Doomsday Planet

by Harl Vincent

  Construction of a spaceport several miles from the city limits had been started with the news of the coming of the WSA etherships and was proceeding, if anything, at an even greater rate than that of the city. It was to provide two landing cradles in the beginning, then later to be expanded to a total of ten. Dailapdar was anticipating a very considerable interplanetary traffic, and rightly so.

  But, with all of this activity and with the evidence of a bright future for Ormin and the Orminese, there developed a strange unrest among several of the Meteoric’s survivors. Mera had noticed this and, puzzled by it, called it to Donley’s attention. It appeared to be an unreasonable and quite unwarranted feeling. It was not exactly a demonstration of fear but rather like an attack of extreme nostalgia. Even of morbid depression in one instance, the case of the Meteoric’s steward, who kept to himself almost constantly and hardly responded when greeted by those with whom he had become friendly on board ship and later here. The married couples, Fred and Doris, Phil and Amanda, did not appear to be affected but did seem to prefer their own company to any other. “Can’t say I blame them,” Donley said with a grin, swiftly taking Mera in his arms.

  For a long sweet moment they forgot the new problem. But then it was brought to their attention in no uncertain manner. The chime called them to the door of their apartment and there stood Lantag.

  “You’re stoned,” Mera accused him, for he was swaying on his feet.

  “Not so,” the Lunarian denied. And Mera knew instantly that this was the truth because the man slumped against her and his breath was as sweet as a baby’s. “Not so,” Lantag repeated. “It is cosmic pulse, come back.”

  “What?” Mera cocked her head but could discern nothing at all to resemble the lub-dub, lub-dub refrain. Neither could Donley.

  Mera was aflutter with the desire to be helpful. She remembered the stellar beat from what now seemed long ago. Remembered it as something that pounded at her nerves until she thought she’d go insane. And then, mercifully, she had known no more. Excepting for dreams she could not now recall.

  Slumped in a chair, Lantag seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Not in any sense like the living-death. His color hadn’t changed and his breathing seemed to be quite normal.

  “Let’s get to Randall about this,” Mera suggested. Donley agreed, and carried Lantag to the sofa, where they left him in slumber.

  They found Randall with Apdar—and Daila—in the electronics lab. In the top portion of the dome. Mera was telling them about Lantag. Donley let her do the talking, she was so eager.

  “Strange,” growled Randall. “It’s this sort of thing we’ve been investigating. Noticed some of these odd goings on.”

  “Any idea what it is?” asked Donley, not seeming too concerned.

  “Not yet. Remember we never did know the precise nature of the throb. Apdar here even claimed to be its originator.”

  Apdar grinned sheepishly. “Forget my little conceit, please,” he begged them. “Suppose I thought I could control my people better that way. But now—” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

  “You think Lantag’s case might help?” asked Donley.

  “Well he sounds like the worst of them,” opined Randall. “And yet, so far, we’ve been unable to identify the thing was of electrical origin. How do we test Lantag, or anybody else?”

  Daila’s amazing violet eyes were wide with question. “Might it be that telepathic eavesdropping would—?”

  “That’s it!” exclaimed Apdar. “Sure as can be. No matter what the source, it is a brain image. So we try, right?”

  He looked to Randall for agreement. “I’ll try anything once. Do we bring him here?”

  “If you say it isn’t electrical in nature. Why not all go down to our apartment. Where Lantag is.”

  But Lantag was not where they had left him. Evidently awakening and finding himself alone, he had left for parts unknown.

  He was not in his own rooms either, as they soon learned. His door was left wide open and this was cause for mild alarm. In his condition anything could happen to him.

  “The steward’s rooms are right across from here,” Donley offered. “Let’s see if he’s in.”

  The steward answered their ring, long-faced. Dour. Not at all his usual self. “What do all of you want with me?” he asked.

  “Like to talk with you,” Randall made answer. “May we come in?”

  “Suit yourself.” Leaving the door open, the steward weaved to a chair and sat there, a melancholy and uncommunicative figure. He did not even look up as the three men and two women found seats for themselves.

  “Are you looking forward to going home?” Donley asked him, to break the uncomfortable silence. He saw that Daila was concentrating mightily.

  The steward shrugged. “Guess so.”

  Just then the door chime sounded and their unwilling host made no move to answer its summons. Apdar let in Mr. Standish.

  The mate looked at the steward where he sat, then at the others. “Mind if I take a look at him?”

  “Of course not,” said Randall. Apparently the mate had not been affected by whatever it was and had been keeping tabs on the steward.

  They watched as he inserted a fever thermometer in his mouth and took his pulse, then rolled back the lids and peered into his eyes with a penlite flash. After another minute, he took out the thermometer and squinted at its scale.

  “Normal! Everything normal. Yet something’s wrong with the man. I don’t get it.”

  “Possibly psychosomatic?” Donley asked.

  “Just possibly,” Standish admitted. “But there’s something—”

  They saw that Daila had relaxed, eyes shining. She was shaking her head, rising to say something, when the steward sort of shuddered and collapsed in his chair.

