Amazing Stories/Volume 01/Number 05/Station X
Station X
By G. McLeod Winsor
Lieut. Hughes glanced up from his book at the sound of rapid footsteps, and saw the hurrying figure enter the signal room, and cross toward the signaler’s chair. Macrae was removing the head-piece. As the professor paused, Macrae rose from his chair. “Come here,” he said, speaking in a ringing level tone of assured command. Macrae did not move. He looked up. Their eyes met.
What Went Before
Alan MacRae, simple, uneducated, yet a skilful radio operator, endowed with an unusually keen sense of hearing, is sent as operator to a secret radio station, operated by the British Government, known as STATION X, somewhere off on an island in the Pacific. He is chosen for the post because of his ability as a radio expert and his fine hearing. He accepts the offer because the extra pay involved brings him that much nearer to the day when he and May Treherne, the heroine, can be married. He takes leave of his sweetheart with peculiar forebodings of impending, intangible, dangers, fears which seem to have no foundation or reason. He soon learns, while still en route to the island, that his partner-to-be for several months is not going to be much of a companion for him. Lieut. Wilson is very well educated and is very intolerant of Macrae's educational shortcomings. Ling, the Chinese cook and caretaker, completes the party to remain on the island, and incidently also serves as the "butt" for Lieut. Wilson's ill-temper.
Before long both men—Lieut. Wilson and the Chinaman—are found lying dead, apparently murdered by each other. And it is probably because of his nervous condition, caused by this mysterious murder, that Macrae falls under the influence of an inhabitant of Venus, who is known in this story, as a "Venerian," and whose voice comes to him over the radio, telling him all kinds of interesting things about the inhabitants of Venus, giving him a great deal of scientific information, etc., although Macrae understands nothing of the greatest part of it.
Because London has received no answer from Station X for three days, the "Sagitta" with a crew of investigators and relief is despatched to the island and arrives to find Macrae lying on the floor, apparently dead, still wearing the ear-set; the chair on which Macrae sat seems to have been thrown over, and not another living soul is to be seen.
The doctor, thinking that Macrae may be suffering from catalepsy rather than that he is dead, takes him back to London on the "Sagitta." Macrae recovers on the boat and tells a weird tale, which, however, coincides perfectly with his shorthand notes of both his report and of the mysterious messages, and with his diary.
When they arrive in London, the government starts an investigation.
The story is now reaching an interesting point, bringing in the tale of planetary inter-communication, of the rivalry between the planets, of hypnotism across millions of miles of space, directly and indirectly, all told with vraisemblance. The rivalry of the powers for good and for evil, the help given by the gentle inhabitants of Venus, the asperities of the Martian inhabitants, are all told of so that we almost believe the words of the author, whose imagination follows such scientific lines and makes us feel that a climax perhaps fraught with disaster is approaching.
CHAPTER VII
The Voice From Mars
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f the question had been asked, Who is the most eminent scientists of the day? nine out of ten would have answered: Stanley Budge. His distinguishing characteristic was his open-mindedness. If, for example, he had been a church dignitary, his tolerance would have become a scandal. The same quality in him that would have caused him to make ribbons of the rubrics, caused him to encounter an occasional sidelong look, even in the halls of science. It was disgusting to some of his confrères, that a man whose scientific attainments and labors could not be gainsaid, whose position was unchallengeable, should dabble with the, to them, unclean thing; should dare to assert the possibility of the existence of what could not be put under the microscope.
The value of his scientific work admitted, because it was undeniable, his leaning towards spiritualism was looked upon as a strange weakness in an otherwise fine intellect. The extra narrow-minded believed that there must be a bee in his bonnet somewhere.
The Professor was by no means thin-skinned, but there are few who do not chafe, however slightly, under ridicule. He was well aware that this had been the attitude with which his psychological investigations had been regarded, and that the results which he believed himself to have verified, were met with undisguised incredulity. He knew also that his treatise on the habitability of Mars had met with a cold reception. His own opinion on the universality of life, that it would be found, could the fact be ascertained, to exist wherever the conditions necessary to organic chemistry rendered its presence possible, he kept to himself. That such conditions existed on Mars, and probably other planets, he considered to be perfectly established. In this view he did not stand alone, but many hesitated.
Professor Rudge Appears to Be a Great Authority
It will not be difficult to believe, in the circumstances of such division of opinion in the scientific world, that when the case of Macrae was brought to Professor Rudge's notice he took it up with enthusiasm. The more he pondered over Macrae's story, the more interested he became. He was convinced by his examination of Macrae that there was no intentional deception, and the peculiar conditions existing seemed absolutely to exclude any explanations other than the one advanced. Of this he was so convinced that he resolved at once to pursue the investigations on the spot, in spite of its remoteness.
"I am going to visit Station X," he said, "and I am going to take you with me!"
Macrae's reply surprised him.
"No, sir! Anything else that I can do to oblige you, I will do, but I will never, never set foot on that island again."
"What nonsense! Why, man, I cannot imagine a being on earth not grasping with avidity at such a chance to make himself forever celebrated. You have already convinced me of the truth of your account, but I assure you others will not be so readily persuaded."
"I cannot help it, sir," said Macrae with quiet determination, "and I am very sorry indeed to disoblige you."
"But you can, and shall help it," said the Professor. "You must understand that because, pending investigation, I accept your story, that does not prove it. It merely induces me to take you with me to the spot and devote the time necessary for its confirmation."
"I regret, sir, very much that"
"Now, Macrae," interrupted Professor Rudge, "on this point I will take no refusal. You are at once to put any fanciful objections you may have on one side. I shall procure an order from the Admiralty, and that will settle it."
"I would rather resign my appointment than go there," said Macrae doggedly. "I beg of you, sir, to excuse me. Ask anything else of me, but I cannot go back to that station."
"I intend to reward you liberally for your time and services while we are away; on a much higher scale than the pay you receive from the Admiralty."
"Thank you, sir, but"
Rudge Endeavors to Induce the Operator to Go With Him to Station X
"When you think of Miss Treherne, of whom you profess to be fond, are you justified in refusing? She is waiting until you are in a position to marry her, and here are the very means you require, and you refuse them." Professor Rudge regarded Macrae as an obstacle in his path of investigation.
It was a shrewd question. Macrae was silent. He shuffled his feet and looked much disturbed.
The Professor, thinking his victory nearly won, added, "Surely also there is not a man in the world who will not envy you your fame. Think too of this young lady's pride and pleasure, and of the immeasurable use you will be to all your species, a use it would have been criminal to neglect by a persistence in your refusal. What is any recompense that I can give you compared to the rewards the world will shower on you?"
Macrae looked as if he were being torn between two impulses; his face was a picture of contending emotions. At length he found his voice, saying, in a scarcely audible tone:
"I am very sorry, but I cannot return to Station X!"
It was the Professor's turn to be silent. He was astounded. He looked at Macrae with a glance that said plainly, Have I, after all, misread your character? Yet in the face of the young fellow before him there was no trace of obstinacy. Its expression was rather one of unrelieved distress, such as one might feel on being asked the impossible by a friend whom he particularly wished to oblige.
Making an effort to conceal his annoyance, Professor Rudge at last said:
"Of course you have had a terrible experience there, and it is quite possible that you have not yet quite got over the shock of it. I will not detain you longer at present. Return to Plymouth, and you will hear from me again soon."
Continued Indecision
Macrae took his leave, and made his way to Paddington in a state as depressed as well could be. He did not deceive himself into the idea that Professor Rudge had given up the scheme. Macrae was convinced that he would apply for an Admiralty order. This, if granted, meant yielding or loss of his berth. Nevertheless, he felt it literally true, what he had said, not that he would not, but that for some reason, he could not agree to go. His only hope now was in the Admiralty refusing the required permission.
This was not, however, the case. The application was received with surprise; but the fact that so great a scientist, after full investigation, was sufficiently interested to be willing to make such a journey, showed that he, at all events, did not consider it a mere hallucination, and certainly not as intentional deceit. Permission was consequently given him to take Macrae to Station X, and authority would be given him to have the Signal House placed at his disposal for such time as he might require it, consistent with the official duties of the post.
Armed with this, Professor Rudge went to Plymouth, and had another long interview with Macrae. It was not in the Professor's nature to use the document he had in the way Macrae had feared. No threats were employed, but every other means was taken to alter his determination. Macrae had taken such a genuine liking to the Professor that the interviews were quite painful to him, as he still felt unable to accede to his request.
Any one acquainted with Professor Rudge knew that he was not a man lightly to give up a thing on which he had set his mind. If he had been one easily diverted from his purpose, his own early struggles would not have led to his present success. A comparatively small matter was often sufficient to show the firm tenacity of his nature; but this to him was no small matter. As long therefore as he desired Macrae to accompany him to Station X, so long would he continue to fight to that end. He would have gone off by himself at once, but his long experience and profound knowledge of psychic phenomena taught him that it would be useless. He fully understood that the ability to hear this voice across the void, always supposing it to be genuine, depended infinitely more on the previously established mental rapport of the speaker and listener, than on the ears of the latter.
Rudge Continues His Efforts
He saw how the sensorial organism of Macrae when he first heard the voice, an exceptional condition of an exceptional being, poised by combined exhaustion and horror on a needle point of unstable equilibrium, had enabled him to feel, rather than hear, the etheric impulse of the far-flung call. By one chance in a million, or rather, in countless millions, Macrae while in a sub-conscious state, had over his ears the receiver of the most powerful radio installation on earth.
By such a chance, rapport had been established, and now it only remained to take advantage of that fact. Macrae must be brought again to the instrument. But how was his obstinacy to be subdued?
To the scientist everything reduced itself to a problem. He knows there is no cause without effect, or effect without a cause. Professor Rudge had ascertained Macrae to be a young man of keen intelligence but weak will. The human will is like everything else in this, that the weaker has to give way to the stronger. Rudge had no doubt as to his own will being much the stronger; yet Macrae did not give way. There was the problem, evidently containing an unknown quantity somewhere for further investigation.
The Professor decided meanwhile to try to overcome the obstacle by further pressure, and to that end made the acquaintance of May Treherne. He had learned that she made her living as a typist in Plymouth.
He was agreeably surprised when he met her. He perceived at once that she had been much better educated than Macrae, that she was a strong character, of sound common sense. He had intended to enlist her aid by demonstrating to her the material advantages to Macrae, and eventually to herself. He quickly saw that she would be capable of enthusiasm without regard to sordid considerations, and began to ask himself how much he might tell her.
The Operator's Sweetheart Tells Him to Go
He decided that he was bound to respect the Government secret, but that he would trust her with what he considered his own, thus showing the confidence with which she had inspired him. He was surprised to find how little Macrae had told. This had been due to the rebuke administered by Captain Evered on the Sagitta. Of that the Professor knew nothing.
Under pledge of secrecy, May Treherne was placed in possession of the facts, except that Professor Rudge was careful to omit everything that could indicate the existence of such a place as Station X.
Her enthusiasm was pleasant to witness, and surpassed the Professor's expectations. The record of "the voice" was placed in her hands, and she was told it was a part, in fact the end, of a diary that Macrae had kept while at the station, in the form of daily letters addressed to herself.
"Then you did do it, after all," she said, turning to Macrae, and there was that in her look and tone that showed the previous absence of the diary had not escaped her attention. Yet she had never once alluded to what must have appeared to her an unfulfilled promise.
"Where, then," she asked, "is the rest of it?"
The Professor told her that at the Admiralty it had been considered to contain remarks referring too closely to what were Government secrets, and that it had been confiscated in consequence.
"I may add," said he, "that I think they were on the whole justified."
"Oh!" she said, and for a moment appeared about to say more, but she took the discreet but unfeminine course of adding nothing.
She put a great many questions to Macrae on the subject on which Professor Rudge had enlightened her. During these the Professor, who was on the watch to intervene if necessary, was struck by the tactful way in which she kept within the bounds of that subject and did not tread on forbidden ground.
"And to you, Alan," she glowed, "has come this distinction! You must go with Professor Rudge, as he wishes, and return the most famous man in the world."
Professor Rudge saw at once what a powerful ally he had enlisted, and he could not doubt the result. But he was mistaken. Macrae was as immovable as ever.
