A brand new world

BRAVE, FOOLISH LITTLE ZETTA!

It was a crowded day, with our morning walk through the city and our meeting with Graff. And from a distance we had seen the woman Brea. An arrogant giantess. A fitting mate for him, no doubt. "Empress of the Earth"—she was already calling herself that. Kean informed us she was going to address the meeting to-night—to tell the people of Garla what wonderful things would be brought back to them by Graff when he returned.

Father visited the Garland Council. He returned discouraged and indignant. They would have none of our pleas now. They did not want to see me or Dan or Freddie officially, to talk politics. Politely, they requested father to leave their affairs alone. After Graff's meeting they would give us their decision.

"I warned them," father exclaimed. "What will happen at this meeting to-night, I don't know. But I feel it bodes no good for Garla. Graff is treacherous to the very core of him. You'll see—they'll all see!"

Freddie, Dan and I, had a brief consultation while father was at the Council. "What we'll do," said Dan, "will have to be on our own. Your father, Peter, has lived here, and likes these people. Even he can't see them as they are. Doubtless they did grow altruistic—peace-loving—all that he told us. But humans are humans. They think they see a way to personal gain. This government is greedy to get whatever it can out of Graff—"

Freddie commented: "I wouldn't trust a shock from any of these people with a broken battery. Graff is the worst. Imagine little Zetta trying to bargain with a villain like Graff!" Freddie's admiration for Zetta was profound. "But she ought to be watched. Heaven knows what a girl like that will try and do!"

"I'd trust Kean," said Dan. "He's the only one."

We argued to very little purpose from a dozen angles. I think all three of us were sorry we had not leaped upon Graff—made an end to him at once, up there on the Garla street corner.

"It would have been simple," said Dan. "But—killing a man in broad daylight—they'd have had us locked up by now—I wonder how they punish murder in this place."

We had Kean to ourselves later in the day. It was before we went to the Scientists' Grotto. Kean said he had never seen the Garland weapons, though he knew where they were kept, under heavy guard. But he thought that during the evening meeting Graff was to hold, he would perhaps be able to plan a way to get into the grotto arsenal. With the physical force we three of earth were capable of using we could break into it.

During the meeting, attention would all be centered there. Most of the guards would be at the meeting. Kean planned to investigate conditions at the arsenal—and report to us. If we could get the weapons—get them to our vehicle—We would try attacking Graff first, here in Garla. Or, preferably, as Kean pointed out, catch him on his way to the Braun city. And then, if we brought the wrath of the Garlands upon us, we would all escape to earth. Kean said very solemnly: "I trus' Zetta's woman conscience on this. She heard you talking of it this morning. Did you know that?"

"No," I said.

"Well, she did—we Garlands have ver' sharp ears. I ask her advice. You see, that man Graff called me traitor. That hurt—I was traitor, from the way he sees it. Not again would I be traitor—mos' of all, not to my own worl'. But I ask Zetta. She says for us to take the Garland weapons to save the other worl' is just." He was very earnest. "Not to take anything which by losing my Garla would be hurt. There is such a thing. If you planned to steal it, Zetta and I would not permit—"

"The Infra-red Control?" said Freddie.

"Yes. That, Zetta and I would not let you touch. The ordinar' weapons—of those Garla has many. The loss of some will help your worl', and cannot harm mine."

A very manly fellow—quaintly dignified as he stood earnestly explaining. One Garland at least, whom we could trust. And Zetta.

We said nothing to father, or to Hulda, or Zetta. In mid-afternoon, before starting on this visit to the grotto which father had arranged, he took an hour and told us more of the strange science of this world. I feel that it would be out of place for me to set it forth in detail here. It is not my purpose to encumber this personal narrative with scientific data. Volumes of scientific text books will be written concerning Xenephrene, with father's voluminous notes as a basis. So I have summarized here merely such fundamentals necessary to make clear the strange adventures on earth, so briefly on Xenephrene and back again on earth, into which my family, friends and myself were plunged.

The basis, father told us, of all natural scientific phenomena on Xenephrene was an entity called Reet. An "etheric fluid." A "movement of detached electrons." He used both phrases. In its essence, Reet, he said, was an enigma. A force "akin perhaps to our electricity." It existed in nature—in the rain, the clouds, the air. It was the growing, life-giving essence of all vegetable and animal organism.

Just as we of earth, in a wide variety of forms, had learned to harness electricity, so on Xenephrene, Reet was harnessed. On earth a common electrical current, a bolt of lightning, a magnetic field, fluorescence of a Crooke's tube, the heat of an electric coil, a giant, leaping electric spark, the X-ray, radio waves—all are akin. We know that now; we learn it more surely every year. On Xenephrene, a score of scientific phenomena were all manifestations of Reet, in various forms, under various abnormal conditions.

