The Gray Plague
_By L. A. Eshbach_
[Sidenote: Maimed and captive, in the depths of an interplanetarymeteor-craft, lay the only possible savior of plague-ridden Earth.]
_They were almost upon him when he leaped intoaction._]
CHAPTER I
Five months before the beginning of that period of madness, that timeof chaos and death that became known as the Gray Plague, the first ofthe strange meteors fell to Earth. It landed a few miles west of ElPaso, Texas, on the morning of March 11th.
In a few hours a great throng of people gathered around the dullysmoldering mass of fire-pitted rock, the upper half of which protrudedfrom the Earth where it had buried itself, like a huge, roughlyoutlined hemisphere. And then, when the crowd had assumed itsgreatest proportions, the meteor, with a mighty, Earth-shaking roar,exploded.
A vast flood of radiance, more brilliant than the light of the sun,lit up the sky for miles around. One moment, a throng of curiouspeople, a number of scientists, newspaper men--a crashingexplosion--and then a great, yawning pit sending forth a blindingradiance! Destruction and death where life had been.
The brilliant light streamed from the pit for about ten minutes; thenlike a snuffed-out candle flame, it vanished.
The second of the strange meteors landed on the evening of March 13th,in the city of Peking, China. It demolished several buildings, andburied itself beneath the ruins. The Chinese, unaware of the tragedyat El Paso, gathered in the vicinity, and when the meteor exploded atabout ten o'clock that night, were instantly destroyed. As in Texas,the great pit emitted a cloud of dazzling light for about ten minutes,throwing a brilliant glow over the city and its surroundings; thenwas extinguished.
The people of the world awoke to the fact that events worthy of morethan passing interest were occurring. The press of every nation begingiving the strange meteors more and more publicity. Statements ofdifferent pseudo-scientists were published in explanation of themeteor's origin, statements that aroused world wide conjecture.
* * * * *
Approximately twenty-four hours after the falling of the secondmissile, the third one fell, landing near Madrid, Spain. TheSpaniards, having received news of the El Paso and Peking tragedies,avoided the ugly mass of rock as though it were a dreaded pestilence.In every way its action was similar to that of its two predecessors.
The interest of the world was doubled now. The unusual similarity ofthe action of the meteors, and the regularity of their landings,seemed indicative of a definite, hostile purpose behind it all. Amenace from the unknown--a peril from the skies!
Scientists began giving serious consideration to the unusualphenomenon, pottering around in the pits, wearing airs of puzzlement.But their investigations were of no avail, for nothing of any greatsignificance came to light through their efforts.
At about that time, an announcement was made that created a furor.Astronomers in different parts of the United States reported that theyhad observed a bright flare of light leaping up from the darkenedportion of the planet Venus. The astronomers had no definite idea ofanything of importance in back of what they had seen; but not so themasses. The flare, they said, was caused by the release of anothermeteor!
From Venus! Missiles, hurled by Venerians, menacing the Earth! Thesilver planet became the subject of universal discussion; innumerablefantastic articles about it appeared in magazine sections of Sundaynewspapers. And the astronomers of Earth turned their telescopestoward Venus with an interest they had never felt before.
* * * * *
Four days of expectant waiting passed by after the third meteor hadfallen, while interest continued mounting at an accelerating pace. Andthen, at about two o'clock in the morning of the 18th, three greatobservatories, two in North America and one in England, recorded thefalling of an extraordinarily large and unusually brilliant meteorthat glowed with an intense, bluish-white light as it entered theEarth's atmosphere. And, unlike most meteors, this one was notconsumed by its intense heat, but continued gleaming brilliantly untilit vanished below the horizon. Simultaneous with the falling of themeteor, the Earth was rocked by one of the worst quakes in history.
Seismographs in all parts of the world recorded the tremors of theEarth, each indicating that the disturbance had occurred somewherebeneath the Atlantic ocean. Evidently the fourth meteor had falleninto the ocean, for the shaking of the Earth was obviously the resultof the collision. That quakes had not followed the landing of thefirst three was due to the fact that they had been far smaller thanthe fourth.
And then, a short time after the earthquake, the worst storm in twohundred years broke over the Atlantic. Waves, mountain high, piledthemselves upon each other in a wild frenzy; a shrieking wind lashedthe waters into a liquid chaos. Great ocean-liners were tossed aboutlike tiny chips; an appalling number of smaller ships were lost inthat insane storm.
Nor was the destruction confined to the sea, for all along theAtlantic coast of North America and Europe, mighty walls of waterrushed in, and wrecked entire towns and cities.
Fortunately the storm was of short duration; a few hours after itbegan, it subsided.
For a number of weeks public attention was centered upon the meteorsand storm; but gradually, when nothing further occurred, the fickleinterest of the masses began to wane. A month after the storm, thestrange meteors were no longer mentioned by the press, andconsequently, had passed from the public mind. Only the astronomersremembered, keeping their telescopes trained on Venus night afternight.
Four months passed by during which nothing of an unusual nature cameto the attention of the world. But at the end of that time, itsuddenly dawned upon those nations whose shores touched the Atlanticocean, that something extraordinary was happening. It was taking placeso insidiously, so quietly, that it had attracted no great attention.
A series of inexplicable sea disasters had begun. Every ship that hadtraveled over a certain, regular steamship route, had disappeared,leaving no trace. Mysteriously, without warning, they had vanished;without a single S O S being sent, seven freighters had been lost. Thedisappearances had been called to the world's attention by theshipping companies, alarmed at the gradual loss of their boats.
Then other mysterious vanishings came to the attention of the world.Ships in all parts of the Atlantic were being lost. When this factbecame known, trans-Atlantic commerce ceased almost over night. Withthe exception of a few privately owned yachts and freighters, theAtlantic became deserted.
And finally, a few days after the world became aware of the strangedisappearances on the Atlantic, the Gray Plague introduced itself tohumanity. Attempts were made to repress the facts: but the tragedy ofthe freighter, _Charleston_, in all its ghastliness and horror, becameknown in spite of all attempts at secrecy.
On the morning of August 3rd, the _Charleston_ was found, half buriedin the sand of a beach on the coast of Florida, cast there, evidently,by a passing storm. The freighter had been one of the first boats todisappear.
When the ship's discoverers boarded her, their eyes were greeted by asight whose ghastliness filled them with a numbing horror. Indeed, soterrifying was the spectacle on the _Charleston_, that thediscoverers, four boys of adolescent age, left in fear-stricken haste.Nor could they be induced to return to the ship's deck.
* * * * *
Later, a group of men from a nearby town boarded the freighter toinvestigate the boys' amazing report. In the group was a newspaperreporter who chanced to be in the vicinity on a minor story. It wasthrough the reporter's account that the facts became known as quicklyas they did.
When the men clambered up the side of the _Charleston_ to her deck,they saw a spectacle the like of which had never before been seen onEarth. Although they had been prepared for the horror to some extentby the story of the boys, the sight on the _Charleston_ exceeded theirdescription to such a degree that, for the moment, the men wererendered speechless.