Evolving a Theory and Some Letters
Not being able to spend further time at Plymouth, the Professor left the lovers to fight it out, and returned to town. But he had not abandoned the thing. He knew he had for the moment played his best trump, and, while awaiting events, he carefully studied the subject. He gave special attention to what information he had been able to get from Macrae respecting the time when he lost consciousness. He was particularly struck with the words employed in describing it to Dr. Anderson—"Then suddenly something like darkness descended on me, accompanied by some sharp command of the first voice, and I was apparently struck a violent blow in the darkness on the back of my head." A theory was beginning to form itself in his mind, but before working further on it he decided to await news from Plymouth.
It was toward the end of Macrae's month when there came a letter from May:
"Dear Professor Rudge,—
"I have not met with any success with Alan, and cannot understand him. I thought I had the stronger will of the two. I have done all I can to persuade him to do as you wish, but failed. He is not obstinate about it; on the contrary, he is greatly upset apparently at not being able to humor me. In the circumstances I cannot do more, and I beg of you not to write to him again on the subject; it worries him so. I am very sorry to disappoint you.
"Yours sincerely,
"May Treherne."
"The little traitress! Got out of her depth and had to scramble back, and now stands on the side of the enemy. Put not thy confidence in woman! That girl is a brick, and would scratch my face cheerfully if I returned to the charge. But I know now all about it. My theory is absolutely established."
May received the following reply:
"My Dear Miss Treherne,—
"Short of hearing the voice myself, I could not desire any better confirmation of its reality, and that of the personality behind it, than your letter. This remark may appear to you cryptic, so I will explain. Your opinion respecting the will of Mr. Macrae compared with your own, and, I may say, with mine, is correct. When I found we did not succeed, a reason for this had to be sought. On reading over the reports in my possession, I find that at the moment when he lost consciousness, he had the distinct impression of an order being given him. The order itself, quite in accordance with the well-known laws of hypnotism, does not now rise to the level of consciousness, but, none the less, absolutely decides his will and conduct.
"We have both been wasting our exertions, and distressing our friend, uselessly. He does not yield because he cannot. It is, in fact, not him we are up against, but the Venerian! Therefore there is the Venerian. It is possible, although not certain, that, by means of hypnotism, the order itself might be discovered, but I think the course would be open to objection in this case. For the purpose of investigation I am now so interested in, it will be better to do nothing hastily that might interfere with the influence now at work. The order may have been a prohibition from returning to the instrument for ever, or for a time only. In the latter case it may not be a long time. So I propose to wait awhile, and do nothing. I wish the whole matter to remain a secret for the present, so will you please burn this so soon as read.
"With kind regards,
"Believe me,
"Yours sincerely,
"Stanley Rudge."
May was pleased with the letter, principally because Alan was not going to be worried any more. On the general argument she did not feel competent to form an opinion. Seeing the whole subject had become very distasteful to him, Macrae was not even shown the letter, which May Treherne duly burnt, as requested.
"That Voice Was From Mars"
It must not be supposed that the subject by any means died out of the Professor's thoughts. He continued at intervals to give it careful study. He often puzzled over the mystery of the two voices. Why were there two? What was the disagreement among the Venerians? It was inconceivable that there could be any person or party who could have any objection to communicate with the Earth. The voice had distinctly said they had longed for it for thousands of years, that nothing but our own backwardness had prevented it. In its last words, according to Macrae's report, the voice had appeared to be about to give a warning, when the other voice, the "greater voice""My God!"—the Professor sprang from his chair in the excitement of his discovery—"That's it," he said to himself; "the whole thing is clear! Clear as possible! That voice was from Mars!"
CHAPTER VIII
At Station X
Arrived at this new hypothesis, Professor Rudge felt as a man might who had been hammering away with hammer and cold chisel at some old shell from a battlefield, and suddenly discovered before it was too late, that the shell was charged. He fully realized that if his surmise were correct, the situation was not to be played with. He also remembered that he had once made an attempt to establish communication, or at least to exchange signals, with Mars. He had failed.
"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," he muttered to himself (no one else would have used the word as applied to him). "How fortunate that the influence of the Venerian was too strong for my meddlesome interference!"
Time passed with things in this state, no one having the least desire to make any further move. It was as though Station X had never existed.
At the expiration of Macrae's leave of absence, he had been ordered to one of the home stations, after a medical examination as to fitness. From there May Treherne received frequent letters from him. She thought she could perceive by these that he seemed in some way changed by his experiences. There was none of the buoyancy of former days. She wondered if it was regret at the loss of the double pay that had lasted so short a time, and the consequent postponement of their plans. If his life were as monotonous as hers, she could forgive him any amount of depression.
The Operator Writes His Consent to Professor Rudge
On the 10th of June of the following year, Professor Rudge, who had come with regret to fear that the whole episode was closed, was surprised to receive a letter from Macrae, written from the West of Ireland installation, known as the Cruaghaun Station, which looks down on the Atlantic rollers from a height of two thousand feet.
"Dear Sir" (it ran),—
"If you still have the same wish as you had when last I saw you, I would be glad to hear from you. For my part, I am now quite willing to go with you to the place you wished to visit. Looking back on it, I feel quite ashamed of my previous obstinacy, and am at a loss to account for it. My inclination now is quite the other way. I wish to go there, and dream of it continually, not only in sleep, but frequently in a sort of waking dream, while in this lonely spot, almost as lonely as that other. I seem as though called, requested, to come. Even a date seems put into my head, and I feel a great desire to be there at that time. You will think this a fanciful thing in the extreme, but would it be possible to be there on the 27th of July? I am writing you in the hope that your wish is the same, and that the time is sufficient, I think it is, by the time it took me to return. Hoping to hear from you soon,
"I remain, dear sir,
"Yours faithfully,
"Alan Macrae."
"That," said the Professor to himself, "quite settles one question. He was forbidden for a time, not for always; evidently a definite named time. How tremendous must be the psychic force wielded by these beings!"
Making a Date With a Venetian
Ae saw there would be time to reach Station X by the date given, with a little Government assistance at the other end. Obeying his first impulse, he at once replied to Macrae's letter. While in the middle of his letter, he paused. A thought had occurred to him which completely altered the aspect of the affair. He felt perfect confidence in obeying the wishes of the Venerian, but Macrae had heard two voices, both of which he described as addressing him with imperative orders of some kind. He had also the impression that they were in opposition to each other. By which influence, then, was he now being swayed? This it was vital to ascertain; but how?
He decided not to proceed further unless, or until, this question could be answered. For a moment he saw no way of doing so, but presently a possible clue occurred to him. He turned to a book containing some astronomical tables. After making a short calculation he gave vent to a sigh of relief. What he had discovered was that, on the 27th of July, Mars was in conjunction, that is, at the extreme other side of his orbit from the Earth, and with the Sun itself intervening.
"Well done, Venerian!" he exclaimed aloud. "Caught unawares, evidently utterly by surprise and unprepared, with not a second to lose, contending in a losing battle with a being greater than himself, and every instant full of peril, the Venerian had kept his head. In a moment of time he had decided on a plan of action, made the astronomical calculation mentally, forced his order on Macrae, and sent him into temporary oblivion, to be out of harm's way. 'Something like darkness descended on me,' Macrae had said, 'accompanied by some sharp command of the first voice, and I was apparently struck a violent blow on the back of my head.' The floor struck him. In his conversation with Macrae the Venerian claimed the mental superiority. It is already placed beyond dispute; he has given his proofs."
The Trip to Station X and the Parting of the Lovers
Professor Rudge was not a man who easily showed excitement, or allowed himself to be influenced perceptibly by his emotions, but for once he seemed a little carried away. The thing he had desired, more than he knew, seemed at last to show probability of realization, to be almost within his grasp. In point of fact there was, in his attitude for the moment, something of the man as well as the scientist. He reflected that if this discovery fell to him, he would not only have made an advance, the extent of which was beyond human power to estimate, but also he would have his opponents beaten.
The renewal of the Admiralty permission, and Macrae's leave of absence, were easily obtained. It remained but to pack up the few things necessary for the journey, and those that might be wanted at Station X. Here Professor Rudge was in a quandary. He could not decide how much or little to encumber himself with. Should he take books of reference? What was really going to happen, if all went well? A scientific discussion? Would he not, according to what had been spoken to Macrae, be in the position of a pupil, with much to learn and little to impart? He became so engrossed with the possibilities of the affair before him, that his absent-mindedness became very pronounced and his sister, who kept house for him, had the gravest suspicions that he must have fallen in love at last.
It was decided to go by P. & O. steamer to Hong-Kong, and there the Admiralty had arranged to take them on board one of the cruisers attached to the China Station and convey them to Station X. The authorities were quite willing to make this slight return for the valuable services the scientist had previously rendered in connection with radio telephony, and the choice and equipment of these stations; services for which he had refused remuneration.
The leave-taking between Macrae and May Treherne again took place on Plymouth Hoe, and again it fell to her lot to hearten her lover. She could not fail to see how depressed he was.
"Are you sure you want to go on this journey, Alan?" she asked. "You remember we agreed that it should be given up."
"I must go, May," he replied, with decision; "in fact, nothing would prevent me. But do you remember, dear, the last time we said good-bye, when I went to—to that place? I spoke to you then of a cloud looming in the future."
"Yes, Alan, and you were justified," May said; "but that is all past now, isn't it?"
The Voyage to Station X
"When I came back you said what had happened had proved me right, and I let it go at that. But in spite of that the cloud has not passed away. It remains ahead, May, darker than ever, and very much nearer." He shuddered involuntarily.
Greatly distressed, the girl endeavored to dissuade him, even at this last moment, from starting on such an ill-presaged journey, but without success. Just as it had been before impossible to incline him to go, now his one idea was to start. She saw that further words would be wasted. She was not herself unduly impressed with his premonition, yet she would have been quite willing for him to give up the idea. Finding him immovable, she did her best to cheer him, and with some success. Yet the parting was a sad one, the outward cheerfulness of both somewhat forced.
The voyage passed uneventfully, and on the 26th of July, only a day from the time desired, they were landed at Station X.
Professor Rudge, having made the acquaintance of Lieutenant Hughes, the officer in charge, found that arrangements against his arrival had been made, and quarters allotted him and Macrae. He handed Lieutenant Hughes the written authority he had brought with him respecting the use of the signal-room, and so great was his impatience to put the purpose of his journey to the test, that he and Macrae went to the signal-table that same evening.
Waiting for the Message From Venus
Macrae put on the receivers. "Are you there?" he said, and it struck him at once that he had, without premeditation, used the same low tone as in his previous conversations. He then sat silent.
Professor Rudge was sufficiently convinced of the interest of the Venerians to feel confident that his and Macrae's coming to Station X had been observed, having the Venerian's own word for it that such observation was within their power. A prompt reply obviously depended on that.
The time seemed interminable. The Professor could not take his eyes off his companion, nor could he sit still upon his chair. Neither could he, now that the great moment had come, entirely drive from his mind that "second voice." He felt as one reaching out in the dark expecting to grasp a desired object, but with an uncomfortable feeling of not being certain on what his fingers might close.
One, two, three minutes passed. He drummed with his fingers upon the table. Would the time never pass? His watch was lying before him. Four, five minutes passed. Six minutes, the interval in Macrae's previous conversations elapsed, and there was no reply. He felt his threat dry. The second hand of his watch crawled on.
Suddenly Macrae gave a start, at the sight of which the Professor almost jumped out of his chair.
"Yes, I am here," said Macrae. Then, turning from the mouthpiece to the Professor, he said, as he had agreed—
"It is he!"
The Friendly Venerians Talking With Station X
After an interval (the Professor soon became accustomed to these intervals) he saw Macrae begin to take shorthand notes. He repeated the words as he wrote, and thus Professor Rudge was able to follow the conversation.
"You have some one with you?" The conversations are given without reference to the intervals.
"Yes, there is a scientific gentleman with me, and he hopes to speak with you."
"We have already heard of Professor Rudge. At this moment he could not hear my voice, and you are necessary, but for a reason I will explain to him when possible, it is desirable to establish direct communication at once. Ask him if he is willing to place himself under my control, in full rapport with me."
Professor Rudge on hearing these words as repeated by Macrae at once understood what was required, but not the means by which it was to be achieved.