Our earth now is using Reet for the anti-gravity vehicles which now are adventuring into Space; and our scientists say that Reet itself is but another form of electrical force.

Father told us how our vehicle operated. The force of gravity itself is merely a vibration flowing between two material bodies, connecting them with a tendency to draw near, to coalesce—a fundamental tendency in all nature when in vibratory contact. The Reet current, applied in a form abnormal to nature, slows down and stops this gravitational vibration.

It is, to me at least, a deep subject; I leave it to father's text books. But with several of the Reet rays, we were to have diabolical dealings! Their control of the hidden, unseen forces of nature—we saw a little of it that afternoon in the Scientists' Grotto.

The grotto, at least this one to which we were admitted, seemed to be a series of underground passages; converging into a number of underground rooms. Workshops; laboratories; storehouses, perhaps, of weapons and equipment of war. We were shown none of that; we saw, indeed, but one room. Enough to leave us shuddering.

On the ground, beneath the forest, we came to the tunnel entrance. A guard—a man standing there, with half a dozen of the insect things lying watchfully beside him, passed us in. A tunnel sloping downward; smooth, gleaming, metallic walls; shifting purple and red lights; a steady movement of artificially controlled air for ventilation; vague, pungent smells; in the distance, ahead of us, the murmur and throb of machinery.

It was like plunging into yet another brand new world. Outside the grotto, the Garlands seemed a primitive, pastoral race. This was like a plunge, centuries into the future. An inferno of the future.

From a cross tunnel, the sudden whine of a dynamo tore at us. A wave of gas, not unlike chlorine, Freddie said, brought us up gasping and choking, until a blast of fresh cool air fortunately dissipated it. A place of shifting lurid lights; workmen passed us—sometimes with masks, but all wearing what seemed heavy insulated garments.

An inferno, frightening in its strangeness. Frightening, also, in another way. The half-seen world of the Infra-red had never left my consciousness since I first set foot upon Xenephrene. It was with me all that morning in the upper streets of Garla, but I had ignored it.

Here, in the gloom and weirdness of the grotto, the crimson chattering things seemed to gain reality. My imagination perhaps. I do not know. But when once we entered the tunnel, I was newly conscious of them. As though this were their home—their very breeding place. Or perhaps, their jail, where they were held imprisoned—sullen, resentful, watchful of any chance to escape. All fancy, yet as I was soon to learn, it had a very real basis of fact.

My fancy was oversharp; my nerves taut. An insect loitered idle against the burnished tunnel-wall; a purple ball of light was over it. I fancied the thing tensed itself as though to spring upon me. I did not breathe again until we were past it.

A scientist was leading us now. Freddie, Dan, myself and father—we had left the girls at home. We came to the barred entrance to a room. Its heavy metal door suggested the circular door to a vault in a New York bank. Nothing flimsy here; solid metal, everywhere. My heart sank. Kean had said that with our great physical strength we might be able to force our way in; it did not seem very reasonable.

A scientist met us. He smiled gravely at father—a short, slim man, garbed in smooth, dull black. His white hair was clipped close; heavy bull's-eye goggles made his face grotesque. His ears were clasped with a device in appearance not unlike a radio headphone; he removed it, stepping over its dangling wires as he laid it aside.

"Come in," said father softly to us. "This is the control room. I wanted you to see it."

A low, black-vaulted room. I could see nothing but a small railed area on a two-foot metal platform in the room's center. Within this low metal railing, on a bare flooring of burnished metal, two small mechanisms stood side by side. Two transparent globes, each about a foot in diameter. Within one, a fluorescence of purple; the other held a crimson glow. Wires connected them to near-by batteries; wires ran to a bank of indicators—dials and pressure gauges. Above the neck of each globe, fastened to it, was a small grid of wire; from one, a vague, violet-purple beam streamed out; and from the other, the beam was crimson.

I could barely see the scientist as he moved about us; there was no light save these purple and crimson beams.

The man seemed adjusting his goggles, and replacing his headphone. Then he moved a switch. The crimson globe sprang into greater intensity. The beam from it deepened; it seemed streaming out across the room, through the further wall of metal rock—streaming out and opening to my gaze a blackness of distance unfathomable. A murmur was coming from it! A myriad tiny growls and screams! The crimson sounds! The red things lurking around me responded to it! Or were they making the sounds? I could not tell. They seemed rushing out from the unseen, into visibility—searching—one almost seemed plucking at me.

