Gates of Imagination presents: "In the Walls
of Eryx" by H.P. Lovecraft and Kenneth Sterling. Read by Josh Greenwood. Before I try to rest I will set down these
notes in preparation for the report I must make. What I have found is so singular, and so contrary
to all past experience and expectations, that it deserves a very careful description. I reached the main landing on Venus March
18, terrestrial time; 9th day of 6th month of the planet’s calendar. Being put in the main group under Miller,
I
received my equipment—watch tuned to Venus’s slightly quicker rotation—and went through
the usual mask drill. After two days I was pronounced fit for duty. Leaving the Crystal Company’s post at Terra
Nova around dawn, 12th day of 6th month, I followed the southerly route which Anderson
had mapped out from the air. The going was bad, for these jungles are always
half impassable after a rain. It must be the moisture that gives the tangled
vines and creepers that leathery toughness; a toughness so
great that a knife has to work
ten minutes on some of them. By noon it was dryer—the vegetation getting
soft and rubbery so that the knife went through it easily—but even then I could not make
much speed. These Carter oxygen masks are too heavy—just
carrying one half wears an ordinary man out. A Dubois mask with sponge-reservoir instead
of tubes would give just as good air at half the weight. The crystal-detector seemed to function well,
pointing steadily in a direction verifying Anderson’s rep
ort. It is curious how that principle of affinity
works—without any of the fakery of the old ‘divining rods’ back home. There must be a great deposit of crystals
within a thousand miles, though I suppose those damnable man-lizards always watch and
guard it. Possibly they think we are just as foolish
for coming to Venus to hunt the stuff as we think they are for grovelling in the mud whenever
they see a piece of it, or for keeping that great mass on a pedestal in their temple. I wish they’d get a
new religion, for they
have no use for the crystals except to pray to. Barring theology, they would let us take all
we want—and even if they learned to tap them for power there’d be more than enough
for their planet and the earth besides. I for one am tired of passing up the main
deposits and merely seeking separate crystals out of jungle river-beds. Sometime I’ll urge the wiping out of these
scaly beggars by a good stiff army from home. About twenty ships could bring enough troops
across to tu
rn the trick. One can’t call the damned things men for
all their “cities” and towers. They haven’t any skill except building—and
using swords and poison darts—and I don’t believe their so-called “cities” mean
much more than ant-hills or beaver-dams. I doubt if they even have a real language—all
the talk about psychological communication through those tentacles down their chests
strikes me as bunk. What misleads people is their upright posture;
just an accidental physical resemblance to terrestri
al man. I’d like to go through a Venus jungle for
once without having to watch out for skulking groups of them or dodge their cursed darts. They may have been all right before we began
to take the crystals, but they’re certainly a bad enough nuisance now—with their dart-shooting
and their cutting of our water pipes. More and more I come to believe that they
have a special sense like our crystal-detectors. No one ever knew them to bother a man—apart
from long-distance sniping—who didn’t have crys
tals on him. Around 1 P.M. a dart nearly took my helmet off, and I thought
for a second one of my oxygen tubes was punctured. The sly devils hadn’t made a sound, but
three of them were closing in on me. I got them all by sweeping in a circle with
my flame pistol, for even though their colour blended with the jungle, I could spot the
moving creepers. One of them was fully eight feet tall, with
a snout like a tapir’s. The other two were average seven-footers. All that makes them hold their own is
sheer
numbers—even a single regiment of flame throwers could raise hell with them. It is curious, though, how they’ve come
to be dominant on the planet. Not another living thing higher than the wriggling
akmans and skorahs, or the flying tukahs of the other continent—unless of course those
holes in the Dionaean Plateau hide something. About two o’clock my detector veered westward,
indicating isolated crystals ahead on the right. This checked up with Anderson, and I turned
my course accordingly.
It was harder going—not only because the
ground was rising, but because the animal life and carnivorous plants were thicker. I was always slashing ugrats and stepping
on skorahs, and my leather suit was all speckled from the bursting darohs which struck it from
all sides. The sunlight was all the worse because of
the mist, and did not seem to dry up the mud in the least. Every time I stepped my feet sank down five
or six inches, and there was a sucking sort of blup every time I pulled them out.
I wish somebody would invent a safe kind of
suiting other than leather for this climate. Cloth of course would rot; but some thin metallic
tissue that couldn’t tear—like the surface of this revolving decay-proof record scroll—ought
to be feasible some time.I ate about 3:30—if slipping these wretched food tablets through
my mask can be called eating. Soon after that I noticed a decided change
in the landscape—the bright, poisonous-looking flowers shifting in colour and getting wraith-like. The ou
tlines of everything shimmered rhythmically,
and bright points of light appeared and danced in the same slow, steady tempo. After that the temperature seemed to fluctuate
in unison with a peculiar rhythmic drumming. The whole universe seemed to be throbbing
in deep, regular pulsations that filled every corner of space and flowed through my body
and mind alike. I lost all sense of equilibrium and staggered
dizzily, nor did it change things in the least when I shut my eyes and covered my ears with
my hands. However, my mind was still clear, and in a
very few minutes I realised what had happened. I had encountered at last one of those curious
mirage-plants about which so many of our men told stories. Anderson had warned me of them, and described
their appearance very closely—the shaggy stalk, the spiky leaves, and the mottled blossoms
whose gaseous, dream-breeding exhalations penetrate every existing make of mask. Recalling what happened to Bailey three years
ago, I fell into a momentary
panic, and began to dash and stagger about in the crazy, chaotic
world which the plant’s exhalations had woven around me. Then good sense came back, and I realised
all I need do was retreat from the dangerous blossoms; heading away from the source of
the pulsations, and cutting a path blindly—regardless of what might seem to swirl around me—until
safely out of the plant’s effective radius. Although everything was spinning perilously,
I tried to start in the right direction and hack my way ahead.