For a moment he was silent. It was a risk. It was surrendering his ego to another. For a few seconds he thought rapidly. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He motioned Macrae to remove the receivers from his ears.
"Macrae, do you still clearly recall the two voices you heard at the moment you were last here?"
"Very clearly, sir. I shall never forget either!"
"Are you quite certain, absolutely certain, that the voice you now hear is the first voice, the one with whom you had conversations?"
"Quite sure, sir."
"Did the voices have any resemblance?"
"None whatever! The second voice," he added, and the Professor noticed the same tone and look of awe that had struck his two hearers on board the Sagitta, "was—was—I felt a worm. This is the friendly voice that spoke to me all through."
After another short pause, the Professor said, "Reply that I am willing to do as desired." He added to himself. "But I cannot see how it is to be done."
Macrae then replied to the voice, "Yes, he is willing."
Hypnotism From the Planet Venus
In due course came the direction, "Face each other." Professor Rudge perceived that Macrae was in some way about to be used as the medium, but could not guess the intended proceedings. He knew that his companion's will was so much the weaker, that of his own power he would be quite incapable of acquiring the necessary dominance.
The voice then addressed Macrae. "Although you are under my influence, and it is by the rapport so established that you hear me, that is not enough for the present purpose. In the present phase of the rapport, the attempt would fail; in the first place because you would probably be incapable of influencing Professor Rudge, who has probably the stronger mind, and in the second place because, if you succeeded, he would be under your influence, not mine, and therefore be still incapable of hearing me. It is necessary that you pass on into the second phase, in which your consciousness is merged in mine. You will now sleep, and then act as I shall direct you. In thought contact there will be little need of words."
At the first suggestion, at the mention of the word sleep, Macrae instantly responded and, offering no resistance, his hold on consciousness slipped from him, as it might from one who had taken an anaesthetic.
Professor Rudge saw the change, and his own knowledge of the subject enabled him to gather that the second phase had been brought about.
"Look fixedly in my eyes," said the voice of the unconscious operator, and, on being obeyed, he moved his hand in backward sweeps above the other's head.
As they remained eye to eye the Professor began to notice a very peculiar expression that he had never noticed before, in the eyes before him. Was it expression, or was it something in their contour? Certainly very peculiar—and yet not altogether new to him. How strangely fixed and unwinking they seemed. He had never before seen anything like that in Macrae's eyes—nor in those of any other human being. What are those creatures that have eyes that these reminded him of? His memory seemed vague—those passes were very soothing.
"Sleep!" said Macrae, in a quiet but firm tone.
The Professor nodded.
"Sleep!" said Macrae.
The Professor's head fell forward.
Presently Macrae, evidently in obedience to instructions, rose, saying, "Come, sit in this seat; take the headpiece and put it on, and hear the voice that will speak to you."
Good Appetites After the Hypnotizing
The other, looking like a somnambulist, changed places with him. He put on the headpiece, and Macrae, in obedience to a last suggestion, gradually rose to consciousness. He then saw the change that had been brought about, and moved away toward the entrance. He stood there a moment, looking at the Professor, then heard him say, "Yes! I am here.' Macrae quietly closed the door after him.
It was eight o'clock, and night had descended. He went to the door of the outer entrance, but, feeling no desire to join the station staff, stood there watching a bright star that shone with silvery and steady beam, in the western sky. He knew that star was Venus.
An hour passed. He waited, dozing on the bench in the corner of the little outer lobby of the station-house. Then he slept.
When he woke it was with a start; broad day, a hand upon his shoulder. Looking up, he saw it was Professor Rudge standing beside him. He immediately rose. "Good morning, sir. It has been a success? You have heard?"
He noticed that the Professor wore a puzzled look.
"The fact is," said the latter, "I have heard nothing. I know nothing, even of how I came to be sitting with the receiver on my head. Can you give me some information?"
Macrae at once understood the situation. He remembered his own twenty-hour spell; the Professor's seemed to have been only about twelve hours. He explained that this was doubtless a similar experience.
Professor Rudge now understood what had happened. He realized that he, like a bag full of information, had been untied, taken by the bottom corners, and held upside down. It seemed undignified. But presently the sane and healthy man came to the surface, and he laughed, recovered his temper—and his appetite.
"Have you had anything to eat since yesterday, Macrae?" he asked.
"No, sir," said Macrae, smiling.
"Then, my boy, let us attend to that at once. Everything else can wait."
So the station staff took possession of the signal-room, and the Professor took possession of the attendant, and the two men ate. Six feet of burly brawn and muscle represented a powerful engine, not to be kept going without considerable stoking.
After this, he and his companion thoroughly explored the island. The Professor was always careful to keep himself in thorough physical training, and his companion would have been all the better had he followed the same course. This was Macrae's conclusion after the walking and cliff-climbing of the next two hours. He returned to the station-house nearly run off his feet. Professor Rudge believed in the strenuous life, and he lived up to his creed.
CHAPTER IX
Macrae Under Suspicion
In the afternoon, as soon as the instrument was again at his disposal, Professor Rudge and Macrae took possession of the signal-room.
The Professor was impatient to find out if he would now be able to hear the voice himself, and at once put on the headpiece.
"Are you there?" The tone was a little unsteady from suppressed excitement.
After the usual interval, it was with a thrill of pleasure that he heard, faint but clear, a voice, the voice. There could be no mistaking its agreement with Macrae's description.
"Yes, Professor Rudge," it said, "I am here; but speak low, as Macrae did. Your other stations will then not hear you, but I shall hear you. Also, that you may have a record of our conversation, repeat my words aloud to Macrae, and he will take them down.
"I foresee," proceeded the voice, "that you may disapprove of the manner of our first intercourse during the past night. It was the best way. It saved time, which is most vital. You have supplemented to the utmost of your ability the information given by Macrae, and our future conversations can be devoted to the return you will no doubt desire, except for a matter on which I must speak before you remove the receiver. On what topic would you first wish to compare Venerian opinions with your own?"
The Great Moment of Professor Rudge's Life
As he heard these words, Professor Rudge felt that the great moment of his life had come.
Although he had rehearsed a hundred imaginary conversations with the "voice," on as many topics, now that the voice was suddenly offered him, he was momentarily at a loss what to say. At last he spoke.
"Now that this new door to knowledge has been so unexpectedly opened to mankind, I hope it will never be closed again. I hope that the time is near when, under your instruction, our knowledge will be equal to your own, so far as our lesser minds are capable of understanding all that constitutes your attainments."
"We shall," said the voice, "withhold no information we can give you. It is not in our power to make you our equals. The increase of knowledge will tend to develop your minds, but you must ever remember that the two things are entirely separate entities."
"I realize that," said the professor, "and that as you are the greater in both respects, you are the best judge of what should be our subject now. As I have the use of the instrument for a limited time, I will leave the choice to you and remain a listener, to save the intervals of waiting for replies."
The Venerian commended the course proposed by Professor Rudge, and at once proceeded with what was practically a long scientific lecture, that held his auditor spellbound with interest. The attainments displayed, the sweep of intellect indicated, caused Professor Rudge to feel himself a novice again.
The Venetian commenced by saying, "Do not suppose we arrogate to ourselves anything approaching infallibility. We are but fellow travellers with yourselves toward the great goal—Truth."
A Theory of the Universe Told From Venus
The subject he chose was the Venetian theory of the universe corresponding to what is known as the La Placian theory, but to which it had no resemblance.
"Your theory," he said, "contemplates a universal loss of energy, until space is peopled only by dead suns; a universe with all heat, light, life, extinct; without one ray to wander through its blackness of darkness, or one sigh to break its eternal silence. To minds cultivated as are ours, such a development, with an eternity still to come, would be sufficient refutation."
The Venerian then proceeded to give the theory accepted in his world, and to support it with such evidence that Professor Rudge's acceptance of it was complete and inevitable. It proved to him the perfect and complete conservation of solar energy beyond possibility of dispute.
As soon as the enunciation of the new theory and its demonstration were completed, the Venerian said, "We felt that this was due to you as a first fruit of the information we hope to give you on many subjects in return for the information you have given us respecting your terrestrial affairs; but we must now speak on a subject of more immediately vital importance. Do not repeat mywords to Macrae. What follows is for yourself alone."
At this moment some one was heard knocking at the door of the signal-room. Evidently they were about to be interrupted. In dumb show Macrae imparted the fact. "Go," said the Professor, "and see if the instrument is wanted. If so, ask if we can retain it for a few minutes."
Macrae presently returned from the door to say that Lieutenant Hughes wished to send a message, but that it could wait a few minutes.
On replacing the receivers, that he had removed to hear Macrae's answer, the Professor found that the Venerian had ceased speaking. He had heard the words of Macrae.
Presently the voice resumed: "Are you there, Professor Rudge?"
Danger of Interruption From Mars
On receiving the affirmative reply, the voice proceeded: "Do not speak! Remember that on the subject I am about to speak on nothing must be said to Macrae. There was great anxiety here lest you and he should not arrive in time. By good fortune you did. But every day now the position becomes less secure. When my last interview with Macrae, on his first visit to this Station, was brought to an abrupt interruption, it was on account of an unforeseen interruption from Mars." ("I was right," thought the professor.)
"By an exhibition of powers that we did not even know them to possess, Macrae was reached indirectly, through his rapport with me. I was rapidly being overborne in my defence of him, when I succeeded in entrancing him, and had only just time to give him instructions to remain so until far from the island, and not return to it until the 27th of July.
"My instructions were inadequate, and even faulty, but the situation at the moment of giving them was extremely difficult. We have now taken adequate precautions that the same thing shall not happen to you, but we cannot undo the evil that may have been done in the case of Macrae, nor say, for the present, the extent of it. It is this latter point that we wish to test. We have reason to suppose that it is of a serious nature, in fact fatal, unless guarded against.
"With such extremely little time for thought, my instructions to him were, not to return to the island before the 27th of July, the date suggested by the next conjunction of Mars. With time for reflection, I should have taken a much more drastic course. For this reason I feel, to a certain extent, responsible for the position that has arisen; a position much too full of danger. Our reason now for fearing that the malign influence was successfully brought to bear on him is that, although I did not bid him return, yet he showed an anxious desire to be here by the expiration of the forbidden period. His experiences at the Station were not of a kind to make that desire natural as a spontaneous wish.
"We therefore conclude that he is now, of course quite unconsciously to himself, under the Martian's influence, and that to allow him to go to the receiver after Mars has passed from behind the solar screen would be to run the greatest risk. To-day is safe, probably tomorrow, but it is best to be on the safe side, for those beings always seem to surpass our calculations. My instructions to you are, to see to it, as though your life depended on it, which it may, that Macrae never again puts on the headpiece, and that you find out by watching him, whether he shows any secret desire to do so, of is prompted to do so. That is all. Do not reply. I will be ready to continue our discourse when you next come to the instrument."
"We will now tell Lieutenant Hughes that the signal-room is at his disposal," said the Professor.
"What did the voice say, the last minute or two?" asked Macrae, as they went out.
"He spoke to me about the receiver," said the Professor calmly. "With the instructions he will give me I hope to be able to make improvement in that part of the instrument. Let us take a turn around the island."
Night was falling as they returned to the station-house, and Macrae was told to defer writing out his report until next morning. Being tired, he was glad of this respite, and was soon fast asleep.
Professor Rudge also retired early to his room, but not to sleep. That afternoon had opened up to him novel views, not merely on one, but on many scientific subjects. He was a student again, his whole world revolutionized. Sleep! What man could sleep in such circumstances?
Ultimately, after the first bent of the scientific had had its way with him, he came down to the urgent matter dealt with in the Venerian's last words. Late that night it was not musings on science that kept him awake, but a sense of peril.
The Evil Doings of the Martians in the Past
Every detail of the tragedy of Mars of long ago, as recounted in Macrae's report, came vividly before his mind. There was no mystery about the manner of it. He quite understood the method of the whole unspeakable crime, from its full conception to its ghastly perpetration. He knew better than to look upon it as a fable, or old wife's tale. The earnestness of the Venerian carried conviction.
In imagination he placed himself in the position of the Lunarians. Just as a drowning man will grasp at a straw, so those apparently perishing beings had allowed the instinct of self-preservation to stifle conscience.
