Authors: E. E. 'Doc' Smith
Wouldn’t that break you off at the ankles, Mart? Did you ever conceive the possibility of such a thing?’
‘I did not. There are literally miles of film in each of those reels, and I see that that cabinet is practically full of reels. There must be an index or a master-chart.’
‘Yes, there’s a book in this slot here, but we don’t know any of their names or numbers – wait a minute! How did he report our Earth on that torpedo? Planet number three of sun six four something Pilarone, wasn’t it? I’ll get the record.’
‘Six four seven three Pilarone, it was.’
‘Pilarone … let’s see …’ Seaton studied the index volume. ‘Reel twenty, scene fifty-one, I’d translate it.’
They found the reel, and ‘scene fifty-one’ did indeed show that section of space in which our solar system is. Seaton stopped the chart when star six four seven three was at its closest range, and there was our sun; with its nine planets and their many satellites accurately shown and correctly described.
‘They know their stuff, all right – you’ve got to hand it to ’em. I’ve been straightening out that brain record – cutting out the hazy stretches and getting his knowledge straightened out so we can use it, and there’s a lot of this kind of stuff in the record you can get. Suppose that you can figure out exactly where he comes from with this dope and with his brain record?’
‘Certainly. I may be able to get more complete information upon the green system than the Osnomians have, too, which will be very useful indeed. You are right – I am intensely interested in this material, and if you do not care particularly about studying it any more at the moment, I believe that I should begin to study it now.’
‘Take over. I’m going to study that record some more. Don’t know whether a human brain can take it all – especially all at once – but I’m going to sort of peck around the edges and get some dope that we need pretty badly. We got a lot of information from that wampus.’
About sixty hours out, Dorothy, who had been observing the planet through number six visiplate, called Seaton away from the Fenachrone brain-record, upon which he was still concentrating.
‘Come here a minute, Dickie! Haven’t you got that knowledge all packed away in your skull yet?’
‘I’ll say I haven’t. That bird’s brain was three or four sizes larger than mine, and loaded Plimsoll down. I’m just nibbling around the edges yet.’
‘I’ve always heard that the capacity of even the human brain was almost infinite. Isn’t that true?’ asked Margaret.
‘Maybe it is, if the knowledge were built up gradually over generations. I think maybe I can get most of this stuff stowed away
so that I can use it, but it’s going to be an awful job.’
‘Is their brain really as far ahead of ours as I gathered from what I saw of it?’ asked Crane.
‘That’s a hard one to answer: they’re so different. I wouldn’t say that they are any more intelligent than we are. They know more about some things than we do; less about others. But they have very little in common with us. They don’t belong to the genus “homo” at all, really. Instead of having a common ancestor with the anthropoids, as we had, they evolved from a genus which combined the worst traits of the cat tribe and the carnivorous lizards – the two most savage and bloodthirsty branches of the animal kingdom – and instead of getting better as they went along, they got worse, in those respects at least. But they do not know a lot. When you get a month or so to spare you want to put on this harness and grab his knowledge, being very careful to steer clear of his mental traits and so on. Then when we get back to Earth we’ll simply tear it apart and rebuild it. You’ll know what I mean when you get this stuff transplanted into your own skull. But to cut out the lecture, what’s on your mind, Dottie Dimple?’
‘This planet Martin picked out is all wet, literally. The visibility is fine – very few clouds – but this whole half of it is solid ocean. If there are any islands, even, they’re mighty small.’
All four looked into the receiver. With the great magnification employed, the planet almost filled the visiplate. There were a few fleecy wisps of cloud, but the entire surface upon which they gazed was one sheet of the now familiar deep and glorious blue peculiar to the waters of that cuprous solar system, with no markings whatever.
‘What d’you make of it, Mart? That’s water, all right – copper sulphate solution, just like the Osnomian and Urvanian oceans – and nothing else visible. How big would an island have to be for us to see it from here?’
‘So much depends upon the contour and nature of the island that it is hard to say. If it were low and heavily covered with their green-blue vegetation, we might not be able to see a rather large one, whereas if it were hilly and bare, we could probably see one only a few miles in diameter.’
