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diff --git a/24151-h/24151-h.htm b/24151-h/24151-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16bbcfb --- /dev/null +++ b/24151-h/24151-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1695 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sky Trap, by Frank Belknap Long + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + visibility: hidden; + display: none; + } + p.tb { + margin-top: 4em; + } + + body{margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + } + + .pagenum { + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .caption {font-weight: normal;} + + .figcenter {margin: 2.5em auto; text-align: left;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + p.tnote { + text-align: center; + border: 1px dashed #808080; + background-color: #eee; + padding: 0.5em; + width: 24em; + margin: 60px auto 60px auto; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sky Trap, by Frank Belknap Long + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sky Trap + +Author: Frank Belknap Long + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [EBook #24151] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY TRAP *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Alexander Bauer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px; margin-top: 6em;"> +<img src="images/img01.png" width="600" height="595" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Nothing affected it.</i></span> +</div> + +<h1>The SKY TRAP</h1> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 125%;">by FRANK BELKNAP LONG</p> + +<p class='tb'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>Lawton enjoyed a good fight. +He stood happily trading blows +with Slashaway Tommy, his +lean-fleshed torso gleaming with +sweat. He preferred to work the +pugnacity out of himself slowly, to +savor it as it ebbed.</p> + +<p>"Better luck next time, Slashaway," +he said, and unlimbered a left +hook that thudded against his opponent's +jaw with such violence that +the big, hairy ape crumpled to the +resin and rolled over on his back.</p> + +<p>Lawton brushed a lock of rust-colored +hair back from his brow and +stared down at the limp figure lying +on the descending stratoship's +slightly tilted athletic deck.</p> + +<p>"Good work, Slashaway," he said. +"You're primitive and beetle-browed, +but you've got what it takes."</p> + +<p>Lawton flattered himself that he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +was the opposite of primitive. High +in the sky he had predicted the +weather for eight days running, with +far more accuracy than he could have +put into a punch.</p> + +<p>They'd flash his report all over +Earth in a couple of minutes now. +From New York to London to Singapore +and back. In half an hour he'd +be donning street clothes and stepping +out feeling darned good.</p> + +<p>He had fulfilled his weekly obligation +to society by manipulating meteorological +instruments for forty-five +minutes, high in the warm, upper +stratosphere and worked off his pugnacity +by knocking down a professional +gym slugger. He would have +a full, glorious week now to work +off all his other drives.</p> + +<p>The stratoship's commander, Captain +Forrester, had come up, and was +staring at him reproachfully. "Dave, +I don't hold with the reforming Johnnies +who want to re-make human +nature from the ground up. But +you've got to admit our generation +knows how to keep things humming +with a minimum of stress. We don't +have world wars now because we +work off our pugnacity by sailing into +gym sluggers eight or ten times a +week. And since our romantic emotions +can be taken care of by tactile +television we're not at the mercy of +every brainless bit of fluff's calculated +ankle appeal."</p> + +<p>Lawton turned, and regarded him +quizzically. "Don't you suppose I realize +that? You'd think I just blew +in from Mars."</p> + +<p>"All right. We have the outlets, +the safety valves. They are supposed +to keep us civilized. But you don't +derive any benefit from them."</p> + +<p>"The heck I don't. I exchange +blows with Slashaway every time I +board the Perseus. And as for women—well, +there's just one woman in +the world for me, and I wouldn't exchange +her for all the Turkish images +in the tactile broadcasts from Stamboul."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. But you work off +your primitive emotions with too +much gusto. Even a cast-iron gym +slugger can bruise. That last blow +was—brutal. Just because Slashaway +gets thumped and thudded all over +by the medical staff twice a week +doesn't mean he can take—"</p> + +<p>The stratoship lurched suddenly. +The deck heaved up under Lawton's +feet, hurling him against Captain +Forrester and spinning both men +around so that they seemed to be +waltzing together across the ship. +The still limp gym slugger slid downward, +colliding with a corrugated +metal bulkhead and sloshing back +and forth like a wet mackerel.