The Fiery Wheel

by Jean de La Hire

  Bolide no longer over my horizon.

  But then, by means of new telegrams that were arriving, they would be able to track the progress of the bolide relative to the movement of the Earth.

  Suddenly, Ahmed Bey rose to his feet. “Stop everything!” he shouted.

  Every apparatus ceased functioning.

  “Light the projector!” Ahmed Bey ordered, in the absolute silence he had provoked.

  Brad pushed an electric button on the table. “It’s done,” he said.

  Then Ahmed Bey, in a strong and vibrant voice, read the following telegram:

  “Observatoire de Verrières, 28 August, 4-35. Apparatus landed Carrefour de l’Obélisque, Verrières wood. Going there immediately. Brularion.”

  Five minutes later, while the phonographs, multiplying the Doctor’s voice a hundredfold, each repeated the long-awaited news three times, to the south, the north, the west and the east, two automobiles set off at top speed, heading for the Carrefour de l’Obélisque in Verrières wood near Paris, carrying Ahmed Bey, Brad and Monsieur Torpène, Paul de Civrac, Lolla, her father and Francisco. Ten minutes later, the Gravelle plateau was deserted; automobiles, horse-drawn vehicles and bicycles were flying along the roads at top speed, carrying the curious crowd, breathless with excitement.

  Chapter Three

  In which destiny closes the door of mystery

  by means of a catastrophe

  From his station in his Observatory at Verrières, Constant Brularion noticed an abnormal phenomenon in the sky early on the night of the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth of August. It was a luminous dot growing imperceptibly in size, approaching the Earth rapidly. Brularion did not was to compromise his renown by a premature announcement of the Venusian apparatus; he would rather not win the prize and not sent a telegram until the matter was certain. Without communicating his discovery to the astronomers around him, he tracked the progress of the phenomenon across the sky.

  At four o’clock in the morning the scientist had no further doubt, but he took pride in only sending one telegram to Gravelle, which would be definitive. It was only when the seemingly-incandescent object fell at a definite point in Verrières wood that Brularion turned to the astronomers and said, in a calm voice: “Messieurs, the Venusian apparatus has arrived.”

  There was a tumultuous din. People wanted information about the form of the apparatus and the exact spot where it had landed, but Brularion went down to the Observatory’s telegraph post and sent the famous telegram to Ahmed Bey Then he sent another telegram to General Durland, who was in command of the troops based in Verrières, in anticipation of military protection having to be placed around the Venusian apparatus. All the garrisons in the world were on the alert, because it could not be known in advance where the landing would take place.

  Then he climbed into his automobile and, followed by all his colleagues in other vehicles, Brularion set off for the Carrefour de l’Obélisque. The journey took three minutes.

  Aided by the drivers of the cars, the astronomers established a barrier of strong ropes around the clearing, guarded by a few soldiers brought from the Observatory, where a detachment had been posted. In the clearing, for meters from the large trees that marked its center, a monstrous object was lying, somewhat reminiscent of a broken gas-holder with its framework twisted. The earth had been torn up all around it, forming mounds. The machine was radiating a terrible heat, preventing anyone from getting any closer to it than fifteen paces.

  “I have a strong suspicion,” said Brularion, “that we won’t find anything inside but crushed and burned bodies.” The astronomers, backed up against the rope nodded their heads anxiously.

  Meanwhile, outside the cordon, an incessantly-growing crowd was gathering, and a great murmurous conversation began in low voices. People for two or three kilometers around had seen the object fall.

  Suddenly, horns resounded. The crowd parted and Dr. Ahmed Bey, followed by his friends, leapt into the enclosure. Almost immediately, cavalrymen arrived, and then a battalion of infantrymen riding on the backs of armored vehicles, commanded by General Durand himself. The soldiers took up their positions and the enormous crowd was obliged to stand motionless outside the cordon, while the scientists and officials gathered within. In the first row, as close as possible to the Venusian machine, was a distinct group comprised by Ahmed Bey, Arthur Brad, Paul and Lolla, Francisco, Brularion, General Durland and Monsieur Torpène. All their hearts were beating with intense emotion.

