“That’s marvelous,” said Soca, delightedly.
“For sure,” approved the laconic Vitto.
Saint-Clair took another puff on his cigar. Then, with gently irony, to which he often resorted when joy reigned within him, he said:
“And that’s all! The three-way Terrestrial-Rhean pact has but two articles, which can be summed up in three words: comprehension; cooperation; peace.”
This account of the interplanetary adventure of Saint-Clair and his companions, summary although sometimes melodramatic—by reason of the passionate and dramatic turmoil provoked Ariste Fageat—could end here. What followed the events of those first few days of the life of the Terrans on Rhea no longer belonged to the domain of adventure but to that of science.
Does not the progress of science though the centuries, however, comprise the increasingly prodigious chapters of the veritable adventure?
The sojourn of the Terrans on Rhea lasted a year. It is the subject of a very voluminous communication made by Gno Mitang and Leo Saint-Clair to the Académie des Sciences—a communication that is still confidential and will remain so while scientists and linguists work to translate it into all the languages of the civilized terrestrial world.
It is impossible for us to offer here even an exceedingly humble and succinct summary of that important scientific work, but we can extract a few essential items of information from it, in order to satisfy, at least in part, the legitimate curiosity of our readers. As for the part—undoubtedly the largest, alas—that we leave in darkness, the exercise of their imagination might assist them to await the publication of the official work of Messieurs Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang.
What follows are a few important details regarding the life on the planet Rhea, and, thereafter, a brief account of the return of the Terrans in the Olb.-I to their native planet.
To begin with, the essential character of life on Rhea, on which the communication of Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang insists at length, is that on that planet, fire does not and cannot exist. Lightning is unknown there; the intrarheal fire does not manifest itself in any fashion—whereas the Earth is punctured by volcanoes—and, finally, none of its vegetation, however dry, is combustible.
Thus, the civilization of the Diurnal Rheans, very advanced in other respects, and the less developed civilization of the Nocturnal Rheans, do not involve any of the aspects that depend, on Earth, on the existence and usage of fire. There are no weapons, save for the flint ax-heads attached to wooden shafts that the Diurnals used in defending themselves against the Nocturnals, who use nothing themselves as a means of attack, fighting, capture and destruction but their strength, their agility and the suppleness and vigor of their limbs. There is no industry, save for architecture, with no other tools than hands and no other materials than the inexhaustible clay found in all the regions of the planet, in valleys and the deepest depressions in the plains, and the fabrication of vestments, the body-stockings of the Diurnals and the loincloths of the Nocturnals being woven from vegetable fibers. There is no industry, nor any agriculture or commerce, with respect to nourishment, the Diurnals living on “nuts” produced every year by billions of trees and the Nocturnals nourishing themselves on the raw flesh of the quadrumanes that pullulate on Rhea even more than the millions of insect species on the Earth.
On Rhea, there are no beasts of burden that draw vehicles, carry packs or are saddled for riding. Travel is, in any case, infrequent, because each region, delimited by rivers or chains of hills, is effectively isolated, and journeys are made on foot.
The temperature is maintained at summery levels throughout the day, and spring-like levels at night by the heat of the Rhean mass itself—a heat whose source and nucleus the Terrans were unable to discover. They observed that in the clay-filed depressions, geysers suddenly bust forth in places, randomly in space but at regular intervals in time, which do not project water but only vapor. It is these vapors that form the thick clouds that rise up to heights varying, according to the region, between eight hundred and a thousand meters, where they are gripped, cooled and carried away by the inexplicable perpetual wind that envelops the entire plant, rotating at great speed from west to east, creating a kind of formidable maelstrom at the poles, beneath which life is impossible. That wind remains inexplicable, so far as Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang are concerned.
There is no art or literature among the Nocturnals, who spent half the night hunting and have no other intellectual enjoyment than listening to Diurnals sing. By contrast, the Diurnals are ingenious and knowledgeable architects, sketchers and writers; the dried leaves of a kind of water-lily serve them as paper; their sole implement for drawing and writing is a stylus made from the hardened tip of a plant analogous to the terrestrial bulrush. They have museums, libraries and archives, but their great art is music; Rhean voices, abundant in richness and extensive in register, replace the instruments devised on Earth by human genius and fabricated by human industry.