</p> + +<p>A full minute passed before Lawton +could put a stop to that. Even +while careening he had been alive to +Slashaway's peril, and had tried to +leap to his aid. But the ship's steadily +increasing gyrations had hurled him +away from the skipper and against +a massive vaulting horse, barking +the flesh from his shins and spilling +him with violence onto the deck.</p> + +<p>He crawled now toward the prone +gym slugger on his hands and knees, +his temples thudding. The gyrations +ceased an instant before he reached +Slashaway's side. With an effort he +lifted the big man up, propped him +against the bulkhead and shook him +until his teeth rattled. "Slashaway," +he muttered. "Slashaway, old fellow."</p> + +<p>Slashaway opened blurred eyes, +"Phew!" he muttered. "You sure +socked me hard, sir."</p> + +<p>"You went out like a light," explained +Lawton gently. "A minute +before the ship lurched."</p> + +<p>"The ship <em>lurched</em>, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Something's very wrong, Slashaway. +The ship isn't moving. There +are no vibrations and—Slashaway, +are you hurt? Your skull thumped +against that bulkhead so hard I was +afraid—"</p> + +<p>"Naw, I'm okay. Whatd'ya mean, +the ship ain't moving? How could it +stop?"</p> + +<p>Lawton said. "I don't know, Slashaway." +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +Helping the gym slugger to +his feet he stared apprehensively +about him. Captain Forrester was +kneeling on the resin testing his hocks +for sprains with splayed fingers, his +features twitching.</p> + +<p>"Hurt badly, sir?"</p> + +<p>The Commander shook his head. +"I don't think so. Dave, we are twenty +thousand feet up, so how in hell could +we be stationary in space?"</p> + +<p>"It's all yours, skipper."</p> + +<p>"I must say you're helpful."</p> + +<p>Forrester got painfully to his feet +and limped toward the athletic compartment's +single quartz port—a +small circle of radiance on a level +with his eyes. As the port sloped +downward at an angle of nearly sixty +degrees all he could see was a diffuse +glimmer until he wedged his +brow in the observation visor and +stared downward.</p> + +<p>Lawton heard him suck in his +breath sharply. "Well, sir?"</p> + +<p>"There are thin cirrus clouds directly +beneath us. They're not moving."</p> + +<p>Lawton gasped, the sense of being +in an impossible situation swelling +to nightmare proportions within him. +What could have happened?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class='tb'>Directly behind him, close to a +bulkhead chronometer, which was +clicking out the seconds with unabashed +regularity, was a misty blue +visiplate that merely had to be +switched on to bring the pilots into +view.</p> + +<p>The Commander hobbled toward it, +and manipulated a rheostat. The two +pilots appeared side by side on the +screen, sitting amidst a spidery network +of dully gleaming pipe lines +and nichrome humidification units. +They had unbuttoned their high-altitude +coats and their stratosphere +helmets were resting on their knees. +The Jablochoff candle light which +flooded the pilot room accentuated +the haggardness of their features, +which were a sickly cadaverous hue.</p> + +<p>The captain spoke directly into the +visiplate. "What's wrong with the +ship?" he demanded. "Why aren't we +descending? Dawson, you do the +talking!"</p> + +<p>One of the pilots leaned tensely +forward, his shoulders jerking. "We +don't know, sir. The rotaries went +dead when the ship started gyrating. +We can't work the emergency torps +and the temperature is rising."</p> + +<p>"But—it defies all logic," Forrester +muttered. "How could a metal ship +weighing tons be suspended in the +air like a balloon? It is stationary, +but it is not buoyant. We seem in all +respects to be <em>frozen in</em>."</p> + +<p>"The explanation may be simpler +than you dream," Lawton said. +"When we've found the key."</p> + +<p>The Captain swung toward him. +"Could <em>you</em> find the key, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to try. It may be +hidden somewhere on the ship, and +then again, it may not be. But I +should like to go over the ship with +a fine-tooth comb, and then I should +like to go over <em>outside</em>, thoroughly. +Suppose you make me an emergency +mate and give me a carte blanche, +sir."</p> + +<p>Lawton got his carte blanche. For +two hours he did nothing spectacular, +but he went over every inch of the +ship. He also lined up the crew and +pumped them. The men were as completely +in the dark as the pilots and +the now completely recovered Slashaway, +who was following Lawton +about like a doting seal.