The deck of the _Charleston_ was a shambles--a scene of sudden,chilling death. All about were strewn gray, lifeless bodies. Death hadovertaken the crew in the midst of their duties, suddenly, withoutwarning, it seemed. Bodies strewn about--yet nowhere was there sign ofdecay! Bodies, lifeless for days, or weeks--yet intact!
The men were fearfully impressed by the strangely grotesque positionsof the corpses. With a few exceptions, they lay on the deck inabnormal, twisted masses of gray covered flesh. Somehow, they seemedflattened, as though they had been soft, jellylike, and had flowed,had settled, flat against the deck. Some were no more than threeinches thick, and had spread out to such an extent that they lookedlike fantastic caricatures of human bodies. That unnatural change intheir structure, and the ghastly, dead-gray color of their skins gavethe corpses a horrifying, utterly repulsive appearance that made theflesh of the men crawl.
The bodies had a strangely soft aspect, as though they were stilljellylike. One of the men, bolder than the rest, touched a body--andwithdrew his hand in revulsion and surprise. For the ugly mass wascold, and as hard as bone: the tissues of the flesh seemingly replacedby a solid, bony substance. Later investigation revealed that all thedead on the _Charleston_ had assumed a similar, bonelike solidity.
When the men left the freighter to report the tragedy to the properauthorities, their faces were blanched, and their nerves badly shaken.Yet their horror was nothing when compared with what it would havebeen, had they known what was to follow.
* * * * *
Rapidly the story of the_ Charleston_ spread. By means of the press,over the radio, even by word of mouth, the story of the horror on thefreighter was given publicity. All over the United States and Canadait spread, and from thence to the rest of the world. Eagerly was thestory accepted: here, at last, was the explanation of the seadisasters! And then, more than ever before, was the Atlantic oceanshunned.
The bodies of the seamen on the freighter were turned over toscientists for experimentation and research. It was thought that theymight be able to discover the cause of the Gray Death, and with aknowledge of its cause, create something with which to free theAtlantic from its scourge.
The scientists' investigations only served to mystify the world to agreater degree. The only thing that came to light was the cause of thebodies' bonelike rigidity. In some inexplicable way the bones in theseamen had dissolved, and according to appearances, while the bodieswere plastic, had flattened out. And then, strange and unnaturalthough it seemed, the calcium from the dissolved bones had gathered atthe surface of each body, and combining with the flesh and skin, hadformed the hard, bony shell that gave them their ghastly grayness, andtheir appearance of petrification. Aside from this, the scientistslearned nothing; the cause of this amazing phenomenon was a completemystery to them.
Slowly, methodically, step by step, the unusual had been taking place.From the time of the landing of the first strange meteor, up to thediscovery of the _Charleston_, there had been a gradual increase inthe significance of each succeeding event.
Then finally came the climax: the Gray Plague itself. All thatpreceded it faded into significance before the horror of the dreadpestilence that seized the world with its destroying talons.
* * * * *
A short time after the discovery of the _Charleston_, the Plague madeits first appearance on land. Slowly, pitilessly, inexorably, itbegan, taking its toll all along the Atlantic coast. From Newfoundlandto Brazil; from the British Isles to Egypt, wherever people lived nearthe ocean, thousands were stricken with the dread malady.
The old and infirm were the most quickly affected; their weakenedbodies could not withstand the ravage of the Plague as could those ofyounger people. An old man, walking along a large thoroughfare inSavannah, Georgia, suddenly uttered a fearful shriek and sank to thepavement. While the pedestrians watched with bulging eyes, he seemedto shrink, to flatten, to flow liquidly, turning a ghastly gray.Within an hour he was as hard as the men of the _Charleston_. Of allthe millions, perhaps he was the first.
Others followed in the wake of the first victim, young as well as old;three hours after the death in Savannah, every channel ofcommunication was choked with news of a constantly increasing numberof casualties. A Boston minister, preaching a funeral sermon,collapsing beside the coffin; a lineman on a telegraph pole, overcome,falling--and splashing! A thousand incongruous tragedies shockinghumanity.
In Europe the action of the Plague was the same as in North America.Death stalking the sea-coast, destroying thousands; ignorantfishermen, men of learning, women and children of every age--all weregrist to be ground in the mill of the Gray Plague.
Before a week had gone by, no one remained alive in the villages,towns and cities all along the Atlantic. New York, London, all thelarge coast cities were deserted by the living, left to the rigiddead. From the largest metropolis to the smallest hamlet, all becamebody-glutted tombs.
And then, on the morning of October 12th, news was given to the worldthat threw mankind into a panic. The Plague was moving inland! Slowly,yet relentlessly it spread, no longer confining its effect to thesea-coast, but moving farther and farther inland toward the heart ofthe two continents, driving mankind before it. For people fled ininsane terror before the advancing death. Nor was there escape fromthe menace--no antidote to counteract, no sanctuary wherein to hide.
To North and South, to East and West, the pestilence spread,destroying as it went. Unless there were some miraculous intervention,the human race would be destroyed!
* * * * *
Officials of the world were at their wits' end; scientists threw up theirhands in despair. The Plague was an insoluble puzzle--enigmatical, utterlyinexplicable, beyond the knowledge of Earth.
Scientists and doctors were brutally slain during that period byfear-crazed mobs, because of their inability to rescue the world fromthe grip of the Plague. Thousands of people died while striving toescape from the Gray Death, crushed by passing motor vehicles, orstarving in the congested areas. Gone was the boasted civilization ofman--humanity sinking rapidly to the level of the beast; gone,destroyed in a few weeks!
And then one day when the end seemed perilously close, there wasushered into the presence of the remnant of the United Statesofficials who had gathered in San Francisco, a twisted monstrosity ofa man, fearfully scarred and deformed. He was closeted with them fortwo hours. At the end of that time an excited official communicatedwith the leader of the American scientists.
"A cure for the Plague has been discovered!" he cried in joyful tones."Man still has a chance!"
Before an hour had passed by, scientists were in possession ofcultures of germs that would destroy the bacilli of the Gray Death.The hope of salvation restored some semblance of order; and in a veryshort time the development of the germs was going forward as rapidlyas skilled bacteriologists could carry it. Forces of doctors weremarshalled to administer the cure, inoculating all who were untouchedby the Plague.
At about that time, a small, bronze-colored sphere arose into the airabove San Francisco, and sped eastward with amazing velocity. Itflashed over the United States, over the Atlantic ocean, and overwestern Europe, finally landing in the midst of the European hordes.There its operator, a deformed cripple, left bacteria similar to thosehe had given to the United States.
In a short time Europe, too, was busily engaged in developing thebacteria, and inoculating her people.
Many others died before the world was rendered immune, but at lastmankind let its labors cease. The Gray Plague was overcome.
Then the work of reclaiming the deserted areas was begun; then, too,was started the ghastly task of disposing of the countless, rigiddead. And finally, a great steamer left New York harbor, and startedacross the Atlantic. It was the purpose of the men on board to destroyutterly the source of the Plague.
But long before that occurred, humanity had heard the story of PhillipParkinson, the man who saved t
he world--had heard, and had honored thedeliverer of mankind.
