Chapter 8

Fort chuckled breathlessly. "Your forget something. You're thinking only of the gravitation; you're forgetting the centrifugal force."

Hafen and Holl, by their daily rotation--around the contact as a center--were always tending to separate. That recoil was just enough to turn the balance; they'll never touch again.

"And what's more," he rushed on, "Powart's shot is sure to miss! The recoil threw the cannon out of line. Hafen had already mooved before the projectile left the gun. Powart--has failed!"

Suddenly the surgeon wheeled upon the athlete. "Boy, we're headed in the wrong way! We'll land in Holl, not in Hafen!"

"Who wants to live in Hafen now?" he shouted, clinging desperately to his controls. The craft was tossing in the newly created air-currents. "Don't you see?

"I've cut Hafen from Holl forever! The workers aren't to be slaves any longer; they're to have their world to themselves, to use entirely for their own benefit; not for the owners!

"And the owners--back there--they're going to have their own world, too, just as they've always insisted! But from now on it's to be their farm, too, and their factory; they've got to get along without Holl from now on.

"Mona--the commission wouldn't allow evolution, and the workers wouldn't listen to revolution! So I've given them--devolution!"

"What?" she cried.

"I've given them devolution. I've given the race of man--a fresh start."

But Mona was scarcely listening.

"Turn back!" she screamed. "I want to go back to my home! I don't want to live in Holl. Turn back, I tell you!"

Fort's face went white. He looked up at her appealingly. "You don't mean that, Mona! Say you don't!"

"I do! I want to go back!" She glanced down at the ever-widening gap. "Hurry! Turn back, or I'll do it myself!"

Fort gazed straight into her eyes for an instant; then, his face whiter than ever, he brought the craft to an abrupt halt in mid air. He looked at his watch for the last time, and said, in a strangely hollow voice:

"Just as you wish, Mona. There's plenty of time to get back before the air gets too thin in the gap.

"The point is, though, that if you go, you go alone!" They looked at one another unwaveringly. "So far as I'm concerned, I shall spend the rest of my life on Holl! No Hafen for mine! From now on I live with the workers. Come--what do you say, Mona?"

She answered instantly and stubbornly: "I go back. What about you?"

He took a parachute from a locker. "Holl is below." He buckled the thing across his chest and stepped up on the edge of the cockpit.

"Do you mean it, dear?" said he softly.

She stared at him stonily. He turned away, his mouth shaking slightly, then held out his hand.

"Good-by, then, for the last time!"

Mona suddenly grasped his hand. For an instant hope flared in Fort's eyes, then faded, leaving his face gray and drawn. He poised hiself, letting go her hand reluctantly. Then he turned resolutely.

"It's the only thing for a man to do, Mona! As for you--turn about and go as fast as you canl You've got just time enough. Good-by!"

And with Mona unable to utter a single word, able only to watch and to feel, the athlete leaned to one side so as to clear the wing, pulled his cap down tightly, and jumped into space.

XVIII

THE SILVER HEART

Mona leaped to the controls. She turned the craft about automatically and started toward Hafen. Then she glanced over the side. What she saw brought her heart to her throat.

About a mile below, and under Fort as he sank through the air, was another flying machine which neither had noticed before. In it was the figure of a man standing; he was maneuvering his craft so as to intercept the falling aviator. And the clear air of the high altitudes carried the sound of his voice faintly but surely to Mona's ears.

"Thought you'd get away, did you, Fort?" in heavy, insolent tones. "Well, you get--left, my boy!"

"Eklan Norbith!" cried Fort at the same instant. Next second he had landed on the deputy's machine.

"Norbith!" thought Mona, immediately recalling her patient at the hospital. She hesitated only an instant, then dove in a steep spiral down toward the two.

Fort had fouled his parachute on a stanchion, in landing. Breathless, he lay in a tangle heap, looking up at the towering bulk of the deputy.

"You're not going to get clear this time, Fort, like you did that night with the Cobulus and Ernol's gang!" Norbith was saying savagely, gloating over the man at his feet. "Thought the lad killed me, I suppose. I was barely stunned. And I've been on your tail--ever since."