</p> + +<p>"You're a right guy, sir. Another +two or three cracks and my noggin +would've split wide open."</p> + +<p>"But not like an eggshell, Slashaway. +Pig iron develops fissures under +terrific pounding but your cranium +seems to be more like tempered +steel. Slashaway, you won't understand +this, but I've got to talk to +somebody and the Captain is too busy +to listen.</p> + +<p>"I went over the entire ship because +I thought there might be a +hidden source of buoyancy somewhere. +It would take a lot of air +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +bubbles to turn this ship into a balloon, +but there are large vacuum +chambers under the multiple series +condensers in the engine room which +conceivably could have sucked in a +helium leakage from the carbon pile +valves. And there are bulkhead porosities +which could have clogged."</p> + +<p>"Yeah," muttered Slashaway, +scratching his head. "I see what you +mean, sir."</p> + +<p>"It was no soap. There's nothing +<em>inside</em> the ship that could possibly +keep us up. Therefore there must be +something outside that isn't air. We +know there <em>is</em> air outside. We've +stuck our heads out and sniffed it. +And we've found out a curious thing.</p> + +<p>"Along with the oxygen there is +water vapor, but it isn't H2O. It's +HO. A molecular arrangement like +that occurs in the upper Solar atmosphere, +but nowhere on Earth. +And there's a thin sprinkling of hydrocarbon +molecules out there too. +Hydrocarbon appears ordinarily as +methane gas, but out there it rings +up as CH. Methane is CH4. And +there are also scandium oxide molecules +making unfamiliar faces at us. +And oxide of boron—with an equational +limp."</p> + +<p>"Gee," muttered Slashaway. "We're +up against it, eh?"</p> + +<p>Lawton was squatting on his hams +beside an emergency 'chute opening +on the deck of the Penguin's weather +observatory. He was letting down a +spliced beryllium plumb line, his +gaze riveted on the slowly turning +horizontal drum of a windlass which +contained more than two hundred +feet of gleaming metal cordage.</p> + +<p>Suddenly as he stared the drum +stopped revolving. Lawton stiffened, +a startled expression coming into his +face. He had been playing a hunch +that had seemed as insane, rationally +considered, as his wild idea about the +bulkhead porosities. For a moment +he was stunned, unable to believe +that he had struck pay dirt. The +winch indicator stood at one hundred +and three feet, giving him a +rich, fruity yield of startlement.</p> + +<p>One hundred feet below him the +plummet rested on something solid +that sustained it in space. Scarcely +breathing, Lawton leaned over the +windlass and stared downward. There +was nothing visible between the ship +and the fleecy clouds far below except +a tiny black dot resting on vacancy +and a thin beryllium plumb line +ascending like an interrogation point +from the dot to the 'chute opening.</p> + +<p>"You see something down there?" +Slashaway asked.</p> + +<p>Lawton moved back from the windlass, +his brain whirling. "Slashaway +there's a solid surface directly beneath +us, but it's completely invisible."</p> + +<p>"You mean it's like a frozen cloud, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, Slashaway. It doesn't shimmer, +or deflect light. Congealed water +vapor would sink instantly to earth."</p> + +<p>"You think it's all around us, sir?"</p> + +<p>Lawton stared at Slashaway aghast. +In his crude fumblings the gym slugger +had ripped a hidden fear right out +of his subconsciousness into the light.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Slashaway," he muttered. +"I'll get at that next."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class='tb'>A half hour later Lawton sat beside +the captain's desk in the control +room, his face drained of all +color. He kept his gaze averted as he +talked. A man who succeeds too well +with an unpleasant task may develop +a subconscious sense of guilt.</p> + +<p>"Sir, we're suspended inside a hollow +sphere which resembles a huge, +floating soap bubble. Before we +ripped through it it must have had +a plastic surface. But now the tear +has apparently healed over, and the +shell all around us is as resistant as +steel. We're completely bottled up, sir. +I shot rocket leads in all directions to +make certain."</p> + +<p>The expression on Forrester's face +sold mere amazement down the river. +He could not have looked more +startled if the nearer planets had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +yielded their secrets chillingly, and +a super-race had appeared suddenly +on Earth.</p> + +<p>"Good God, Dave. Do you suppose +something has happened to space?"