Parkinson's story follows:
CHAPTER II
The steam yacht, Diana, bound for the Azores and points south, was twodays out from Miami when the great meteor fell into the Atlantic. Onthe after deck, leaning over the rail, watching the moonlit waters,stood Phillip Parkinson, owner of the yacht. A bacteriologist ofinternational fame was Parkinson, on an early vacation to recuperatefrom the effects of a strenuous winter of research. Nervous, ratherhigh-strung, he had been unable to sleep; at about one in the morningof the 18th of March, he had come up on deck.
He had stood there for about an hour when suddenly there appeared inthe sky above him, a meteor, a great disc of blue-white incandescence.It seemed to be rushing straight down toward him; instinctively heleaped back, as though to avoid the fiery missile.
As the constantly expanding disc flashed through the hundred miles ofEarth's atmosphere, the ocean, as far as eye could see, became aslight as day. Bathed in that baleful, white glare, Parkinson,bewildered, dazed, half-blinded, watched the approaching stellarvisitant.
In a few moments it struck--no more than two miles away. In the last,bright flare of blue-white light, Parkinson saw a gigantic column ofsteam and boiling water leap up from the sea. Then thick, impenetrabledarkness fell--darkness that was intensified by its contrast with themeteor's blinding light.
For ten tense, breathless seconds utter silence hung over the sea ...then, for those on the yacht, the world went mad! A shrill, unearthlyshriek--the sound of the meteor's passage through the atmosphere; anear-splitting roar, as of the simultaneous release of thethunder-drums of ages; a howling demon of wind; a solid wall ofraging, swirling water of immeasurable height--all united in anindescribable chaos that bewildered those on board the Diana, and thatlifted the yacht and--threw it upon its side!
When the first rushing mountain of lathering, thundering water crashedupon the yacht, Parkinson felt himself hurtling through the roaringair. For a moment he heard the infernal pandemonium of noise ... thenthe strangling, irresistible brine closed over his head.
A blackness deeper than that of the night--and Parkinson knew nomore....
* * * * *
Slowly consciousness returned to the bacteriologist. It came under theguise of a dull, yet penetrating throbbing coming from beneath thesurface on which he lay. Vaguely he wondered at it; he had not yetentirely cast off the enshrouding stupor that gripped him.
Gradually he came into full possession of his faculties--and becameaware of a dull aching throughout his entire body. In his chest itseemed to be intensified; every breath caused a sharp pang of pain.
Faltering and uncertain, he arose and peered around. Before, lay theopen sea, calm now, and peaceful. Long, rolling swell swept in anddashed themselves against the rocks a few feet away. Rocks? For amoment Parkinson stared at the irregular shore-line in dazed wonder.Then as his mind cleared, the strangeness of his position flashed uponhim.
Solid earth was under his feet! Although he must be hundreds of milesfrom shore, in some way he had drifted upon land. So far as he knew,there were no islands in that part of the Atlantic; yet his veryposition belied the truth. He could not have drifted to the mainland;the fact that he was alive precluded all possibilities of that, for hewould have drowned in far less time than the latter thought implied.
He turned and inspected the land upon which he had been cast. A small,barren island, bleak and inhospitable, and strangely metallic, met hisgaze. The rays of the sun beating down upon it were thrown back withan uncomfortable intensity; the substance of the island was alustrous, copperlike metal. No soil softened the harshness of thesurface; indescribably rugged and pitted was the two hundred-footexpanse. It reminded Parkinson of a bronze relief-map of the moon.
For a moment he puzzled over the strangeness of the unnatural island;then suddenly he realized the truth. This was the meteor! Obviously,this was the upper side of the great sphere from space, protrudingabove the sea.
* * * * *
Fortunate for him that the meteor had not been completely covered bywater, he thought--but was it fortunate? True, he was alive now,thanks to the tiny island, but how long would he remain alive withoutfood or water, and without hope of securing either? Unless he would bepicked up by a passing steamer, he would die a far more unpleasantdeath than that of drowning. Some miracle had saved him from a waterygrave; it would require another to rescue him from a worse fate.
Even now he was beginning to feel thirsty. He had no way ofdetermining how long he had been unconscious, but that it was at leastten hours, he was certain, for the sun had been at its zenith when hehad awakened. No less than fifteen hours had gone by sincewater--other than that of the sea--had passed his lips. And the factthat it was impossible for him to quench his thirst only served torender it more acute.
In order to take his mind from thoughts of his thirst and of theimmediate future, he rapidly circled the island. As he had expected,it was utterly barren. With shoulders drooping in despair he settledwearily to a seat on the jagged mass of metal high up on top of themeteor.
An expression of sudden interest lit up his face. For a second time hefelt that particular throbbing, that strange pulsing beneath thesurface of the meteor. But now it was far more noticeable than before.It seemed to be directly below him, and very close to the surface.
Parkinson could not tell how long he sat there, but from theappearance of the sun, he thought that at the very shortest, an hourpassed by while he remained on that spot. And during that time, thethrobbing gradually increased until the metal began vibrating underhis feet.
Suddenly the bacteriologist leaped aside. The vibrating had reachedits height, and the meteor seemed to lurch, to tilt at a sharp angle.His leap carried him to firm footing again. And then, his thirst andhopeless position completely forgotten, Parkinson stared infascination at the amazing spectacle before him.
* * * * *
An eighteen-foot disc of metal, a perfect circle, seemed to have beencut out of the top of the meteor. While he watched, it began turningslowly, ponderously, and started sinking into the meteor. As it sank,Parkinson fancied that it grew transparent, and gradually vanishedinto nothingness--but he wasn't sure.
A great pit, eighteen feet wide, but far deeper, lay before him in thevery place where, not more than ten minutes before, he had stood. Nota moment too soon had he leaped.
Motionless he stood there, waiting in tense expectation. What wouldhappen next, he had not the least idea, but he couldn't prevent hisimagination from running riot.
He hadn't long to wait before his watching was rewarded. A few minutesafter the pit appeared, he heard a loud, high-pitched whir coming fromthe heart of the meteor. As it grew louder, it assumed a higher andstill higher key, finally rising above the range of human ears. And atthat moment the strange vehicle arose to the surface.
A simple-appearing mechanism was the car, consisting of a twelve-footsphere of the same bronze-like metal that made up the meteor, with ahuge wheel, like a bronze cincture, around its middle. It was thewhirling of this great wheel that had caused the high-pitchedwhirring. The entire, strange machine was surrounded by a peculiargreen radiance, a radiance that seemed to crackle ominously as thesphere hovered over the mouth of the pit.
For a moment the car hung motionless, then it drifted slowly to thesurface of the meteor, landing a few feet away from Parkinson. Hastilyhe drew back from the greenly phosphorescent thing--but not before hehad experienced an unpleasant prickling sensation over his entirebody.
As the bacteriologist drew away, there was a sharp, audible clickwithin the interior of the sphere; and the green radiance vanished. Atthe same moment, three heavy metal supports sprang from equi-distantpoints in the sides of the car, and held the sphere in a balancedposition on the rounded top of the meteor.
There was a soft, grating sound on the opposite side of the car.Quickly
, Parkinson circled it--and stopped short in surprise.