My route must have been far from straight,
for it seemed hours before I was free of the mirage-plant’s pervasive influence. Gradually the dancing lights began to disappear,
and the shimmering spectral scenery began to assume the aspect of solidity. When I did get wholly clear I looked at my
watch and was astonished to find that the time was only 4:20. Though eternities had seemed to pass, the
whole experience could have consumed little more than a half-hour. Every delay, however, was irksome, a
nd I had
lost ground in my retreat from the plant. I now pushed ahead in the uphill direction
indicated by the crystal-detector, bending every energy toward making better time. The jungle was still thick, though there was
less animal life. Once a carnivorous blossom engulfed my right
foot and held it so tightly that I had to hack it free with my knife; reducing the flower
to strips before it let go. In less than an hour I saw that the jungle
growths were thinning out, and by five o’clock—after p
assing through a belt of tree-ferns with
very little underbrush—I emerged on a broad mossy plateau. My progress now became rapid, and I saw by
the wavering of my detector-needle that I was getting relatively close to the crystal
I sought. This was odd, for most of the scattered, egg-like
spheroids occurred in jungle streams of a sort not likely to be found on this treeless
upland. The terrain sloped upward, ending in a definite
crest. I reached the top about five thirty, and saw
ahead of me a ve
ry extensive plain with forests in the distance. This, without question, was the plateau mapped
by Matsugawa from the air fifty years ago, and called on our maps “Eryx” or the “Erycinian
Highland.” But what made my heart leap was a smaller
detail, whose position could not have been far from the plain’s exact centre. It was a single point of light, blazing through
the mist and seeming to draw a piercing, concentrated luminescence from the yellowish, vapour-dulled
sunbeams. This, without doubt, wa
s the crystal I sought—a
thing possibly no larger than a hen’s egg, yet containing enough power to keep a city
warm for a year. I could hardly wonder, as I glimpsed the distant
glow, that those miserable man-lizards worship such crystals. And yet they have not the least notion of
the powers they contain. Breaking into a rapid run, I tried to reach
the unexpected prize as soon as possible; and was annoyed when the firm moss gave place
to a thin, singularly detestable mud studded with occasional p
atches of weeds and creepers. But I splashed on heedlessly—scarcely thinking
to look around for any of the skulking man-lizards. In this open space I was not very likely to
be waylaid. As I advanced, the light ahead seemed to grow
in size and brilliancy, and I began to notice some peculiarity in its situation. Clearly, this was a crystal of the very finest
quality, and my elation grew with every spattering step.It is now that I must begin to be careful
in making my report, since what I shall hen
ceforward have to say involves unprecedented—though
fortunately verifiable—matters. I was racing ahead with mounting eagerness,
and had come within an hundred yards or so of the crystal—whose position on a sort
of raised place in the omnipresent slime seemed very odd—when a sudden, overpowering force
struck my chest and the knuckles of my clenched fists and knocked me over backward into the
mud. The splash of my fall was terrific, nor did
the softness of the ground and the presence of some slimy
weeds and creepers save my head
from a bewildering jarring. For a moment I lay supine, too utterly startled
to think. Then I half-mechanically stumbled to my feet
and began to scrape the worst of the mud and scum from my leather suit. Of what I had encountered I could not form
the faintest idea. I had seen nothing which could have caused
the shock, and I saw nothing now. Had I, after all, merely slipped in the mud? My sore knuckles and aching chest forbade
me to think so. Or was this whole inci
dent an illusion brought
on by some hidden mirage-plant? It hardly seemed probable, since I had none
of the usual symptoms, and since there was no place near by where so vivid and typical
a growth could lurk unseen. Had I been on the earth, I would have suspected
a barrier of N-force laid down by some government to mark a forbidden zone, but in this humanless
region such a notion would have been absurd. Finally pulling myself together, I decided
to investigate in a cautious way. Holding my knife
as far as possible ahead
of me, so that it might be first to feel the strange force, I started once more for the
shining crystal—preparing to advance step by step with the greatest deliberation. At the third step I was brought up short by
the impact of the knife-point on an apparently solid surface—a solid surface where my eyes
saw nothing. After a moment’s recoil I gained boldness. Extending my gloved left hand, I verified
the presence of invisible solid matter—or a tactile illusion of solid m
atter—ahead
of me. Upon moving my hand I found that the barrier
was of substantial extent, and of an almost glassy smoothness, with no evidence of the
joining of separate blocks. Nerving myself for further experiments, I
removed a glove and tested the thing with my bare hand. It was indeed hard and glassy, and of a curious
coldness as contrasted with the air around. I strained my eyesight to the utmost in an
effort to glimpse some trace of the obstructing substance, but could discern nothing wha
tsoever. There was not even any evidence of refractive
power as judged by the aspect of the landscape ahead. Absence of reflective power was proved by
the lack of a glowing image of the sun at any point. Burning curiosity began to displace all other
feelings, and I enlarged my investigations as best I could. Exploring with my hands, I found that the
barrier extended from the ground to some level higher than I could reach, and that it stretched
off indefinitely on both sides. It was, then, a wall
of some kind—though
all guesses as to its materials and its purpose were beyond me. Again I thought of the mirage-plant and the
dreams it induced, but a moment’s reasoning put this out of my head. Knocking sharply on the barrier with the hilt
of my knife, and kicking at it with my heavy boots, I tried to interpret the sounds thus
made. There was something suggestive of cement or
concrete in these reverberations, though my hands had found the surface more glassy or
metallic in feel. Certainly, I
was confronting something strange
beyond all previous experience. The next logical move was to get some idea
of the wall’s dimensions. The height problem would be hard if not insoluble,
but the length and shape problem could perhaps be sooner dealt with. Stretching out my arms and pressing close
to the barrier, I began to edge gradually to the left—keeping very careful track of
the way I faced. After several steps I concluded that the wall
was not straight, but that I was following part of some
vast circle or ellipse. And then my attention was distracted by something
wholly different—something connected with the still-distant crystal which had formed
the object of my quest. I have said that even from a greater distance
the shining object’s position seemed indefinably queer—on a slight mound rising from the
slime. Now—at about an hundred yards—I could
see plainly despite the engulfing mist just what that mound was. It was the body of a man in one of the Crystal
Company’s leather suits,
lying on his back, and with his oxygen mask half buried in the
mud a few inches away. In his right hand, crushed convulsively against
his chest, was the crystal which had led me here—a spheroid of incredible size, so large
that the dead fingers could scarcely close over it. Even at the given distance I could see that
the body was a recent one. There was little visible decay, and I reflected
that in this climate such a thing meant death not more than a day before. Soon the hateful farnoth-flies
would begin
to cluster about the corpse. I wondered who the man was. Surely no one I had seen on this trip. It must have been one of the old-timers absent
on a long roving commission, who had come to this especial region independently of Anderson’s
survey. There he lay, past all trouble, and with the
rays of the great crystal streaming out from between his stiffened fingers.For fully five
minutes I stood there staring in bewilderment and apprehension. A curious dread assailed me, and I had an
un