</p> + +<p>Lawton raised his eyes with a shudder. +"Not necessarily, sir. Something +has happened to <em>us</em>. We're floating +through the sky in a huge, invisible +bubble of some sort, but we don't +know whether it has anything to do +with space. It may be a meteorological +phenomenon."</p> + +<p>"You say we're floating?"</p> + +<p>"We're floating slowly westward. +The clouds beneath us have been receding +for fifteen or twenty minutes +now."</p> + +<p>"Phew!" muttered Forrester. "That +means we've got to—"</p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly. The Perseus' +radio operator was standing in the +doorway, distress and indecision in +his gaze. "Our reception is extremely +sporadic, sir," he announced. "We can +pick up a few of the stronger broadcasts, +but our emergency signals +haven't been answered."</p> + +<p>"Keep trying," Forrester ordered.</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, sir."</p> + +<p>The captain turned to Lawton. +"Suppose we call it a bubble. Why are +we suspended like this, immovably? +Your rocket leads shot up, and the +plumb line dropped one hundred feet. +Why should the ship itself remain +stationary?"</p> + +<p>Lawton said: "The bubble must +possess sufficient internal equilibrium +to keep a big, heavy body suspended +at its core. In other words, we must +be suspended at the hub of converging +energy lines."</p> + +<p>"You mean we're surrounded by an +electromagnetic field?"</p> + +<p>Lawton frowned. "Not necessarily, +sir. I'm simply pointing out that +there must be an energy tug of <em>some</em> +sort involved. Otherwise the ship +would be resting on the inner surface +of the bubble."</p> + +<p>Forrester nodded grimly. "We +should be thankful, I suppose, that we +can move about inside the ship. Dave, +do you think a man could descend to +the inner surface?"</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt that a man could, sir. +Shall I let myself down?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely not. Damn it, Dave, I +need your energies inside the ship. I +could wish for a less impulsive first +officer, but a man in my predicament +can't be choosy."</p> + +<p>"Then what <em>are</em> your orders, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Orders? Do I have to order you to +think? Is working something out for +yourself such a strain? We're drifting +straight toward the Atlantic +Ocean. What do you propose to do +about that?"</p> + +<p>"I expect I'll have to do my best, +sir."</p> + +<p>Lawton's "best" conflicted dynamically +with the captain's orders. Ten +minutes later he was descending, +hand over hand, on a swaying emergency +ladder.</p> + +<p>"Tough-fibered Davie goes down to +look around," he grumbled.</p> + +<p>He was conscious that he was flirting +with danger. The air outside was +breathable, but would the diffuse, unorthodox +gases injure his lungs? He +didn't know, couldn't be sure. But he +had to admit that he felt all right <em>so +far</em>. He was seventy feet below the +ship and not at all dizzy. When he +looked down he could see the purple +domed summits of mountains between +gaps in the fleecy cloud blanket.</p> + +<p>He couldn't see the Atlantic Ocean—yet. +He descended the last thirty +feet with mounting confidence. At the +end of the ladder he braced himself +and let go.</p> + +<p>He fell about six feet, landing on +his rump on a spongy surface that +bounced him back and forth. He was +vaguely incredulous when he found +himself sitting in the sky staring +through his spread legs at clouds and +mountains.</p> + +<p>He took a deep breath. It struck +him that the sensation of falling could +be present without movement downward +through space. He was beginning +to experience such a sensation. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +His stomach twisted and his brain +spun.</p> + +<p>He was suddenly sorry he had tried +this. It was so damnably unnerving he +was afraid of losing all emotional control. +He stared up, his eyes squinting +against the sun. Far above him the +gleaming, wedge-shaped bulk of the +Perseus loomed colossally, blocking +out a fifth of the sky.</p> + +<p>Lowering his right hand he ran his +fingers over the invisible surface beneath +him. The surface felt rubbery, +moist.</p> + +<p>He got swayingly to his feet and +made a perilous attempt to walk +through the sky. Beneath his feet the +mysterious surface crackled, and +little sparks flew up about his legs. +Abruptly he sat down again, his face +ashen.</p> + +<p>From the emergency 'chute opening +far above a massive head appeared. +"You all right, sir," Slashaway +called, his voice vibrant with +concern.</p> + +<p>"Well, I—"</p> + +<p>"You'd better come right up, sir. +Captain's orders."</p> + +<p>"All right," Lawton shouted. "Let +the ladder down another ten feet."</p> + +<p>Lawton ascended rapidly, resentment +smouldering within him. What +right had the skipper to interfere? He +had passed the buck, hadn't he?