* * * * *
Men were descending from an opening in the side of the sphere!Parkinson had reasoned that since the meteor had come from the depthsof space, any being in its interior, unnatural as that seemed, wouldhave assumed a form quite different from the human. Of course,conditions on Earth could be approximated on another planet. At anyrate, whatever the explanation, the sphere was emitting men!
They were men--but there was something queer about them. They werevery tall--seven feet or more--and very thin; and their skins were adelicate, transparent white. They looked rather ghostly in theirtight-fitting white suits. It was not this that made them seem queer,however: it was an indefinite something, a vague suggestion ofheartless inhumanity, of unearthliness, that was somehow repulsive andloathsome.
There were three of them, all very similar in appearance and bearing.Their surprise at the sight of Parkinson, if anything, was greaterthan the start their appearance had given him. He, at least, hadexpected to see beings of some sort, while the three had been takencompletely by surprise.
For a moment they surveyed him with staring, cold-blue eyes. ThenParkinson extended his hand, and as cordially as he could, exclaimed:
"Hello! Welcome to Earth!"
The visitors from space ignored his advances and continued staring athim. Their attitude at first was quizzical, speculative, but slowly ahostile expression crept into their eyes.
Suddenly, with what seemed like common consent, they faced each other,and conversed in low tones in some unintelligible tongue. For almost aminute they talked, while Parkinson watched them in growingapprehension.
Finally they seemed to have reached some definite conclusion; with oneaccord they turned and moved slowly toward the bacteriologist,something distinctly menacing in their attitudes. The men from themeteor were tall, but they were thin; Parkinson, too, was large, andhis six-foot length was covered with layers of solid muscle. As thethree advanced toward him, he doubled his fists, and crouched inreadiness for the expected attack.
* * * * *
They were almost upon him when he leaped into action. A crushing leftto his stomach sent the first one to the meteor-top, where he laydoubled up in pain. But that was the only blow that Parkinson struck;in a moment he found himself lying prone upon his back, utterlyhelpless, his body completely paralyzed. What they had done to him, hedid not know; all that he could remember was two thin bodies twiningthemselves around him--a sharp twinge of pain at the base of hisskull; then absolute helplessness.
One of the tall beings grasped Parkinson about the waist, and withsurprising strength, threw him over his shoulder. The other assistedhis groaning fellow. When the latter had recovered to some extent, thethree ascended the ladder that led into the metal sphere.
The interior of the strange vehicle, as far as Parkinson could see,was as simple as its exterior. There was no intricate machinery of anysort in the square room; probably what machinery there was lay betweenthe interior and exterior walls of the sphere. As for controls, theseconsisted of several hundred little buttons that studded one of thewalls.
When they entered the vehicle, Parkinson was literally, and none toogently, dumped upon the floor. The man who had carried him steppedover to the controls. Like those of a skilled typist, his long, thinfingers darted over the buttons. In a moment the sphere was in motion.
There were no more thrills for Parkinson in that ride than he wouldhave derived from a similar ride in an elevator. They sank very slowlyfor some minutes, it seemed to him; then they stopped with a barelynoticeable jar.
The door of the car was thrust aside by one of the three, andParkinson was borne from the sphere. A bright, coppery light floodedthe interior of the meteor, seeming to radiate from its walls. In hishelpless state, and in the awkward position in which he was carried,with his head close to the floor, he could see little of the roomthrough which they passed, in spite of the light. Later, however, helearned that it was circular in shape, and about twice the diameter ofthe cylindrical tube that led into it. The wall that bound thischamber was broken at regular intervals by tall, narrow, doorways,each leading into a different room.
Parkinson was carried into one of these, and was placed in ahigh-backed metal chair. After he had been strapped fast, one of themen placed his hands at the base of the bacteriologist's skull; hefelt a sudden twinge of pain; and his strange paralysis left himsuddenly.
* * * * *
He knew it was useless to struggle; without resisting, he let themplace upon his head a cap-like device that seemed lost in a tangledmaze of machinery. Each meteor-man grasped one of the instrumentsresembling old-time radio head-phones that were fastened toParkinson's head-gear, and clamped it over his ears.
The bacteriologist heard a steady, humming drone, like a swarm ofangry bees--felt a peculiar, soothing warmth about his head; and thenhe slept.
Only a moment or two seemed to have passed when he awoke. The strangedevice on his head was removed and put away; and then, to Parkinson'samazement, one of the three men, evidently the leader, spoke--inEnglish!
"Now that you have recovered consciousness," he remarked in a cold,expressionless voice, "you had better realize at the very beginningthat you are completely in our power. Any effort to escape will befutile, for there is only one way to reach the outside; the openingthrough the top; and only one means of travel through that opening:the sphere. And since you know nothing about the operation of themachine, any attempt to run it would be disastrous to you.
"If you promise to refrain from violence, we'll release you, and giveyou some measure of freedom. We'll do this because you can be ofassistance to us in one of our tasks here on your planet."
Parkinson assented readily; he knew he could gain nothing by rejectingtheir offer. "Of course I'll promise. But--but, how did you learnEnglish?" he asked in bewilderment.
"You taught us," the leader replied. "That device we placed upon yourhead created a duplicate of your knowledge in our minds. We knew yourlanguage, your world, indeed, yourself, as well as you do."
Parkinson shook his head in amazement. Another question came to hismind as the men released him. He was interrupted before he could giveit expression.
* * * * *
"Don't ask," the leader exclaimed. "I'll tell our entire story so thatyou'll have no occasion to annoy us with your questions.
"We're Venerians," he began, "inhabitants of the planet you callVenus. For ages our world has been overcrowded. A short time ago, theconditions became so acute that something had to be done. It wassuggested that we seek another habitable planet to which our peoplecould migrate.
"Your Earth was thought to be the world with physical conditions mostclosely resembling those of Acor, or Venus. Our scientists set to workimmediately, using forces and devices with which you are totallyunfamiliar, and constructed several missiles which they hurled atEarth. These missiles, spherical masses closely resembling meteors,were set to explode after a certain period of contact with anatmosphere similar to our own. By their explosion we on Venus coulddetermine whether or not this world had a breathable atmosphere.
"Upon our deciding that the Earth was habitable, we built this greatmachine. It is chiefly composed of our greatest heat-resister, ametal we call thoque; I see no corresponding word in your vocabulary;evidently you are unfamiliar with the element, or else it is unknownon Earth.
"After our flight through space, automatically controlled, by the way,on Venus, we landed here. With our thoque disintegrator, we bored apassageway to the surface of this great sphere. Then we entered thecar, rose to the top of the passageway, and discovered you.
"That is a brief synopsis of our actions--and it must suffice! Ask noquestions; we do not wish to be disturbed by the blind gropings ofyour primitive mind!"
There was a cold finality in the Venerian's voice that convincedParkinson that f
or the moment, at least, he had better forget the manyquestions that had surged up in his mind.
The Venerian leader spoke again. "From our observations of your mind,we know that you have not had food or water for a rather lengthyperiod of time. It is not our purpose to starve you: you shall eat anddrink."
A minute later Parkinson sat at a very high table in one of the rooms,drinking water from Venus, and eating the fare of an alien world.