  “We have to wait for the mass of metal, heated by its passage through the atmosphere, to cool down completely,” said Ahmed Bey.

  And they waited, studying the disconcerting object, fearful that they would find nothing inside it but death.

  After an hour, Ahmed Bey was finally able to get close enough to the disorderly mass of metal to reach out and touch it.

  “General,” he said, “would you be kind enough to bring the engineers forward.”

  An order was shouted and fifteen soldiers from the Engineer Corps, commanded by a young captain, formed a chain around the machine. Advised by Ahmed Bey, the general and the captain directed the operation.

  First of all, the mounds of earth were cleared; then the broken and twisted metal beams surrounding the central canister were removed to the extent that it was possible. That core, made of a gray metal that was recognized as platinum, was finally freed. It was enormous, embedded in the earth at an angle, deeply dented in places but intact in others.

  At a word from Ahmed Bey, the crowd was ordered to maintain the most absolute silence—and everyone listened. No sound was coming from inside the shell. Seizing a soldier’s pick-axe, Ahmed Bey rapped on the metal, striking rhythmic blows similar to the signals employed by coal-miners, but there was no response.

  The Doctor allowed five minutes to go by, and then rapped again—in vain.

  “Messieurs,” he said then, in a loud voice, “this shell must have a door, presently closed. We have to find it, and open it.”

  “It might be located in the part of the cylinder buried in the ground,” said Arthur Brad.

  “In that case, we need to break through the shell itself.”

  They set to work. Ropes were thrown over the shell and secured to pickets, and the soldiers, Ahmed Bey, Arthur Brad and Paul de Civrac, hanging on to the ropes, scaled the cylinder on all sides, examining it meticulously.

  Everywhere, however, the continuity of the shell was seamless, with no bolted plates, equally smooth over the entire visible surface, like an iron cannonball.

  They were returning to the ground, discouraged, when someone shouted: “A hole! There! A hole!” And one of the military engineers, covered in earth and brandishing his pick-axe, emerged from a ditch that he had excavated along the wall of the cylinder. Then ran to indicated spot, and Ahmed Bey did, indeed, see a hole, disengaged by the soldier from the earth obstructing it. It was perfectly circular, some forty centimeters in diameter. It allowed them to perceive that the walls of the shell were twenty centimeters thick.

  “Bring an automobile headlight!” shouted the doctor, and swiftly took off his jacket and his shoes. The captain of the engineers brought the headlight.

  “Pass it to me once I’m inside,” said Ahmed Bey.

  With his arms forward, to either side of his head, Ahmed Bey wriggled through the hole. He was seen to disappear entirely; then one of his hands reappeared, grabbed the headlight and bore it away.

  The general had to demand silence again. Not seeing anything, and not hearing anything, the enormous crowd of spectators became restless. The soldiers were barely able to hold them back. Then the captain climbed on to the shell to shout news of what was happening.

  “Now,” he concluded, “shut up and don’t move. We’ll keep you informed.”

  The multitude applauded, and the captain slid back down a taut rope to the ground.

  Meanwhile, the group around the mysterious hole—Arthur Brad, Paul, Lolla, Francisco, Brularion, Torpène and th
e other scientists and officials, waited in ardent anxiety. The sun, rising above the trees, inundated the clearing with cheerful light. The shell shone, enormous, deformed and still incomprehensible: an extraterrestrial monster seemingly bound to the earth by the taut ropes.

  A quarter of an hour went by.

  Suddenly, Ahmed Bey’s head appeared, framed in the circular opening.

  “Send me eight strong men,” he said, simply, “each carrying a torch, an adjustable wrench, a hammer and a chisel. Monsieur de Civrac, Brad, will you please accompany them—and you too, Monsieur Torpène and Monsieur Brularion, if you don’t mind the gymnastics.”

  “Have you seen them?” asked the general.

  “No. The cylinder is only a carcass—the true Venusian apparatus is in the center, linked to the shell by buttresses. The apparatus is a perfect cube, furnished with portholes, or so it seems to me, and a door, but it’s hermetically sealed. Come in!”