There is no “social question” or “class struggle.” Among the Diurnals the not-very-numerous elite arises from an entirely natural selection, some Rheans revealing themselves a composers between the ages of fifteen and twenty years. After a few months of spontaneous evolution, their talent achieves perfection, but without monotony, for the inspiration of each one is infinitely varied. Among the Nocturnals, absolute equality, under a sort of regency, which is very casual and elementary in its administration; there is one chief, who, until his death, has no competitor because he has no advantage of any kind by virtue of being the chief. On his death, he is simply replaced by the tallest Nocturnal in the tribe.
Neither among the Diurnals or the Nocturnals is there any marked difference in mental intelligence; rivalries and ambitions are unknown. In the most natural fashion, everyone acts for the community and the community acts for every individual. It is an integral communitarian regime, no one having needs and desires different from anyone else. Physiologically, the Diurnals and Nocturnals are much like humans, but have no diseases. A rapid infancy, a long youth, a similarly extended prime, and a brief old age; death arrives without suffering after a few days of cheerful languor, among the Nocturnals as well as the Diurnals.
In sum, happiness: a happiness that, prior to the arrival of the Terrans, was only troubled among the Diurnals by the fear inspired by the Nocturnals, and among the latter, by the tyrannical need to hear the former sing, often and at length. Hence, warfare! Warfare to which the mediation of Saint-Clair the Nyctalope put an end, within an hour, after centuries of hostilities.
Yes, happiness!
For it is not true that intelligent beings need disease in order to enjoy health, evil to appreciate good, poverty to savor abundance, or war to love peace. The Rheans are evidently superior to Terrans, in the sense that they benefit from conditions of existence that have allowed them to avoid creating, on their planet, morally and materially, everything that creates the agony of the human condition, interminable and incessantly renewed on Earth.
But we, who have just written all that in accordance with what we have been able to discover about the scientific communication of Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang, must stop there, for it is not permitted for us to deflower that communication further. We are, however, authorized to recount, by way of conclusion, how the Olb.-I and its occupants left Rhea to return to Earth.
During the Rhean night dated, in the terrestrial calendar the ninth and tenth of September, the Olb.-I was transported from the clearing where it had landed to a place situated between two hills where there was a significant waterfall.
In order to supervise that difficult operation, Saint-Clair stationed himself to the right of the vehicle and Gno Mitang to the left. The former had under his command the chief Tugg, seconded b the intelligent Rrou. Two Diurnal composers acted as interpreters. A hundred Nocturnals divided between the right and the left, carried out the operation. First they lifted up the front to the Olb.-I, and trees trunks stripped of their branches by hatchets were passed under
neath the vehicle. Then the same was done at the rear. Thus, the interplanetary vehicle rested upon a kind of enormous stretcher, constituted by the tree-trunks, which were roped together. The hundred Nocturnals took hold of the handles of the stretcher and, thanks to their Herculean strength, lifted the enormous burden without difficulty. Meanwhile, Vitto, Soca, Margot and six Nocturnals opened a pathway through the wood by felling trees with their axes. The journey was approximately six kilometers. The Olb.-I was in place, near the waterfall, before the first light of dawn. Then all the Nocturnals returned to their subterranean dwellings.
The Terrans and the two Diurnals took a few hours’ rest in the vehicle. Then, after a frugal but substantial meal, everyone except for Véronique and the Diurnals began the work of setting up the apparatus that would, thanks to the waterfall, furnish enough electricity to aliment the formidable interplanetary projector occupying the entire rear end of the Olb.-I, by means of which Saint-Clair would be able to communicate with Maxime d’Olbans.
Those communications by optical telegraphy between Rhea and Earth were established at the first attempt, but they could only be carried out and repeated on rare occasions because of the conditions of astronomical position and atmospheric clarity that were necessary to them.