* * * * *
Days passed by, merging into weeks, while Parkinson lost all track oftime. The bacteriologist's existence became a ceaseless round of toil.The Venerian had said that he would be given some measure of freedom,because he would be of use to them; he had not been with them long erehe learned what that use was.
One of the rooms was filled with great slabs of thoque; it wasParkinson's task to carry the slabs to the vehicle at the base of theshaft, one by one; to rise to the surface with them, accompanied bytwo of the men--the third was working on the surface--and there unloadthem. Day after day this continued.
Hope of escaping was almost dead in Parkinson's breast, because hewas constantly under the surveillance of those hard, blue eyes. Onlyone thing kept hope alive: by watching the Venerians operate the car,he was slowly gaining a knowledge of the meaning of the many buttonsin the wall. Some day, if an opportunity came, he meant to be ready totake advantage of it.
Once, shortly after his monotonous toil began, Parkinson experienced agreat flare of hope for deliverance. They had just brought anotherslab to the surface, when a steamer appeared above the horizon. It wasfar away, but its crew must surely have seen the island.
But his expectations were short-lived. One of the three drew frombeneath his tight-fitting, white garments a little, metal object, along tube, with a handle at one end, and pointed it at the vessel. Fora moment he held it thus, moving it slowly backward and forward: thenhe returned it to its place of concealment, and turned away with anair of indifference. And Parkinson saw the ship burst suddenly intoflame, a few minutes later to sink beneath the waves.
* * * * *
Shaken to the depths of his being, Parkinson resumed his work. Theinhumanity of these saturnine Venerians filled him with a dread sogreat that he refused to admit it to himself. That that had not beenthe first time that they had destroyed a ship, he felt sure; his heartsank, and grew more hopeless.
At last his task of carrying slabs was finished. The room was empty,and the work completed. A great tower, entirely covering the island,reared its head into the sky. In appearance, it resembled a very talllighthouse. This resemblance held true only until its top was reached;there it ended. From the tower's top extended four long, hollow arms,so constructed that they whirled about the tower at a mad pace whenthe machinery with which they were connected was started. In addition,arrangement was made for a powerful blast of air to be sent throughthe tubes when the Venerians so desired.
What the purpose of this great edifice was, Parkinson could not guess:later, he learned the horrible significance of it all.
After the tower was finished, the bacteriologist was left to his owndevices to a great extent, though always closely watched by one of hiscaptors. They let him eat all the food he desired, and let him liearound as much as he wished, regaining his health and strength. Thiswas a pleasant surprise for him: he took full advantage of hisprivileges.
Then, one day when Parkinson had fully recovered from the effects ofhis grueling labors, the leader of the Venerians approached him frombehind, and before he could raise a hand in defense, had rendered himhelplessly paralyzed.
"You will now be given a second opportunity to help the cause of Venuson Earth," he said in his expressionless voice. And so saying, helifted Parkinson, and bore him into one of the rooms.
CHAPTER III
At no time while he was held captive by the Venerians was Parkinson ashopeless, or as completely filled with despair as when he was carriedinto this room. There was something depressing about the chamber,something that gripped his heart with the chill hand of dread. He hada feeling of impending evil.
The few momentary glimpses of the chamber that he had gotten while hewas being carried, sufficed to convince Parkinson that this was alaboratory, or--he shuddered at the thought--an operating room. Thewalls, floor and ceiling were composed of a white porcelainlikesubstance: from these walls, strangely, streamed the same copperylight that filled the entire meteor.
Entirely concealing one wall was a long, glass case, constructed toform countless little niches, each of which held a small, transparentvessel. At the back of the room was a high table, covered withtransparent cases which were filled with complex instruments of everydescription, some similar to those on Earth; others entirelydifferent.
The thing that brought the thought of an operating room to Parkinson'smind was the long, white slab that rested on metal uprights in theroom's center--an operating table. A moment after they entered theroom, he had his theory substantiated: the Venerian leader placed himon the white slab, stretching him to full length. It was an operatingtable--and he was to be the subject of their operation!
He had lain there but a moment when two of the Venerians approached,one on either side, and began removing his clothing. It was not longbefore he lay on the cold slab, entirely nude.
* * * * *
While he was being stripped, he heard the leader of the Veneriansmoving about, heard the click of glass, the rasp of metal upon metal.But, unable to move his eyes, he had seen none of his activities,except to note that several of the little vessels had been taken fromtheir resting places.
When the two had finished disrobing him, and had replaced him upon hisback, the leader appeared. He looked down at Parkinson, a queerexpression in his hard, blue eyes. He seemed to hesitate a moment:then he spoke.
"Earthling," he said in his toneless voice, "I have decided to tellyou of our intentions. You are going to play a very important part inour scheme, and it is only fitting that you should know. You can donothing to hinder our plans: you are giving us incalculable aid: andit affords me some degree of satisfaction to tell you this.
"As you know, Earthling, we purpose to have the people of Acor to cometo Earth to live, to relieve the congested conditions of our ownworld. Obviously, there is no room for two types of intelligentbeings on one planet--your race must go! It is our intention todestroy all human life on Earth!
"We intend accomplishing this with Venerian microbes. From the recordof your knowledge, I've learned that diseases of various kinds arecommon on Earth. We expected that such would be the case, and thus,you would not be immune to germs, so we came prepared. Each of thesmall compartments in that case that you may have seen, contains aculture of a different germ. After we have determined which Venerianbacilli will be the most effective, we will develop them in greatquantities, and loose them upon your world.
"In the selecting process, you will play your part. Since our germsmay have a different effect upon your bodies than they do uponVenerians, we will inoculate you with different diseases, and watchtheir effects upon you.
"Of course, you yourself will be in no great danger, for we will havethe diseases under our constant control. On Acor we have abolisheddisease entirely, having a reagent or an antitoxin for every malady;we will use our cures upon you immediately after we have seen how youreact to each disease.
"What we desire is a bacillus that will take effect when it isbreathed in through the lungs. If the disease is of such a nature asto instill fear in the minds of observers, so much the better; butthat is unnecessary. When we discover a microbe of that nature, wewill be ready to act.
"By the way, our work has been lessened to a great degree by the factthat you are a bacteriologist. The knowledge we gain from you hasenabled us to eliminate at least half of our microbes. All Veneriangerms that are duplicated on Earth will be left out of ourcalculations. Only those unknown to your planet will be tried uponyou."
<
br /> * * * * *
When the Venerian had finished his explanation, each word of which hadsounded like a death knell to Parkinson, the bacteriologist lay onthe slab in the grip of a nightmare of horror. The cold-bloodedbrutality of these Venerian beasts, and the thought of lying therehelpless with his body the prey of unknown diseases, filled him with amaddening fear and dread.
Mightily he struggled to break the uncanny bonds that held himparalyzed, but it was of no avail. His body retained its helplessrigidity.
Only for a moment was Parkinson left to his fearful musings; then theVenerians begin their work. A tall table on wheels was brought fromsomewhere, and drawn to the side of the slab. Upon this variousinstruments were placed, side by side with numerous flat vesselscontaining germ cultures. Parkinson saw none of this, but from thesounds that came to his ears he could infer what was taking place.