He tried to realize the nature and power of the present Martians. His most vivid idea of them, however, he got by realizing the evident terror with which they inspired the Venerians.
If any Martian could gain a footing on the earth by grasping at the personality of one of its inhabitants, and so animating a human form, the whole world, by virtue of his psychic force and intellect, would be at his mercy and that of all his kin who would follow. The more the Professor thought of it the more terribly he felt the weight of his responsibility, knowing the fate that was now threatening the world, and that only he and this far-off Venerian stood between it and catastrophe.
More than once during the night the Professor left his room and paced the little entrance lobby of the station-house, into which both his and the signal-room opened. Each time that he closed his eyes, before a momentary doze had time to merge into sleep, some weird nightmare, connected with the subject of his thoughts, effectually roused him.
Two Keys to One Door
The night seemed interminable. It came to an end at last without incident.
At the earliest opportunity he asked Lieutenant Hughes if he could be provided with a key to the signal-room. He had noticed that the door was never locked, and seldom shut except in windy weather.
"Certainly, sir," said Lieutenant Hughes, rather mystified by the request.
He was a good-natured young fellow, who stood rather in awe of Professor Rudge, on account of his fame.
"Thank you," said the Professor. "You may have wondered why I have come to this station. The full details will I hope be known in due time, but I may say that it is in connection with an experiment in radio telephony. As you know, this is the most powerful installation that exists, and it is the only one adapted to my purpose."
"I thought it must be something of that sort, sir."
"Let me explain," said the Professor, "what may have seemed an odd request. Macrae, who assists me, is a very good fellow, very competent, intelligent and interested in what I am doing, but you will understand that in some experiments the slightest unconsidered action may be very prejudicial. I wish to make quite certain that he does not, even with the best intentions, meddle with any part of the mechanism in the signal-room when I am not there."
"Certainly, sir," said Hughes; "the door can be kept locked."
"If the keys can be found."
"If not, I will have a couple made at once. That will be no trouble to Jones."
Jones was the radio engineer acting with Lieutenant Hughes.
The Professor was several times on the point of taking Hughes to some extent into his confidence. He saw both the advantages in and objections to doing so. He finally decided to say nothing as yet.
By mid-day a key was handed to him.
"The only other key," said Hughes, "remains with me; so that will be all right."
This greatly allayed Professor Rudge's immediate sense of danger. At the appointed time, accompanied by Macrae, he went to the signal-table to resume the conversation of the day before. His first call was answered.
"Is Macrae with you?" came the question.
"Yes."
"Then we will go on with our discourse of yesterday, but at its termination send him from the room before you put down the receivers, that we may speak of our difficulty respecting him."
Then, the Professor repeating to Macrae, a further long exposition on various branches of science followed. The listener was soon entranced by his interest in, and lost in admiration of the long strides Venerian science had made beyond the bounds of human knowledge. He was carried so far beyond his depth that he found it impossible, while repeating the words, mentally to follow the argument with the same rapidity. Giving up the attempt as confusing and tending to error, he repeated mechanically, wisely deciding to defer thought or study until he could read the communication at his leisure.
At its conclusion there was a short pause, evidently intended to put the Professor on his guard. Then the voice resumed:
"Do not repeat! Find some reason to dismiss Macrae."
"That seems all on the subject for the present, Macrae. I think of asking a few questions, but shall not require your help. You must be pretty tired of it, as the subject is rather beyond you, is it not?"
"I do not understand it at all, sir," said Macrae, stifling a yawn.
"Then take the shorthand notes into your room and write them out for me while it is still daylight."
Macrae left the signal-room.
Re-adjusting the headpiece, the Professor said—
"I am now alone."
"Have you taken adequate precautions against Macrae coming to the instrument?"
"Yes. The door is now kept constantly locked when no messages are being sent."
The Venerians Tell of Impending Danger From Mars
"That is well, but I assure you that very great vigilance is necessary, and we do not feel convinced that you are sufficiently alive to the danger that threatens you. Our only hope's based on the knowledge that you are not a man of small mind, or lacking in imagination. If such were the case, we should despair of being able to assist you. You would in that case infallibly regard the danger as remote, almost unintelligible, even unreal. We are convinced that such is not the case with you, but we doubt if you adequately appreciate the peril and its imminence.
"Although you already know its general nature, let me, at the risk of being wearisome, again speak of it. I am not able to tell you how the baleful influence will act on Macrae, but you must be prepared for every subtle means of gaining its end. Have you seen anything as yet to arouse suspicion?"
"Nothing whatever."
"Three days have now elapsed since the time of conjunction. Mars is now rapidly increasing his angle with the sun. The time of danger is now very near. If there is no sign of the influence we fear within a day or two, all is well, and the evil was not wrought. Remember, whatever the time of day or night, let me know at once of any overt sign."
"I will of course do so," said the Professor.
"On no account let yourself be lulled into any false idea of security by relying on the great physical superiority you may possess. In the event of the occurrence of what we strive to guard against, that would be entirely useless. You, and all your race, would be brought to the means of communication like lambs to the slaughter. We can resume our conversation to-morrow at the same hour, if no previous call is rendered necessary.
Regarding this as dismissal for the time, Professor Rudge removed the receivers and sat for a time gazing at the instrument before him, but not thinking of it. It was with a very worried air that he ultimately rose and left the signal-room.
CHAPTER X
The Venerian's Anxiety
With the Venerian's words of warning still ringing in his ears, Professor Rudge left the signal-room and went to his own apartment. He was soon lost in thought, but it was not on general science that his mind was concentrated. He was revolving the matter so urgently pressed on his attention by the Venerian.
He was chiefly impressed by perceiving that however keen his own sense of the danger from the Martians, his informant was much more impressed, and he did not forget that that informant was a being of higher mental status than himself. He remembered words that, although accompanied by some complimentary remark, gave the impression that if the speaker's sense of the danger arose principally from a knowledge of the character of the Martian, it came also partly from a lack of reliance on the character of humanity, even as exemplified by himself.
He was told to be on the look-out for every kind of subtle means that the unseen enemy could possibly seize on to achieve his ends. At the same time, he was unable to conceive of any means available, or against which he could set a guard, beyond taking the obvious precaution of keeping Macrae from the signal-table. This he had done effectually, but the Venerian, in spite of the Professor's promise, was evidentally not fully reassured. This gave Professor Rudge an uneasy feeling; for he did not disguise from himself for a moment the fact as to which possessed the better knowledge and judgment.
The Venerians Still Fear the Evil-Minded Martians
The Venerian had claimed for his race a great superiority over humanity, and had given more than ample proof of it. It was, however, clear that, while having the greatest admiration for the science and mental status of the Martians, the Venerian, when acting in opposition to them, felt his inferiority and danger of defeat. How much greater must man's inferiority be! If the Venerian felt the greater anxiety, it could but arise from a greater knowledge of the foe.
Tax his brain as he would, Professor Rudge could not see what more he could do. He longed for the arrival of the Sagitta. He knew the impossibility of any one doing without sleep. If his responsibility meant continual watchfulnes, day and night, he saw that time was fighting against him. Everything depended upon the arrival of the cruiser.
To ease his mind of mere useless worry, he strove to fix his attention on the scientific revelations to which he had just listened. Had they stood alone, he would have been able to think of nothing else. They were epoch-making, colossal; yet it now required a distinct effort of will on his part to give to them the requisite concentration of mind. In this, however, he at length succeeded.
Scientific riches had been poured out to him with an unstinted hand. He saw that this new knowledge meant revolution in the scientific world, for it not only went far beyond the dreams of our greatest thinkers, but was at variance with many theories long accepted. Each branch of science being so interwoven with others on which it impinges, it was evident how deeply even those he had not heard dealt with would be affected. As an instance, he remembered the long dispute between the geologists and the astronomers as to the age of the earth, in which each side claimed to have proved the other wrong by many millions of years. He saw that the whole argument fell to the ground before this new and splendid theory of the maintenance of the cosmos.
Feeling at length that deep thought was not helping him to keep his brain prepared for its possible coming contest with sleepless hours, he decided to drop the subject until next morning and seek the company of Lieutenant Hughes at their evening meal. He realized that the time he had hitherto given to that young man, considering that he was practically the host, was scarcely sufficient for the needs of politeness. He also wished to sound him, with a view to deciding how far it would be possible or rather, desirable, to confide in him.
Professor Rudge found Hughes a cheerful light-hearted fellow, who proved pleasant company. He made one or two attempts to interest him in scientific subjects, but saw that although the young officer gave him polite and even deferential attention, his leaning was certainly not in that direction, and his information in such things was quite superficial.
The Professor was confirmed in his opinion that to say nothing was best.
A Walk On the Island—Professor Rudge's Suspicions
Inpassing to his own room, Professor Rudge once more tried the door of the signal-room. It was securely locked. He prepared himself to pass a night of watchfulness. He felt the disadvantage of not knowing what form the danger would take, or the direction from which it would come. Its intangibility might have caused it temporarily to fade from his mind, and allow him a few hours' rest, but he was deterred by his knowledge of the anxiety of one better able than he to gauge the possibilities of the situation.
Through such uneasy somnolence as he allowed himself, and however much he endeavored to keep that being in the mental background, there would persist in sometimes looming up before him the menace of the Martian.
The next morning Professor Rudge rose early. In spite of his disturbed rest, he felt his anxiety less insistent than on the night before. His was a spirit that soon rebounded from depression. With the daylight he felt again almost his own sanguine and jovial self. It was not that he forgot for one moment his danger and responsibility, but that the morning brought him greater confidence in his ability to meet the situation.
He roused Macrae, and together they set off to the cliff and inhaled the breeze from the ocean, cool in the early hours.
He took Macrae with him, partly that he might not be left at the station without his supervision, and partly that he might take the earliest opportunity of tactfully probing his mind and thoughts on the subject of his experiences on his first visit to the island. He wished to see if any further light could be thrown on Macrae's desire to return to Station X. Professor Rudge was careful not to let it appear to his companion that he was being examined, or that the talk was with any definite object.
The point raised by the Venerian, that there was ground for suspicion in the desire of Macrae to return to Station X, where his previous experience had been so terrible, would not have occurred to the Professor, but he now saw the full force of it. He remembered that Macrae had never given him any reason for his wish, and now ascertained, without abrupty asking the question, that he had none to give. This did not come as a surprise to the Professor, who knew more than most men about that obscure subject of the subconscious ego. He saw that the fact went to support the Venerian's opinion.
A Conference With the Venerians
When they returned from their walk, both eager for their breakfast, Professor Rudge was thoroughly satisfied that Macrae had no conscious wish to communicate with the Martian, "the second voice," as he invariably called it. The Professor noticed that whenever Macrae used that phrase, and he never did unless led to it, the same expression of awe crept into his look and tone as had been noticed on that first occasion on board the Sagitta.
Short as the contact had been, almost momentary, and few, if any, the words that could have passed, the impression made on Macrae had been enormous. It was something, however, to know that if Macrae were likely to attempt anything that had to be guarded against, he was himself totally ignorant of the fact.
With this partial relief of his anxiety, the natural bent of Professor Rudge's mind asserted itself. His thoughts again reverted to the great acquisition of knowledge so strangely given him. He got from Macrae the written report of the conversation of the previous afternoon. He spent the greater part of the morning on this and in making notes of subjects he desired to speak about on the next occasion.
At the usual hour he and Macrae went again to the signal-room.
The Professor noticed that his first call was answered without a second's avoidable interval. The fact impressed him with the fact of the constant attention evidently now given at the other end. Whatever uneasiness he might feel, he became convinced that greater uneasiness existed there, a circumstance that increased his own. It was not so much his own acquaintance with the facts of the case that maintained his fears at the necessary level, as the evident anxiety felt on Venus. Apart from that, and the daily reiteration of the warning, those fears would inevitably have become lulled by the complete absence of any outward sign to stimulate them.
Promptly to the usual call, "Are you there?" came the reply.
"Do not repeat! Answer with one word, yes or no. Has there been any sign or indications of what we fear?"
"No."
"On what subject, Professor Rudge, do you wish to converse to-day?”
Cosmic History Told by the Venerians
A long discourse ensued that ranged over a variety of subjects, all of such intense interest to Professor Rudge, as indeed they would have been to any man of scientific leanings, or even ordinary intelligence, that, for the time, all worry over other matters was forgotten.