reasonable impulse to run away. It could not have been done by those slinking
man-lizards, for he still held the crystal he had found. Was there any connexion with the invisible
wall? Where had he found the crystal? Anderson’s instrument had indicated one
in this quarter well before this man could have perished. I now began to regard the unseen barrier as
something sinister, and recoiled from it with a shudder. Yet I knew I must probe the mystery all the
more quickly and thoroughly because of th
is recent tragedy. Suddenly—wrenching my mind back to the problem
I faced—I thought of a possible means of testing the wall’s height, or at least of
finding whether or not it extended indefinitely upward. Seizing a handful of mud, I let it drain until
it gained some coherence and then flung it high in the air toward the utterly transparent
barrier. At a height of perhaps fourteen feet it struck
the invisible surface with a resounding splash, disintegrating at once and oozing downward
in disappea
ring streams with surprising rapidity. Plainly, the wall was a lofty one. A second handful, hurled at an even sharper
angle, hit the surface about eighteen feet from the ground and disappeared as quickly
as the first. I now summoned up all my strength and prepared
to throw a third handful as high as I possibly could. Letting the mud drain, and squeezing it to
maximum dryness, I flung it up so steeply that I feared it might not reach the obstructing
surface at all. It did, however, and this time
it crossed
the barrier and fell in the mud beyond with a violent spattering. At last I had a rough idea of the height of
the wall, for the crossing had evidently occurred some twenty or 21 feet aloft. With a nineteen- or twenty-foot vertical wall
of glassy flatness, ascent was clearly impossible. I must, then, continue to circle the barrier
in the hope of finding a gate, an ending, or some sort of interruption. Did the obstacle form a complete round or
other closed figure, or was it merely an ar
c or semicircle? Acting on my decision, I resumed my slow leftward
circling, moving my hands up and down over the unseen surface on the chance of finding
some window or other small aperture. Before starting, I tried to mark my position
by kicking a hole in the mud, but found the slime too thin to hold any impression. I did, though, gauge the place approximately
by noting a tall cycad in the distant forest which seemed just on a line with the gleaming
crystal an hundred yards away. If no gate or
break existed I could now tell
when I had completely circumnavigated the wall. I had not progressed far before I decided
that the curvature indicated a circular enclosure of about an hundred yards’ diameter—provided
the outline was regular. This would mean that the dead man lay near
the wall at a point almost opposite the region where I had started. Was he just inside or just outside the enclosure? This I would soon ascertain. As I slowly rounded the barrier without finding
any gate, window, or
other break, I decided that the body was lying within. On closer view, the features of the dead man
seemed vaguely disturbing. I found something alarming in his expression,
and in the way the glassy eyes stared. By the time I was very near I believed I recognised
him as Dwight, a veteran whom I had never known, but who was pointed out to me at the
post last year. The crystal he clutched was certainly a prize—the
largest single specimen I had ever seen. I was so near the body that I could—but
for
the barrier—have touched it, when my exploring left hand encountered a corner in
the unseen surface. In a second I had learned that there was an
opening about three feet wide, extending from the ground to a height greater than I could
reach. There was no door, nor any evidence of hinge-marks
bespeaking a former door. Without a moment’s hesitation I stepped
through and advanced two paces to the prostrate body—which lay at right angles to the hallway
I had entered, in what seemed to be an interse
cting doorless corridor. It gave me a fresh curiosity to find that
the interior of this vast enclosure was divided by partitions.Bending to examine the corpse,
I discovered that it bore no wounds. This scarcely surprised me, since the continued
presence of the crystal argued against the pseudo-reptilian natives. Looking about for some possible cause of death,
my eyes lit upon the oxygen mask lying close to the body’s feet. Here, indeed, was something significant. Without this device no human bei
ng could breathe
the air of Venus for more than thirty seconds, and Dwight—if it were he—had obviously
lost his. Probably it had been carelessly buckled, so
that the weight of the tubes worked the straps loose—a thing which could not happen with
a Dubois sponge-reservoir mask. The half-minute of grace had been too short
to allow the man to stoop and recover his protection—or else the cyanogen content
of the atmosphere was abnormally high at the time. Probably he had been busy admiring the crysta
l—wherever
he may have found it. He had, apparently, just taken it from the
pouch in his suit, for the flap was unbuttoned. I now proceeded to extricate the huge crystal
from the dead prospector’s fingers—a task which the body’s stiffness made very difficult. The spheroid was larger than a man’s fist,
and glowed as if alive in the reddish rays of the westering sun. As I touched the gleaming surface I shuddered
involuntarily—as if by taking this precious object I had transferred to myself the doo
m
which had overtaken its earlier bearer. However, my qualms soon passed, and I carefully
buttoned the crystal into the pouch of my leather suit. Superstition has never been one of my failings. Placing the man’s helmet over his dead,
staring face, I straightened up and stepped back through the unseen doorway to the entrance
hall of the great enclosure. All my curiosity about the strange edifice
now returned, and I racked my brain with speculations regarding its material, origin, and purpose. Tha
t the hands of men had reared it I could
not for a moment believe. Our ships first reached Venus only 72 years
ago, and the only human beings on the planet have been those at Terra Nova. Nor does human knowledge include any perfectly
transparent, non-refractive solid such as the substance of this building. Prehistoric human invasions of Venus can be
pretty well ruled out, so that one must turn to the idea of native construction. Did a forgotten race of highly evolved beings
precede the man-lizar
ds as masters of Venus? Despite their elaborately built cities, it
seemed hard to credit the pseudo-reptiles with anything of this kind. There must have been another race aeons ago,
of which this is perhaps the last relique. Or will other ruins of kindred origin be found
by future expeditions? The purpose of such a structure passes all
conjecture—but its strange and seemingly non-practical material suggests a religious
use. Realising my inability to solve these problems,
I decided that all I cou
ld do was to explore the invisible structure itself. That various rooms and corridors extended
over the seemingly unbroken plain of mud I felt convinced; and I believed that a knowledge
of their plan might lead to something significant. So, feeling my way back through the doorway
and edging past the body, I began to advance along the corridor toward those interior regions
whence the dead man had presumably come. Later on I would investigate the hallway I
had left. Groping like a blind man despit
e the misty
sunlight, I moved slowly onward. Soon the corridor turned sharply and began
to spiral in toward the centre in ever-diminishing curves. Now and then my touch would reveal a doorless
intersecting passage, and I several times encountered junctions with two, three, or
four diverging avenues. In these latter cases I always followed the
inmost route, which seemed to form a continuation of the one I had been traversing. There would be plenty of time to examine the
branches after I had reach
ed and returned from the main regions. I can scarcely describe the strangeness of
the experience—threading the unseen ways of an invisible structure reared by forgotten
hands on an alien planet! At last, still stumbling and groping, I felt
the corridor end in a sizeable open space. Fumbling about, I found I was in a circular
chamber about ten feet across; and from the position of the dead man against certain distant
forest landmarks I judged that this chamber lay at or near the centre of the edi
fice. Out of it opened five corridors besides the
