Page:Amazing Stories Volume 07 Number 08.djvu/17

piece tightly to these posts—and there you are! At sunrise tomorrow the torpedo remains where it is . . ."

"And we remain where we are, too! . . . Wonder what they expect to accomplish by this new stunt."

"Lots . . . if it's done right. They can haul the thing down and make a real try at getting into the mechanism chamber. And if they only succeed in breaking in, then the secret of what makes the shell operate wouldn't remain a secret very long."

"Looks like our trip is all off, eh Cliff?"

"Not by a whole lot, Ray! There's no telling how long it will take them to get into the engine room—if they can get in at all. And we may expect a flock of explosive shells down on our heads in very short order if there is any delay in the return of the projectile. If we don't. . . ."

A raucous medley of police sirens heralded the approach of the truck from Lakehurst. Under official motorcycle escort it bore the huge conical nosepiece for anchoring down the flighty visitor from the uncharted depths of space. A scaffolding had already been erected about the shell. A huge derrick now swung into action to hoist the heavy metal cone into position. The clanging of ponderous chains resounded, mingling with the steady pounding of pneumatic hammers as the long bars were being driven into the earth in a circle of steel that was steadily growing around the upright thing in the centre. It was apparent that the engineers in charge of the project were in grim earnest. That strangely glistening space-traveler was to travel no more—if they could help it.

Hale and Fletcher were watching these feverish activities with deep apprehension.

"Our best bet, Ray," whispered Hale hoarsely, "is to go through with our original plans." Fletcher nodded vigorously.

"No good can come of this anchoring idea," continued Hale—"at least not at this stage of the game. I'm dead certain that we can accomplish something of more real value if we carry on just the way we worked it out . . . before it's too late. Are you all set, Ray?"

Again a mute nod from Fletcher, with a firm squeeze on Hale's arm to signify: "I'm with you!"

"Then we'd better hurry! . . . If they ever get those chains fastened down, it's bye-bye trip! . . ."

The two young adventurers circled slowly about the structure. Already the massive metal cone was in place aloft, and a dozen heavy chains dangled from eyelets around its circumference. Several of these chains were now being stretched taut and clamped to the protruding bars in the bristling circle of steel stumps.

"Now!! . . ."

Hale darted forward and clambered nimbly up the wooden framework, with Fletcher at his heels. Ejaculations of surprise! . . . shouts of warning! . . . commands! . . . threats! . . . The two intrepid youths heeded none of them. In a flash Hale was at the doorway. With a leap he was within the padded compartment. Turning, he seized his friend's outstretched arm and hauled him in alongside himself. Pale and tense they faced each other in the none too roomy chamber, while pandemonium reigned without. Workmen were dropping like flies from the nose plate and the scaffolding, while on the ground engineer and laborer, scientist and general, scurried off to get as far away from the shell as possible. For everyone was entirely familiar with the inevitable course of events from now on.

Scarcely were the two hardy young men inside of the projectile when, as every soul witnessing the dramatic scene well expected, the panel slid shut. That same sharp quiver as once before, only with more convulsive violence, as the shell tugged at its flimsy moorings.

Smash! . . . The monster, now galvanized into life, teetered crazily and the flimsy wooden framework fell away in a tangle of ruins.

Crunch! . . . Snap! . . . The few chains that essayed to hold it to the ground tightened, then parted like threads of silk.

Thrown over from the perpendicular by the powerful reaction, the shell dipped violently. The conical plate was torn from its position up at the nose, and was flung with a resounding crash down upon the wreckage of scaffolding, derricks and assorted machinery below. The cries of warning had served to clear the immediate area an instant before the disaster, so that there were no casualties.

Freed now from all man-made restraints, the vehicle quickly righted itself, and ascended swiftly with its unexpected human cargo. A mere speck in the sky . . . and now it was gone!

Within the flying projectile the young voyagers stood face to face with muscles taut, holding each other firmly by the hands, and bracing elbows and shoulders against the padded walls for support. A pale phosphorescent light bathed the chamber. They essayed a word or two of conversation but the loud and incesssant humming of the driving mechanism coming from overhead and beneath their feet rendered that ineffectual.

Hale knew that the speed of the space vehicle must be tremendous, yet there seemed to be no sensation of change of velocity following the first violent swaying and tugging before it righted itself. He wondered in a vague sort of way how the terrific acceleration would affect them. But dimly in his mind the thought circulated like a haunting ghost: "The others got there safely—the French convicts and the German chemists—they reached their destination apparently with no ill effects."

Presently he began to experience a queer numbness, first in his legs and arms, and then a slow progressive advance throughout the body. His limbs became feelingless and as heavy as lead. A strange, almost scared look in Fletcher's eyes told him that he too was undergoing those extraordinary bodily manifestations.

With muscles and tendons drawn rigidly stiff by that inexorably spreading paralysis, they stared wide-eyed into each other's pale faces and wondered what was to come next. Now Hale began to feel a swimming sensation in his brain, accompanied by a violent nausea. In his ears a steady buzzing swelled up to mighty roar that drowned out the drone of the vehicle mechanism. Try as he would, he was unable to shake off the fatal drowsiness that was gradually overpowering him. He felt his eyelids droop and his vision blur. His companion's face, a few inches in front of him, now appeared like a shapeless gray blotch at a vast distance. He struggled hard to fight off that advancing wave of unconsciousness, but it was at best a feeble effort. The cramped chamber, his chum in front of him, the eerie light, the soft upholstery—all began to swim in a sickening circle before his eyes. Faster and faster sped this giddy kaleidoscopic whirl—and then suddenly a vast, engulfing sea of darkness and oblivion. . . .