Father murmured, "It is bringing the Infra-red nearer to us. Or swinging us nearer to it—all the same. Bringing the two planes closer together. That ray permeates the whole of Xenephrene. Like a broadcasted radio wave on earth—it goes everywhere! If it persisted—a day—an hour—the Infra-red would be let loose upon us! Possessing us—"

The scientist was saying, "Let one of them try it. This is very weak—"

"Try it, Peter." Father drew me forward. "Stand, there in the red glow—just a moment. When you—feel too queer—come back out."

Every instinct in me revolted, but I yielded to him as he shoved me gently into the red glow. It bathed me with a tingling warmth. Or was it burning?

The red things were howling around me. One came up—a great crimson shadow. It seemed condensing into the form of a man. Suddenly I heard myself laughing. Why, this was funny! It looked like me! A crimson shadow of Peter! Or was it my evil spirit? Its face, malignant, like some diabolical travesty of my own, came close and leered at me. I was trying to get into my body. I laughed; but I was thinking, "Why, this is madness—"

[Illustration: "As I stood in the Ray, the red things were howling around me, and their faces and actions were so grotesque that I laughed aloud. But I thought mirthlessly, 'Why, this is madness'"]

Father's hands jerked me back into the darkness. I stood trembling; my face and hands were flushed, as though inflamed.

"Madness indeed," said father, and then I knew that I had shouted the words aloud. "They think that the Infra-red is perhaps the evil nature of man held submerged. A greater intensity of the crimson sound would have burned you." I recalled how Freddie and Dan had been burned in their fight with the intruder that night the cylinder arrived. "And a still greater intensity would reduce you to the plane of the Infra-red—dissolve you into Nothingness—the fate of Davis and Robinson, when they attacked the crimson sound. Near New York, with their aeros—remember?"

I did indeed. The scientist moved back the switch; the red glow faded. Father said, "On earth we have no such condition. Here on Xenephrene, the sub-world is always striving for mastery. The purple glow from Pyrena is nature's adjustment; it holds in check, banishes the sub-red world. But since Xenephrene came into our sunlight, things are changing. Our sunlight seems favorable to the Infra-red. So an artificial adjustment has to be made. The purple haze you see in Xenephrene's air—it all comes from this little globe."

The purple globe now was active—the beam deepened. Around me the red things seemed vanishing. A great peace, a stillness came to the vaulted room. I had not realized under what subconscious strain I had been laboring until it was removed.

Freddie said, "Why use the crimson ray at all? Why not just the purple ray, and banish the red things completely?"

"The red-world cannot be banished completely, here on Xenephrene," father answered. "Too great a use of the purple—it would swing our plane too far toward the Ultra-violet—be injurious to human life. The best balance which can be maintained—that is the purpose of these two globes—this control room."

A solemnity, greater than I had ever heard before came to father's voice. "The Brauns had no spreading rays on earth, like these. They tell me, here in Garla, that these two little globes are the only ones of their kind in existence. Without them, in a month, or a few months at the most, Xenephrene, bathed in our sunlight, would be overrun with the demons of the Infra-red! A world gone mad!"

"A world gone mad!" His words rang shudderingly in my head all the rest of that afternoon; echoed through the evening meal, and those tense hours while we waited for the time when we were going to hear Graff's speech in the stadium. "A world gone mad!" Father meant Xenephrene. But with what diabolical, prophetic vision, my thoughts kept swinging to earth! A world gone mad!

From our visit to the grotto we returned home where we had left the girls. I was suddenly impatient to get there. A feeling was upon me that it had been wrong to leave them. Would Zetta take this opportunity to slip away? To attempt to see Graff?

My fears were dispelled. The insects were quietly patrolling the grounds. The girls were busy about the house. Hulda whispered to me, "We're getting ready to leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes. If you should be successful to-night—if you get the weapons—you might want to leave for earth at once."

And we had thought to keep our secret from these girls! Hulda added, "Zetta is coming with us. Kean also. Neither has any ties here—"

Zetta coming! If only everything would work out like this—

With the afternoon passed, I thought no more of Zetta's threatened attempt to see Graff. After the evening meal, we all tried to sleep for a time. But I was restless. After an hour in our room with Freddie and Dan, I slipped away to the roof to smoke alone. I found it vacant; dim with straggling moonlight.

I had no thought of Zetta, save that she was resting beneath me in the house. She was coming back with us to earth. When these terrible times were over, I would take her in my arms—claim her—I wondered if she loved me. I am not unduly vain; truly it seemed at once impossible, but inevitable—

I have no idea how long, with roaming fancy, I sat there. Half an hour perhaps. Above me a figure suddenly came fluttering down from the foliage, landed lightly on the roof, within a few feet of where, in a stunned surprise, I was sitting. It was Zetta. Her face was flushed; she was panting.