These subjects included among others—Nature's general method, always, in the material realm, proceeding in cycles, never toward finality. This was no new theory to Professor Rudge, but now elucidated and exemplified in a way that thrilled him with admiration. The origin of life was shown to be a thing quite outside the bounds of any finite intelligence, whether human, Venerian, or even Martian. The absolute futility was indicated of the human endeavor to find out when and how matter first began to live, the fact being that no matter ever did or ever would live. The mystery of death was shown to be the mere withdrawal of a hand from a machine that would no longer work. The illusion was caused by the fact of our waking consciousness being able only to see the machine.
He was given the geological period, with dates, of man's evolution as such, and a short account of the ancestry of the present human races, going back to remote times, to which our historic period is as yesterday. This was followed by a comparison of the present political and social state of the two worlds. Here again Professor Rudge caught every word with intense avidity. He quickly saw two things; one that in this respect the state of things in the Venerian world was ideal beyond his previous dreams of what any state could be; the other that it would be worse than useless here, spelling absolute anarchy.
At the conclusion of this part of the discourse there was a pause and, remembering the similar pause of the day before, the listener was on his guard. Then the voice resumed: "Do not repeat! Let Macrae now leave you."
Turning to his companion and displacing the receivers, the Professor said, "Will you take your notes of what has passed into your room, please, and write them out for me. Give them to me as soon as they are ready."
A minute later he turned to the mouthpiece. "I am alone," he said.
Danger Impending—Precautions Necessary
In due course the voice resumed: "I must come back to the subject of the threatening danger. We have now every reason to believe that the most careful vigilance is necessary. Although there has been no sign, we believe that the influence of the enemy has now the opportunity to make itself felt. If it is as we fear, Macrae may be prompted to do what he would himself be at a loss to give any intelligent reason for. Watch him constantly!"
"I shall be extremely glad when he is out of the island. That will be in two days," said Professor Rudge. "Meanwhile, every precaution shall be taken."
"Every precaution! You speak the words too lightly, Professor Rudge. I cannot describe to you the anxiety on your behalf that is felt here; and when I say your behalf, I mean all your kind. It is necessary to speak plainly. You are not sufficiently in earnest in this matter. Your whole world is now relying upon you alone. If you only had a fuller grasp of the nature of the beings arrayed against you, compared with whom we are children, it might help you, if indeed it did not paralyse you. I charge you, let there be no unprotected moment. But two days!"
Professor Rudge was profoundly impressed by the solemnity of this warning. He did not know quite how to reply to it. At another time he might have felt some resentment. Knowing the care he was taking, and the anxious time he had been having, he could scarcely admit the justice of the Venerian's words. They did, however, make him realize still more fully the concern and solicitude that obviously inspired them, and so they fulfilled their purpose of heightening his own appreciation of the gravity of the situation.
"I feel sure," he said, "that you know better than I how full the position is of peril. Thank you for the further warning. I promise to use the utmost care of which I am capable. Do you suppose our conversation is being overheard on Mars?"
"We are, comparatively speaking, so near, and that planet at present so far removed, and unfavorably placed, that we do not think it can be. But it is uncertain. We only know that, if the positions were reversed, we should be unable to hear. There is one other thing I must request of you—to come to the instrument at once if Macrae shows any overt sign of the influence we fear. If suspicion becomes converted into certainty, then indeed our line of action must be reconsidered. If there is nothing of this nature to communicate, come to the instrument again to-morrow at the same time; but from now on there will always be some one to answer your call. That is all for the present."
Professor Rudge took off the headpiece and passed his hand over his forehead. For a long time he sat lost in thought. With an air even more worried than on the day before he ultimately rose and left the signal-room. He locked the door, and was in the act of dropping the key in his pocket when Macrae joined him.
"You have finished?"
"Yes, sir; here is the report," said Macrae, adding, "if you have no further need of me today, sir, I should like to lie down. My head aches a little."
"Certainly," said the Professor. "I shall not require you. I hope you will be all right again in the morning."
CHAPTER XI
Danger Imminent
The Professor sat down on the one seat in the little entrance lobby. This had three doors which opened into it; the station entrance, and entrances to the signal-room and to the room which the Professor was occupying. From his seat he therefore commanded all three doors. Sitting here, he attempted to utilize the last rays of daylight in reading over the communication he had that afternoon received, but even before the fading light compelled him, gave it up. He was too worried for mental concentration.
He gave rein to his thoughts. The papers slipped from his fingers to the floor, and lay there unheeded. He recognized that no small part of the trouble that oppressed him was due to the vagueness of its nature. He was acting in obedience to a warning which was in itself as mysterious as the danger indicated. He was warned of an attack, but not informed of its method.
As to preventing Macrae from communicating with Mars, or with any one else, that was simple. The seeming simplicity did not, however, remove the unpleasant sensation of impending danger. If there were but some outward sign he told himself, his nerves would brace themselves to the occasion and he would be easier in his mind. It was like fighting a phantom, or expecting an attack in the dark, but without knowing by what, or from what direction.
After a time Lieutenant Hughes joined the Professor, and they were at the supper-table for a few minutes together. The young man had been puzzling for two days as how this learned scientist had acquired the reputation of being socially of a jovial disposition. His learning was no doubt indisputable, but for the rest, perhaps he had been over-rated. Tonight especially, he seemed taciturnity itself.
Professor Fudge’s Night on Watch in Station X
At a comparatively early hour Professor Rudge retired for the night. The monotony of life at Station X conduced to early hours. His room was really that of Lieutenant Hughes, good-naturedly given up to him during his stay. Professor Rudge left the door open, and drew his little camp bedstead to a point from which he could see the signal-room door. He only partly undressed, and decided to keep awake. There was just sufficient light to see objects indistinctly.
The time passed very slowly. Once, a grim sort of smile without any mirth in it passed over his face, as he compared his present situation with his usual life. That life seemed almost as though it belonged to a distant past. How far away London seemed! How far away everything seemed—except danger!
Knowing that, however great the need of watchfulness, it would be impossible to go entirely without sleep the whole of the time until the Sagitta was due, he formed a plan of contenting himself with a comparatively short nap once a day, while the signal-room was officially occupied. As a young man he had been able to sleep just when and where he chose, and he was relying on this faculty now. At first he experienced no great difficulty in keeping awake, in spite of the little sleep he had had since landing.
He rightly attributed his wakefulness to the strangeness of his experience, and the peculiar uncanniness of the danger that threatened. He could not bring himself to expect anything to happen at night. There could be no possibility of wireless communication, for the door was locked and the key in the pocket of his coat, hanging on the peg, within easy reach of his hand. A hundred crowding thoughts passed through his mind. He lost count of time.
Macrae Under Martian Influence Is a Somnambulist
After at least a couple of hours—it may have been about midnight—the soft tread of bare feet, but distinctly audible in the stillness, was heard passing his door in the direction of the signal-room. A form was just visible as it crossed the entrance lobby.
A good deal startled at this unexpected development, the Professor rose. Going quickly to the doorway, he put out his head for a better view of the intruder. The light was just sufficient to enable him to recognize the figure of Macrae trying the signal-room door. Knowing it to be securely locked, Professor Rudge stood a few seconds awaiting events. Several times the handle was turned back, and a quiet attempt made to push open the door.
Speaking quietly, the Professor asked, "What are you doing there, Macrae?"
There was no answer, but Macrae turned and began to come back towards him, passing without taking any notice although within a foot of him. Macrae walked out of the lobby and toward his own apartment. After turning, having such light as there was upon his face, the Professor could see that Macrae was fast asleep.
Professor Rudge knew the danger of awaking a sleep-walker, and allowed him to go without further interference. He felt that he had at last something tangible. Macrae had shown him that the Martians' method was somnambulism. That made much clear to him that he had been unable to understand before. There was no longer the shadow of doubt but that Macrae was under hypnotic influence and suggestion, and was acting during sleep in obedience to another will. There could be little doubt as to whose will that was. Still, now that the Professor knew what he had to fight against—knew the enemy's plan of action—the strain was relieved and he felt safe. With the door locked there was security. To-morrow he would report the occurrence and get advice.
He drew forward a deck chair and resumed his vigil.
How slowly the time passed! Once or twice, feeling a drowsiness, the reaction from the few minutes' excitement he had experienced, he rose and went to the outer door, gazing at the wondrous pageant spread above him. Long he looked at many a familiar constellation jewelling the tropic night, and at others, southward, not so familiar. He watched their ordered ranks, their silent, ceaseless westward march. It brought his thoughts to the mysterious voice that had come to him across the zodiac, faint but clear, like the sound of a silver bell from that silvery star. Soothed by his gaze into the infinite distances, he went back again to await the remaining hours of the night.
The Key Has Been Taken from Professor Rudge's Pocket. He Attacks Macrae.
He sat in the silence, thinking more or less coherently of this and that, his head nodding, heavy with sleep.
All at once he started up, wide awake, not knowing for the moment how, or in fact, why, he found himself thus suddenly upon his feet. He would have repudiated the suggestion that he had, even for a moment, lost consciousness. That is a thing on which it is so easy to be mistaken. It was now between three and four o'clock, and except for the starlight, still dark. For a second he stood tensely listening. Then came a sound, an unmistakable sound of some one in the signal-room.
His mind instantly turned to Hughes, as the only other person who had a key—but what could he be doing there now? Either he or his assistant, in one or the other of their little apartments, was supposed to be awake, lest the gong of the call-signal should be sounded from one of the communicating stations. But it certainly had not sounded.
The Professor stretched out his arm to take the key from his jacket pocket. He was delayed a moment by the fact that it had by some means come off the peg, and was lying on the floor. He found it and searched for the key. It was gone!
With one bound he was out into the lobby, with a second into the signal-room, the door of which was wide open, and reached the signaller's seat to find Macrae in it, with the headpiece above his head, just fitting the receiver over his ears.
To seize the headpiece with one hand, and to hurl the lank figure of the somnambulist sprawling headlong on the floor with the other, was the work of a moment. He found that his own knees were shaking under him, and the perspiration pouring from him. He sank down heavily into the seat he had so lately emptied.
Macrae lay for a second or two where he had fallen. Then he began to pull himself together, and finally rose and stood, lifting his hands to his head and looking round him with an air of fear and bewilderment. The little moan that escaped him instantly brought Professor Rudge to his assistance. He had already realized that in the excitement of the moment action had preceded judgment. He regretted the roughness he had displayed, telling himself that to have seized the headpiece would have been enough.
Macrae Is Awake. An Interview
By the time he reached Macrae's side, the latter, now thoroughly awake, said, "How did I come here? What is the meaning of this?"
The Professor noticed an air of rising nervous excitement about him. He decided to make as little of the affair as possible.
"You have been walking in your sleep, my lad," he said soothingly, "and the fall to the floor woke you rather suddenly. You were in here when I found you. There's no harm done, I hope. Did you ever walk in your sleep before?"
"Never, sir!"
"And how do you feel now?"
"My head seems completely dazed. I'll go back to bed. Perhaps I shall be better in the morning. I shall be glad to leave this dreadful island." He then added, "Why I ever wished to come to it is a mystery!"
The Professor again noticed a slight rising inflexion of excitement. He therefore took Macrae's arm and led him towards his room.
"To walk in your sleep is no very uncommon experience. It is the shock of the sudden awakening that upsets you. Lie still now and get to sleep again." The Professor remained with him for some time, still feeling rather conscience-stricken. "I might have killed him," he thought, and after all, it was my fault. After this I can never trust myself again."
While waiting until Macrae should drop off, he reflected on the powerful influence that had acted on him the second time that night, and, this second time, to take the key from where the waking Macrae had seen it placed. He shuddered as, finally, he rose to leave the room, noticing, as he did so, that dawn was beginning to break.
He decided to go at once back to the signal-room to redeem his promise, and to place, if possible, the affair in hands more competent than his own had proved. As he took the headpiece in his hands, again he experienced that uncomfortable shudder. Who would answer his call? Suppose—no! Refusing to follow that train of thought, and calling his courage to his aid, he placed the receivers. "Are you there?" he asked.