His eyes glowed with anger. Mona watched him in silence as she circled nearer. Norbith! The commission's deputy in Calastia; he represented all that was evil and cruel in the government. It was he who did the nasty work, the things which Powart himself was too much of a gentleman to do. Norbith--the strong, cruel right arm on an unjust law!

"Well"--Fort had regained his breath somewhat--"now that you've got me, Norbith, what do you intend to do about it?"

"Do!" The man's voice fairly boomed. "I'm going to tear that parachute off your back and pitch you overboard, you infernal outlaw! And I'm going to claim that you resisted arrest!"

At that instant he noted Mona for the first time. He started as he recognized her. "The surgeon!"

Then his rage came on him again. "You hold your tongue, young woman, or I shall have it--pulled out! Do you understand?" he demanded, thrusting his face up toward hers.

And then Fort was upon him. All he cared for now was to get his fingers in Norbith's throat. And next moment Mona was desperately steering his machine clear of the other as it swayed and thrashed about under the struggling of the two men.

The advantage was with the deputy. Powerful man that he was, he was more than a match for even Fort's great strength, while the athlete's agility did him no good in the restricted space of the cockpit. The parachute hindered him, too. Down on the ground, on a clear spot, it would have been different. As it was, Fort was quickly thrust to his knees, and, despite all that he could do, he could not fight off the deputy's grip. In a moment it had shifted to the athlete's throat.

"You would, would you!" roared the deputy. "By--you'll be dead even before you reach the ground!"

Fort struggled wildly. In a moment he was strangling; Mona could see his protruding eyes and lolling tongue. She could not help. She was not athlete enough to leap to his aid. But all of a sudden, just as Fort had once come to her own rescue, her tongue came to his.

"Boy! Boy! Tear open his shirt! Tear open his shirt!"

Fort heard. For a second he hesitated, dull wonder in his starting eyes; then he reached up, and with a spasmodic jerk of his hands, ripped Norbith's shirt wide open. The man's bare chest was exposed.

"Don't you see?" shrieked Mona hysterically. "Look, boy! Look!"

And Fort saw. Saw the two silver tubes leading from the brown scar in the breast of this man--the man whose heart had been replaced by a silver instrument. Saw the tubes, leading to a belt around the man's middle, where the pumping mechanism was concealed. And as Fort saw, he understood.

With a final burst of strength he raised his quivering fingers and clutched one of the little pipes. A jerk, an exclamation from Norbith; and then, even as Fort's head fell back insensate, his hand snapped the little tube in two.

"Good God!" swore the deputy. "You--you've--" He gasped and spluttered; he let go of Fort. The athlete dropped like a log into the bottom of the craft.

But Eklan Norbith stood upright, his hands thrashing wildly, his mouth twitching horribly. One end of the broken tube hissed with escaping air; the other end spouted blood. The deputy swayed; his head dropped to his shoulders.

And then the air rushed into his lungs for the last time; he gave a single piercing shriek, tottered, and fell backward out of the machine.

Fort opened his eyes to see Mona bending over him, bathing his head. He looked around dully, blinked once or twice, frowned as though trying to remember, and then said:

"How--did I get here?"

"I waited until Norbith's machine steadied," said she in a wonderfully soft voice, "and then flew down close enough to pick you up."

He remembered. Suddenly he grasped at her arm and tried to get up. "Hurry!" he cried. "You've only got time enough to make it! The gap--don't take any chances!"

But the girl was paying no attention to where the machine was going. She was looking at the man and seeming to be perfectly satisfied.

"I don't care," she declared a little shakily. "Holl looks good enough to me, dear--if you're going to be living on it!"

The craft rocked perilously.

Back on the earth, three of the four stirred in their chairs. The doctor was the first to arouse. He sounded the gong to warn his wife, and the action helped to awaken the others; Billie first, then Smith. But Van Emmon did not rouse. Still connected with the dictator, Billie's husband was twisting and turning in his chair, moaning slightly under his breath. In his subconscious mind some terrible scene was being enacted. Suddenly his mouth flew open, and the words fairly tumbled forth:

"Ernol--at the contact--he's telephoned! Everybody knows now!" Next: "Billie: Why didn't you tell me? I could have warned Powart!" And then, in a voice of agony:

"God, what a mob! They'll kill him!"