one through which I had entered, but I kept the latter in mind by sighting very carefully
past the body to a particular tree on the horizon as I stood just within the entrance.There
was nothing in this room to distinguish it—merely the floor of thin mud which was everywhere
present. Wondering whether this part of the building
had any roof, I repeated my experiment with an upward-flung handful of mud, and found
at once that no covering existed. If
there had ever been one, it must have fallen
long ago, for not a trace of debris or scattered blocks ever halted my feet. As I reflected, it struck me as distinctly
odd that this apparently primordial structure should be so devoid of tumbling masonry, gaps
in the walls, and other common attributes of dilapidation. What was it? What had it ever been? Of what was it made? Why was there no evidence of separate blocks
in the glassy, bafflingly homogeneous walls? Why were there no traces of doors, e
ither
interior or exterior? I knew only that I was in a round, roofless,
doorless edifice of some hard, smooth, perfectly transparent, non-refractive, and non-reflective
material, an hundred yards in diameter, with many corridors, and with a small circular
room at the centre. More than this I could never learn from a
direct investigation. I now observed that the sun was sinking very
low in the west—a golden-ruddy disc floating in a pool of scarlet and orange above the
mist-clouded trees of the h
orizon. Plainly, I would have to hurry if I expected
to choose a sleeping-spot on dry ground before dark. I had long before decided to camp for the
night on the firm, mossy rim of the plateau near the crest whence I had first spied the
shining crystal, trusting to my usual luck to save me from an attack by the man-lizards. It has always been my contention that we ought
to travel in parties of two or more, so that someone can be on guard during sleeping hours,
but the really small number of night
attacks makes the Company careless about such things. Those scaly wretches seem to have difficulty
in seeing at night, even with curious glow-torches. Having picked out again the hallway through
which I had come, I started to return to the structure’s entrance. Additional exploration could wait for another
day. Groping a course as best I could through the
spiral corridor—with only general sense, memory, and a vague recognition of some of
the ill-defined weed patches on the plain as guides—I soo
n found myself once more
in close proximity to the corpse. There were now one or two farnoth-flies swooping
over the helmet-covered face, and I knew that decay was setting in. With a futile instinctive loathing I raised
my hand to brush away this vanguard of the scavengers—when a strange and astonishing
thing became manifest. An invisible wall, checking the sweep of my
arm, told me that—notwithstanding my careful retracing of the way—I had not indeed returned
to the corridor in which the body la
y. Instead, I was in a parallel hallway, having
no doubt taken some wrong turn or fork among the intricate passages behind. Hoping to find a doorway to the exit hall
ahead, I continued my advance, but presently came to a blank wall. I would, then, have to return to the central
chamber and steer my course anew. Exactly where I had made my mistake I could
not tell. I glanced at the ground to see if by any miracle
guiding footprints had remained, but at once realised that the thin mud held impressi
ons
only for a very few moments. There was little difficulty in finding my
way to the centre again, and once there I carefully reflected on the proper outward
course. I had kept too far to the right before. This time I must take a more leftward fork
somewhere—just where, I could decide as I went. As I groped ahead a second time I felt quite
confident of my correctness, and diverged to the left at a junction I was sure I remembered. The spiralling continued, and I was careful
not to stray into an
y intersecting passages. Soon, however, I saw to my disgust that I
was passing the body at a considerable distance; this passage evidently reached the outer wall
at a point much beyond it. In the hope that another exit might exist
in the half of the wall I had not yet explored, I pressed forward for several paces, but eventually
came once more to a solid barrier. Clearly, the plan of the building was even
more complicated than I had thought. I now debated whether to return to the centre
again or
whether to try some of the lateral corridors extending toward the body. If I chose this second alternative, I would
run the risk of breaking my mental pattern of where I was; hence I had better not attempt
it unless I could think of some way of leaving a visible trail behind me. Just how to leave a trail would be quite a
problem, and I ransacked my mind for a solution. There seemed to be nothing about my person
which could leave a mark on anything, nor any material which I could scatter—or minu
tely
subdivide and scatter.My pen had no effect on the invisible wall, and I could not lay
a trail of my precious food tablets. Even had I been willing to spare the latter,
there would not have been even nearly enough—besides which the small pellets would have instantly
sunk from sight in the thin mud. I searched my pockets for an old-fashioned
notebook—often used unofficially on Venus despite the quick rotting-rate of paper in
the planet’s atmosphere—whose pages I could tear up and scatter, but
could find
none. It was obviously impossible to tear the tough,
thin metal of this revolving decay-proof record scroll, nor did my clothing offer any possibilities. In Venus’s peculiar atmosphere I could not
safely spare my stout leather suit, and underwear had been eliminated because of the climate. I tried to smear mud on the smooth, invisible
walls after squeezing it as dry as possible, but found that it slipped from sight as quickly
as did the height-testing handfuls I had previously thrown
. Finally I drew out my knife and attempted
to scratch a line on the glassy, phantom surface—something I could recognise with my hand, even though
I would not have the advantage of seeing it from afar. It was useless, however, for the blade made
not the slightest impression on the baffling, unknown material. Frustrated in all attempts to blaze a trail,
I again sought the round central chamber through memory. It seemed easier to get back to this room
than to steer a definite, predetermined course
away from it, and I had little difficulty
in finding it anew. This time I listed on my record scroll every
turn I made—drawing a crude hypothetical diagram of my route, and marking all diverging
corridors. It was, of course, maddeningly slow work when
everything had to be determined by touch, and the possibilities of error were infinite;
but I believed it would pay in the long run. The long twilight of Venus was thick when
I reached the central room, but I still had hopes of gaining the outside
before dark. Comparing my fresh diagram with previous recollections,
I believed I had located my original mistake, so once more set out confidently along the
invisible hallways. I veered further to the left than during my
previous attempts, and tried to keep track of my turnings on the record scroll in case
I was still mistaken. In the gathering dusk I could see the dim
line of the corpse, now the centre of a loathsome cloud of farnoth-flies. Before long, no doubt, the mud-dwelling sificlighs
w
ould be oozing in from the plain to complete the ghastly work. Approaching the body with some reluctance,
I was preparing to step past it when a sudden collision with a wall told me I was again
astray. I now realised plainly that I was lost. The complications of this building were too
much for offhand solution, and I would probably have to do some careful checking before I
could hope to emerge. Still, I was eager to get to dry ground before
total darkness set in; hence I returned once more to th
e centre and began a rather aimless
series of trials and errors—making notes by the light of my electric lamp. When I used this device I noticed with interest
that it produced no reflection—not even the faintest glistening—in the transparent
walls around me. I was, however, prepared for this; since the
sun had at no time formed a gleaming image in the strange material. I was still groping about when the dusk became
total. A heavy mist obscured most of the stars and
planets, but the earth was pla
inly visible as a glowing, bluish-green point in the southeast. It was just past opposition, and would have
