“They can convert energy into matter, you see. It’s logical, when you forget about hidebound science. All matter’s made up of energy. It’s simply locked in certain patterns—certain matrixes. But inside the atom—the framework of matter—you’ve got nothing but energy. These crystals build patterns out of basic energy.”
Arnsen shook his head. “I don’t see it.”
O’Brien’s voice grew deeper, stronger. “Long ago—very long ago, and in another galaxy, light-years away, there was a civilization far beyond ours. Deirdre is a child of that race. It was—mighty. It passed through our culture-level and went far beyond. Till machines were no longer needed. Instead, the race made the crystals—super-machines, super-robots, with incredible powers locked in them. They supplied all the needs of Deirdre’s race.”
“Well?”
“This asteroid doesn’t belong to our family of planets. It’s from that other system, in the neighboring galaxy. It drifted here by accident, I think. I don’t quite know the facts of it. It came under the gravitational pull of a comet, or a wandering planet, and was yanked out into space. Eventually it settled into this orbit. Deirdre didn’t care. Her mind isn’t like ours. The crystals supplied all her needs—made air, gave her food and water. Everything she desired.”
Arnsen said, “How long has this been going on?”
“Forever, perhaps,” O’Brien said quietly. “I think Deirdre’s immortal. At least she is a goddess. Do you remember the crystal I found in that meteorite?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“It came from here. It was one of Deirdre’s servants. Somehow it was lost—wandered away. Cosmic dust collected on it as it moved in an orbit around the sun—for thousands of years, perhaps. Iron atoms. At last it was a meteorite, with the crystal at its heart. So it fell on Earth, and I found it, and it wanted to go home, back to Deirdre. It told me that. I felt its thoughts. It drew me here, Steve—”
Arnsen shivered. “It’s unbelievable. And that girl isn’t human.”
“Have you looked into her eyes?”
“No—”
“She isn’t human. She is a goddess.”
A new thought came to Arnsen. “Where’s Tex Hastings? Here?”
“I haven’t seen him,” O’Brien said. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Uh-huh. What have you been doing?”
“She brought me here. The crystals took care of me. And Deirdre—” He stood up. “She’s summoning me. Wait, Steve—I’ll be back.”
Arnsen put out a detaining hand; it was useless. O’Brien stepped through the portal and was gone. A dozen crystals swept after him.
Arnsen followed, refusing to admit that he, too, wanted another glimpse of the girl. Down the passage he went in O’Brien’s trail, till the boy vanished from sight. Arnsen increased his pace. He halted on the threshold of the cavern where the pillar of flame swept up to the roof.
He had thought it thundered. It did not—it rushed up in utter silence, shaking and swaying with the surcharged intensity of its power. The walls were crusted with the dancing, watching crystals. Now Arnsen saw that some were dull gray, motionless and dead. These were sprinkled among the others, and there were thousands of them.
O’Brien paced forward—and suddenly Circe was standing with her back to Arnsen, the gems clustering about her caressingly. She lifted her arms, and O’Brien turned.
A great hunger leaped into his face. The girl did not move, and O’Brien came into the circle of her arms.
So swift was her movement that Arnsen did not realize it till too late. The slender arms slid free; Circe stepped back a pace—and thrust O’Brien toward the tower of flame!
He stumbled, off balance, and the crystals leaped from Circe’s body. They were no longer a garment. They pressed against O’Brien, forcing him away, thrusting, pushing. Arnsen cried out and sprang forward—
O’Brien reeled, was engulfed by the flame-pillar. The pouring torrent swallowed him.
Simultaneously from the farther wall a gray, dead jewel detached itself and shot toward the tower of fire. Into the blazing heart it fled and vanished.
The pillar sank down. It pulsed—thundered up again, silently streaming like a torrent toward the roof. And out of its depths the jewel came transformed.
Sentiment, blazing, shining with a myriad hues, it swirled toward Circe. Scintillant with delight, it hovered about her caressingly.
It was alive!
Arnsen cried out, flung himself forward. Circe turned to face him. Still her eyes were hidden; her face was aloofly lovely and inhuman.
The crystal swept toward Arnsen, cupping itself into his outthrust hand. From it a wave of mad delight rushed into his brain.
It was Doug—it was Doug! Frozen with sick horror, Arnsen halted, while thoughts poured from the sentient crystal into his mind.
“The—the gray jewel—” His tongue fumbled thickly with the words. He looked up to where the dull gems clung among the shining ones.
“Machines, Steve.” The thought lanced into him from the living thing he held. “Robots, not energized. Only one thing can energize them—life-force, vital energy. The flame-pillar does that, through atomic transmutation. It’s not earthly science—it was created in another galaxy. There, Deirdre’s race had slave people to energize the crystals.”
“Doug—she’s killed you—”
“I’m not dead. I’m alive, Steve, more alive than I ever have been. All the crystals—Martians, Venusians, beings from other systems and galaxies that landed on this asteroid. Deirdre took them for her own. As she took Hastings. As she has taken me. We serve her now—”
The jewel tore free from Arnsen’s grip. It fled back to Circe, brushing her lips, caressing her hair. The other gems, scores of them, danced about the girl like elfin lovers.
Arnsen stood there, sick and nauseated. He understood now. The intricate crystal machines were too complicated to work unless life-force energized them. Circe, who took the minds of living beings and prisoned them in silicate robot-forms.
They felt no resentment. They were content to serve.
“Damn you!” Arnsen mouthed, and took a step forward. His fists balled. His fingers ached to curl about the girl’s slender neck and snap it with sharp, vicious pressure.
Her lashes swept up. Her eyes looked into his.
They were black as space, with stars prisoned in their depths.