But he was still unconscious. The doctor exclaimed in fear.

"Quick!" he ordered. "Into the connection again!" And he threw himself back into his chair.

In a minute the three were still. Except for two great tears from Billie's eyes, there were no signs of life. Two minutes passed, then three. Finally all four roused together.

"Well!" Van Emmon was the first to speak. His voice was harsh and strained. "By George, that was a narrow squeak! I thought sure I was a goner! They threw Powart--out of his yacht!"

Billie caught his hand and patted it. Her lips were trembling; she could not trust herself to speak. Her husband stared at her with eyes that were still bewildered and tried hard to understand.

Smith could say nothing. The doctor, however, got to his feet and stretched.

"Phew!" taking off the brass bracelets and reaching for a handful of the Venusian books. "That was--going some!"

He located a passage in one of the books. "I guess we've had enough of people like ourselves. What do you say," eagerly, "to visiting a place where they're not even the same sort of animals as we are?"

He looked around enthusiastically. Smith made a brief sound of agreement, and remained in his chair. Both he and the doctor looked to Billie and Van Emmon for comment.

But the man and the woman were content to look at one another. Their minds had room for only one problem; their eyes saw nothing, cared to see nothing, save that which love seeks and, having found, is satisfied with.

Did it make any difference to Billie that her husband had sympathized with Capellette's greatest despot and worst failure? Did it make any difference to Van that Billie approved when the woman she was allied with discarded the despot for the devolutionist?

Or was Billie still his chief reason for existing, and was Van hers?

That was the real question! Small matters like life in other worlds--they could wait!

THE EMANCIPATRIX

I

THE MENTAL EXPEDITION

The doctor closed the door behind him, crossed to the table, silently offered the geologist a cigar, and waited until smoke was issuing from it. Then he said:

"Well," bluntly, "what's come between you and your wife, Van?"

The geologist showed no surprise. Instead, he frowned severely at the end of his cigar, and carefully seated himself on the corner of the table. When he spoke there was a certain rigor in his voice, which told the doctor that his friend was holding himself tightly in rein.

"It really began when the four of us got together to investigate Capellette, two months ago." Van Emmon was a thorough man in important matters. "Maybe I ought to say that both Billie and I were as much interested as either you or Smith; she often says that even the tour of Mercury and Venus was less wonderful.

"What is more, we are both just as eager to continue the investigations. We still have all kinds of faith in the Venusian formula; we want to 'visit' as many more worlds as the science of telepathy will permit. It isn't that either of us has lost interest."

The doctor rather liked the geologist's scientific way of stating the case, even though it meant hearing things he already knew. Kinney watched and waited and listened intently.

"You remember, of course, what sort of a man I got in touch with. Powart was easily the greatest Capellan of them all; a magnificent intellect, which I still think was intended to have ruled the rest. I haven't backed down from my original position."

"Van! You still believe," incredulously, "in a government of the sort he contemplated?"

Van Emmon nodded aggressively. "All that we learned merely strenthens my conviction. Remember what sort of people the working classes of Capellette were? Smith's 'agent' was typical--a helpless nincompoop, not fit to govern himself!" The geologist strove to keep his patience.

"However," remarked Kinney, "the chap whose mind I used was no fool."

"Nor was Billie's agent, the woman surgeon," agreed Van Emmon, "even if she did prefer 'the Devolutionist' to Powart. But you'll have to admit, doc, that the vast majority of the Capellans were incompetents; the rest were exceptions."

The doctor spoke after a brief pause. "And--that's what is wrong, Van?"

"Yes," grimly. "Billie can't help but rejoice that things turned out the way they did. She is sure that the workers, now that they've been separated from the ruling class, will proceed to make a perfect paradise out of their land." He could not repress a certain amount of sarcasm. "As well expect a bunch of monkeys to build a steam engine!