  Before any of them could get to him, the audios blared forth in the strident alarm which called for all on the surface to take cover at once. Apdar paled perceptibly; he had expected that this alarm would never be needed.

  A host of frightened humanity was crowding through the great double doors from outside into the rotunda. And a brilliant pyrotechnic display in the night sky was quickly seen as the cause of the debacle. Apdar and his companions hastened to the astronomical laboratory up top. Better than through the transparent dome wall, they could see in the disc of the optical scanner what proved to be a meteor shower of giant proportions and brightness.

  The audio systems were alive with the voice of Apdar, explaining the phenomenon and telling all within hearing that there was small chance of any danger, that these meteor showers were occasionally experienced on all the planets having an atmosphere. The flaming trains, he explained, were caused by the complete burning up of the bodies by atmospheric friction and so they never reached the ground. Excepting in very rare cases. The visitors from other planets were familiar in such phenomena, he told his own people and Daila’s.

  Just at this point, a particularly large, comet-like visitant arched all the way through the atmosphere and landed far out in the sea with a thunderous impact and the spouting of a brilliantly illuminated geyser of water. The first meteorite! And no harm done. The show was over in another moment, the last of the dwindling shower fading into nothingness.

  A combined sigh of relief rose from the huge crowd in the rotunda and they began pouring through the exits somewhat shamefacedly, returning to their labors.

  Daila had been talking in animated whispers with Mera and now that the fireworks were over she spoke up.

  “The steward,” she told them, “was in a state of similar to shock, with his conscious thought mostly submerged in and controlled by the subconscious. A thought-image I clearly picked up did carry a pulsation similar to the one you have described as a cosmic or stellar throb or beat. I checked this against my own pulse and found they coincided closely. But flashing across this image at frequent intervals was a fleeting impression of anticipated release, this being accompanied by a sence of withdrawal from a sparkling show
er not too unlike the meteoric display we just witnessed. The original thought-image I extracted may have been a memory-image, a recollection of the actual cosmic pulse previously felt. On the other had—there seemed to be—I could sense another entity.”

  “You think it could be related to the natural phenomenon we just witnessed?” Donley put in. “I did vaguely pick up something of the sort, not with image clarity such as yours, of course.”

  Daila patted his hand. “You are coming along fine,” her thought-words approved.

  “Let’s get this straight,” said Randall, seeing that Apdar was in sort of a daze of wonderment, just staring admiringly at Daila. “You infer you were able to read all of this in the steward’s mind? As we sat there?”

  “Exactly. And I hope you can interpret it because I can’t.”

  Randall frowned. “Give me time,” he begged. “This is something way out, as far as I’m concerned. Doesn’t fit in with science. My kind of science.”

  It was then that Lantag came clumping up the spiral stair, walked briskly across the platform and entered the room. He was normal, himself once more.

  “Why everybody so solemn?” he inquired.

  That broke up the session. “I’ll do some more thinking,” Randall promised Daila.

  “And I too,” said Apdar. “But it’s time for sleep now, and we all need it, I’m sure.”

  But no interpretation of Daila’s eavesdropping was forthcoming the following day, nor the day after that. And all of those who had been affected by the mysterious epidemic had recovered entirely. In fact, they did not seem to know they had been through anything of account at all, not one of them mentioning it.

  Then came the day the WSA ships were due to arrive from Luna. The two cradles at the spaceport were ready to accommodate them and the control tower was in service, its transmitters tuned to the frequency of WSA receivers. Back at the end of the field, where the last of the ten cradles would be located, was the radar antenna, rotating endlessly. It was amazing to all how speedily and thoroughly the job. had been completed. These Orminese were dedicated and conscientious artisans.

  Captain Stark had completely recovered and was around and about. He was extremely interested in all he saw but had very little to say, it being quite obvious that he was a bit apprehensive as to what might be the decision in his regard when WSA ships came in. He had been given a clean bill by Randall and the mate, but he knew the final decision was up to WSA authorities.

  Quite a large group was assembled in the administration building main waiting room well in advance of the time when the first of the two etherships was to land. Most of survivors of the Meteoric and the Saturnia were on hand, in addition to Daila and Apdar with their retinues and some of the older and younger Orminese who were not in the working force. Those working on the new city and in the fields had refused a holiday, saying they could see the vessels approach from where they worked.

  Preliminary warning of the approach of the first ship came in the form of the roar of braking rockets increasing gradually from inaudibility to deafening intensity. The ship came into view in the east, its sleek shape driving down at a steep angle and visibly decelerating. It must have circled Ormin at least twice in a tight spiral to come down from the upper reaches at this angle and its speed had now reduced to practically a standstill. It was probably two thousand feet up, Donley guessed, when it circled the cradle which had been marked for its landing, then swung back slowly to hover directly above it with rockets blasting in all directions but up. So slowly and carefully did its pilot drop it on multiple jets that it settled into the cradle without an audible bump. Out of sight now behind the barrier that held in the discharge of its flaming jets.