  Ahmed Bey’s head disappeared and Arthur Brad slid into the hole, followed by Paul de Civrac, Brularion, Torpène and then eight of the engineers. The last of them passed the headlights to the other seven, and was engulfed in his turn.

  Then, the people who remained outside, in front of the hole, heard hammer-blows and grating sounds from within, sonorous impacts that reverberated in the air.

  Then silence fell.

  An anguish now passed through the groups of officials and scientists, through the cordon of troops and through the entire crowd. The sound of the breeze in the trees was audible. But that solemn absence of all human sound did not last long; soon, a murmur rose up in the densely-packed crowd, and that murmur increased, punctuated by vocal outbursts and cries.

  The captain was about to scale the cylinder again in order to demand silence for a second time when Ahmed Bey’s head appeared in the circular opening. Ordinarily pale, that face was white, with eyes widened by emotion.

  “General,” said the Doctor, in a blank voice, “send in a dozen men with blankets. They’ll find some in the automobiles. Quickly!”

  There was a sudden panic.

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “Are they all dead?”

  “What about Jonathan Bild?”

  “Are there Venusians? How many?”

  “What are they like, exactly?”

  “But what about Jonathan Bild? Jonathan Bild?”

  Ahmed Bey was opening his mouth to speak when a dozen soldiers arrived, laden with all the blankets, traveling rugs and cloaks they had been able to find.”

  “Pass them all in!” the Doctor ordered, and disappeared.

  Methodically, the soldiers passed all the rugs and cloaks through the hole; then, forming a line, they waited, while the captain, standing on top of the shell, harangued, informed and tried to calm down the crowd, which was becoming tempestuous.

  Suddenly, it fell silent and immobilized of its own accord, as if those thousands of brains had sensed the presence of death and mystery.

  Dr. Ahmed Bey was the first to emerge from the shell. He made a sign to the soldiers, who received and removed a long mass wrapped in a blanket. The mass was immediately placed on the ground. Ahmed Bey knelt down beside it and uncovered it. The body of a tall, thin man became visible, his face pale and his eyes closed.

  “Jonathan Bild!” murmured Lola, her eyes welling with tears.

  “He isn’t dead,” said the Doctor. He took a minuscule bottle from his waistcoat pocket, took out the stopper, poured its contents on to a handkerchief, and applied the damp cloth to Jonathan Bild’s mouth and nostrils.

  Then he rose to his feet. “General,” he said, “I hope to save him. Please clear the road leading to Monsieur Brularion’s observatory. Captain—my automobile!”

  “What should we do then?” asked the general.

  “Receive the bodies wrapped in the rugs and pass them to these soldiers. Don’t unwrap them, and have them transported to the Observatory immediately. Then, have the crossroads guarded in such a manner that no one can approach the machine.”

  “But tell us...” Professor Martial risked.

  “Later, later! Read tomorrow’s Universel. Au revoir, General. Soon, Messieurs! Madame, you come with me. Paul will join us in a quarter of an hour, with Brad and Francisco.”

  Preceded by four soldiers carrying Jonathan Bild, inanimate on the taut blanket, Ahmed Bey gave his hand to Lolla, and marched to his automobile, followed by the General. Having emerged from the shell, Brularion joined them The captain had cleared the road to the Observatory. And between two ranks of the noisy crowd, the automobile sped away.

  The next day, on its first page, the Universel published the following brief bulletin:

  JONATHAN BILD AND THE VENUSIANS

  YESTERDAY’S EVENTS

  In yesterday’s evening edition we reported the arrival of the Venusian machine and the events that occurred prior to two p.m. At that moment, the machine was guarded by an entire infantry regiment deployed in a series of cordons, between which mounted officers and men of the Republican guard were circulating. We shall give a description of the machine, furnished by Dr. Ahmed Bey himself, further on.