been a glorious sight in a telescope. I could even make out the moon beside it whenever
the vapours momentarily thinned. It was now impossible to see the corpse—my
only landmark—so I blundered back to the central chamber after a few false turns. After all, I would have to give up hope of
sleeping on dry ground. Nothing could be done till daylight, and I
might as well make the best of it he
re. Lying down in the mud would not be pleasant,
but in my leather suit it could be done. On former expeditions I had slept under even
worse conditions, and now sheer exhaustion would help to conquer repugnance. So here I am, squatting in the slime of the
central room and making these notes on my record scroll by the light of the electric
lamp. There is something almost humorous in my strange,
unprecedented plight. Lost in a building without doors—a building
which I cannot see! I shall doubtless
get out early in the morning,
and ought to be back at Terra Nova with the crystal by late afternoon. It certainly is a beauty—with surprising
lustre even in the feeble light of this lamp. I have just had it out examining it. Despite my fatigue, sleep is slow in coming,
so I find myself writing at great length. I must stop now. Not much danger of being bothered by those
cursed natives in this place. The thing I like least is the corpse—but
fortunately my oxygen mask saves me from the worst effec
ts. I am using the chlorate cubes very sparingly. Will take a couple of food tablets now and
turn in. More later. Later—Afternoon, 13th of 6th month There has been more trouble than I expected. I am still in the building, and will have
to work quickly and wisely if I expect to rest on dry ground tonight. It took me a long time to get to sleep, and
I did not wake till almost noon today. As it was, I would have slept longer but for
the glare of the sun through the haze. The corpse was a rather bad
sight—wriggling
with sificlighs, and with a cloud of farnoth-flies around it. Something had pushed the helmet away from
the face, and it was better not to look at it. I was doubly glad of my oxygen mask when I
thought of the situation. At length I shook and brushed myself dry,
took a couple of food tablets, and put a new potassium chlorate cube in the electrolyser
of the mask. I am using these cubes slowly, but wish I
had a larger supply. I felt much better after my sleep, and expected
to get o
ut of the building very shortly. Consulting the notes and sketches I had jotted
down, I was impressed by the complexity of the hallways, and by the possibility that
I had made a fundamental error. Of the six openings leading out of the central
space, I had chosen a certain one as that by which I had entered—using a sighting-arrangement
as a guide. When I stood just within the opening, the
corpse fifty yards away was exactly in line with a particular lepidodendron in the far-off
forest. Now it oc
curred to me that this sighting might
not have been of sufficient accuracy—the distance of the corpse making its difference
of direction in relation to the horizon comparatively slight when viewed from the openings next
to that of my first ingress. Moreover, the tree did not differ as distinctly
as it might from other lepidodendra on the horizon. Putting the matter to a test, I found to my
chagrin that I could not be sure which of three openings was the right one. Had I traversed a different set
of windings
at each attempted exit? This time I would be sure. It struck me that despite the impossibility
of trailblazing there was one marker I could leave. Though I could not spare my suit, I could—because
of my thick head of hair—spare my helmet; and this was large and light enough to remain
visible above the thin mud. Accordingly I removed the roughly hemispherical
device and laid it at the entrance of one of the corridors—the right-hand one of the
three I must try. I would follow this cor
ridor on the assumption
that it was correct; repeating what I seemed to recall as the proper turns, and constantly
consulting and making notes. If I did not get out, I would systematically
exhaust all possible variations; and if these failed, I would proceed to cover the avenues
extending from the next opening in the same way—continuing to the third opening if necessary. Sooner or later I could not avoid hitting
the right path to the exit, but I must use patience. Even at worst, I could scarcely
fail to reach
the open plain in time for a dry night’s sleep. Immediate results were rather discouraging,
though they helped me eliminate the right-hand opening in little more than an hour. Only a succession of blind alleys, each ending
at a great distance from the corpse, seemed to branch from this hallway; and I saw very
soon that it had not figured at all in the previous afternoon’s wanderings. As before, however, I always found it relatively
easy to grope back to the central chamber. About
1 p.m. I shifted my helmet marker to the next opening
and began to explore the hallways beyond it. At first I thought I recognised the turnings,
but soon found myself in a wholly unfamiliar set of corridors. I could not get near the corpse, and this
time seemed cut off from the central chamber as well, even though I thought I had recorded
every move I made. There seemed to be tricky twists and crossings
too subtle for me to capture in my crude diagrams, and I began to develop a kind of mixed ang
er
and discouragement. While patience would of course win in the
end, I saw that my searching would have to be minute, tireless, and long-continued. Two o’clock found me still wandering vainly
through strange corridors—constantly feeling my way, looking alternately at my helmet and
at the corpse, and jotting data on my scroll with decreasing confidence. I cursed the stupidity and idle curiosity
which had drawn me into this tangle of unseen walls—reflecting that if I had let the thing
alone and h
eaded back as soon as I had taken the crystal from the body, I would even now
be safe at Terra Nova. Suddenly it occurred to me that I might be
able to tunnel under the invisible walls with my knife, and thus effect a short cut to the
outside—or to some outward-leading corridor. I had no means of knowing how deep the building’s
foundations were, but the omnipresent mud argued the absence of any floor save the earth. Facing the distant and increasingly horrible
corpse, I began a course of feveris
h digging with the broad, sharp blade. There was about six inches of semi-liquid
mud, below which the density of the soil increased sharply. This lower soil seemed to be of a different
colour—a greyish clay rather like the formations near Venus’s north pole. As I continued downward close to the unseen
barrier I saw that the ground was getting harder and harder. Watery mud rushed into the excavation as fast
as I removed the clay, but I reached through it and kept on working. If I could bore any k
ind of a passage beneath
the wall, the mud would not stop my wriggling out.About three feet down, however, the hardness
of the soil halted my digging seriously. Its tenacity was beyond anything I had encountered
before, even on this planet, and was linked with an anomalous heaviness. My knife had to split and chip the tightly
packed clay, and the fragments I brought up were like solid stones or bits of metal. Finally even this splitting and chipping became
impossible, and I had to cease my work
with no lower edge of wall in reach. The hour-long attempt was a wasteful as well
as futile one, for it used up great stores of my energy and forced me both to take an
extra food tablet, and to put an additional chlorate cube in the oxygen mask. It has also brought a pause in the day’s
gropings, for I am still much too exhausted to walk. After cleaning my hands and arms of the worst
of the mud I sat down to write these notes—leaning against an invisible wall and facing away
from the corpse. That
body is simply a writhing mass of vermin
now—the odour has begun to draw some of the slimy akmans from the far-off jungle. I notice that many of the efjeh-weeds on the
plain are reaching out necrophagous feelers toward the thing; but I doubt if any are long
enough to reach it. I wish some really carnivorous organisms like
the skorahs would appear, for then they might scent me and wriggle a course through the
building toward me. Things like that have an odd sense of direction. I could watch them
as they came, and jot down
their approximate route if they failed to form a continuous line. Even that would be a great help. When I met any the pistol would make short