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class='tb'>Lawton got another bad jolt the +instant he emerged through the +'chute opening. Captain Forrester +was leaning against a parachute rack +gasping for breath, his face a livid +hue.</p> + +<p>Slashaway looked equally bad. His +jaw muscles were twitching and he +was tugging at the collar of his gym +suit.</p> + +<p>Forrester gasped: "Dave, I tried +to move the ship. I didn't know you +were outside."</p> + +<p>"Good God, you didn't know—"</p> + +<p>"The rotaries backfired and used +up all the oxygen in the engine room. +Worse, there's been a carbonic oxide +seepage. The air is contaminated +throughout the ship. We'll have to +open the ventilation valves immediately. +I've been waiting to see if—if +you could breathe down there. You're +all right, aren't you? The air <em>is</em> +breathable?"</p> + +<p>Lawton's face was dark with fury. +"I was an experimental rat in the sky, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"Look, Dave, we're all in danger. +Don't stand there glaring at me. +Naturally I waited. I have my crew to +think of."</p> + +<p>"Well, think of them. Get those +valves open before we all have convulsions."</p> + +<p>A half hour later charcoal gas was +mingling with oxygen outside the +ship, and the crew was breathing it +in again gratefully. Thinly dispersed, +and mixed with oxygen it seemed all +right. But Lawton had misgivings. No +matter how attenuated a lethal gas is +it is never entirely harmless. To make +matters worse, they were over the Atlantic +Ocean.</p> + +<p>Far beneath them was an emerald +turbulence, half obscured by eastward +moving cloud masses. The bubble +was holding, but the morale of the +crew was beginning to sag.</p> + +<p>Lawton paced the control room. +Deep within him unsuspected energies +surged. "We'll last until the oxygen +is breathed up," he exclaimed. +"We'll have four or five days, at most. +But we seem to be traveling faster +than an ocean liner. With luck, we'll +be in Europe before we become carbon +dioxide breathers."</p> + +<p>"Will that help matters, Dave?" +said the captain wearily.</p> + +<p>"If we can blast our way out, it +will."</p> + +<p>The Captain's sagging body jackknifed +erect. "Blast our way out? +What do you mean, Dave?"</p> + +<p>"I've clamped expulsor disks on the +cosmic ray absorbers and trained +them downward. A thin stream of +accidental neutrons directed against +the bottom of the bubble may disrupt +its energies—wear it thin. It's a long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +gamble, but worth taking. We're staking +nothing, remember?"</p> + +<p>Forrester sputtered: "Nothing but +our lives! If you blast a hole in the +bubble you'll destroy its energy balance. +Did that occur to you? Inside a +lopsided bubble we may careen dangerously +or fall into the sea before we +can get the rotaries started."</p> + +<p>"I thought of that. The pilots are +standing by to start the rotaries the +instant we lurch. If we succeed in +making a rent in the bubble we'll +break out the helicoptic vanes and +descend vertically. The rotaries won't +backfire again. I've had their burnt-out +cylinder heads replaced."</p> + +<p>An agitated voice came from the +visiplate on the captain's desk: "Tuning +in, sir."</p> + +<p>Lawton stopped pacing abruptly. +He swung about and grasped the desk +edge with both hands, his head touching +Forrester's as the two men stared +down at the horizontal face of petty +officer James Caldwell.</p> + +<p>Caldwell wasn't more than twenty-two +or three, but the screen's opalescence +silvered his hair and misted +the outlines of his jaw, giving him an +aspect of senility.</p> + +<p>"Well, young man," Forrester +growled. "What is it? What do you +want?"</p> + +<p>The irritation in the captain's voice +seemed to increase Caldwell's agitation. +Lawton had to say: "All right, +lad, let's have it," before the information +which he had seemed bursting to +impart could be wrenched out of him.</p> + +<p>It came in erratic spurts. "The +bubble is all blooming, sir. All around +inside there are big yellow and purple +growths. It started up above, and—and +spread around. First there was +just a clouding over of the sky, sir, +and then—stalks shot out."</p> + +<p>For a moment Lawton felt as +though all sanity had been squeezed +from his brain. Twice he started to +ask a question and thought better +of it.</p> + +<p>Pumpings were superfluous when +he could confirm Caldwell's statement +in half a minute for himself. If Caldwell +had cracked up—</p> + +<p>Caldwell hadn't cracked. When +Lawton walked to the quartz port and +stared down all the blood drained +from his face.