Finally, everything seemed to be in readiness. The Venerian leaderbent over Parkinson for a moment: and the latter felt a sharp pain inhis side. Then the Venerian withdrew.
Slowly, interminably, the time dragged by while the microbes that hadbeen introduced into his body were at their work. How long he laythere with the Venerians watching, he could not tell, but it seemed tobe hours. During that time he felt himself gripped by an increasinglyviolent fever. Unbearable heat flooded his body. And because of hishelplessness, he could do nothing to relieve his pain and discomfort.It was maddening!
When he thought he had reached the limit of his endurance, and feltthat he would go insane in another moment, the Venerian leaderinjected something into his side. He became aware of an immediatesense of relief; in an unbelievably short time the fever had left himand he was himself again.
There followed for Parkinson hours of nightmare agony, while theVenerians experimented with his living body. Time after time he wasinoculated with strange bacilli that wracked him with torturesindescribable. Hideous diseases covered him with festering sores;twisted his flesh into a repellent mass of scars; left him weakenedand deformed. Had it not been for the incredible curative powers ofthe Venerians, he would have died then; but always, when the endseemed at hand, they brought him back to life, only to subject him toother horrors.
* * * * *
After what seemed countless ages, the Venerians left him alone. Underthe powerful effects of their cures, Parkinson began to recover. Hopewelled up in his heart; perhaps the terrible experiments were ended.
When he was almost certain that the torture was over, his hopes weresuddenly destroyed. The three Venerians approached again, each bearinga number of vessels containing germ cultures. These they placed on thetable at Parkinson's side; then two of them withdrew, leaving theleader to continue his work. Uttering a few words in the Veneriantongue, he occupied himself with something on the table, and a momentlater turned toward the bacteriologist, a long needle in his hands.
Parkinson felt a great burning pain in his left arm, as though asearing, hot needle had been thrust into his flesh. In a moment thisvanished. Then a feeling of irresistible lassitude overwhelmed him; anunbearable weariness filled him with longing for rest, peace--death.This, too, was of short duration.
With the passing of the weariness, Parkinson became aware of a sharpthrobbing in his arm. Rapidly this increased in violence, untilsuddenly an unbearable, excruciating agony seized him. Far greater wasthis than any pain he had suffered before. For a moment he struggledto scream, to move, to do anything to relieve his agony. There seemedto be a sudden snap--a cry of anguish burst from his lips--and hissenses left him. Just as the bonds of paralysis had broken, he hadlost consciousness.
Life returned to Parkinson very slowly. In a daze he stared around,uncomprehending. Then suddenly he realized that he was no longerparalyzed: nor was he in the operating room. The bed on which he laywas soft, comfortable; the room, unfamiliar. But not for long did hismind dwell upon this; in a few moments his eyelids closed, and heslept the sleep of complete mental and physical exhaustion.
Daring the weeks that followed, Parkinson did little other than sleep.Occasionally he arose, either to stretch himself, or to secure food,but for the greater part of the time he remained in bed. His body wasa mere shadow of its former self as the result of his terribleexperience on the white slab: his incessant sleeping, necessarybecause of his weakened condition, served to bring him back to hisformer health. The Venerians seemed glad to have it thus: asleep, hedid not disturb their activities.
* * * * *
When he had awakened from his first period of natural slumber, he hadreceived a terrible shock. His left arm was gone, amputated at theshoulder. Strangely, the wound had healed while he slept, probably theresult of the Venerian doctoring, so there was no pain: but the shockhad been terrible.
After he had recovered from the effects of that shock, he had resolvedto make the Venerians pay for what they had done. And then he hadrealized that the inhuman brutes must be destroyed for a greaterreason: unless he interfered, he believed that they would carry outtheir intention of destroying all human life.
As the weeks passed by, while strength was returning to Parkinson, helearned in a general way what the invaders were doing. They wereengaged in developing vast quantities of microbes to be spread overEarth. When these were ready, a great amount of fine dust that theVenerians had brought with them, was impregnated with the bacilli.This was then taken up into the tower, where, as Parkinson learnedlater, it was blown out through the four tubes that spun around thetower's top, to drift through the air--to enter human bodies--todestroy life.
The Venerians worked with the cultures and impregnated dust withoutprotection of any sort: evidently they were immune to the disease.Later Parkinson learned that he was likewise immune; they had renderedhim so after trying the germs upon him.
Gradually the bacteriologist's health returned--so gradually that hiscaptors seemed not to notice it. He was glad of this, for theirvigilance had relaxed, and he did not want it renewed. Even when hewas as strong and well as ever, he spent much time in bed, shammingillness. And when he could do so without danger of detection, he kepta close watch upon the three, waiting for a time when he would beentirely alone.
* * * * *
At last his opportunity came. The three Venerians rose to the surfacetogether, leaving him in his room, to all outward appearances, asleep.But sleep was far from him at that moment; he had been watching.
Shortly after the sphere had vanished up the shaft, Parkinson emergedfrom his room. For a moment he surveyed the circle of doors: then heshrugged his shoulders. They all looked alike to him. Quickly hecrossed the room, and pressed a button that mechanically opened adoor. It was his purpose, first of all, to secure a weapon; one roomwould do as well as another for a beginning.
At first glance Parkinson was struck by the strange familiarity ofthis chamber: then, after a moment, he recognized it. A tall,high-backed metal chair in its center was its mark of identification.This was the chamber wherein the Venerians had transferred a record ofhis knowledge to their minds.
Carefully he looked around in search of a weapon, but the room heldnothing but the chair and the thought transference device. In a momenthe withdrew, closing the door behind him.
In the next room he entered, he was fortunate. This chamber was filledwith strange devices of various kinds. While curiously inspecting theintricate machines, he saw something that brought a smile ofsatisfaction to his lips.
Against one wall stood a tall, glass case, one of the shelves of whichheld several metal devices that Parkinson immediately recognized asbeing the Venerians' weapons. Poignantly he remembered how a similardevice had destroyed a ship.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, he crossed to the case and secured oneof the weapons. For a moment he studied it. There was nothing complexabout the mechanism; a cursory examination sufficed to reveal how itwas operated. Pressure on a little knob at the back of the handlerel
eased the devastating ray.
He was about to slip the device into his pocket when he stiffenedinvoluntarily. There was a sound of movement outside the room--heheard a step on the metal floor--then he whirled.
* * * * *
One of the Venerians stood in the doorway, a menacing frown on hisface. He was crouching, ready to spring upon Parkinson.
Quick as thought, the bacteriologist leveled his newly-acquiredweapon, and pressed on the knob. There was a sudden spurt of flamefrom the Venerian's body; then it crumpled, sagging, shrinkingtogether.
Hastily Parkinson released the pressure on the little knob, aghast atthe destructive power of his little weapon. Then, as he remembered thetorture he had endured at their hands, he directed the ray upon theashes, until they, too, were consumed, leaving naught but a dark patchon the floor.
For several minutes Parkinson stood there in deep thought. There wasno immediate danger from the two remaining Venerians, for they wereup in the tower, while the sphere was in the meteor; so he could thinkwith utmost safety. Deep thought and careful planning were necessarynow, for he had taken the step that must mean either his death or thedeath of the Venerians.