A Welcome Voice from Venus
The interval of waiting was not longer than usual, but it had never seemed so long. Then came the well-known, welcome voice, "I am here. What has happened?"
The Professor gave a full account of the night's experiences. Recounting them brought more vividly than anything else would have done, his own remissness. He remembered that he had, at a repeated special request, promised to report at once anything that proved Macrae to be under other influence, and, in his foolish feeling of security, he had not done so. As he related the events that proved he must have fallen asleep, he felt utterly unworthy of his responsibility. He was glad when the story was ended, including his unnecessary violence to the sleeper. He expected reproaches. He was prepared to take with humility anything that might be addressed to him. He waited. The interval was longer in reality this time than he had ever known it. Six minutes passed. Ten minutes. At last came the answer. There were no reproaches.
"Write a note to the officer in charge, requesting him not to disturb you for two hours in the signal-room. Place that outside the door, and then remain in the room, locking the door on the inside. Remain with the headpiece on until called."
The Professor did as he was ordered. He sat patiently awaiting his further instructions. At the end of a quarter of an hour a voice said, "Are you there, Professor?" He replied, and coloured when he found that no remark followed. Every quarter of an hour the question was repeated, and every time, in a tone that betrayed no resentment, the Professor replied, "I am here."
At about the seventh call, the voice further said: "We have called a council, as the matter is too serious for my sole decision. We have come to a conclusion, and I now ask you to place yourself in my hands entirely. I wish you to yield your will to mine, and to pass into the second, or unconscious, phase, and fear no harm. Rest forward on your arms and yield to my suggestion to sleep. I cannot succeed in spite of you, but earnestly request you to assist. Banish all questionings, and, as it becomes possible, all thoughts from your mind. Sleep."
The voice continued in quiet insistent monotone, urging sleep. At the first request Professor Rudge shrank back from the suggestion. He wanted to ask questions. He remained silent, however, while the voice continued. Finally he decided to acquiesce. He yielded to the request made him, put his head on his arms, and tried to think of nothing but the suggestion made him by the being under whose influence he already was. Very gradually consciousness faded entirely from him. An apparently sleeping figure rested on the signal-table.
CHAPTER XII
The Martian Triumphant
In telling Professor Rudge of the power of the Martians to force their spiritual possession on beings of less strength than themselves, the Venerian had mentioned that it was within their, the Venerians', power to effect this psychic exchange with the assent of the other being concerned. It was the overwhelming force of the Martian, enabling him to dispense with such assent, that gave him his terrible power for evil.
In the request and directions addressed by the Venerian to Professor Rudge at the signal-table, it was such an exchange that he intended.
That a foreign or outside spirit could possess or take possession of the personality of a human being was well kown to man long before the beginning of modern civilization, a fact of which there is abundant scriptural and other warrant. Such foreign intruder might either impose itself on, or cast out and replace, the spirit in rightful possession.
When the two hours had expired, Lieutenant Hughes went to see if there were any sign of Professor Rudge coming out. There was no special need of the room for official use, but Hughes was curious. He was also puzzled. The whole affair was a mystery.
The more he thought about it the more remarkable it seemed. A man of eminence, usefulness and known industry such as Professor Rudge would not be wasting his time at Station X without some very important object. Surely it was not for the purpose of spending a short time each day in conversation with another station. If that had been the only purpose of his visit, why was the engineer-operator brought? If, as it was natural to suppose, the letter had come for the purpose of making some change in the system of wiring, or in some other part of the apparatus, under the Professor's instruction, why was there no sign of it?
If there were a mystery, Hughes had no intention of trying to pry into it. He was anxious to do nothing to obstruct, but he asked himself why he was being kept so completely in the dark, even if he could not assist.
Such were the thoughts that occupied Lieutenant Hughes's mind as he waited for the door to be opened. It is probable that even then the problem would not have occupied a minute of that easy-going young man's thoughts, but for a short conversation that had just taken place with Jones, his assistant at the station. The man told of a sound he had heard in the signal-room the previous night, first a scuffle and then a moan; afterwards voices. He had put his ear to the wall and was prepared to swear they were the voices of the Professor and Macrae.
The Story of a Fight in the Operating Building
You must have been dreaming," said Hughes. What could they be doing there at that time? Had they a light?"
"There was no light from the window, sir; the place was in darkness."
"That's a queer story, Jones. Why did you not go and see about it?"
"Well, sir, I didn't care to go," replied Jones.
"Why not?" queried Lieutenant Hughes.
"I didn't care to interfere when I heard that scuffle in the dark. They do say there was a couple of men murdered here not long ago."
"There were two deaths here, certainly."
"I don't know if it's true, sir, but there's a yarn on the Sagitta that those two men killed each other."
"But we were talking about it last night," said Hughes.
"Well, sir, I didn't care to interfere when I heard that scuffle and groan," said Jones, with hesitation.
"Why?"
"Talking now, sir, in broad daylight, it sounds silly, but last night I remembered reading in tales about murder scenes being acted all over again and"
"That will do, Jones! I gave you credit for more sense."
"I am sure now that it was only the two I said. But I'll find out," said Jones.
"How?" inquired Hughes.
"While off duty I'll go down for a bit of fishing, and I'll ask Macrae to come with me. He seems to have nothing to do about this time. I'll lead round to the subject when I get a chance."
"There must be no cross-questioning!" warned Hughes.
"Oh, no, sir; if he seems unwilling; but I'll be able to see."
With that they separated. Lieutenant Hughes waited some time longer. As the hour approached for the daily exchange of signals, he decided to hint to the Professor that the time asked for had more than expired. Before knocking, he went over to a seat he often occupied, just outside the window, so placed that it commanded a view of the interior, and made the hearing of a signal call certain.
From here, he caught sight of the Professor standing in the middle of the room. He was regarding everything in turn minutely, the signalling apparatus, table, chairs, even the floor, walls and ceiling, as though he had never seen the place before. More remarkable still, he seemed to be even studying himself!
"Hang it all!" grumbled Hughes, "the Government service can't wait for this kind of thing;" and he went round to the door and knocked. Evidently the Professor had reached it at the same moment, for even as he knocked the key turned and the door opened. The Professor stood before him, and for a second it seemed to Hughes that he was being scrutinized in the same inquiring way; but if so, it was only momentarily.
Professor Rudge Under Martian Influence
On his part, Hughes now observed something unfamiliar in the manner of Professor Rudge. He noticed that the pupils of the eyes looking into his own were unusually dilated, and that their quiet, intense regard made him feel curiously uncomfortable. They seemed in some strange way to grasp and hold him, mentally and bodily, and he literally had to force himself to make the simple remark that he feared he must now take possession of the signal-room. He noticed that in replying the Professor seemed to fumble over his words, as a man might who is speaking in a tongue he knows, but has not used for years.
"I am sorry if I have remained in it too long," he said. "Can you tell me where Macrae is?"
"I think he has gone down to the beach with Jones, fishing," said Hughes. "Yes," he added, "there they are," pointing to two figures, half a mile distant, just disappearing over the edge of the cliff.
The professor thanked him, and as he caught his eye for a moment at parting, Hughes was again conscious of a queer sensation; involuntarily he shivered. Whatever else was in that quiet but penetrating look, it conveyed to him the uncomfortable impression that not only were his words heard, but his inmost thoughts read.
Hughes went to the signal-table to give the call, and the Professor moved from the door, allowing his eye to wander over the island, as he slowly walked over its jagged, rocky surface. The intense blueness of the sky above seemed to claim his admiration. He presently increased his pace, and walked off toward the point of the cliff where the two men had disappeared.
Having exchanged signals, and learned that there was nothing further required, Hughes came out of the room, and, taking a book, sat on his accustomed seat so as to be within hearing of the signal call during the time that he was on duty. Soon he began to doze.
The two figures that Hughes had seen disappearing in the distance, and which he had informed Professor Rudge were Jones and Macrae, were in fact Jones and the attendant. Not having recovered from his shaking-up of the night before, Macrae had felt no inclination to join Jones in his sport, preferring to rest quietly on his bed, where he almost at once dropped off to sleep.
Presently he rose, evidently not fully awake, and walked past the sleeping Hughes. Quietly and slowly he entered the signal-room and made direct for the instrument.
Lieut. Hughes Controlled by Martian Hypnotic Influence
When the supposed Professor Rudge came to the cliff edge, and looked down on the sea and beach, he saw no one. It was evident the two men had walked round on the shingles, one way or the other. As either way would almost immediately take them out of sight round the curving cliff, the question was, which way. As, in the absence of footmarks there was nothing to guide him, the Professor promptly turned to the right, but first glanced over the island, as if to make sure neither of them was returning to the station.
He moved much more rapidly now, as if already dissatisfied with the position, and having gone some little way, and seeing no sign of those he sought, he turned, not to retrace his steps but to ascend the cliff quickly at the place he then was, and again looked over the island. He was evidently determined that neither should return to the station without his knowledge. Seeing no one, he walked quickly across, without again descending, to a point as far on the other side of the place of his descent, and, looking over the cliff, at once saw the two young fellows. He called to Macrae.
Hearing the call Jones looked up, saw the Professor, and supposing he must be short-sighted answered, "Mr. Macrae is not with us, sir. We left him at the station."
The figure above instantly disappeared, and if Jones could have seen over the cliff edge, he would have been astonished to see the burly figure of the Professor making a pace for the station-house that he would not have given him credit for. Before the latter quite gained it, he saw through the open door of the signal-room something that seemed further to lend him wings—some one sitting at the signal-table, while Hughes was sitting outside.
Lieutenant Hughes glanced up from his book at the sound of rapid footsteps, saw the hurrying figure coming quickly toward him. The peculiar something he had before noticed in the eyes again fixed on him was no longer a mere suggestion, that left him uncertain if it were real or imaginary; it blazed forth. He literally shrank upon his chair as the other passed, and at the words addressed to him: "Sit where you are! Be powerless to rise until I give you permission!"
At the sound of the words, at that terrible glance, all power and volition seemed to ooze from him. He found he could not even will to get up from his seat.
The other had already entered the signal-room. He crossed the room toward the signaller's chair. Macrae was removing the headpiece. At the sight the Professor paused, while Macrae rose from his chair as he put down the headpiece, and swinging round, in contrast to Macrae's usual manner, with a quick lithe movement instinct with energy.
"Come here," he said, indicating the chair from which he had just risen, and speaking in a ringing level tone of assured command.
The figure before him did not move. He looked up. Their eyes met.
A Violent Contest Between the»Opposing Powers—Hughes and Macrae
On the instant of the Martian's recognizing his unexpected enemy, and that a physical contest alone could decide the mastery, his plan was laid. It was to wear down his opponent in a fight, neutralizing his greatly superior strength in one continuous struggle while he was already short of breath through running, and playing for all they were worth the points in his own favour, youth and agility.
He sprang forward, but was promptly knocked down. Scarcely seeming to touch the ground, with panther-like elasticity, he was up again and attacking. There was no pause or respite in the ferocious struggle that followed. It was a fight to kill.
To and fro the bodies swayed. Chairs and whatever happened in the way were hurled aside and smashed. The bungalow shook with the impacts of the two bodies.
The Venerian saw his enemy's plan and its danger. He regretted too late his race back from the cliff in such haste. His endeavour to save the situation threatened now to be the means of his undoing. He tried to use his superior physique to smash his opponent once for all while some breath remained. But that opponent seemed on all sides of him at once. He was like the spirit of a Fury in a body of steel wire.
Locked in a momentary hold, they hurtled through the doorway, past the terrified Hughes, and the fight was continued in the open. The Martian knew that he now fought in view of other witnesses, his kin, far off across the void. He fought as a protagonist, not for himself alone, but for all his race, whose existence also depended on the strength of his single arm. The knowledge added to an energy already super-human.
With eyes bulging, Hughes, powerless to intervene, watched the contest. It was the most frenzied duel that had ever been. He felt almost physically sick at the sight of a fight where there were neither rules nor respite.
Blows were fast and furious.
The Venerian's hope of a quick decision faded. Gasping and sobbing for breath, he felt the end was near. The indomitable invading spirit that had seized Macrae's body was driving it to victory, but not without paying the price—a price that would have lain Macrae himself helpless in the dust.