work of them. But I can hardly hope for as much as that. Now that these notes are made I shall rest
a while longer, and later will do some more groping. As soon as I get back to the central chamber—which
ought to be fairly easy—I shall try the extreme left-hand opening. Perhaps I can get outside by dusk after all. Night — 13th d
ay of 6th month. New trouble. My escape will be tremendously difficult,
for there are elements I had not suspected. Another night here in the mud, and a fight
on my hands tomorrow. I cut my rest short and was up and groping
again by four o’clock. After about fifteen minutes I reached the
central chamber and moved my helmet to mark the last of the three possible doorways. Starting through this opening, I seemed to
find the going more familiar, but was brought up short in less than five minutes by
a sight
that jolted me more than I can describe. It was a group of four or five of those detestable
man-lizards emerging from the forest far off across the plain. I could not see them distinctly at that distance,
but thought they paused and turned toward the trees to gesticulate, after which they
were joined by fully a dozen more. The augmented party now began to advance directly
toward the invisible building, and as they approached I studied them carefully. I had never before had a close view
of the
things outside the steamy shadows of the jungle. The resemblance to reptiles was perceptible,
though I knew it was only an apparent one, since these beings have no point of contact
with terrestrial life. When they drew nearer they seemed less truly
reptilian—only the flat head and the green, slimy, frog-like skin carrying out the idea. They walked erect on their odd, thick stumps,
and their suction-discs made curious noises in the mud. These were average specimens, about seven
feet in hei
ght, and with four long, ropy pectoral tentacles. The motions of those tentacles—if the theories
of Fogg, Ekberg, and Janat are right, which I formerly doubted but am now more ready to
believe—indicated that the things were in animated conversation. I drew my flame pistol and was ready for a
hard fight. The odds were bad, but the weapon gave me
a certain advantage. If the things knew this building they would
come through it after me, and in this way would form a key to getting out, just as carni
vorous
skorahs might have done. That they would attack me seemed certain;
for even though they could not see the crystal in my pouch, they could divine its presence
through that special sense of theirs. Yet, surprisingly enough, they did not attack
me. Instead they scattered and formed a vast circle
around me—at a distance which indicated that they were pressing close to the unseen
wall. Standing there in a ring, the beings stared
silently and inquisitively at me, waving their tentacles and some
times nodding their heads
and gesturing with their upper limbs. After a while I saw others issue from the
forest, and these advanced and joined the curious crowd. Those near the corpse looked briefly at it
but made no move to disturb it. It was a horrible sight, yet the man-lizards
seemed quite unconcerned. Now and then one of them would brush away
the farnoth-flies with its limbs or tentacles, or crush a wriggling sificligh or akman, or
an out-reaching efjeh-weed, with the suction discs on its
stumps. Staring back at these grotesque and unexpected
intruders, and wondering uneasily why they did not attack me at once, I lost for the
time being the will power and nervous energy to continue my search for a way out. Instead I leaned limply against the invisible
wall of the passage where I stood, letting my wonder merge gradually into a chain of
the wildest speculations. An hundred mysteries which had previously
baffled me seemed all at once to take on a new and sinister significance, and I
trembled
with an acute fear unlike anything I had experienced before. I believed I knew why these repulsive beings
were hovering expectantly around me. I believed, too, that I had the secret of
the transparent structure at last. The alluring crystal which I had seized, the
body of the man who had seized it before me—all these things began to acquire a dark and threatening
meaning. It was no common series of mischances which
had made me lose my way in this roofless, unseen tangle of corridors. F
ar from it. Beyond doubt, the place was a genuine maze—a
labyrinth deliberately built by these hellish beings whose craft and mentality I had so
badly underestimated. Might I not have suspected this before, knowing
of their uncanny architectural skill? The purpose was all too plain. It was a trap—a trap set to catch human
beings, and with the crystal spheroid as bait. These reptilian things, in their war on the
takers of crystals, had turned to strategy and were using our own cupidity against us
. Dwight—if this rotting corpse were indeed
he—was a victim. He must have been trapped some time ago, and
had failed to find his way out. Lack of water had doubtless maddened him,
and perhaps he had run out of chlorate cubes as well. Probably his mask had not slipped accidentally
after all. Suicide was a likelier thing. Rather than face a lingering death he had
solved the issue by removing the mask deliberately and letting the lethal atmosphere do its work
at once. The horrible irony of his fate
lay in his
position—only a few feet from the saving exit he had failed to find. One minute more of searching and he would
have been safe.And now I was trapped as he had been. Trapped, and with this circling herd of curious
starers to mock at my predicament. The thought was maddening, and as it sank
in I was seized with a sudden flash of panic which set me running aimlessly through the
unseen hallways. For several moments I was essentially a maniac—stumbling,
tripping, bruising myself on the inv
isible walls, and finally collapsing in the mud as
a panting, lacerated heap of mindless, bleeding flesh. The fall sobered me a bit, so that when I
slowly struggled to my feet I could notice things and exercise my reason. The circling watchers were swaying their tentacles
in an odd, irregular way suggestive of sly, alien laughter, and I shook my fist savagely
at them as I rose. My gesture seemed to increase their hideous
mirth—a few of them clumsily imitating it with their greenish upper limbs.
Shamed into sense, I tried to collect my faculties
and take stock of the situation. After all, I was not as badly off as Dwight
had been. Unlike him, I knew what the situation was—and
forewarned is forearmed. I had proof that the exit was attainable in
the end, and would not repeat his tragic act of impatient despair. The body—or skeleton, as it would soon be—was
constantly before me as a guide to the sought-for aperture, and dogged patience would certainly
take me to it if I worked long and int
elligently enough. I had, however, the disadvantage of being
surrounded by these reptilian devils. Now that I realised the nature of the trap—whose
invisible material argued a science and technology beyond anything on earth—I could no longer
discount the mentality and resources of my enemies. Even with my flame pistol I would have a bad
time getting away—though boldness and quickness would doubtless see me through in the long
run. But first I must reach the exterior—unless
I could lure or provok
e some of the creatures to advance toward me. As I prepared my pistol for action and counted
over my generous supply of ammunition it occurred to me to try the effect of its blasts on the
invisible walls. Had I overlooked a feasible means of escape? There was no clue to the chemical composition
of the transparent barrier, and conceivably it might be something which a tongue of fire
could cut like cheese. Choosing a section facing the corpse, I carefully
discharged the pistol at close range and f
elt with my knife where the blast had been aimed. Nothing was changed. I had seen the flame spread when it struck
the surface, and now I realised that my hope had been vain. Only a long, tedious search for the exit would
ever bring me to the outside. So, swallowing another food tablet and putting
another cube in the electrolyser of my mask, I recommenced the long quest; retracing my
steps to the central chamber and starting out anew. I constantly consulted my notes and sketches,
and made fresh o
nes—taking one false turn after another, but staggering on in desperation
till the afternoon light grew very dim. As I persisted in my quest I looked from time
