The Creature from Beyond Infinity

CHAPTER XVIII The Man Who Lived Again

When Thordred placed Ardath's body in the small space ship and sent it hurtling toward the Sun, he had thought the Kyrian dead. His fear of Ardath's giant intellect had been so great that he would feel safe only when the solar inferno had utterly consumed it. Yet by making doubly sure that his former master would meet death, Thordred had committed a serious error.

For Ardath was not dead. He awoke slowly, painfully, only vaguely conscious of his surroundings. For a time he lay quietly, blinking and striving to understand. He kept his eyes closed after a single glance at a dazzling glare.

He turned his head away from the bright light and reopened his eyes. His gaze took in his surroundings. He was in a space ship, a small one that was unfamiliar to him. Through the ports in the walls showed the starlit blackness of interplanetary space.

He was incredibly weak. He sat up, massaging his limbs until his numbed circulation was restored to normal. Then he rose with a great effort and looked around.

Sunlight flamed through a row of ports. Ardath instantly realized that he was falling directly into the rapidly enlarging Sun. He saw the controls, sprang toward them, almost collapsing in his weakness.

He examined the unfamiliar apparatus, tentatively fingering the panel. Presently the puzzle of strangeness was solved in his amazingly swift mind. He tried a lever, then another, and knew that he was master of the unknown ship. The vital problem just now was to escape from the Sun's attraction.

Luckily he was not yet even close to the chromosphere. He turned the vessel in a wide arc. After staring through the ports, he aimed its nose at the Earth. Then he locked the controls and searched for food.

Foreseeing emergencies, Court had stocked the little ship well. Much of the food was unfamiliar to Ardath, but he sampled it intelligently. Brandy stimulated him and gave him strength. As he ate, he pondered the situation.

How had he got here? What had awakened him from his cataleptic sleep? The last thing he remembered was emerging from the laboratory in his own ship, to encounter Thordred's ruthless blow. The bearded giant had betrayed him, but how long ago had that been? How long had Ardath slept? During his last period of awakening, he had arranged an automatic alarm which would react to the presence of any unusual mentality existing on Earth. Ardath wished to take no chances of sleeping past the lifetimes of geniuses. But he had not had time to set that alarm before Thordred stunned him. Everyone in the golden ship should have slept on until infinity, unless awakened by some outside force. What had that been?

Again Ardath went to a port and studied the constellations, noting the changes that time had made. He computed roughly that at least twenty centuries had elapsed since his last awakening. Perhaps, through his failure to set the automatic alarm, he had already slept through the lifetimes of innumerable super-mentalities.

Though Ardath did not know it, of course, he had not awakened to find Moses, Confucius, Socrates, Galileo, Newton, and a dozen others. The alarm, had it been set, would have aroused him when those men appeared on Earth.

Ardath glanced thoughtfully toward the Sun. Its powerful rays, unshielded by any atmosphere, had awakened him. He felt gratitude to the unknown builder of this ship, who had installed transparent ports, through which the vital radiations had poured. If the vessel had been on any other course, Ardath might have slept on to the end of time. But the Sun's rays had destroyed the artificial catalepsy.

Ardath rose and began to search the little ship. Its architecture was obviously Terrestrial, the natural development of art-forms he had seen in ancient days on Earth. Moreover, the use of Earth metals in the construction, and the absence of any unusual ones, confirmed this theory.

Certain equipment that Ardath found interested him. The mystery of a blowtorch he solved without difficulty. An electromagnet and vials of acids made him nod thoughtfully. When he measured one of the ports carefully, he realized that it coincided exactly with the size and shape of the entry-ports on his own ship.

The equipment indicated that the unknown owner of this little vessel had expected to find a barrier difficult to pass. The curious similarity of the ports on both ships added up to an unescapable conclusion. Someone on Earth had built this ship in order to reach and enter Ardath's craft. Obviously he had succeeded, but without the use of atomic energy.

He had duplicated the alloy that coated the hull of the Kyrian vessel, yet the energy was electrical in nature. Ardath's race had used electricity once, so many eons ago that it was mere legend when he had been born. Atomic energy had supplanted it. Yet Ardath must work with the tools at hand.

He found himself experiencing difficulty in breathing. The air supply, of course, had not bothered him during his cataleptic state, but now it was becoming a problem. He examined the air-renewers and purifiers, found them simple but effective.

Luckily there were the necessary chemicals aboard the ship to renew the exhausted apparatus. The names on the containers meant nothing to Ardath, but the chemicals were easily recognizable. In only one case did he find a test necessary.