  Abruptly the jets shut off and you could hear the silence. The barrier started dropping and the huge blowers outside began clearing the landing area of burned rocket gases.

  Only when the signal clanged did the building doors open to allow the crowd to rush out toward the landing cradle.

  The first rescue ship was on Ormin!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  By the time the second WSA ship was cradled, Captain Stark had been cleared by top officialdom of the all-powerful agency, without whose approval he would have been finished as master of an ethership. All had been arranged by ship radio after the captain of the WSA-18, the first ship to arrive, had heard the stories of Daila, Randall and Donley, as well as of two of Daila’s guards. This was done quite informally and of course the captain was a new man when told of the decision. Stark’s old testiness was a thing of the past.

  The metal box with its contents of Evoro, the Venusian narcotic of such fearsome capability, was safely in the vault of the ship’s purser. The two killers who had tried to get away with it were in the brig, manacled and with leg-irons. They were taking no more chances with this slippery and dangerous pair. WSA headquarters in Los Angeles heated the ether with congratulatory messages.

  News cameras and reporters from World Television and the TV chains of Venus and Mars had come along and were already interviewing Daila, Apdar and Doctor Randall. All of whom had given credit for the capture of the gunmen to Jack Donley. So a news reporter and cameraman went looking for Donley and Mera, another crew for Captain Stark. Before they were finished they would have them all on tape—or else. Having learned that the singer, Doris Bright was on the Meteoric’s passenger list, a special team was running her down. They’d have her charming person and one or more of her songs on tape—for free, outside of her contract with World TV. For now she was news, too.

  Visitors to both ships went aboard in lines, many of them Orminese who were curious to see the internals. The survivors had been extended the privilege of communication with their people by radio, to whichever planet it was necessary to make the call. Without obligation, of course. All seemed to be taking advantage of the offer, thereby relieving the worries of loved ones at home, besides enabling the passengers to discuss their immediate plans.

  Eula and Byrl, among the first to use the radiophone, carried on long and gurgling conversations with their parents, who were delighted to know they were safe as well as being more than pleased with the turn of events. Especially with the girl’s obvious enthusiasm regarding the two young men, Brand and Davidson. And when told that the latter were extending their vacations and likewise going to the planet Mars, they readily gave their blessing and permission for the girls to continue to Risapar, their originally intended destination. Additional funds would be waiting for them there, they were assured.

  Lantag’s call was a simple one but decisive. He talked with his superior in the Lunar spaceport, and resigned from his position there as a maintenance mechanic. He had decided to remain in Ormin, being already employed in the construction work in Dailapdar.

  Through the captain of the WSA-6, the second ship to arrive, Jal Tarjen had received the offer of first mate’s berth on a new ship of the Mars-Venus run and he used his call to accept. Delighted with the chance.

  Doctor Randall discussed his immediate future with his superiors back in LA and was granted his expressed wish to remain for a time on Ormin to have a long session with Apdar in connection with the design and use of certain of his astronomical and surgical instruments that are different and in many ways superior to those in use on Terra or the other planets.

  Mera had fully expected that she and Jack would return. But Donley, for some reason of his own, was delaying the decision. Which was okay with Mera. She loved the guy and whatever was all right with him would be all right with her. ‘Where he goes, that is my place, was her decision.

  Arrangements were being made for the repairs to the Meteoric and Captain Stark’s discussions with her owners had resulted in agreements to keep Mr. Standish, the steward, the other crew members and himself on the payroll. Present cargo, if unharmed, was to be continued to its original destination and additional cargo from Ormin could be taken on if available. It was a most satisfactory arrangement to all of them and those who had families
back home were able to notify them of their well being and future plans.

  Phil Carter, having been employed in the warehouse department of the Dailapdar construction force, resigned his old cargo tracer job and he and Amanda decided to become adopted Orminese, at least for a while. Amanda’s feelings in this respect were very much like Mera’s, She could be happy anywhere with Phil.

  WSA officers from the two ships were conferring daily with Apdar and Daila, then with their top advisors, listing commodities needed by the Orminese and which were available on the other planets. It seemed that a brisk interplanetary trade would result in not too long a time.

  Ormin was to prove a valuable addition to the solar system.

  In far-off Vloreg, Shalag, Keeper of the Records for so long, was preparing his successor to take over. Krylin, ages younger than his mentor, was rated second only to Vloreg in technical ability and so was considered a worthy inheritor of the important post and the logical choice.

  Shalag was projecting for the education of his temporary protege his tape of the recent collision of two bodies out there in space, the collision which had resulted in the hurling of a long-dead world into a new orbit in Vastar 181-x and renewing it life.

  “You will observe,” he told his pupil, “that at the moment of impact and resultant breaking down of the gases comprising the second of the bodies, a new rotation was imparted to the dead world so that is was able to take its place as a habitable body in its adopted solar system. A new atmosphere as well. I maintain that all this was conceived and implemented by the central intelligence that controls our universe.