Macrae Wins
In the end his science won, his superior knowledge of the human frame, how obtained who knows? He got in a blow on the solar plexus, evidently knowing the exact spot of that ganglion, and man’s champion was down, his fight lost.
The Martian knelt over his prostrate opponent, and, whispering something to him while still in his agony, forced his will at last.
Presently the two rose together, physically and psychically the conquerer and the conquered. The Venerian was taken to the wireless operator's chair, and he put on the receivers.
To Hughes the mystery of it was insoluble. For some minutes he watched the form of the Professor and noted how it bore itself erect and with an indescribable, and in the circumstances wonderful, calm and dignity even in defeat.
He looked at the dark inscrutable features of him standing over the chair like a tall sinister spirit of evil, and for a moment caught a flash from those eyes. Then the scene quivered and faded before Hughes. Sagging sideways in his seat, he fainted.
A minute later the figure in the operator's chair also wilted, seeming about to fall, then pulling himself together somewhat, sat up, but limply now.
Professor Rudge put up trembling hands to remove the headpiece. He found himself in the operator's chair at Station X. He staggered to his feet and, turning round; looked into the eyes of the Martian.
CHAPTER XIII
The "Sagitta" Arrives
For one awful moment victory and despair gazed at each other.
The aura of the Martian was rendering his victim powerless to oppose his will.
He motioned the Professor to re-seat himself at the instrument. He assisted to put the receivers on the head of the dazed and horror-struck man. While doing so his hand faltered and he staggered.
At the same moment the Professor felt as though a weight had been suddenly lifted from his mind, as though a spring that had been pressing his will into subservience to another had suddenly snapped.
He looked up. The Martian's face was deathly white. He tottered. In another moment he collapsed on the floor. The spirit might be dauntless, but the human body it had invaded, and by which alone it could act on the material plane, had for the moment given way under its late ordeal and present burden and fainted.
The Professor rose from his chair and for a moment stood motionless. Then, realizing what had happened, hope once more re-asserted itself.
"Hughes," he shouted, "come and help me bind this—er—madman, before he recovers!"
Hughes jumped up with alacrity, relieved to find himself free from the inexplicable influence that had bound him. He ran for cord, and in a few seconds returned. The sailor and the scientist made a very thorough and complete job, that looked as if it could safely be trusted to defy any efforts on the part of the Martian to free himself. They then carried him into Macrae's room, and deposited him on the floor.
"I'll wait here until he comes to," said the Professor. "No doubt you wish to make your report of what has happened."
As soon as Hughes had left the room, Professor Rudge proceeded to gag the Martian as effectually as he had bound him, He had not made up his mind how much to tell Hughes of the real state of affairs. He wanted a quiet moment to think.
He waited until there were signs of returning consciousness. They were to be felt as well as seen. He then hastily withdrew, locking the door behind him.
He passed into the signal-room and listened to the report Hughes was making to the Admiralty. He made no attempt to interrupt or suggest in any way. He wished it to be Hughes' report, made from the view point of his present knowledge.
While giving half his attention to the report, Professor Rudge was debating with himself how much or little of the true position he should tellHughes. Finally he decided to tell him all.
A Wireless Report to the Admiralty in London. Rudge Out of Martian Influence
When Hughes had finished sending his message, the Professor told him he had something to say. He began at the beginning, with Macrae's first coming to the island and all that had, step by step, followed.
Professor Rudge was prepared for surprise from Hughes, even for his look of incredulity. As he proceeded he saw the surprise heighten and the incredulity disappear.
When he had finished, it was with great satisfaction that the Professor heard Hughes' assurance that he would stand by him in any course he might have to adopt, even the most drastic.
Even the most drastic—for that was the way his thoughts were tending.
"And now, Hughes," Rudge said, "the question of all others is—what are we to do next?"
Hughes was silent, not venturing to make a suggestion.
"I thought it best," said Professor Rudge, "to let you make your report before explaining matters. It had to be made, and for you to have entered on the actual facts as now known to you would have been useless and undesirable. The knowledge would have hampered you."
"Most certainly it would," said Hughes.
"If it has to be gone into now," said Professor Rudge, "it must be by me. The question whether to do so or not is worrying me."
"Had I known all I know now," said Hughes, "I don't know how I should have been able to make a report at all!"
"I feel that time should not be lost," said the Professor. "I know what I consider ought to be done, but as it entails what the courts would call murder, I hesitate to assume the responsibility, especially as the Sagitta is due."
"It's a good thing that Captain Evered knows so much about it," said Hughes. “He will be the better prepared for what has happened now."
"I wish he were here," said Professor Rudge. "I used to think, with the Venerian's warning ringing in my ears, that once I knew the form of danger that threatened, then my anxieties would be relieved. I never anticipated a situation like this."
"At all events we've got him trussed like a turkey," said Hughes. "We're safe for the present."
Professor Rudge's anxiety was not lightened by these words. A live Martian and safety were ideas that did not easily assimilate in the Professor's mind.
"I only hope to heaven," he said, "that Captain Evered will listen to me when he does come, and will kill that fiend."
"He'll be sure to make his report first," said Hughes, with conviction.
"By heaven, Hughes, you are right!" cried the Professor. "If he goes first to the signal-room, we are done for. That decides me. I'll take the bull by the horns and make my own report now, if I can get the First Lord at the other end. He is already half prepared for what I have to tell him."
Should Macrae Be Killed
He asked Hughes to call up the Admiralty and say that Professor Rudge at Station X wished to speak at once to Mr. Mansfield, the First Lord of the Admiralty.
Although the call came two hours before his usual hour for rising, in one hour Hughes was able to report that Mr. Mansfield was waiting to hear Professor Rudge's communication.
Rudge had passed this hour, during which darkness had descended on Station X, with a restlessness he could not restrain. He went more than once to the door of Macrae's room and listened, but there was no sound from within. Thinking this absolute silence might be only while he was listening, he walked away and, after an interval, returned to the door noiselessly. Still profound silence.
Was the Martian dead?
The Professor was not troubling himself about whether or no he had killed the Martian. The question with him was, what was he doing if alive? Not for a moment did he believe his prisoner dead. But, although bound quite securely, some movement on the floor was possible, if he were struggling to be free and, although gagged, an inarticulate moan could be emitted. But there was not a sound.
The Professor once put his hand in his pocket for the key. The action recalled the occasion when another hand had taken a key from that pocket. The memory caused him to desist.
He went and stood at the star-lit entrance of the station-house. He recalled the words of the Venerian: "You are not nearly sufficiently in earnest, Professor Rudge." Would he say the same thing now, was the uncomfortable thought. Perhaps!
If the Venerian were speaking to him now, Rudge knew in his heart what the advice would be. He could in imagination almost hear the Venetian's stern words: "Kill, kill!"
After a time some impulse prompted him to return and use that key. Some impulse, for he had no clearly defined object in going to the room where the Martian lay.
When Macrae's hand had taken a key from that pocket it had been a moment of crisis indeed; perhaps not greater than this one in its possibilities. The hand was different, but the directing mind was the same. On the first occasion it had acted from afar; now it was perilously near.
A few seconds later Professor Rudge was again at the entrance to the signal-room, with white face, seeking the company of Hughes. At that moment the message came through that the First Lord was at the instrument.
The Professor assumed the headpiece. He gave a detailed account of all that had happened at Station X from the time of his arrival down to the time of speaking. He reminded Mr. Mansfield of their conversation in London, when he had requested permission to come with Macrae to the station, and made sure that the account he then gave of his interviews with Macrae, resulting in his complete assurance of the latter's bona fides, was clearly remembered by Mr. Mansfield. He found that the contents of Macrae's diary, and the evidence he had given before his examiners at the Admiralty, was better remembered than he had expected by the First Lord.
Professor Rudge was satisfied so far, and with the fact that Mr. Mansfield seemed a good deal startled at the assertion that a Martian was now at Station X, a being with powers of unknown extent, but certainly vastly superhuman. He answered a great many questions, and ultimately himself asked the plain question, if Mr. Mansfield himself accepted the fact of the Venerian communication and his, Rudge's, evidence as to the present position.
How the Admiralty Took the Message
The answer was disappointingly non-committal, and some further conversation that ensued left Professor Rudge with the conviction that it would be worse than useless to ask authority for Captain Evered to hold an inquiry with plenary powers for the Martian's execution, should the evidence satisfy him of its necessity. Better make his appeal to Captain Evered with the question open than meet with a direct refusal binding Evered's hands.
Professor Rudge left the instrument depressed with the feeling that he had done very little if any good, for the ultimate decision had been that Captain Evered's confirmation and advice must now be awaited. The real purpose of his going first to the instrument had not been accomplished.
Mansfield was interested in what he had just heard, and in the whole "Macrae affair," as he called it, and curious as to the dénouement. He had sufficient knowledge to see that the alleged communication contradicted no law of science. Knowing that the etheric waves on which wireless depended would travel from the centre of propagation throughout space indefinitely, he realized that the reception of a radio message from a neighboring planet was a mere question of the competence of the receiver to detect it. As to its having been done in this instance, he wished to keep an open mind.
This attitude was to Professor Rudge as useless as would have been entire incredulity. Those who were not with him were against him. The Martian peril had not sufficiently impressed Mr. Mansfield to make him see the need for instant action. He lacked the penetration of mind required. Sitting amid his comfortable surroundings in London, he was incapable of realizing that an event now happening on a remote islet of the Pacific could constitute a menace to the whole world.
This attitude did not prevent him from speculating as to Captain Evered's account of affairs when he arrived. Knowing that, accident apart, this must be within a very few hours, he gave instructions before leaving the Admiralty radio room that he was to be called so soon as Captain Evered's arrival at Station X was reported.
As the day passed and he received no call, his curiosity deepened into concern. By evening he felt the necessity of seeking further information, and returned to make inquiries of Station X as to the Sagitta's whereabouts. He knew that the vessel, whether delayed or not, must for the last twenty-four hours have been within radio signalling distance of the island.
He gave instructions for Station X to be called up. After the space of a quarter of an hour he was informed that there was no reply.
Meanwhile, at Station X, as the night wore on, neither Professor Rudge nor Hughes could rest. Sometimes they talked together in the signal-room; at others, singly or together, they paced up and down under the stars. Never had hours passed so slowly, so anxiously, as those preceding the arrival of the Sagitta.
They were walking to and fro together outside, when the Professor said, "I think perhaps we are better and safer outside. The place may not be healthy for us."
"Not healthy! What do you mean, sir?" said Hughes.
By way of reply, Professor Rudge began to speak on auras, emanations of telepathic nature and kindred subjects where Hughes could follow him only with difficulty.
The "Sagitta" Is at Anchor Off the Island
By way of showing you that the things I speak of are not only real, but of practical importance for us to remember, I will tell you of something I foolishly did while waiting for you to get through to Mr. Mansfield. I had been thinking on what the Venerian would do if in my place. I went to look at our bound enemy. I have little doubt now where the thought emanated from. I unlocked the door and went in. By the starlight I could see the figure on the floor. Suddenly an influence assailed me, attacking my power of will and resistance to impulse.
In an instant I realized where this must come from, and its import. Only just in time I managed to get outside, beyond its range apparently. Now listen! This was the thing, the thought, if thought it can be called, that assailed me, in which my own volition in another moment would have been submerged—if I had remained I should have unbound the Martian."
Hughes gasped. This was uncanny beyond his weirdest dreams.
They were still speaking of it as they paced to and fro before the station-house, when the signal bell rang. It was the Sagitta.
According to the instructions he had received, Hughes at once proceeded to report the late occurrences on the island. Professor Rudge then added considerably to the official statement, so that by the time the Sagitta was near the island, Captain Evered knew everything.
When the cruiser had anchored, Captain Evered sent a boat and radioed that Professor Rudge and Hughes should come on board, with Jones and the attendant.
They at once left the signal-room, and Hughes gave the necessary orders.
As they were passing Macrae's door their attention was caught by sounds from within as of someone tumbling violently about the room.
Both had been convinced that no man living could free himself bound as they had left the Martian. But as they now exchanged a startled glance, the same thought struck both—the Martian was partially unbound!
They stood as though paralyzed. Crash! The body was precipitated violently against the door at which they were standing. Panic seized them, and they ran for the cliff, calling loudly for Jones and the attendant to follow them. Suddenly Professor Rudge stopped, and darted back to the signal-room. What he went to do was soon done, and he was out again, running after Hughes.