It would be a long journey back to Earth. Meanwhile, Ardath examined some maps and charts that had been in a cupboard, as well as a popular novel which one of the workmen who built the ship had left in a corner and forgotten. These would be invaluable for learning the language. Since Ardath already knew Latin from his last period of awakening, he could learn English without too much difficulty. He could even approximate the present pronunciation, once he understood the letters—like w—which Romans did not have. The luckiest find of all, after that, was a newspaper.

Two problems faced Ardath— He must find his own ship, and he needed a weapon. Painstakingly he analyzed the situation.

Day after day dragged on while the space ship fled toward Earth. The Kyrian studied the charts, the book, and the newspaper, striving to understand. From a rubber stamp on the maps, he learned that the owner of the vessel was named Stephen Court, and that he lived in Wisconsin, near a town which Ardath finally located on one of the charts.

That became his destination. The Kyrian's keen understanding of psychology aided him in understanding what had happened during his unconsciousness. Placing himself in the respective positions of Thordred and Stephen Court, he applied rules of logic.

When Court had entered the golden space ship and found the cataleptic bodies, he would naturally have tried to awaken them. When he awoke Thordred, what had happened?

There were two possibilities. Thordred, Ardath realized now, wanted power above all else. He had resented the Kyrian's domination. After apparently succeeding in killing his former master, he would not have been willing to obey Court. Rather, his lust for power would have been given fresh fuel.

He and Court would have become either enemies or friends. In the latter case, Ardath now faced two opponents. But why should Court, having built this ingenious and expensive space ship, have been willing to destroy it by aiming it at the Sun? He would naturally have wished to retain it for later use. A logical man does not destroy valuable equipment, and only a logical and intelligent person could have built this vessel.

But Thordred, on the other hand, would have wished the smaller ship destroyed, so that he would possess the only space ship on Earth. Such tactics would strengthen his power. Unless there were already other spacecraft in existence…

That was impossible. This one was obviously patterned on Ardath's own vessel. A man with sufficient knowledge to create it would have used it, first of all, to visit the original ship. That sounded logical, though not entirely certain.

Court would probably have resented the destruction of his property. That indicated that he and Thordred were enemies. But from that conclusion, Ardath could go no further. He could only wait until he had reached the Earth and visited the home of Stephen Court in Wisconsin. If Court lived, he would certainly be an ally.

And now Ardath concentrated on creating a weapon. Equipment was at hand, and electricity. Atomic energy Ardath could not manufacture at present, but he thought it would not be necessary. Already he had a plan for a weapon in mind.

It must be able to convey a strong shock, or even a fatal one, over quite a distance. That necessitated some conductor of the current. A jet of water—a thin spray, perhaps—might do the trick. But the use of ordinary water was not quite satisfactory.

Ardath began to experiment with the limited laboratory he had at his command. He worked arduously, sleeping and eating only when he found time, while the ship sped toward its destination.

Earth grew from a star to a spinning globe, cloud-sheathed, and then into a vast concave disk that blotted out the starry void. Ardath found the outline of North America, checked it with his maps. Then he sent the vessel arrowing toward Lake Michigan, which was visible even from beyond the atmosphere.

It was night before he landed outside the village near Court's home. He lowered the ship silently among concealing trees and slipped toward the lights of the settlement.

His clothing would arouse curiosity, he realized, but that could not be helped. Taking his new weapon, which was awkwardly bulky, he moved forward.

Luck was with him. A youth, idling along the highway in a dim stretch, paused to stare at Ardath. The Kyrian took advantage of the opportunity. Mouthing the unfamiliar words carefully, he asked:

"Can you say where Stephen Court lives?" It sounded like: Can yoh-uh say vhere Stephen Coo-urt liv-es?" The boy blinked.

"Sure. You're a foreigner, ain't you?"

When no answer came, he went on, pointing.

"Right up the road there." He gave explicit directions. "But I wouldn't go up there if I was you. There was a fire up there just a little while ago, and folks saw some funny kind of airship hanging around. They think it crashed in the valley behind the house, but nobody's gone to look. We stay away from Court's place since he had a case of the Plague there."

Without a word, Ardath left the lad and hurried on. He had understood most of what had been said. "A funny kind of airship?" Could that be the golden space vessel? By the gods, if it had crashed—

The ruins of the house told their own story. Ardath hesitated, then skirted it to climb up the slope beyond the charred foundations.

"The valley behind the house," the boy had said. Ardath topped the ridge. His thin, patrician face went cold as marble at the sight before him. The ship was wrecked, he saw at a glance. And he saw, too, the moonlit figures of huge Thordred and his paralyzed prisoners.