‘As it turns and as we get closer, we’ll see what we can see. Better take turns watching it, hadn’t we?’
It was so decided, and while the
Skylark
was still some distance away several small islands became visible, and the period of rotation of the planet was determined to be in the neighborhood of fifty hours. Margaret, then at the controls, picked out the largest island visible and directed the bar toward it. As they dropped down close to their objective, they found that the air was of the same composition as that of Osnome, but had a pressure of only seventy-eight centimeters of mercury, and that the
surface gravity of the planet was ninety-five hundredths that of the Earth.
‘Fine business!’ exulted Seaton. ‘Just about like home, but I don’t see much of a place to land without getting wet, do you? Those reflectors are probably solar generators, and they cover the whole island except for that lagoon right under us.’
The island, perhaps ten miles long and half that in width, was entirely covered with great hyperbolic reflectors, arranged so closely together that little could be seen between them. Each reflector apparently focused upon an object in the center, a helix which seemed to writhe in that flaming focus, glowing with a nacreous, opalescent green light.
‘Well, nothing much to see there – let’s go down,’ remarked Seaton as he shot the
Skylark
over to the edge of the island and down to the surface of the water. But here again nothing was to be seen of the land itself. The wall was one vertical plate of seamless metal, supporting huge metal guides, between which floated metal pontoons. From these gigantic floats metal girders and trusses went through slots in the wall into the darkness of the interior. Close scrutiny revealed that the large floats were rising steadily, although very slowly; while smaller floats bobbed up and down upon each passing wave.
‘Solid generators, tide-motors, and wave-motors, all at once!’ ejaculated Seaton. ‘SOME power plant! Folks, I’m going to take a look at that if we have to blast our way in!’
They circumnavigated the island without finding any door or other opening – the entire thirty miles was one stupendous battery of the generators. Back at the starting point, the
Skylark
hopped over the structure and down to the surface of the small central lagoon previously noticed. Close to the water, it was seen that there was plenty of room for the vessel to move about beneath the roof of reflectors, and that the island was one solid stand of tide-motors. At one end of the lagoon was an open metal structure, the only building visible, and Seaton brought the space-cruiser up to it and through the huge opening – for door there was none. The interior of the room was lighted by long, tubular lights running around in front of the walls, which were veritable switchboards. Row after row and tier upon tier stood the instruments, plainly electrical meters of enormous capacity and equally plainly in full operation, but no wiring or bus-bar could be seen. Before each row of instruments there was a narrow walk, with steps leading down into the water of the lagoon. Every part of the great room was plainly visible, and not a living being was even watching that vast instrument board.
‘What do you make of it, Dick?’ asked Crane, slowly.
‘No wiring – tight beam transmission. The Fenachrone do it with two matched-frequency separable units. Millions and millions of kilowatts there, if I’m any judge. Absolutely automatic too, or else …’ His voice died away.
‘Or else what?’ asked Dorothy.
‘Just a hunch. I wouldn’t wonder if …’
‘Hold it, Dicky! Remember I had to put you to bed after that
last hunch you had!’
‘Here it is, anyway. Mart, what would be the logical line of evolution when the planet has become so old that all the land has been eroded to a level below that of the ocean? You picked us out an old one, all right – so old that there’s almost no land left. Would a highly civilized people revert to fish? That seems like a backward move to me, but what other answer is possible?’
‘Probably not to true fishes – although they might easily develop some fish-like traits. I do not believe, however, that they would go back to gills or to cold blood.’
‘What
are
you two saying?’ interrupted Margaret. ‘Do you mean to say that you think
fish
live here instead of people, and that
fish
did all this?’ as she waved her hand at the complicated machinery about them.
‘Not fish exactly, no.’ Crane paused in thought. ‘Merely a people who have adjusted themselves to their environment through conscious or natural selection. We had a talk about this very thing during our first trip, shortly after I met you. Remember? I commented on the fact that there must be life throughout the universe, much of it that we could not understand; and you replied that there would be no reason to suppose them awful because incomprehensible. That may be the case here.’