"Well," after a little hesitation, "as I said before, doc, I've no reason to change my mind. You may talk all you like about it--I can't agree to such ideas. The only way to get results on that planet is for the upper classes to continue to govern."

"And this is what you two have--quarreled about?"

Van Emmon nodded sorrowfully. He lit another cigar absent-mindedly and cleared his throat twice before going on:

"My fault, I guess. I've been so darned positive about everything I've said, I've probably caused Billie to sympathize with her friends more solidly than she would otherwise."

"But just because you've championed the autocrats so heartily--"

"I'm afraid so!" The geologist was plainly relieved to have stated the case in full. He leaned forward in his eagerness to be understood. He told the doctor things that were altogether too personal to be included in this account.

Meanwhile, out in the doctor's study, Smith had made no move whatever to interrogate the geologist's young wife. Instead, the engineer simply remained standing after Billie had sat down, and gave her only an occasional hurried glance. Shortly the silence got on her nerves; and--such was her nature, as contrasted with Van Emmon's--whereas he had stated causes first, she went straight to effects.

"Well," explosively, "Van and I have split!"

Smith was seldom surprised at anything. This time was no exception. He merely murmured "Sorry" under his breath; and Billie rushed on, her pent-up feelings eager to escape.

"We haven't mentioned Capellette for weeks, Smith! We don't dare! If we did, there'd be such a rumpus that we--we'd separate!" Something came up into her throat which had to be choked back before she could go on. Then--

"I don't know why it is, but every time the subject is brought up Van makes me so WILD!" She controlled herself with a tremendous effort. "He blames me, of course, because of what I did to help the Devolutionist. But I can't be blamed for sympathizing with the under dog, can I? I've always preferred justice to policy, any time. Justice first, I say! And I think we've seen--there on Capellette--how utterly impossible it is for any such system as theirs to last indefinitely."

But before she could follow up her point the door opened and the doctor returned with her husband. Kinney did not allow any tension to develop; instead, he said briskly:

"There's only a couple of hours remaining between now and dinner time; I move we get busy." He glanced about the room, to see if all was in place. The four chairs, each with its legs tipped with glass; the four footstools, similarly insulated from the floor; the electrical circuit running from the odd group of machinery in the corner, and connecting four pair of brass bracelets--all were ready for use. He motioned the others to the chairs in which they had already accomplished marvels in the way of mental traveling.

"Now," he remarked, as he began to fit the bracelets to his wrists, an example which the rest straightway followed; "now, we want to make sure that we all have the same purpose in mind. Last time, we were simply looking for four people, such as had view-points similar to our own. To-day, our object is to locate, somewhere among the planets attached to one of the innumerable sun-stars of the universe, one on which the conditions are decidedly different from anything we have known before."

Billie and Van Emmon, their affair temporarily forgotten, listened eagerly.

"As I recall it," Smith calmly observed, "we agreed that this attempt would be to locate a new kind of--well, near-human. Isn't that right?"

The doctor nodded. "Nothing more or less"--speaking very distinctly--"than a creature as superior as we are, but NOT IN HUMAN FORM."

Smith tried hard not to share the thrill. He had been reading biology the previous week. "I may as well protest, first as last, that I don't see how human intelligence can ever be developed outside the human form. Not--possibly!"

Van Emmon also was skeptical, but his wife declared the idea merely unusual, not impossible. "Is there any particular reason against it?" she demanded of the doctor.

"I will say this much," cautiously. "Given certain conditions, and inevitably the human form will most certainly become the supreme creature, superior to all the others.

"However, suppose the planetary conditions are entirely different. I conceive it entirely possible for one of the other animals to forge ahead of the man-ape; quite possible, Smith," as the engineer started to object, "if only the conditions are different ENOUGH.

"At any rate, we shall soon find out. I have been reading further in the library the Venusians gave us, and I assure you that I've found some astonishing things." He fingered one of the diminutive volumes. "There is one planet in particular, whose name I have forgotten, where all animal life has disappeared entirely. There are none but vegetable forms on the land, and all of them are the rankest sort of weeds. They have literally choked off everything else!

