him.
Marion stood quite silent, her fingers blindly shredding her handkerchief to rags.
The Terra rose smoothly, swiftly mounted straight up. Smaller and smaller it grew, a glittering nugget of gold against the blue sky. Then it was merely a speck—and it was gone.
Marion turned and walked slowly back to the car. Her lips were bravely scarlet, yet they quivered against the pallor of her face.
Court sat before the control panel, peering ahead through a porthole.
'Wonder what effect radiation in space will have?' he murmured. 'It's leaded polaroid glass, of course, but the other ship had no portholes at all. They probably used some sort of televisor equipment that's beyond our contemporary science.'
He could see nothing but the blue of the sky. It grew darker, shading to a deep purple. Faint stars began to twinkle, until countless points of light were glittering frostily.
'Sinus, Jupiter, Mars.' Court sighed.
With the secret of space travel mastered, man could reach all the planets. With sufficient power, the interstellar gulfs might even be bridged. But how long would man continue to exist on Earth?
Hours merged into an unending monotony of watchful, weary vigilance. The Terra plunged on, gathering speed.
'Meteors might be a menace,' Court mused, 'unless the magnetic field deflects them. But that would work only on ferrous bodies. Still, nothing's happened so far.' He changed his course slightly. 'I'm doubtful about that space-armor. Spatial conditions can't be duplicated on Earth. Well, I've taken other precautions.'
He had had the door made to fit exactly the port that had been telescopically visible on the golden ship.
A queer excitement grew stronger within Court as he neared his destination. He could not keep away from the transparent ports, for he was desperately anxious to see the golden ship. Some subtle instinct told him that the rendezvous might even be more important than he had realized.
How long had the space ship maintained its orbit beyond the atmosphere? Whence had it come? What strange secrets might it hold?
When Court found that his fingers were trembling slightly on the controls, he grimly repressed his nervousness. But he could not help wondering. Centuries—eons, perhaps—might have passed while the golden vessel circled the planet And now Stephen Court, man of Earth, was questing out to what destiny? He did not know, but some premonition of the incredible future must have come to him, for he shuddered.
'Somebody's walked over my grave,' he muttered, with a sardonic smile at the whimsy. 'Well, it won't be long now.'
Again he turned to the port, and his breath caught in his throat.
The golden ship hung there, a mysterious, gleaming cylinder against the star-bright background of black space. Swiftly it grew larger.
As Court decelerated, his face was curiously pale. The Terra was easy to handle. He deftly pulled it alongside the other craft.
Hull scraped against alloyed hull, till finally the two ports were flush together. Court threw a lever and hastily spun a wheel. He was breathing unevenly, and his eyes were glowing with excitement.
The ships were held firmly together by an airtight rubberoid ring.
He rose, donned a gas-mask, and picked up a revolver. Then he went to the port and gingerly swung it open. The air remained in the ship.
Facing him was a surface of yellow metal, a scarcely visible crack showing that it was an oval door. Court pushed, but it did not yield. A blow torch might cut it, and certainly acids would bite through. But Court did not resort to these immediately. He fumbled with a powerful electromagnet and worked unavailingly for a time.
At last, in desperation, he used acids to eat a small hole through the outer hull. The air that rushed out was thin and dead, but far from poisonous. Grunting, Court reached through the gap and managed to open the port.
What he expected, he did not know. His nerves were strung to wire-edge, unbearably tense, now that he was face to face with the solution of the mystery. The port opened, and for a moment Court was weak with reaction.
He saw nothing but a short corridor, about six feet long, featureless and vacant. Naturally there would be an airlock, for safety's sake. He should have expected one. At the farther end was another door, but this one had a lever set in it.
Court walked forward and moved the lever slightly. The port swung open. Air gusted from the Terra to the golden ship. He stepped across the threshold and halted, staring around.
He was in a good-sized room, apparently only one of several in this huge vessel. Open doorways gaped in the walls. The chamber was bare, with nothing but a few couches.
But on the couches lay human beings!
A gigantic gargoyle-faced man was naked, save for a clout, his bronzed body glistening in the dim illumination that came from no discernible source. Another man, Oriental, fat as a Buddha, sprawled untidily on a pile of cushions. On the floor beside him lay a lute with one broken string. And there was a girl…
An elfin creature with ivory skin, her lips curved into a tender smile, she slept with her golden hair partially veiling her face.
On the floor near a doorway lay another figure, face down. Court crossed to it and turned it over. He stared at a slight form and chiseled, patrician features. That face had some vague yet unmistakable touch of the alien visitor to Earth.
Something caught Court's eye beyond the threshold of the next room. A huge body sprawled there, one hand outstretched toward an instrument panel.
Court strode toward it.
He halted, realizing that he was in a laboratory—but no Earthly one! He blinked in astonishment at sight of the apparatus surrounding him. Then, forcing down his curiosity, he knelt beside the prone figure and turned it on its back.
The man's face was handsome in an arrogantly ferocious way, though a black spade-beard jutted from his pugnacious chin. The giant lay motionless, and Court saw that no breath lifted the hairy barrel chest. Nevertheless he made careful tests, only to realize that the man was pulseless, apparently dead.
For some reason, Court was not convinced. Could corpses remain in such a perfect state of preservation? Was there not such a thing as catalepsy? He returned to the others, and found that they were equally lifeless, equally well preserved.
There was the long chance of a wild hunch. Court returned to his own ship and came back with heating pads and stimulants. He paused to consider.
Which one should he attempt to revive first? The girl? The Chinese? Why not the bearded man? His presence in the laboratory—the heart of the ship—indicated that he was probably a scientist.
With a grunt of decision, Court went to the prostrate giant and put down his burden.
Warmth must come first. The heating pads were arranged in armpits and thighs.
He followed them with adrenalin, with brandy, artificial respiration.
Court placed his hands in the proper position and forced air from the giant's lungs. Then back, and down again. Down, and up…
With a surge and a rush, the man came back to life. He flung Court off with a swift gesture and sprang up. His hand closed on the switch he had been striving for.
But he halted and whirled, his yellow cat's-eyes glowering at the smaller man.
He said something Court did not understand.
Rising to his feet, Court kept one hand on his gun as he watched the giant warily.
Abruptly the blackbeard strode past Court and into the next room. When he returned, he was grinning. He stopped at the door and stood with arms akimbo. After a moment he spoke slowly in Latin.
It was a language that Court, being a scientist, had studied with some thoroughness.
'I come from Earth,' he explained. 'The third planet of this Sun. I mean no harm. I awoke you—'
The other nodded. 'I am Thordred. But there is no time to talk now. Tell me, swiftly as you can, how you found us.'