When half the distance to the boat had been covered the Professor looked over his shoulder. No one was visible, not even the other two men. Unaware of the urgency of the call, they had not obeyed it with alacrity.
A few minutes later the Professor was tumbling into the boat, and the order was given to shove off. When near the Sagitta, a searchlight was thrown in their direction. It illuminated their track and the point of the shore from which they had started.
A figure was plainly visible under its beam, standing on the cliff, watching them.
The professor gave one glance. It was the Martian—free.
CHAPTER XIV
Captain Evered's Decision
When Professor Rudge reached the Sagitta's deck he found Captain Evered eagerly awaiting him.
The Professor knew that to convince Captain Evered of the full meaning of what had happened was of the greatest importance. Adequate precautions and prompt action were vital.
It was significant that, when the searchlight showed up the figure of the Martian standing on the cliff, he gave orders that, as soon as the boat was hoisted on board, the Sagitta should stand off from the island.
But the sight of that unbound figure had also suggested to him a flaw in the account he had received. Captain Evered decided to hear the report of Lieutenant Hughes first. He listened attentively and asked many questions as to the life and mutual harmony, or otherwise, between Professor Rudge and Macrae while at the station.
He satisfied himself that there was nothing there that could in any way account for the conflict that had taken place. He then sent and asked Professor Rudge and Dr. Anderson to join them.
"I am very sorry, Professor Rudge," he said, "for the way you have been served, but glad that you bear your injuries with so little concern."
"My dear Evered," said the Professor, "I have no time to think about them, no thought for anything so trivial in view of the urgency of the matter before us."
"What's to be done?" asked Captain Evered. "I have heard all Hughes can tell me."
"You accept, then," said the Professor, "my account in general of what has happened, and of where we now stand?"
"It would never occur to me," said Captain Evered, "to doubt your sincerity or competence to judge of this matter better than any man alive."
"It is a great relief," said Professor Rudge, "to know that you are with me."
"It was because I was certain of you that I first had the matter brought to your notice. At first I set it all down as a delusion of Macrae's; but Anderson converted me. Are you convinced that it is within the power of these beings to force themselves on human beings and act for their destruction?"
"I can speak from experience," said the Professor, "that, with mutual consent, this is within the power of the Venerians. There is now, alas! proof that the Martians can effect this transference without any such consent of their victim."
Telling the Captain of the "Sagitta" the Story
"You mean that it has happened in Macrae's case, and that his body is now animated by a Martian spirit?"
"Undoubtedly," said the Professor.
"Why," asked the Captain, "have they not made us all their victims?"
"Because," said the Professor, "the first part of the procedure appears to be something in the nature of hypnotism. To establish the necessary rapport, some channel of communication with the victim must exist. In the case of these powerful beings, the sound of their voice even on the telephone, wireless or otherwise, is sufficient."
"Still," said Captain Evered, "I do not understand"
"I see your point," said the Professor. "Our security is this. In the normal state, our sense of hearing is not acute enough to enable their voice to reach us. It is rendered so only in the abnormal state of receptivity set up by previous rapport existing between the speaker and listener."
"And this rapport was established between the Martian and Macrae"
"In some way," said the Professor, "through the Venerian, even to his surprise. The explanation of that lies far outside our present knowledge of the subject. While the method is a mystery, we have this isolated instance to prove that one mind can be made a sort of stepping-stone between two others, at least when one of them is a Martian."
"You consider, then," said Captain Evered, "that this difficulty of initial communication, which appears to be our only safeguard, is in consequence of the inter-planetary distance only."
"No doubt," was the reply.
"You maintain," said Captain Evered, "that at this moment there is a Martian within two or three miles of us, and in command of the greatest radio station existing?"
"I am glad," said Professor Rudge, "that you have seen this. It is convincing proof that you appreciate our peril. If the Martian were in absolute control of the Station X installation we should not now be sitting here. After Hughes and I had already started to make a bolt thither, it flashed across my mind that running would be useless, so I rushed back to the signal-room and detached the vacuum tubes from both instruments—and there they are!"
Disabling the Sending Set
The Professor produced from his pocket the two vacuum tubes and put them on the table.
"They are," he added, "at once indispensable and irreplaceable from any material on the island."
Captain Evered looked at Rudge with frank admiration. Then after a pause he said, "I am not going to attempt any communication with Station X; we'll leave it alone. I hope to God its present occupant will leave us alone."
"I think he'll have to," said Professor Rudge.
"Well, as to that I rely on you," said Captain Evered.
"You remember, Professor Rudge," said Dr. Anderson, "what the Venerian said—that the Martian's performance always surpasses anticipation."
"Yes," said the Professor gravely; "there is no knowing what the Martian may be able to do in the way of replacing the lost tubes. His chemistry may be capable of transmuting the elements."
"Suppose," said Anderson, "our wireless operator received a call from Station X."
Captain Evered looked swiftly from Anderson to Professor Rudge.
"Just now," said the Professor to Captain Evered, "you referred to taking measures for the Martian's extermination. Would you take those measures now?"
"Would you advise a landing party?" asked Captain Evered.
"No," said the Professor, "the risk is too great. The Venerian warned me that compared with the Martians we are as children. Further, there is this that we have to reckon with. There are three men on the island, and any one of these may now be the Martian."
The Professor's words seemed to bring vividly to his hearers' minds the tremendous power and subtlety of the enemy.
"But," continued the Professor, "you have good guns on board." He looked at Captain Evered.
"They would scarcely do our business so far as the Martian is concerned," was the reply. "One of the reasons why this island was chosen is that owing to its contour, nothing but the surrounding cliff is visible from the sea. Perhaps if we had an observation balloon—but we haven't. Is that your solution, Professor?"
"The guns, yes," was the reply. "Suppose the Martian can replace the missing tubes. Our only hope is to blow the whole installation to atoms!"
The suggestion seemed rather to stagger the two men. For a few seconds Captain Evered looked at Professor Rudge without speaking, evidently revolving the idea in his mind.
"Well," he said at length, "so far as I am concerned, I have crossed the Rubicon. They say one may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Having taken the responsibility of acting without official authority, the only logical course is to follow whereever it leads." After a full minute's silence, he added: "And I'll do it!"
He then left the cabin. When he had gone Rudge heaved an immense sigh of relief.
Danger Still Imminent
"I think, Anderson," he said, "the world has you to thank for Captain Evered's present attitude. It is due to your having taken advantage of your opportunities that we have not now to convince him of the danger."
"I hope he’ll act on your suggestion," said Anderson. "It would be a great relief. I don't feel a bit safe."
"As to the Martian repairing the damage?"
"Yes."
"I should be the last," said Rudge, "to underrate his powers, but without vacuum tubes, and I have taken all, there can be no radio. This is no ordinary installation. Its efficacy consists in the balance of two elements in the vacuum tubes of mutually opposing force, mercury and arsenic. These and tantalum for the detector tube are absolutely indispensable for this instrument, which, by the way, is my own invention. Neither of the three elements exists on the island; so that unless he can create them by transmutation overnight, he is powerless."
"Yes," said Anderson again, but his tone did not indicate any great conviction.
So soon as the light of dawn was sufficient, the Sagitta took up a position off the island to enable her to shell the signal-house and installation generally. When her 6-inch guns had done speaking, nothing but the ruin could have remained of the installation of Station X.
While Captain Evened had been watching the working of the guns he was himself under the observation of Anderson, who was standing on the cruiser's deck in company with Professor Rudge.
The doctor could read his superior's face like a book, and note the signs, slight as they were, of the mental disturbance that the business in hand caused him.
Presently Anderson said to his companion:
"The way the chief has risen to the occasion is splendid. Only one who knows him as well as I do can realize the wrench it must be. He knows it must mean court-martial."
"In all probability," said Professor Rudge, "he will never be called to account for it at all."
"Why not?" asked Anderson.
"Because if the world escapes the fate that threatens, it will be because it accepts our reports and evidence and takes the necessary measures before it's too late. If it does not escape—and I am much afraid that is after all the most probable outcome—then there's an end to all of us."
"Do you really think that the chances are against us?"
"I am afraid they are," was the grave reply; "but we have certainly a fighting chance yet."
"I'm rather surprised at your view," said the doctor. "Last night it was I who was most afraid of him."
"Your fears," said the Professor, "were of what he might do on the material plane. You thought he might reinstate wireless overnight. I did not think so. There are impossibilities even to a Martian. We know the few material elements he has, and that nothing short of transmutation would give him what he requires. This reaction is beyond man's power with all the means we can command. I did not think that even he could do it overnight in the circumstances."
"You are right," said Anderson. "To succeed under such limitations is inconceivable."
"You have, however, left out the principal limitation," remarked the Professor.
"What? The principal limitation?" queried the doctor.
Discussing the Contest to Be Waged with Macrae, Now a Martian
"Time! If he does succeed, it will be through too much time being given him. All depends on our being able to convince our fellow men of the danger that threatens before it is too late. But it is on the psychic plane I fear him most. If he can attack again there, he wins. We are powerless to hit back. We have only escaped so far by a succession of miracles.”
"We have certainly had wonderful luck," said Anderson.
"Yet mark this," said the Professor, "although missing his aim every time through some narrow chance, he has on each occasion gained something. First when Macrae was in rapport and conversation with the Venerian, he reached out in that incomprehensible way and almost grasped his victim. Although thrown off, he implanted an order that served its purpose later. Secondly, when he actually seized Macrae, only to meet the Venerian, he, by doing the apparently impossible, came face to face with me. Here again, although he just missed success through physical collapse, he progressed. He has gained the island, and it is we who are turned out. He has at last a pied-à-terre where he will be difficult to deal with. One more such failure, and our ruin will be certain."
A few minutes after the noise of the guns had ceased, Captain Evered went below without giving the expected sailing orders. Almost immediately word was brought to Professor Rudge that he was wanted in the Captain's cabin.
As he entered, Captain Evered said, "I have done what I have done because I believe the circumstances required it. I do not profess that it has been easy. If I had had to do with an enemy more—what shall I call it?—more obvious, and got back shot for shot, I should be quite content. But this is different."
"I congratulate you on having done a finer thing," said Professor Rudge. "You have risked everything for what you felt to be your duty. If we succeed against our terrible enemy, humanity will owe its escape and thanks to you."
"At all events," said Captain Evered, "one step outside precedent appears to call for another. I want your approval of what I now propose. Having done what will be certain to end in a court-martial, I want to make for the nearest point where I can report. Is there any objection to this?"
"I thought of it last night," said the Professor, "while we were waiting for daylight. I knew what
your wish would be. I want you to stay here."
"My action," said Captain Evered, "has been largely owing to my faith in you. I don't see what more I can do here at present, but in an affair of this kind I recognize you are the best judge."
"I have reasoned it this way," said Professor Rudge. "As soon as they find at the Admiralty that Station X is for some unknown reason cut off, and there is no news of the Sagitta, they will send a cruiser, the nearest available, to investigate; that is to say, straight to Station X. If she gets here, all that has been done has been done in vain."
"By the Lord Harry, yes!" said Captain Evered. "But do you see where that leads to?"
"It leads to the necessity of our taking counter measures," said Rudge.
"In other words," said Captain Evered, "to await that boat's arrival and prevent her, if possible, by physical force if necessary, from carrying out her mission. The height of mutiny!"
Professor Rudge hesitated before replying. He thought he detected a suggestion of hesitation in Captain Evered's tone. He confessed to himself that it would be a terrible position for him. He therefore decided to avoid if possible following that line of thought. For his own part, he knew it would be a thousand times justified to sink the whole navy if only by that means mastery was to be gained over this deadly enemy. He could not for a moment forget that the fate of the whole world was in the balance.
"If we meet the vessel a considerable distance from the island we may be able to dissuade her commander from communicating with the station. That gives us at least a chance which leaving now would lose us. We cannot afford to lose any chances, Evered! As to what to do if the commander is not amenable to reason, we shall have a further opportunity of discussing it. We need not decide for the moment."
"Very well," said Captain Evered, at length, "So be it!"
Professor Rudge heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" he muttered.
(To be concluded in the September issue).
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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