‘Well, I’m going to find out,’ declared Seaton, as he appeared with a box full of coils, tubes, and other apparatus.
‘How?’ asked Dorothy, curiously.
‘Fix me up a detector and follow up one of those beams. Find its frequency and direction, first, you know, then pick it up outside and follow it to where it’s going. It’ll go through anything, of course, but I can trap off enough of it to follow it, even if it’s tight enough to choke itself. That’s one thing I got from that brain record.’
He worked deftly and rapidly, and soon was rewarded by a flaring crimson color in his detector when it was located in one certain position in front of one of the meters. Noting the bearing on the great circles, he then moved the
Skylark
along that exact line, over the reflectors, and out beyond the island, where he allowed the vessel to settle directly downwards.
‘Now, folks, if I’ve done this just right we’ll get a red flash directly.’
As he spoke, the detector again burst into crimson light, and he set the bar into the line and applied a little power, keeping the light at its reddest while the other three looked on in fascinated interest.
‘This beam is on something that’s moving, Mart – can’t take my eyes off it for a second or I’ll lose it entirely. See where we’re going, will you?’
‘We are about to strike the water,’ replied Crane quietly.
‘The water!’ exclaimed Margaret.
‘Fair enough – why not?’
‘Oh, that’s right – I forgot that the
Skylark
is as good a submarine as
she is an airship.’
Crane pointed number six visiplate directly into the line of flight and stared into the dark water.
‘How deep are we, Mart?’ asked Seaton after a time.
‘Only about a hundred feet, and we do not seem to be getting any deeper.’
‘That’s good. Afraid this beam might be going to a station on the other side of the planet – through the ground. If so, we’d’ve had to go back and trace another. We can follow it any distance under water, but not through rock. Need a light?’
‘Not unless we go deeper.’
For two hours, Seaton held the detector upon that tight beam of energy, travelling at a hundred miles an hour, the highest speed he could use and still hold the beam.
‘I’d like to be up above, watching us. I bet we’re making the water boil behind us,’ remarked Dorothy.
‘Yeah, we’re kicking up quite a wake, I guess. It takes plenty of power to drive this unstreamlined shape through so much wetness.’
‘Slow down!’ commanded Crane. ‘I see a submarine ahead. I thought it might be a whale at first, but it is a boat and it is what we are aiming for. You are constantly swinging with it, keeping it exactly in line.’
‘O.K.’ Seaton reduced the power and swung the visiplate around in front of him, whereupon the detector lamp went out. ‘It’s a relief to follow something I can see, instead of trying to guess which way that beam’s going to wiggle next. Lead on, MacDuff – I’m right on your tail!’
The
Skylark
fell in behind the submersible craft, close enough to keep it plainly visible. Finally the stranger stopped and rose to the surface between two rows of submerged pontoons which, row upon row, extended in every direction as far as the telescope could reach.
Well, Dot, we’re where we’re going, wherever that is.’
‘What do you suppose it is? It looks like a floating isle-port, like it told about in that wild-story magazine you read so much.’
‘Maybe – but if so they can’t be fish. Let’s go – I want to look it over,’ and water flew in all directions as the
Skylark
burst out of the ocean and leaped into the air far above what was in truth a floating city.
Rectangular in shape, it appeared to be about six miles long and four wide. It was roofed with solar generators like those covering the island just visited, but the machines were not spaced quite so closely together, and there were numerous open lagoons. The water around the entire city was covered with wave-motors. From their great height the visitors could see an occasional submarine moving slowly under the city, and frequently small
surface craft dashed across the lagoons. As they watched, a seaplane with short, thick wings, curved like those of a gull, rose from one of the lagoons and shot away over the water.
‘Quite a place,’ remarked Seaton as he swung a visiplate upon one of the lagoons. ‘Submarines, speedboats, and fast seaplanes. Fish or not, they ain’t so slow. I’m going to grab off one of those folks and see how much they know. Wonder if they’re peaceable or warlike?’