</p> + +<p>The vegetation was luxuriant, and +unearthly. Floating in the sky were +serpentine tendrils as thick as a man's +wrist, purplish flowers and ropy fungus +growths. They twisted and +writhed and shot out in all directions, +creating a tangle immediately beneath +him and curving up toward the +ship amidst a welter of seed pods.</p> + +<p>He could see the seeds dropping—dropping +from pods which reminded +him of the darkly horned skate egg +sheaths which he had collected in his +boyhood from sea beaches at ebb tide.</p> + +<p>It was the <em>unwholesomeness</em> of the +vegetation which chiefly unnerved +him. It looked dank, malarial. There +were decaying patches on the fungus +growths and a miasmal mist was descending +from it toward the ship.</p> + +<p>The control room was completely +still when he turned from the quartz +port to meet Forrester's startled gaze.</p> + +<p>"Dave, what does it mean?" The +question burst explosively from the +captain's lips.</p> + +<p>"It means—life has appeared and +evolved and grown rotten ripe inside +the bubble, sir. All in the space of an +hour or so."</p> + +<p>"But that's—<em>impossible</em>."</p> + +<p>Lawton shook his head. "It isn't at +all, sir. We've had it drummed into +us that evolution proceeds at a snailish +pace, but what proof have we that +it can't mutate with lightning-like rapidity? +I've told you there are gases +outside we can't even make in a +chemical laboratory, molecular arrangements +that are alien to earth."</p> + +<p>"But plants derive nourishment +from the soil," interpolated Forrester.</p> + +<p>"I know. But if there are alien +gases in the air the surface of the +bubble must be reeking with unheard +of chemicals. There may be compounds +inside the bubble which have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +so sped up organic processes that a +hundred million year cycle of mutations +has been telescoped into an +hour."</p> + +<p>Lawton was pacing the floor again. +"It would be simpler to assume that +seeds of existing plants became somehow +caught up and imprisoned in the +bubble. But the plants around us +never existed on earth. I'm no botanist, +but I know what the Congo has +on tap, and the great rain forests of +the Amazon."</p> + +<p>"Dave, if the growth continues it +will fill the bubble. It will choke off all +our air."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I realize that? +We've got to destroy that growth before +it destroys us."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class='tb'>It was pitiful to watch the crew's +morale sag. The miasmal taint of the +ominously proliferating vegetation +was soon pervading the ship, spreading +demoralization everywhere.</p> + +<p>It was particularly awful straight +down. Above a ropy tangle of livid +vines and creepers a kingly stench +weed towered, purplish and bloated +and weighted down with seed pods.</p> + +<p>It seemed sentient, somehow. It +was growing so fast that the evil odor +which poured from it could be correlated +with the increase of tension inside +the ship. From that particular +plant, minute by slow minute, there +surged a continuously mounting offensiveness, +like nothing Lawton had +ever smelt before.</p> + +<p>The bubble had become a blooming +horror sailing slowly westward above +the storm-tossed Atlantic. And all the +chemical agents which Lawton +sprayed through the ventilation +valves failed to impede the growth or +destroy a single seed pod.</p> + +<p>It was difficult to kill plant life +with chemicals which were not harmful +to man. Lawton took dangerous +risks, increasing the unwholesomeness +of their rapidly dwindling air +supply by spraying out a thin diffusion +of problematically poisonous +acids.</p> + +<p>It was no sale. The growths increased +by leaps and bounds, as +though determined to show their resentment +of the measures taken +against them by marshalling all their +forces in a demoralizing plantkrieg.</p> + +<p>Thwarted, desperate, Lawton +played his last card. He sent five +members of the crew, equipped with +blow guns. They returned screaming. +Lawton had to fortify himself with a +double whiskey soda before he could +face the look of reproach in their eyes +long enough to get all of the prickles +out of them.</p> + +<p>From then on pandemonium +reigned. Blue funk seized the petty +officers while some of the crew ran +amuck. One member of the engine +watch attacked four of his companions +with a wrench; another went +into the ship's kitchen and slashed +himself with a paring knife. The assistant +engineer leapt through a +'chute opening, after avowing that he +preferred impalement to suffocation.</p> + +<p>He <em>was</em> impaled. It was horrible. +Looking down Lawton could see his +twisted body dangling on a crimson-stippled +thornlike growth forty feet +in height.