As the ray flashed out from the lens in Thordred's hand, Ardath ran swiftly down the slope, concealing himself amid the bushes. As an odor of charred flesh came to his nostrils, his eyes were suddenly remorseless as death.

At last he was close enough. He rose from the shadows and called softly:

"Thordred!"

The bearded giant whirled, shocked amazement in the amber eyes. The yellow ray swung wide, out of his control. Simultaneously Ardath lifted the weapon he held, and a thin jet of fluid shot from its muzzle, splashing on Thordred's arm. The giant yelled in agony, and his lens fell to the ground.

"You betrayed me, Thordred," Ardath said motionlessly. "It is just that you die."

He stepped forward. The huge, bearded figure swayed and writhed in agony, striving to break free from the invisible grip that held it. Ardath's foot slipped on a rounded stone. For a second, the liquid jet wavered from its mark. But swept back swiftly—

Thordred was gone! He flung himself back into the shelter of the bushes. The crashing of underbrush told of his flight.

Ardath shrugged and lowered his weapon.

"He is harmless now," he said, and bent to pick up the lens. Briefly he eyed the three men and the girl, still paralyzed. "Scipio, Li Yang, and two strangers."

He made a hasty adjustment on the crystal, sent a blue glow sweeping out to bathe the four. The paralysis fled.

"Ardath!" Li Yang said. "You came in good time."

"By the gods, yes!" Scipio roared. His voice went soft with regret. "Though not in time to save Jansaiya." His eyes clouded. Lifting his saber, he plunged forward. "I'll be back with Thordred's head," he promised over his shoulder, and vanished into the woods.

"You—you're Ardath?" Court asked.

The burn on his chest was aching painfully, but it was not deep, and it had been automatically cauterized. He stared at the rescuer. The Kyrian nodded.

"I am Ardath. You seem to know of me. Are you Stephen Court?"

"Yes. But how did you learn English? How did you escape from the Sun trap? What—"

"Wait." Ardath was staring down at the wrecked ship. "Before all else, the atomic energy must be prisoned again. It is"—he fumbled for the right word—"dangerous. To approach it closely means death."

"Lead?" Court suggested.

When Ardath looked puzzled, he gave the atomic number.

"Only a special alloy will insulate the rays of atomic energy. Do you see that container? It looks like a speck from here, beside the spot of light. Only that can hold the power." He frowned. "The power must be placed in its sheath again. But—"

"It means death," Li Yang broke in. "Very well. I shall do it."

Court clutched the fat arm.

"You need not sacrifice yourself."

Ardath's face was expressionless as he went on in his painful, stilted English.

"Whoever goes must be quick. The rays kill swiftly. Hurry to the ship, slide the container over the little globe of atomic energy, and put the cover in place. That is all. After that, it will be safe to approach."

"Steve," Marion said unsteadily, "let me go."

"No!" Court's arm went around the girl, drawing her close. "Not you. Do we need to make this sacrifice, Ardath?"

The Kyrian nodded, sorrowfully.

"The energy will spread out till it touches ores. Then it will expand faster, until the Earth itself will be destroyed."

There was a sudden interruption. From the bushes behind the group, a glowing nimbus of light drifted. It was a Carrier, but it did not approach the three. Instead, it sped down the slope, toward the ship. Ardath stared.

"Marion, do you suppose—" Court said hoarsely.

"Maybe, Steve. If that was Sammy, he may have heard us."

They watched as the weird Carrier fled toward the ship. It reached the hull, bent over and picked up a small object from the ground. It made a swift motion—and the glare of atomic energy vanished!

"He did hear us," Court exulted. "Good old Sammy!"

The light nimbus was drifting away toward the other side of the valley. Presently it was hidden from sight, but before that Ardath was striding down to the ship.

He returned, holding in his hands an oval container of dark, lustrous metal. It was the sheath for the atomic energy.

"We have much to talk about," he said to Court. "Your language—I must master it better."

Scipio came back, cursing and swinging his saber. His deep chest rose and fell as he panted.

"Thordred got away. I could not catch him."

Court took immediate command.

"Back to the road. There's plenty of room in the car. We'll head directly for Washington and make plans. I think you can help us against the Plague, Ardath. Your atomic energy has already given me an idea."

"The Plague?" Ardath asked. "I'll help, if I can. But I am sorry you did not destroy Thordred, Scipio. I fear he will trouble us again."

The Carthaginian did not answer. He grinned unpleasantly, fingering the saber-blade, as he followed the others back toward the ridge.