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diff --git a/24151.txt b/24151.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..75adfd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/24151.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1164 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + + [Illustration: _Nothing affected it._] + + The SKY TRAP + + by FRANK BELKNAP LONG + + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Good work, Slashaway," he said. "You're primitive and beetle-browed, +but you've got what it takes." + +Lawton flattered himself that he 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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Lawton turned, and regarded him quizzically. "Don't you suppose I +realize that? You'd think I just blew in from Mars." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Slashaway opened blurred eyes, "Phew!" he muttered. "You sure socked me +hard, sir." + +"You went out like a light," explained Lawton gently. "A minute before +the ship lurched." + +"The ship _lurched_, sir?" + +"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--" + +"Naw, I'm okay. Whatd'ya mean, the ship ain't moving? How could it +stop?" + +Lawton said. "I don't know, Slashaway." 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. + +"Hurt badly, sir?" + +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?" + +"It's all yours, skipper." + +"I must say you're helpful." + +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. + +Lawton heard him suck in his breath sharply. "Well, sir?" + +"There are thin cirrus clouds directly beneath us. They're not moving." + +Lawton gasped, the sense of being in an impossible situation swelling to +nightmare proportions within him. What could have happened? + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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." + +"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 _frozen in_." + +"The explanation may be simpler than you dream," Lawton said. "When +we've found the key." + +The Captain swung toward him. "Could _you_ find the key, Dave?" + +"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 _outside_, +thoroughly. Suppose you make me an emergency mate and give me a carte +blanche, sir." + +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. + +"You're a right guy, sir. Another two or three cracks and my noggin +would've split wide open." + +"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. + +"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 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." + +"Yeah," muttered Slashaway, scratching his head. "I see what you mean, +sir." + +"It was no soap. There's nothing _inside_ the ship that could possibly +keep us up. Therefore there must be something outside that isn't air. We +know there _is_ air outside. We've stuck our heads out and sniffed it. +And we've found out a curious thing. + +"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." + +"Gee," muttered Slashaway. "We're up against it, eh?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You see something down there?" Slashaway asked. + +Lawton moved back from the windlass, his brain whirling. "Slashaway +there's a solid surface directly beneath us, but it's completely +invisible." + +"You mean it's like a frozen cloud, sir?" + +"No, Slashaway. It doesn't shimmer, or deflect light. Congealed water +vapor would sink instantly to earth." + +"You think it's all around us, sir?" + +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. + +"I don't know, Slashaway," he muttered. "I'll get at that next." + + * * * * * + +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. + +"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." + +The expression on Forrester's face sold mere amazement down the river. +He could not have looked more startled if the nearer planets had +yielded their secrets chillingly, and a super-race had appeared suddenly +on Earth. + +"Good God, Dave. Do you suppose something has happened to space?" + +Lawton raised his eyes with a shudder. "Not necessarily, sir. Something +has happened to _us_. 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." + +"You say we're floating?" + +"We're floating slowly westward. The clouds beneath us have been +receding for fifteen or twenty minutes now." + +"Phew!" muttered Forrester. "That means we've got to--" + +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." + +"Keep trying," Forrester ordered. + +"Aye, aye, sir." + +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?" + +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." + +"You mean we're surrounded by an electromagnetic field?" + +Lawton frowned. "Not necessarily, sir. I'm simply pointing out that +there must be an energy tug of _some_ sort involved. Otherwise the ship +would be resting on the inner surface of the bubble." + +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?" + +"I've no doubt that a man could, sir. Shall I let myself down?" + +"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." + +"Then what _are_ your orders, sir?" + +"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?" + +"I expect I'll have to do my best, sir." + +Lawton's "best" conflicted dynamically with the captain's orders. Ten +minutes later he was descending, hand over hand, on a swaying emergency +ladder. + +"Tough-fibered Davie goes down to look around," he grumbled. + +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 _so far_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. His stomach twisted and his brain spun. + +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. + +Lowering his right hand he ran his fingers over the invisible surface +beneath him. The surface felt rubbery, moist. + +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. + +From the emergency 'chute opening far above a massive head appeared. +"You all right, sir," Slashaway called, his voice vibrant with concern. + +"Well, I--" + +"You'd better come right up, sir. Captain's orders." + +"All right," Lawton shouted. "Let the ladder down another ten feet." + +Lawton ascended rapidly, resentment smouldering within him. What right +had the skipper to interfere? He had passed the buck, hadn't he? + + * * * * * + +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. + +Slashaway looked equally bad. His jaw muscles were twitching and he was +tugging at the collar of his gym suit. + +Forrester gasped: "Dave, I tried to move the ship. I didn't know you +were outside." + +"Good God, you didn't know--" + +"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 _is_ breathable?" + +Lawton's face was dark with fury. "I was an experimental rat in the sky, +eh?" + +"Look, Dave, we're all in danger. Don't stand there glaring at me. +Naturally I waited. I have my crew to think of." + +"Well, think of them. Get those valves open before we all have +convulsions." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Will that help matters, Dave?" said the captain wearily. + +"If we can blast our way out, it will." + +The Captain's sagging body jackknifed erect. "Blast our way out? What do +you mean, Dave?" + +"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 gamble, but worth taking. We're staking nothing, remember?" + +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." + +"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." + +An agitated voice came from the visiplate on the captain's desk: "Tuning +in, sir." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, young man," Forrester growled. "What is it? What do you want?" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +Pumpings were superfluous when he could confirm Caldwell's statement in +half a minute for himself. If Caldwell had cracked up-- + +Caldwell hadn't cracked. When Lawton walked to the quartz port and +stared down all the blood drained from his face. + +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. + +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. + +It was the _unwholesomeness_ 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. + +The control room was completely still when he turned from the quartz +port to meet Forrester's startled gaze. + +"Dave, what does it mean?" The question burst explosively from the +captain's lips. + +"It means--life has appeared and evolved and grown rotten ripe inside +the bubble, sir. All in the space of an hour or so." + +"But that's--_impossible_." + +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." + +"But plants derive nourishment from the soil," interpolated Forrester. + +"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 so sped up organic processes that a +hundred million year cycle of mutations has been telescoped into an +hour." + +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." + +"Dave, if the growth continues it will fill the bubble. It will choke +off all our air." + +"Don't you suppose I realize that? We've got to destroy that growth +before it destroys us." + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He _was_ impaled. It was horrible. Looking down Lawton could see his +twisted body dangling on a crimson-stippled thornlike growth forty feet +in height. + +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." + +"I know, Slashaway. There's something worse than marijuana weed down +there." + +Slashaway swallowed hard. "That poor guy down there did the wise thing." + +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." + +"A guy can stand just so much." + +"Bosh. There's no limit to what a man can stand." + +From the visiplate behind them came an urgent voice: "Radio room tuning +in, sir." + +Lawton swung about. On the flickering screen the foggy outlines of a +face appeared and coalesced into sharpness. + +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." + +Lawton's eyes narrowed to exultant slits. He spat on the deck, a slow +tremor shaking him. + +"Slashaway, did you hear that? _We've done it._ We've won against hell +and high water." + +"We done what, sir?" + +"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." + +"I can't stand it, sir. I'm going nuts." + +"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." + +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." + +The face in the visiplate paled. "I can't do that, sir. Ship's +regulations--" + +Lawton transfixed the operator with an irate stare. "The captain told +you to report directly to me, didn't he?" + +"Yes sir, but--" + +"If you don't want to be cashiered, _snap into it_." + +"Yes--yessir." + +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. + +"Dave," he croaked. "Are you out of your mind? What good will talking do +_now_?" + +"Are the men lined up?" Lawton rapped, impatiently. + +Forrester nodded. "They're all in the engine room, Dave." + +"Good. Block them in." + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +"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 +_anything_ 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. + +"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. + +"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." + +He smiled wryly. + +"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." + +It was petty officer Caldwell who 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. + + I'm a tough, true-hearted skyman, + Careless and all that, d'ye see? + Never at fate a railer, + What is time or tide to me? + + All must die when fate shall will it, + I can never die but once, + I'm a tough, true-hearted skyman; + He who fears death is a dunce. + +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. + +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. + +"Steady, Jimmy. The way to fight a deliriant is to keep your mind on a +set task. Keep sweating, lad." + +"Harry, that winch needs tightening. We can't afford to miss a trick." + +"Yeah, it will come suddenly. We've got to get the rotaries started the +instant the bottom drops out." + +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. + +"Holy Jiminy cricket," exclaimed Slashaway. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Forrester was trembling visibly when he turned from the quartz port. + +"God, Dave, that would have been the _last straw_. Animal life. Dave, +I--I can't realize we're actually out of it." + +"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." + +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. + +If such were the case there would be eight of them now. _His_ 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. + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This e-text was produced from Comet July 1941. 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