"Zetta!" I sprang to my feet.

"Oh—is it you, Peter? I did not know you were up here."

"Where have you been? I thought you were downstairs. Zetta, have you been up to see—"

"Let go of me! Peter, don't do that! You hurt me! You—forget how strong you are!"

I had gripped her shoulders; I cast her hastily off. "Where have you been? What have you been doing?"

She eyed me. The impish smile was twitching at her lips. "You are ver' much like a master—you deman' knowing where I have been?"

"Yes. I do."

"Sit down." I sat in my chair and she sat crosslegged at my feet. "There. This is better."

"How did you get out?" I demanded. "Father said he was having you watched."

"He is. But he forget—those insects know me better than himself. I took them with me."

She was smiling broadly. She added calmly, "I have run away from them, coming back. They will be here soon—I have been up to see Graff."

I knew it! I made no comment. She went on, as calmly, evenly as before. "I thought—before to-night when you three men try to get the Garland weapons—I thought I would make one las' try for Graff." She gestured. "I met him—up there on the street. We were alone—"

She saw my expression. She laughed. "Oh, no, Zetta is not a fool! We were alone so that none could hear us. But many were near. My own insects—and I made sure the city guards were close by, watching. I was quite safe."

She paused. But when I did not speak, she went on quietly.

"I have fail'. I tol' him openly that he—could have me for his wife, as you call it—" She was stumbling, but only for a moment. "I tol' him that. But when I tried to bargain—I am no fool—I tol' him I would have to be satisfy he would not trick me—then I saw it could not succeed. I could not trust him. That I could tell by the way he talked. Yet I believe he really thinks he loves me—"

She added the last words as though to herself.

I exclaimed: "Why would you make a sacrifice like that? Or perhaps it isn't such a sacrifice?"

Unworthy, churlish thing for me to say! The impulsive words were no sooner out than I hated myself for them.

Her wide eyes searched my face. "I forgive you—for saying that, Peter. I would almos' rather die than be his wife." For just an instant she yielded to the shuddering emotion she was holding in check; then again she was calmly imperturbable.

"You say, would it be a sacrifice? Of me—yes. But what am I? Jus' one small woman. I am thinking of your earth—all those millions of people—"

Brave, foolish little Zetta!

If she could have trusted Graff, of course, it would have been best. But I did not feel it so at the moment. She was more to me, this one small woman sitting now at my feet, than all the millions of distant earth. I interrupted her gently.

"You were going to sacrifice some one else, Zetta. Some one—"

Her face turned quickly up; her wide eyes were on mine. I found myself holding her against my knees. Ah, then I felt the strength of the force between us! "Zetta, don't you know I love you? Can't you feel it—as I feel it?"

She forced herself back from me; did not rise, sat leaning backward, pushing at my knees as though holding us apart against the surge that was drawing us together.

"Peter! Peter, don't say that yet!"

"Why not? It's true. I love—"

"No! You can't be sure. It—will sweep us if you talk like this."

Sweep us, indeed! Love! It was that! Love physical, mental and spiritual. The trinity—complete. I knew it! I heard my pleading voice telling her so.

"No, Peter! Trus' me—I understan' better than you. Peter—smile at me! Smile! Do not be so serious!"

She was so pathetically earnest! I strove for calmness. I smiled. "All right. There you are, Zetta."

I could feel her relax. Her hands left my knees; she sat on the roof-floor a few feet away from me.

"Thank you, Peter."

I laughed. "You're quite welcome." The stress of our emotion was broken. I lighted a cigarette. I felt quite calm, master of myself—and of her. Masterful, because now in my calmness, I knew I was unchanged. It was love, and I knew she loved me.

"I'll say it differently, Zetta. Listen: I love you. When we get through all this mess we're in—your world and mine—I'm going to marry you. There—that's calm enough, isn't it? Nothing peculiar about that, is there?"

Her surprise made me laugh again. She stammered. "Peter—you—do not ask—if I love you!"

"No. Why should I? I know it."

"But I am not sure, Peter."

"Of course, you are."

"I am not. Perhaps on earth your girls are able to judge when they feel a swift heap of emotion—"

"Yes," I said blandly. "That's it."

But I could not make her smile. She shook her head. "We of Xenephrene are different. The emotion—is not always to be trusted, Peter."

"Let's trust it," I said.

"No. I cannot—yet."

She was on her feet and I stood beside her.

"I think—I'm very glad we had these moments together, Peter."

She was about to leave me; I could not let her go. "You do love me, don't you? Say it!"

"I think—mos' likely—I do!" She gave a little jump; her lips brushed mine. Before I could catch her she was gone, down into the house leaving me alone.