to time at the silent circle of mocking starers, and noticed a gradual replacement in their
ranks. Every now and then a few would return to the
forest, while others would arrive to take their places. The more I thought of their tactics the less
I liked them, for they gave me a hint of the creatures’ possible motives. At any time these dev
ils could have advanced
and fought me, but they seemed to prefer watching my struggles to escape. I could not but infer that they enjoyed the
spectacle—and this made me shrink with double force from the prospect of falling into their
hands. With the dark I ceased my searching, and sat
down in the mud to rest. Now I am writing in the light of my lamp,
and will soon try to get some sleep. I hope tomorrow will see me out; for my canteen
is low, and lacol tablets are a poor substitute for water. I w
ould hardly dare to try the moisture in
this slime, for none of the water in the mud-regions is potable except when distilled. That is why we run such long pipe lines to
the yellow clay regions—or depend on rain-water when those devils find and cut our pipes. I have none too many chlorate cubes either,
and must try to cut down my oxygen consumption as much as I can. My tunnelling attempt of the early afternoon,
and my later panic flight, burned up a perilous amount of air. Tomorrow I will reduce
physical exertion to
the barest minimum until I meet the reptiles and have to deal with them. I must have a good cube supply for the journey
back to Terra Nova. My enemies are still on hand; I can see a
circle of their feeble glow-torches around me. There is a horror about those lights which
will keep me awake. Night — 14th day of 6th month. Another full day of searching and still no
way out! I am beginning to be worried about the water
problem, for my canteen went dry at noon. In the afternoon
there was a burst of rain,
and I went back to the central chamber for the helmet which I had left as a marker—using
this as a bowl and getting about two cupfuls of water. I drank most of it, but have put the slight
remainder in my canteen. Lacol tablets make little headway against
real thirst, and I hope there will be more rain in the night. I am leaving my helmet bottom up to catch
any that falls. Food tablets are none too plentiful, but not
dangerously low. I shall halve my rations from now o
n. The chlorate cubes are my real worry, for
even without violent exercise the day’s endless tramping burned a dangerous number. I feel weak from my forced economies in oxygen,
and from my constantly mounting thirst. When I reduce my food I suppose I shall feel
still weaker. There is something damnable—something uncanny—about
this labyrinth. I could swear that I had eliminated certain
turns through charting, and yet each new trial belies some assumption I had thought established. Never before di
d I realise how lost we are
without visual landmarks. A blind man might do better—but for most
of us sight is the king of the senses. The effect of all these fruitless wanderings
is one of profound discouragement. I can understand how poor Dwight must have
felt. His corpse is now just a skeleton, and the
sificlighs and akmans and farnoth-flies are gone. The efjeh-weeds are nipping the leather clothing
to pieces, for they were longer and faster-growing than I had expected. And all the while those
relays of tentacled
starers stand gloatingly around the barrier laughing at me and enjoying my misery. Another day and I shall go mad if I do not
drop dead from exhaustion. However, there is nothing to do but persevere. Dwight would have got out if he had kept on
a minute longer. It is just possible that somebody from Terra
Nova will come looking for me before long, although this is only my third day out. My muscles ache horribly, and I can’t seem
to rest at all lying down in this loathsome mud
. Last night, despite my terrific fatigue, I
slept only fitfully, and tonight I fear will be no better. I live in an endless nightmare—poised between
waking and sleeping, yet neither truly awake nor truly asleep. My hand shakes, I can write no more for the
time being. That circle of feeble glow-torches is hideous. Late Afternoon - 15th day of 6th month. Substantial progress! Looks good. Very weak, and did not sleep much till daylight. Then I dozed till noon, though without being
at all rested. N
o rain, and thirst leaves me very weak. Ate an extra food tablet to keep me going,
but without water it didn’t help much. I dared to try a little of the slime water
just once, but it made me violently sick and left me even thirstier than before. Must save chlorate cubes, so am nearly suffocating
for lack of oxygen. Can’t walk much of the time, but manage
to crawl in the mud. About 2 P.M. I thought I recognised some passages, and
got substantially nearer to the corpse—or skeleton—than I had been
since the first
day’s trials. I was sidetracked once in a blind alley, but
recovered the main trail with the aid of my chart and notes. The trouble with these jottings is that there
are so many of them. They must cover three feet of the record scroll,
and I have to stop for long periods to untangle them. My head is weak from thirst, suffocation,
and exhaustion, and I cannot understand all I have set down. Those damnable green things keep staring and
laughing with their tentacles, and sometimes t
hey gesticulate in a way that makes me think
they share some terrible joke just beyond my perception. It was three o’clock when I really struck
my stride. There was a doorway which, according to my
notes, I had not traversed before; and when I tried it I found I could crawl circuitously
toward the weed-twined skeleton. The route was a sort of spiral, much like
that by which I had first reached the central chamber. Whenever I came to a lateral doorway or junction
I would keep to the course which
seemed best to repeat that original journey. As I circled nearer and nearer to my gruesome
landmark, the watchers outside intensified their cryptic gesticulations and sardonic
silent laughter. Evidently they saw something grimly amusing
in my progress—perceiving no doubt how helpless I would be in any encounter with them. I was content to leave them to their mirth;
for although I realised my extreme weakness, I counted on the flame pistol and its numerous
extra magazines to get me through the vi
le reptilian phalanx. Hope now soared high, but I did not attempt
to rise to my feet. Better to crawl now, and save my strength
for the coming encounter with the man-lizards. My advance was very slow, and the danger of
straying into some blind alley very great, but none the less I seemed to curve steadily
toward my osseous goal. The prospect gave me new strength, and for
the nonce I ceased to worry about my pain, my thirst, and my scant supply of cubes. The creatures were now all massing around
the entrance—gesturing, leaping, and laughing with their tentacles. Soon, I reflected, I would have to face the
entire horde—and perhaps such reinforcements as they would receive from the forest. I am now only a few yards from the skeleton,
and am pausing to make this entry before emerging and breaking through the noxious band of entities. I feel confident that with my last ounce of
strength I can put them to flight despite their numbers, for the range of this pistol
is tremendous. Then a camp o
n the dry moss at the plateau’s
edge, and in the morning a weary trip through the jungle to Terra Nova. I shall be glad to see living men and the
buildings of human beings again. The teeth of that skull gleam and grin horribly. Toward Night — 15th day of 6th month. Horror and despair. Baffled again! After making the previous entry I approached
still closer to the skeleton, but suddenly encountered an intervening wall. I had been deceived once more, and was apparently
back where I had been three
days before, on my first futile attempt to leave the labyrinth
Whether I screamed aloud I do not know—perhaps I was too weak to utter a sound. I merely lay dazed in the mud for a long period,
while the greenish things outside leaped and laughed and gestured. After a time I became more fully conscious. My thirst and weakness and suffocation were
fast gaining on me, and with my last bit of strength I put a new cube in the electrolyser—recklessly,
and without regard for the needs of my journey to T
erra Nova. The fresh oxygen revived me slightly, and
enabled me to look about more alertly. It seemed as if I were slightly more distant
from poor Dwight than I had been at that first disappointment, and I dully wondered if I