"And the highest form of life there is a weed; a hideous monstrosity, shaped something like an octopus, and capable of the most horrible--" He stopped abruptly, remembering that one of his hearers was a woman. "Never mind about that now."

He indicated another of the little books. "I think we will do well to investigate a planet which the Venusians call 'Sanus.' It belongs to the tremendous planetary family of the giant star Arcturus. I haven't read any details at all; I didn't want to know more than you. We can proceed with our discoveries on an equal footing."

"But," objected Smith, recalling the previous methods, "how are we to put our minds in touch with any of theirs, unless we know enough about them to imagine their viewpoints?"

"Our knowledge of their planet's name and location," replied the doctor, "makes it easier for us. All we have to do is to go into the telepathic state, via the Venusian formula; then, at the same time, each must concentrate upon some definite mental quality, some particular characteristic of his own mind, which he or she wishes to find on Sanus. It makes no difference what it may be; all you have to do is, exert your imaginations a little."

There was a pause, broken by Smith: "We ought to tell each other what we have in mind, so that we don't conflict."

"Yes. For my part," said the doctor, "I'd like to get in touch with a being who is mildly rebellious; not a violent radical, but a philosophical revolutionist. I don't care what sort of a creature he, she, or it may be, so long as the mind is in revolt against whatever injustice may exist."

"Then I," stated Smith, "will stick to the idea of service." Nobody was surprised that the engineer should make such a choice; he was, first, last, and all the time, essentially a useful man.

Van Emmon was not ready with his choice. Instead: "You say, doc, that you know nothing further about Sanus than what you've already told us?"

"I was about to mention that. The Venusians say that conditions are reversed from what we found on Capellette. Instead of Sanus being ruled by a small body of autocrats, it is--ruled by the working class!"

"Under the circumstances," said Van, "I'll take something different from what I got last time. No imperiousness this trip." He smiled grimly. "There was a time when I used to take orders. Suppose you call my choice 'subordinacy.'"

"How very noble of you!" gibed Billie. "My idea is supremacy, and plenty of it! I want to get in touch with the man higher up--the worker who is boss of the whole works!" She flashed a single glance at her husband, then threw herself back in her chair. "Go ahead!"

And before two minutes were up, the power of concerted thought, aided by a common objective and the special electrical circuit which joined them, had projected the minds of the four across the infinite depths of space. The vast distance which separated their bodies from Sanus was annihilated, literally as quick as thought.

Neither of the four stirred. To all appearances they were fast asleep. The room was quite still; only the clock ticked dully on the wall. Down-stairs, the doctor's wife kept watch over the house.

The greatest marvel in creation, the human mind, was exploring the unknown.

II

ALMOST HUMAN

Of course, the four still had the ability to communicate with each other while in the trance state; they had developed this power to a fair degree while investigating Capellette. However, each was so deeply interested in what he or she was seeing during the first hour of their Sanusian experiences that neither thought to discuss the matter until afterward.

When the doctor first made connection with the eyes of his agent, he instinctively concluded that he, at least, had got in touch with a being more or less like himself. The whole thing was so natural; he was surveying a sunny, brush-covered landscape from eyes whose height from the ground, and other details, were decidedly those of a human.

For a moment there was comparative silence. Then his unknown agent swiftly raised something--a hand, presumably--to a mouth, and gave out a piercing cry. Whereupon the doctor learned something that jarred him a trifle. His agent was--a woman!

He had time to congratulate himself upon the fact that he was (1) a doctor, (2) a married man, (3) the father of a daughter or two, before his agent repeated her cry. Almost immediately it was answered by another exactly like it, from an unseen point not far away. The Sanusian plainly chuckled to herself with satisfaction.

A moment later there came, rather faintly, two more calls, each from a different direction in the dun-colored brush. Still without moving from the spot, the doctor's agent replied two or three times, meanwhile watching her surroundings very closely. Within half a minute the first of her friends came in sight.