</p> + +<p>Slashaway was standing at his elbow +in that Waterloo moment, his +rough-hewn features twitching. "I +can't stand it, sir. It's driving me +squirrelly."</p> + +<p>"I know, Slashaway. There's something +worse than marijuana weed +down there."</p> + +<p>Slashaway swallowed hard. "That +poor guy down there did the wise +thing."</p> + +<p>Lawton husked: "Stamp on that +idea, Slashaway—kill it. We're +stronger than he was. There isn't an +ounce of weakness in us. We've got +what it takes."</p> + +<p>"A guy can stand just so much."</p> + +<p>"Bosh. There's no limit to what a +man can stand."</p> + +<p>From the visiplate behind them +came an urgent voice: "Radio room +tuning in, sir."</p> + +<p>Lawton swung about. On the flickering +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +screen the foggy outlines of a +face appeared and coalesced into +sharpness.</p> + +<p>The Perseus radio operator was +breathless with excitement. "Our reception +is improving, sir. European +short waves are coming in strong. +The static is terrific, but we're getting +every station on the continent, +and most of the American stations."</p> + +<p>Lawton's eyes narrowed to exultant +slits. He spat on the deck, a slow tremor +shaking him.</p> + +<p>"Slashaway, did you hear that? +<em>We've done it.</em> We've won against +hell and high water."</p> + +<p>"We done what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The bubble, you ape—it must be +wearing thin. Hell's bells, do you +have to stand there gaping like a moronic +ninepin? I tell you, we've got +it licked."</p> + +<p>"I can't stand it, sir. I'm going +nuts."</p> + +<p>"No you're not. You're slugging the +thing inside you that wants to quit. +Slashaway, I'm going to give the crew +a first-class pep talk. There'll be no +stampeding while I'm in command +here."</p> + +<p>He turned to the radio operator. +"Tune in the control room. Tell the +captain I want every member of the +crew lined up on this screen immediately."</p> + +<p>The face in the visiplate paled. "I +can't do that, sir. Ship's regulations—"</p> + +<p>Lawton transfixed the operator +with an irate stare. "The captain told +you to report directly to me, didn't +he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, but—"</p> + +<p>"If you don't want to be cashiered, +<em>snap into it</em>."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yessir."</p> + +<p>The captain's startled face preceded +the duty-muster visiview by a full +minute, seeming to project outward +from the screen. The veins on his neck +were thick blue cords.</p> + +<p>"Dave," he croaked. "Are you out +of your mind? What good will talking +do <em>now</em>?"</p> + +<p>"Are the men lined up?" Lawton +rapped, impatiently.</p> + +<p>Forrester nodded. "They're all in +the engine room, Dave."</p> + +<p>"Good. Block them in."</p> + +<p>The captain's face receded, and a +scene of tragic horror filled the opalescent +visiplate. The men were not +standing at attention at all. They +were slumping against the Perseus' +central charging plant in attitudes of +abject despair.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class='tb'>Madness burned in the eyes of +three or four of them. Others had torn +open their shirts, and raked their +flesh with their nails. Petty officer +Caldwell was standing as straight +as a totem pole, clenching and unclenching +his hands. The second assistant +engineer was sticking out his +tongue. His face was deadpan, which +made what was obviously a terror reflex +look like an idiot's grimace.</p> + +<p>Lawton moistened his lips. "Men, +listen to me. There is some sort of +plant outside that is giving off deliriant +fumes. A few of us seem to be +immune to it.</p> + +<p>"I'm not immune, but I'm fighting +it, and all of you boys can fight it too. +I want you to fight it to the top of +your courage. You can fight <em>anything</em> +when you know that just around the +corner is freedom from a beastliness +that deserves to be licked—even if it's +only a plant.</p> + +<p>"Men, we're blasting our way free. +The bubble's wearing thin. Any minute +now the plants beneath us may +fall with a soggy plop into the Atlantic +Ocean.</p> + +<p>"I want every man jack aboard this +ship to stand at his post and obey orders. +Right this minute you look like +something the cat dragged in. But +most men who cover themselves with +glory start off looking even worse +than you do."</p> + +<p>He smiled wryly.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's all. I've never had +to make a speech in my life, and I'd +hate like hell to start now."</p> + +<p>It was petty officer Caldwell who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +started the chant. He started it, and +the men took it up until it was coming +from all of them in a full-throated +roar.