could be in some other corridor a trifle more remote. With this faint shadow of hope I laboriously
dragged myself forward—but after a few feet encountered a dead end as I had on the former
occasion. This, then, was the end. Three days had taken me nowhere, and my strength
w
as gone. I would soon go mad from thirst, and I could
no longer count on cubes enough to get me back. I feebly wondered why the nightmare things
had gathered so thickly around the entrance as they mocked me. Probably this was part of the mockery—to
make me think I was approaching an egress which they knew did not exist. I shall not last long, though I am resolved
not to hasten matters as Dwight did. His grinning skull has just turned toward
me, shifted by the groping of one of the efjeh-weeds th
at are devouring his leather suit. The ghoulish stare of those empty eye-sockets
is worse than the staring of those lizard horrors. It lends a hideous meaning to that dead, white-toothed
grin. I shall lie very still in the mud and save
all the strength I can. This record—which I hope may reach and warn
those who come after me—will soon be done. After I stop writing I shall rest a long while. Then, when it is too dark for those frightful
creatures to see, I shall muster up my last reserves of str
ength and try to toss the record
scroll over the wall and the intervening corridor to the plain outside. I shall take care to send it toward the left,
where it will not hit the leaping band of mocking beleaguerers. Perhaps it will be lost forever in the thin
mud—but perhaps it will land in some widespread clump of weeds and ultimately reach the hands
of men. If it does survive to be read, I hope it may
do more than merely warn men of this trap. I hope it may teach our race to let those
shining c
rystals stay where they are. They belong to Venus alone. Our planet does not truly need them, and I
believe we have violated some obscure and mysterious law—some law buried deep in the
arcana of the cosmos—in our attempts to take them. Who can tell what dark, potent, and widespread
forces spur on these reptilian things who guard their treasure so strangely? Dwight and I have paid, as others have paid
and will pay. But it may be that these scattered deaths
are only the prelude of greater horrors
to come. Let us leave to Venus that which belongs only
to Venus. I am very near death now, and fear I may not
be able to throw the scroll when dusk comes. If I cannot, I suppose the man-lizards will
seize it, for they will probably realise what it is. They will not wish anyone to be warned of
the labyrinth—and they will not know that my message holds a plea in their own behalf. As the end approaches I feel more kindly toward
the things. In the scale of cosmic entity who can say
which species sta
nds higher, or more nearly approaches a space-wide organic norm—theirs
or mine? I have just taken the great crystal out of
my pouch to look at in my last moments. It shines fiercely and menacingly in the red
rays of the dying day. The leaping horde have noticed it, and their
gestures have changed in a way I cannot understand. I wonder why they keep clustered around the
entrance instead of concentrating at a still closer point in the transparent wall. I am growing numb and cannot write much more.
Things whirl around me, yet I do not lose
consciousness. Can I throw this over the wall? That crystal glows so, yet the twilight is
deepening. Dark. Very weak. They are still laughing and leaping around
the doorway, and have started those hellish glow-torches. Are they going away? I dreamed I heard a sound... light in the sky. Report Of Wesley P. Miller, Support Group
A, Venus Crystal Corporation. - Terra Nova on Venus - 16th day of 6th month. - Our Operative A49, Kenton J. Stanfield of
5317 Ma
rshall Street, Richmond, Vancouver, left Terra Nova early on 12th day of 6th month,
for a short-term trip indicated by detector. Due back 13th or 14th. Did not appear by evening of 15th, so Scouting
Plane FR58 with five men under my command set out at 8 P.M. to follow route with detector. Needle shewed no change from earlier readings. Followed needle to Erycinian Highland, played
strong searchlights all the way. Triple-range flame-guns and D-radiation-cylinders
could have dispersed any ordinary
hostile force of natives, or any dangerous aggregation
of carnivorous skorahs. When over the open plain on Eryx we saw a
group of moving lights which we knew were native glow-torches. As we approached, they scattered into the
forest. Probably 75 to 100 in all. Detector indicated crystal on spot where they
had been. Sailing low over this spot, our lights picked
out objects on the ground. Skeleton tangled in efjeh-weeds, and complete
body ten feet from it. Brought plane down near bodies, and corne
r
of wing crashed on unseen obstruction. Approaching bodies on foot, we came up short
against a smooth, invisible barrier which puzzled us enormously. Feeling along it near the skeleton, we struck
an opening, beyond which was a space with another opening leading to the skeleton. The latter, though robbed of clothing by weeds,
had one of the company’s numbered metal helmets beside it. It was Operative B9, Frederick N. Dwight of
Koenig’s division, who had been out of Terra Nova for two months on a
long commission. Between this skeleton and the complete body
there seemed to be another wall, but we could easily identify the second man as Stanfield. He had a record scroll in his left hand and
a pen in his right, and seemed to have been writing when he died. No crystal was visible, but the detector indicated
a huge specimen near Stanfield’s body. We had great difficulty in getting at Stanfield,
but finally succeeded. The body was still warm, and a great crystal
lay beside it, covered by the
shallow mud. We at once studied the record scroll in the
left hand, and prepared to take certain steps based on its data. The contents of the scroll forms the long
narrative prefixed to this report; a narrative whose main descriptions we have verified,
and which we append as an explanation of what was found. The later parts of this account shew mental
decay, but there is no reason to doubt the bulk of it. Stanfield obviously died of a combination
of thirst, suffocation, cardiac strain, and psych
ological depression. His mask was in place, and freely generating
oxygen despite an alarmingly low cube supply. Our plane being damaged, we sent a wireless
and called out Anderson with Repair Plane FG7, a crew of wreckers, and a set of blasting
materials. By morning FR58 was fixed, and went back under
Anderson carrying the two bodies and the crystal. We shall bury Dwight and Stanfield in the
company graveyard, and ship the crystal to Chicago on the next earth-bound liner. Later, we shall adopt S
tanfield’s suggestion—the
sound one in the saner, earlier part of his report—and bring across enough troops to
wipe out the natives altogether. With a clear field, there can be scarcely
any limit to the amount of crystal we can secure. In the afternoon we studied the invisible
building or trap with great care, exploring it with the aid of long guiding cords, and
preparing a complete chart for our archives. We were much impressed by the design, and
shall keep specimens of the substance for chemic
al analysis. All such knowledge will be useful when we
take over the various cities of the natives. Our type C diamond drills were able to bite
into the unseen material, and wreckers are now planting dynamite preparatory to a thorough
blasting. Nothing will be left when we are done. The edifice forms a distinct menace to aërial
and other possible traffic. In considering the plan of the labyrinth one
is impressed not only with the irony of Dwight’s fate, but with that of Stanfield’s as well. When
trying to reach the second body from
the skeleton, we could find no access on the right, but Markheim found a doorway from the
first inner space some fifteen feet past Dwight and four or five past Stanfield. Beyond this was a long hall which we did not
explore till later, but on the right-hand side of that hall was another doorway leading
directly to the body. Stanfield could have reached the outside entrance
by walking 22 or 23 feet if he had found the opening which lay directly behind him—an
opening which he overlooked in his exhaustion and despair. Thank you for listening. If you like our recordings consider liking
this video and subscribing to our channel, so you don't miss any more audiobooks.
Comments