The principal goal had, however, been attained: that of keeping Monsieur d’Olbans and the terrestrial world up to date with the life of the Terrans on Rhea. That existence was to last exactly 366 days—which is to day, until the period, merely seven times twenty-four hours long, during which the return of the Olb.-I to Earth would be possible.
But how would that return be possible?
This is an appropriate moment to report a conversation held between Monsieur d’Olbans, Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang, in the presence of Véronique, Vitto, Soca, Margot and Fageat at Les Pins on the eve of their departure on the interplanetary voyage.
The question had been initially raised by Véronique in a preceding conversation. Launched on to another subject, Monsieur d’Olbans had not replied. It was presented a second time by Gno Mitang in these terms:
“Now that the interplanetary voyagers have been selected, is it not appropriate to consider their return? We know that everything is ready for the journey from the Earth to Rhea, but what have you anticipated with respect to the return from Rhea to the Earth?”
Maxime d’Olbans laughed softly. He made an apologetic gesture and said, amiably:
“Scientists, particularly astronomers, have these distractions. I confess that yesterday, that question found me at a loss when Véronique formulated it. Since then, however, the problem has made progress in my mind. I’m surprised that I didn’t think of such a simple solution immediately—a solution given to us by the knowledge and calculation of the natural actions and reactions of the planet Rhea and the planet Earth on the metal Z-4. My temporary negligence evidently emerges from the fact that in the course of our studies and endeavors, neither Saint-Clair nor I had thought about the return journey, so preoccupied were we with the matter of getting to Rhea. But really...”
He broke off and, fixing his affectionate gaze on the Nyctalope, said:
“Let’s see, my friend—have you, like me, neglected...”
“Absolutely!” Saint-Clair affirmed. “I didn’t give it any more thought than you—but I believe that, like you, I can now reply to Véronique’s question, repeated by Gno Mitang.”
“Aha!” said Monsieur d’Olbans, laughing again. “Well then, reply! We’re listening.”
“My God!” the Nyctalope exclaimed, smiling. “The solution is, indeed, extremely simple. The astonishing thing is that it didn’t impose itself upon us in the course of our work. And since you’ve done me the honor of wanting me to formulate it, here it is.” He paused, and then continued: The power of attraction of Rhea on the Z-4, and hence on the Olb.-I, will begin to enter its period of maximum intensity on August 30, at 6 p.m. That period will last for 24 hours, increasing slightly with each passing minute. Afterwards it will decrease, to become negligible after about six month—after which the power of attraction of the Earth on Z-4 will get the upper hand, and will intensify progressively for six months until it attains its maximum. Then again, the predomination of the Rhean attraction by virtue of the position of the new planet relative to the Earth will begin to increase. Well, as you can see, it’s as obvious as it is simple. While the terrestrial attraction is at its strongest, all we have to do, a few days before the maximum, is to open the panels closed over the Z-4 partially coating the Olb.-I, having first placed it in the appropriate position relative to the Earth…and we’ll come back in exactly the same manner than we left...”
It was done as Saint-Clair had said.
In the course of their sojourn on Rhea of approximately a year the Terrans had explored the entire planet—all of the regions between the polar caps swept by the deadly wind, which resembled one another to the point that, by comparison with the Earth, Rhea appeared monotonous, being relatively sparsely populated, and extremely poor in flora and fauna, in diversity if not in quantity. There were no flowering plants except the “water-lilies” and the “nut-trees,” no animals except the inedible white birds and the edible quadrumanes, and no fruits except the “nuts.” The nuts, however, the nutriment of the Diurnals, and the quadrumanes, the nutriment of the Nocturnals, were superabundant, and reproduced so prolifically that, even with twice as many consumers, there would never have been any threat of famine.
The Terrans did not even think of introducing on Rhea the slightest element of what, on Earth, would be called “civilization.” It was unnecessary, since the Rheans, Diurnal and Nocturnal alike, lacked nothing for their material life, and also impossible, since all terrestrial civilization depends on fire, which is unknown and uncreatable on Rhea.