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'm a tough, true-hearted skyman,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Careless and all that, d'ye see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never at fate a railer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What is time or tide to me?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All must die when fate shall will it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can never die but once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm a tough, true-hearted skyman;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He who fears death is a dunce.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lawton squared his shoulders. +With a crew like that nothing could +stop him! Ah, his energies were surging +high. The deliriant weed held no +terrors for him now. They were stout-hearted +lads and he'd go to hell with +them cheerfully, if need be.</p> + +<p>It wasn't easy to wait. The next +half hour was filled with a steadily +mounting tension as Lawton moved +like a young tornado about the ship, +issuing orders and seeing that each +man was at his post.</p> + +<p>"Steady, Jimmy. The way to fight a +deliriant is to keep your mind on a +set task. Keep sweating, lad."</p> + +<p>"Harry, that winch needs tightening. +We can't afford to miss a trick."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, it will come suddenly. We've +got to get the rotaries started the instant +the bottom drops out."</p> + +<p>He was with the captain and Slashaway +in the control room when it +came. There was a sudden, grinding +jolt, and the captain's desk started +moving toward the quartz port, carrying +Lawton with it.</p> + +<p>"Holy Jiminy cricket," exclaimed +Slashaway.</p> + +<p>The deck tilted sharply; then righted +itself. A sudden gush of clear, cold +air came through the ventilation +valves as the triple rotaries started +up with a roar.</p> + +<p>Lawton and the captain reached the +quartz port simultaneously. Shoulder +to shoulder they stood staring down +at the storm-tossed Atlantic, electrified +by what they saw.</p> + +<p>Floating on the waves far beneath +them was an undulating mass of vegetation, +its surface flecked with glinting +foam. As it rose and fell in waning +sunlight a tainted seepage spread +about it, defiling the clean surface of +the sea.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't the floating mass +which drew a gasp from Forrester, +and caused Lawton's scalp to prickle. +Crawling slowly across that Sargasso-like +island of noxious vegetation +was a huge, elongated shape which +bore a nauseous resemblance to a +mottled garden slug.</p> + +<p>Forrester was trembling visibly +when he turned from the quartz port.</p> + +<p>"God, Dave, that would have been +the <em>last straw</em>. Animal life. Dave, I—I +can't realize we're actually out of +it."</p> + +<p>"We're out, all right," Lawton said, +hoarsely. "Just in time, too. Skipper, +you'd better issue grog all around. +The men will be needing it. I'm taking +mine straight. You've accused me of +being primitive. Wait till you see me +an hour from now."</p> + +<p>Dr. Stephen Halday stood in the +door of his Appalachian mountain +laboratory staring out into the pine-scented +dusk, a worried expression +on his bland, small-featured face. It +had happened again. A portion of his +experiment had soared skyward, in a +very loose group of highly energized +wavicles. He wondered if it wouldn't +form a sort of sub-electronic macrocosm +high in the stratosphere, altering +even the air and dust particles +which had spurted up with it, its uncharged +atomic particles combining +with hydrogen and creating new +molecular arrangements.</p> + +<p>If such were the case there would +be eight of them now. <em>His</em> bubbles, +floating through the sky. They +couldn't possibly harm anything—way +up there in the stratosphere. But +he felt a little uneasy about it all the +same. He'd have to be more careful +in the future, he told himself. Much +more careful. He didn't want the +Controllers to turn back the clock of +civilization a century by stopping all +atom-smashing experiments.</p> + + +<p class="tnote" style="margin-bottom: 5em;"><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong><br /> +This e-text was produced from <cite>Comet July 1941</cite>. Extensive +research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed.</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sky Trap, by Frank Belknap Long + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY TRAP *** + +***** This file should be named 24151-h.htm or 24151-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/5/24151/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Alexander Bauer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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