Suddenly he leaped into action; he had decided upon his next move.Crossing to the case he secured another weapon. He wasn't sure thatthey could be effectively discharged without re-loading; handicappedas he was with one arm gone, he had to be certain of the reliabilityof his means of defense. Then he left the room, and crossed to thehuge thoque sphere.
It was the work of a moment to enter this, and prepare to ascend. Thisdone, he turned his attention to the numerous knobs on the wall. Hehad not seen them for quite a while; it was with difficulty that herecalled which knobs controlled the car's ascent. At last, hesitantly,but correctly, he pressed on the knobs, and the sphere rose slowlytoward the surface.
At the proper moment, Parkinson, brought the vehicle to a halt, andslid back the door. Furtively he peered around. The Venerians were onthe other side of the tower. Quickly he lowered the ladder anddescended.
* * * * *
As he stepped to the floor, a sudden cry of dismay fell upon his ears.One of the Venerians, coming around the car, had discovered him.Without a moment's hesitation, Parkinson aimed his little weapon, andpressed upon the knob. Like his fellow, the Venerian fell to thefloor, a heap of charred ashes.
With the second Venerian destroyed, Parkinson dashed around thesphere, metal cylinder held in readiness. The leader of the Venerianswas stealing stealthily around the other side of the car, his handfumbling beneath his garment.
"Stop!" Parkinson cried. "Raise your hands above your head--empty!" Acylinder clattered to the metal floor as the Venerian's hands movedskyward.
"Keep your back turned!" Parkinson snapped as the invader began about."I won't hesitate to press on this little knob, at your first hostilemove! I'd thoroughly enjoy burning you to a crisp, so be verycareful."
While talking, Parkinson had moved slowly toward the man from Venus;now, almost upon him, he quickly dropped his weapon into a pocket, andswung a terrible blow at the base of his skull. The Venerian fell tothe floor without a groan, unconscious.
Parkinson stared at the recumbent figure rather dubiously for amoment. If only he had his other arm! But it was gone; with animpatient shake of his head he stooped and raised the senselessinvader.
It was anything but an easy task for the bacteriologist to carry hisseven-foot burden up the ladder and into the sphere, but finally, hesucceeded in doing so. Then, without delay, he lowered the car intothe meteor again.
As he bore the Venerian from the vehicle, he tried to decide upon hisnext move. Obviously, he had to secure the one surviving invader, sothat he would not be a menace to Parkinson when he revived. And thenthe logical thing to do would be, in some way, to secure informationfrom him as to how to cure the disease that was spreading over theworld.
* * * * *
The logical thing to do, yes--but how? With only one arm, the simpletask of binding the Venerian presented considerable difficulty. Howmuch more difficult would it be to force anything from him?
Then the solution of the first problem presented itself to Parkinson.What was to prevent his strapping this being into the high-backedchair to which he had been secured some time before? Quickly hecrossed the circular room to the door he had first passed throughwhile searching for a weapon.
Ten minutes later, when the Venerian regained his senses, he wasfastened securely to the tall, metal chair.
"Well," Parkinson addressed him, "conditions seem to be reversed now,and you're the underdog. I've nipped your invasion in the bud. Allyour elaborate preparations are wasted."
Something resembling a sneer wreathed the Venerian's thin lips; amocking gleam lit his cold, blue eyes.
"So our efforts have been wasted, have they? I'm afraid I can't agreewith you. Already, enough bacteria have been released to destroy alllife, though it will take longer than we desire. Even though you killme, our goal will still be reached. The human race will die!"
A cloud of gloom fell upon Parkinson. He had expected this; but he hadbeen hoping that he was wrong.
"Then there's only one thing for me to do, and that is: I'll have toforce you to tell me how to undo the damage you've done."
The Venerian smiled mirthlessly. "You have absolutely no chance ofaccomplishing that," he said. "We've done our work too well to allowany interference now.
"You do not know this, but we have released upon your world the worstmalady ever known to Venus. There is only one remedy; and I'm the onlyone who knows it, or who has the means wherewith to accomplish it. AndI certainly won't tell!"
The worried expression on Parkinson's face increased in intensity.There was something in the Venerian's voice that convinced him that hemeant what he said.
Then suddenly his countenance cleared, and a happy smile replaced hisfrown.
"Perhaps you won't tell, but I think you will. There are more waysthan one of forcing you."
* * * * *
Parkinson had hit upon a solution to his problem. The Venerians hadreproduced his knowledge in their brains; why wouldn't it be possiblefor him to reverse the operation?
In a moment he secured the thought-transference apparatus from a casein the rear of the room, and bore it to the chair, and in spite of theVenerian leader's struggles, placed it upon his head. He put thehead-phones over his own ears, and began fumbling with the controls.
Suddenly he seemed to strike the right combination. There was a faint,humming drone in his ears; after a moment this was replaced by a loudcrackling--and the knowledge of the man from Venus was becoming hisown.
Somewhat dazed, Parkinson shut off the current. His mind was in aturmoil. He was in possession of knowledge of such an amazingcharacter that, for the moment he had lost his mental equilibrium.Indeed, so strange was his new-found knowledge, that he could notgrasp the significance of even half of the facts in his mind.
But already, he knew how, with animal electricity, they had paralyzedhim; knew what had happened to him on the operating table; knew thenature of the dread disease that destroyed his arm; the GrayPlague--and knew the cure!
A sudden thought arrested this review of his new knowledge. The GrayPlague! At that very moment incalculable quantities of the deadlybacilli were being cast into the air. And he was doing nothing aboutit!
He glanced at the Venerian. He was still unconscious, and would remainso for some minutes to come. And even if he did recover his senses, hewas securely fastened to the chair; Parkinson dashed out of the room,crossed to the sphere, and passed through the open doorway.
Without hesitation he manipulated the controls, directed by hisVenerian knowledge. Rapidly the sphere rose to the surface.
As it came to rest on the floor of the tower, Parkinson sprang fromthe car, and headed toward a mass of intricate machinery that filledfully a quarter of the gr
eat building.
Even this caused him no great concern; he was as familiar with it ashe would have been had he constructed it. For some moments he was busywith numerous dials and levers; then the release of the germs wasstopped.
* * * * *
Parkinson spent several minutes in examining the contents of thetower, his Earthly mind lost in wonder at the strange things hisVenerian knowledge revealed to him. Then he entered the sphere again,and sank into the meteor.
As he moved toward the room that held the Venerian, his mind was busywith conjectures as to what he would do with his prisoner. It wasnecessary for the bacteriologist to reach the mainland as quickly aspossible, and make use of his knowledge of the cure for the GrayPlague. He didn't want to kill the man; he couldn't free him; yet ifhe left him strapped to the chair, he'd surely die of starvation.
Still undecided, he thrust open the door. With a startled gasp hestopped short. Somehow the Venerian had freed himself; at that momenthe leaped toward Parkinson.