The good that Saint-Clair and his companions did, and did well, which they accomplished perfectly, and seemingly conclusively, was to achieve rapid and total pacification between the Nocturnals and the Diurnals. And that pacification had, from the first weeks onward, one enormous consequence: the abandonment of the cities, henceforth unnecessary since they were merely a refuge and a defense, and the adoption by the Diurnals of a rural way of life, continuous existence in the open air being possible and agreeable, thanks to the equality of a warm temperature, the fact that it only rained in the valleys between the hills and never on the plain, and that sufficient comfort was provided for the Diurnals by constructing soft beds under the trees with the quadrumane skins that the Nocturnals gave them in exchange for their quotidian concerts, in the open by night and in the grottoes by day.
Thus, the Terrans did useful work on Rhea, which, we hope, will also be useful on Earth by virtue of the example provided for humans by the Rheans.
On the date fixed for the departure to Earth, which took place during the Rhean night, an innumerable multitude of Diurnals and Nocturnals, from all regions of the planet came to salute their marvelous guests alternately, with their songs and their cries.
And in the same time that it had taken to travel from Earth to Rhea, the Olb.-I returned from Rhea to Earth.
Saint-Clair and Gno Mitang on the one hand, and Maxime d’Olbans on the other, had made their calculations so scrupulously that the interplanetary vehicle landed within two hundred meters of the spot where it had taken off, on a landing-ground two kilometers in diameter, which Maxime d’Olbans had prepared scientifically with that landing in view. The vehicle’s powerful brakes functioned perfectly, the “fall” being, in any case, slowed down considerably by special electromagnetic discharges that interposed a solid and elastic mattress of invisible waves between the bolide and the terrestrial surface. Nothing was broken during the landing, and the Olb.-I settled gently upon its landing-frame.
In order to avoid an invasive crowd, Monsieur d’Olbans had only made the date and hour of the Olb.-I’s return known to his intimate friends, Monsieur Lamurat, the Prefect of the Sarthe, Dr. Serres, the local physician, Maître Blanquer, the notary reside
nt in Longpré, the commune in whose territory the estates of Les Pins is situated, and finally, Professor Charpin, the directory of the Paris Observatory.
The interplanetary voyagers were therefore welcomed to Earth in the strictest intimacy, and were quite content with that. The scientists, journalists and innumerable curiosity-seekers could wait until later!
Is there any need to paint a picture of that welcome? To describe the hours that followed? No, our readers can easily imagine all that.
Let it suffice for us to say that Ariste Fageat, forgiven and repentant—a year of living among the Diurnals had improved him considerably!—resumed his functions as steward of the Les Pins estate, and that, genuinely without bitterness, he attended the marriage of Leo Saint-Clair and Véronique d’Olbans, three months after the Olb.-I’s return.
Thus, the most extraordinary adventure of modern times was accomplished, not only without the death of a single human being by virtue of the adventure itself, but with general and individual consequences that were highly beneficial, under the triple heading of peace, redemption and love.
Jean-Marc & Randy Lofficier:
Return of the Nyctalope
The life—the life that I saw before me,
so vast, so rich in promises,
tasks, exploits…and so beautiful!
To die…the future life…eternal life…yes.
Leo Saint-Clair
Enter the Nyctalope
Chapter I
Claude Marécourt’s Experiment
By the summer of 2014 CE, as man counts time on Earth, Rhea was approaching the Kuiper belt. Already in the sky, one could see the Oort Cloud spreading its white mantle across the horizon.
In the Great Northern Desert, life was sparse and difficult. There was no rain and, therefore, not enough food to support much fauna. Other than the few insects with strange, reddish carapaces, which chirruped randomly, no one could have called this place “home.” Yet, in the midst of this arid desolation stood a large, low-roofed, camouflaged building—nothing more than concrete walls slapped together to protect its inhabitants from the ravaging winds which continually battered the desert. Its purpose was merely functional: it was a base of some kind, not designed for permanent habitation.
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