  At that time, too, Jonathan Bild was still in a worrying state of unconsciousness. Let us say right away that Jonathan Bild, thanks to the care of Dr. Ahmed Bey and Professor Martial, eventually recovered consciousness at four twenty-five. He opened his eyes, stammered a few incomprehensible words and then went to sleep, under the influence of a cordial injected into him with that purpose. His sleep is still continuing at the moment when these lines are being written, but the general condition of his organs and their resumption of normal functioning gives reason to hope that when he wakes up, at around midday today, he will be able to get up, eat and talk. He has not sustained any serious injury, and is not thought to have any internal damage. Everyone is looking forward impatiently to his awakening, for only Jonathan Bild can give the world the desired enlightenment regarding the planet Venus, the Venusian apparatus and the Venusians themselves.

  In fact, the Venusians are all dead. There were six in the machine with Jonathan Bild. The corporeal form of the Venusians is known by virtue of our previous reports. How did they die, and when? Was it during the voyage from Venus to Earth? Was it during the landing, or subsequent to it? Dr. Ahmed Bey does not know; perhaps only Jonathan Bild will be able to inform us on that subject.

  But of what did the Venusians die? That too is a mystery. Their bodies—covered not with avian feathers, as some of our colleague have written without justification, but with a rough white hairless skin devoid of hair, feathers of down—decayed within an hour into formless gelatinous masses. Their bones and organs have dissolved; one can scarcely distinguish the form and framework of wings reminiscent of the wings of our bats. As for the eyes—the immense Venusian eye—they were the first to decompose; they no longer form, along with the brain, anything but a small lump of greasy and corrupt matter within the softened cranium.

  It is in vain that Dr. Ahmed Bey, with the aid of Oriental liquids of which he has the secret, has tried, by means of repeated injections, to arrest that extraordinary decomposition. As we write these lines, the six Venusians who came to our planet are nothing more than a single mass of putrescence.

  Let us now pass on to the machine.

  We are obliged to limit ourselves to giving a description without seeking to explain the dispositions and the mechanism. Our most knowledgeable mechanical engineers, including Monsieur Louis Delaforge, the technical director of the École Nationale de Mécanique et d’Électricité, has examined it carefully and admitted that he does not understand it at all.

  The Venusian machine is composed of two distinct parts. The first is an enormous cylindrical shell, similar to our gas-holders, twenty meters tall, ten meters in diameter and twenty centimeters thick. It was surrounded by stanchions and an external framework of metal, which was broken and completely dislocated during the fall. The shell, the stanchions and the framework are made of
pure platinum—which is to say that from the terrestrial viewpoint, they are immensely valuable, since for us, platinum is a more precious metal than gold.

  The second part, enclosed in the center of the shell, in which it is sustained by elastic buttresses made of a red metal whose composition is as yet unknown to us, consists of a cubic platinum box five meters square; it is perforated by five hermetically sealed portholes without windows and an arched doorway, similarly sealed, providing an opening for each side of the box. The interior is softly padded with a metal more elastic than rubber. There are instruments and apparatus bolted to the walls, whose functioning can only be explained by Jonathan Bild. One of the items of apparatus has, however, been recognized as being intended to produce oxygen and to absorb atmospheric nitrogen. A provision of biscuits was discovered in a storage-locker, which appear to be concentrated meat, but of what animal, again, only Jonathan Bild can tell us. It was doubtless on these biscuits that Bild was nourished, since we know that the Venusians live uniquely by absorbing a kind of gas, which the manufacture on their planet.

  Today, the construction of a hangar has begun around and above the Venusian machine. It is not transportable; the scientists will continue to examine it on the spot.

  That is all that we know for the moment.

  Our evening edition will give further details.

  The article was certified as exact by four signatures: Ahmed Bey, Arthur Brad, Brularion and Torpène.

  In its evening edition, the Universel merely announced that Jonathan Bild had woken up, was well, but somewhat exhausted, and that he was inside the Venusian machine, giving explanations to Ahmed Bey, Arthur Brad, Brularion, Torpène and Delaforge, who were examining the enormous apparatus with a few other scientists.

  The newspaper report concluded:

  We shall give these sensational explanations tomorrow.

  The next day’s Universel was, indeed, sensational, but not in the way the public expected. The front page headline displayed the disturbing line: