapon instead of a preventive”

  “You mean…?”

  “Yes, what the devil does he mean, Bob?”

  Blake said, “We can turn this disruptive force on or off at will, you realise. Only if the peoples of the world agree to put aside their arms, at least for the time being, will we turn it off for sufficiently long to enable countries to restore order and feed themselves.”

  “If they refuse to listen to reason,” Varden mused, “It will mean complete chaos and widespread death.”

  “Dad wouldn’t leave it on for long enough,” put in Rhonna. “Not even if the nations were obstinate. Controlled from here, it could be used at any time as a deterrent, but he’ll try to make them think they’re completely in his power—until they pull themselves together and reach an agreement.”

  “I must say the plan has its points, Bob. We’re in the wrong business, you and I! Think of what a man could do with this thing if he handled it sensibly!” The entity was carried away by the vistas of corruption opened up before him.

  Varden lost his temper and went for him, but the unseen being was in playful mood, though the brief encounter seriously upset everyone else in the screen room. Finally Rhonna grabbed hold of Varden and hung on to him tightly.

  “Stop it!” she cried. “Stop it, both of you!”

  Varden Two breathed hard for a moment, then bowed cynically. “The lady’s right,” he said. “We ought to behave like gentlemen, brother! Forgive me, please!”

  Varden allowed himself to be pushed into a chair before one of the videos. Blake made some hurried explanations to the group of astounded
assistants. None of them showed the surprise Varden would have expected, but then, he reflected, they, like Blake, were scientists. Perhaps such phenomena as double entity was not so strange to their minds as it was to his own.

  Rhonna was studying the screen again, ignoring the aftermath of what had happened. Everywhere there were signs of panic as people began to realise the position they were in. For the first time in their lives they understood how much they depended on electricity and its derivatives for their daily life.

  Blake said: “You probably still wonder how this is done, Bob. Can you comprehend an impulse sufficiently powerful to break down the insulating properties of materials employed in electrical equipment? By that I mean an impulse which itself creates a field of energy surrounding any appliance of a current carrying nature. Wires, condensers, and so on. The resulting field of energy tends to break down the current-resisting power of all affected gear.” He peered at Varden intently, seeking to get his message across. “The effect, as you can imagine, is one of short-circuiting vital parts of almost all modern machines from a car to a ship or even an electronically fired weapon.”

  Varden frowned deeply, glancing first at Rhonna, then at the face of his other entity. Varden Two whistled softly.

  “Lord,” he grunted, “what a scheme! You’ve got to admit the old boy knows his stuff! But wait a minute…Isn’t there a flaw in his present plan, Bob?”

  “I don’t see it,” said Varden defensively. “No, Blake, I don’t mean I don’t understand. I—I’m talking to this” He pointed vaguely. “It says there’s a flaw.”

  “Of course there is! How the dickens is he going to fly around with his precious ultimatum if the impulse field is in operation? Ask him to get over that one!”

  “A flaw?” murmured Blake, with a worried frown. “I thought we’d made provision for all the snags.”

  Varden said, “If the impulse is general what about your plan to fly over cities? And anyway…” His voice trailed off as another thought crossed his mind.

  Blake smiled. “I should have told you,” he apologised. “It’s a simple matter to screen our own equipment from the force field.” He chuckled. “How did you imagine it was possible to sit here and watch these videos if not?”

  Varden grinned. “The same thing just came to me,” he said. “Then you have planes ready standing by, unaffected by this?”

  “Naturally.” He glanced at his watch. “In about thirty minutes, when the full implication of what has happened begins to dawn on the nations of the world, my men will leave.”

  “It might work out,” said Varden thoughtfully. “I wish I could be as sure as you are though.”

  “Don’t worry,” Put in Rhonna. “We’ve got faith enough in Dad to see it through.”

  Varden Two simpered in a corner where he was standing. Then: “I’d love to see old Merrick’s face right now!” he said. “He was none too happy about life when I paid him a visit just after the launching of the paired projectiles. Now he must be tearing his hair—what he’s got left.”

  Varden blinked. “You know whereabouts he is?” he demanded.

  The other man snorted. “Of course I do, pal! I know lots of things. I could give you the exact position of the yacht Cherokee if it hasn’t drifted far since the ’fluence came on. In fact I’ve a damn good mind to let you have it and see what you make of it!”

  Varden sat very still, his eyes closed because pain shot through them in blinding spasms. “Give it to me if you feel like that,” he said flatly.

  Varden Two considered, then shrugged. “You’re going blind again, Bob,” he reminded him. “You can’t even see the red-head clearly, and you know it. Maybe I will give you Merrick’s position so you’ll know you’ve failed.” He grinned. “Pardon my distorted sense of humour, brother!”

  Varden got his eyes working again, opened them and peered round. Everyone in the room was watching him.

  “Give me that position,” he said grimly.

  As if knowing exactly what was going on, Rhonna pushed a pad and pencil in front of him.

  Varden Two put his head on one side, watching Varden with cruel, calculating eyes. “34 degrees 21 north, 30 degrees 15 east,” he said. “I’m leaving you now, Bob, but have the old man send one of his stooges to the Cherokee. I’II just love to hear what Merrick has to say when he gets the ultimatum! ’Bye.”

  Varden glanced round, seeing only the puzzled, curious faces of his companions.

  “Those figures. Bob…What do they represent?” asked Blake.

  “The spot where Merrick is,” he replied. “My unholy twin suggested you send one of your planes to tell him what’s happened.”

  Blake hesitated. “Not worth it,” he said. “He’ll be dealt with later on when the world sees reason: in the meantime we’ve too many other things to do.”

  Varden sat staring at the figures he had jotted down. His eyes were dimming over more frequently now. He reached out a hand and felt for Rhonna at his side. She seemed to read his need, for she guided him out of the screen room and up the steps to the farm house above.

  “Sit down,” she said, gently. “Is it very bad, Bob?”

  He began to focus again, to see through the thick curtain of dullness that clouded his vision. “Better now, thanks,” he muttered. “Rhonna, the other thing’s gone again. It’s wonderful what a difference it makes when it’s not around.’’ He tried to smile. “I feel almost free.”

  “You will be free,” she whispered. “Things’ll be all right before long, you’ll see.”

  He looked at her closely. It was all there in her green coloured eyes, and he knew it. He stood up abruptly. There were some things he couldn’t stand. “Please don’t,” he said. “It—it isn’t any use, my dear. I’ve got to sort this out for myself, without your help or anyone else’s.”

  She watched him for a moment, then came up behind him, her hand going to his shoulder in a mute appeal. “Bob,” she said, very quietly. “Do you think I don’t understand how you feel? Do you think I don’t know what’s going on in your mind? Why not admit it? We belong to each other, you and I.”

  He turned and met her gaze. All the cravings inside him were crystallised in this one woman. He longed to close his mind to the bitterness and defeat that haunted him, seeking release in the warmth and comfort she offered so graciously. Yet he knew it was impossible. There could be no such future, nor even the dreams that centred round it.

  “Don’t!” he said harshly. He thrust her aside, walking blindly to the outer door, hurrying.

  Rhonna fell back, her mouth trembling. “Bob,” she breathed. “Bob, don’t run away like that.”

  But Varden didn’t hear what she said. Had he done so he would not have stopped. He dare not turn his head for fear of breaking his self-control, dare not look back at what he wanted so badly. Outside, by the clustered buildings of the farm, the small, fast jet helicopters were being wheeled out and started. There was still something Varden had to do. After that…It didn’t matter a lot; nothing would matter anymore. He walked fast, heading for the nearest of the aircraft.

  CHAPTER 12

  AND DARKNESS CAME

  34, 21 north, 30, 15 east…The numerals were running through and through his head as he approached the plane. There was still something he had to do, unfinished business. His eyes blurred over as one of Blake’s assistants came and spoke to the mechanic at the plane. Varden halted, rubbing his forehead. He mustn’t waste time, he thought desperately. There was so little time. He stood quite still, swaying his head from side to side, fighting to see through the curtain of darkness that threatened him.

  The aircraft engines were running all round him now. The softly muted hum of the turbines sang a danger signal in his ears. He couldn’t fail now, not whatever happened.

  “Thanks, Jim,” the assistant was saying. “She’s all right for fuel, eh? Long trip to make.”

  Varden could not see the man called Jim. He could not see the assistant. All round him was thickeni
ng darkness, yet the sun was bright and warm on his shoulders.

  “You going to Moscow, sir?” the mechanic inquired. “Hope you make ’em see sense.”

  “They will,” came the answer, grim but confident. “They will have little choice. The same goes for all other countries.”

  Varden began to see again. The man who was bound for Moscow was stepping into the waiting plane. Varden lurched forward, seeing only his objective. From somewhere behind him he heard Rhonna’s voice, calling anxiously. She was calling him, guessing his intentions perhaps. The young man was half in the plane now. He turned and jumped down at the sound of Rhonna’s cry.

  “What’s the matter?” he called, puzzled.

  Varden came round the tail of the plane. He hit the mechanic between the eyes as the man tried to intercept him. The assistant swung round to face him. Varden lashed out with all the savage fury of a desperate man. Then he was inside the aircraft as Rhonna came running towards it.

  “Bob, don’t do it!” she begged. Her hands were stretched out pleadingly. Varden turned his head as he banged the engines open. He grinned at her, raising his hand in salute as the two men struggled to their feet. Others were racing towards the plane now, their numbers swelling as they came. They stopped as the helicopter rose from the ground. Varden watched them growing smaller, watched the horizon increase in its broad expanse. He saw Blake below, with Rhonna staring up at the sky. For one wild instant he thought he saw tears on her cheeks, glistening in the sunshine. Then he turned away, too full of emotion to fight the longing that urged him to land again.

  34, 21 north, 30, 15 east…Working as much by instinct as by knowledge of the machine, he set course and watched the rolling countryside unfold below. Looking back he could see no sign of pursuit, nor did he expect it. Rhonna knew well enough where he was bound for; she’d guessed it. Blake would make no attempt to stop him now. Flying south at first, he saw lines of stationary vehicles on every road he crossed. In fields and on aerodromes hundreds of battle planes stood idle, with knots of men moving aimlessly this way and that, defeated by the very engines they relied on. And when Varden turned the plane out across the sea there were drifting, stationary fleets beyond the harbours. Going low over one great battleship, he saw uniformed men waving frantically to him. A seaman started semaphoring with flags. He remembered that not even an Aldis signal lamp would work now. He was almost sorry for these men who did not understand and could get no word from their fellows below the horizon.