Instinctively the bacteriologist flung up his hand in a defensiveattitude. The onrushing Venerian caught Parkinson's out-thrust fist inthe pit of his stomach, and doubled up in pain. While he was thusdefenseless, Parkinson placed a well-directed blow on the side of theVenerian's jaw, a blow carrying every ounce of his strength.
So great was the force of the punch, that it lifted the man from Venusand cast him headlong upon the floor. His head landed with a sickeningthud. Unmoving, he lay where he had fallen.
Parkinson knelt over him for a moment, then arose. Without question,the man was dead. The Venerian had solved the bacteriologist's lastproblem; he was free to return to the United States with his means ofsaving mankind.
* * * * *
Drawing the little metal cylinder from his pocket, he burned the bodyof the Venerian leader to a heap of ashes, ridding the world of thelast invader. Then he turned and entered the glass-lined operatingroom.
Following the dictates of his Venerian knowledge, he crossed to one ofthe walls, and drew therefrom a flat, glass vessel, somewhat like apetri dish. This contained bacteria that were harmless in themselves,and were hostile to those of the Gray Plague. These germs, broughtfrom Venus, were the only cure for the terrible disease.[1]
[Footnote 1: The work of the English bacteriologist Twort, in 1915,and the Frenchman, d'Herelle, in 1917, brought to the attention of thescientific world the fact that many bacteria are subject to attack anddestruction by some unknown active agent with which they areassociated in infected material. This agent, whatever its character,changed growing germ cultures to a dead, glassy substance.
Twort advanced the thought that the agent might be a living, filteredvirus, although he favored the theory that it was an enzyme derivedfrom the bacteria themselves.
D'Herelle, on the contrary, believed that this phenomenon was due to aliving, multiplying, ultra-microscopic microbe that destroyed certainbacteria.
Evidence favoring both theories has come to light, with the resultthat, at present, controversy is rife. Up to date, the contention ofneither side has been proved.]
Parkinson's adventure was almost at an end. He had not emergedunscathed, but he had won!
The details of his further actions need not be recorded. Suffice it tosay that he entered the sphere, carrying his precious, curative germs,arose to the top of the tower, and passed through a round opening inits side. His borrowed knowledge revealed that the car possessedabilities that he had not suspected; with amazing speed he caused itto flash across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States.
There he saw the frightful carnage that the Plague had caused, saw thedeserted cities--and was filled with self-reproach because he had notacted sooner.
Across the miles and miles of deserted country he sped, following thefleeing hordes, finally passing over the stragglers and landing inthe heart of the congested areas. After making a few inquiries, hereturned to the sphere, and continued on toward the West. He landed,finally, outside the city of San Francisco.
A short time later, twisted, deformed, yet triumphant, he was usheredinto the presence of the United States government as--the man who hadsaved the human race.
CHAPTER IV
The terrible days of the Gray Plague ended in mystery. Much that hadpuzzled the world, Parkinson, with his Venerian knowledge, explained;but there was one thing, the final, enigmatical act in the strangedrama, that was as much of a mystery to him as it was to the rest ofthe world.
Enigma! Of what significance, of what portent--who could tell?
When the great vessel from the United States, equipped to destroy themeteor of the Venetians, neared the great thoque sphere, they cameupon a scene quite different from what they had expected. Parkinson,who was on the ship, was more surprised than the rest, for he haddefinite knowledge of what, in the natural course of events, theyshould see. For the others there was nothing so very strange in whatthey saw; Parkinson had lied, that was all.
When the bacteriologist had left the meteor, there had been a high,bronze-colored tower, a burnished lighthouse, covering its entire top.It had been there--but now it was gone! Only the jagged, archedsurface of the meteor remained.
They lowered boats and rowed to the strange island. There they sawsomething that filled them--Parkinson especially--with a very definiteuneasiness. The entire top of the meteor was a twisted, fire-blastedmass of bronze-like metal. Where the tower had been, where the shafthad led into the remarkable interplanetary vehicle, there was now abroken expanse of thoque that flashed fire under the rays of the sun.
Something seemed to have melted, to have fused the tower, until it hadcrumpled, and had run, filling the entrance of the meteor. There wasirrefutable evidence to that effect; no one thought otherwise.
But what agency had done this strange thing?
Someone suggested that it might have been the work of some prearrangedmechanism. Parkinson shook his head. Had such been the case, hisVenerian knowledge would have told him so.
Obviously, nothing of Earth had done it, nothing of Earth--thensomething of Venus! Inconclusive conjecture, perhaps, but no otherexplanation offered itself. Something had sealed the contents of themeteor from the sight of man, something with a purpose. From Venus?The thought was logical, to say the least.
Not for long did they remain there beside the Venerian vehicle; therewas naught for them to do, so they turned about and headed toward theUnited States. They bore tidings that were vaguely disturbing, tidingsthat none were glad to hear. For, according to all indications,something alien to Earth was still within her confines.
* * * * *
Behind it all--the meteors, the Plague, the sealing of the Venerianvehicle--is one fact of great significance. No longer is man alone inthe universe; no longer is he in isolation! Out of space came amenace, an intelligence striving to wrest from him his right to ruleover Earth. No longer can man in his smug complacency think of himselfas being secure in his strength. He has been shown the utter folly ofsuch thinking.
The menace--the invaders from Venus--came, and were destroyed, theirpurposes defeated. Yet--in the vast reaches of space, in worlds ofother dimensions, in the cosmic crucible of life that embodies allcreation, there may be other forms of life, other menaces, hoveringclouds of death, preparing to sweep down upon Earth to snuff out herlife. Who can tell?
And who may say that man is free from the Venerian danger? The strangesealing of the meteor implies that the menace is still present. Whoknows but what those inhuman Venerian brutes may even now be planningsome new invasion, may be preparing to renew their attack upon Earth?
Time alone will tell.
ROBOT PILOTS FOR AIRCRAFT
Perfection of an automatic mechanical piloting mechanism for airplaneshas been achieved after several years of experiment at the royalaircraft establishment of Farnborough.
The apparatus has been successfully tried out on various types ofplanes--two-seater day bombe
rs, large twin-engine night bombers andbig flying boats. Its use as a second or relief pilot on long distanceflights by Royal Air Force machines is now being considered.
In every test the robot pilot has steered an accurate course for hoursat a time and over distances up to 400 miles while human members ofthe crew have been concerned with other duties.
The basis of the mechanical pilot is a gyroscope that controls pistonsconnected with the rudder and elevators of the plane. These pistonsare actuated by compressed air.
Once a course is set the robot pilot keeps the machine on that routeand errors of even a fraction of a degree are instantly andautomatically detected and corrected. All the human pilot has to do ina plane so equipped is to take off and land the machine.
The Pilot's Assister is the official name of the new English device.It weighs about 120 pounds.
Flights have been made with the mechanical pilot in all sorts ofweather. In dense fog and clouds, when a human pilot would have foundit almost impossible to maintain straight or level flight because ofthe absence of any visible horizon by which to steer, the mechanicalpilot flew the plane with absolute accuracy. On one test flight theautomatic pilot steered a dead true course from Farnborough in SouthEngland, to Newcastle, 270 miles farther north. The human pilot didnot touch the controls until it was necessary to land the plane at thedestination.