The Great White Space

Twelve

Scarsdale, Van Damm and Holden embarked in the first rubber boat, while Prescott and I followed. The noise of the paddles, the dripping of water, seemingly magnified by the mist and the curious pallor of the light from above made an unforgettable scene as we thrust out from the shore and were soon undulating on the choppy surface, our horizons limited by the faint mist which clung to the surface.

The rubber boats were dangerously low, we had packed so much equipment in with us and I hoped that the current would not get any stronger farther out; if we had to paddle for our lives Prescott and I were singularly ill-equipped for the task. Scarsdale's boat carried the compass and we were attached by the rope in any case so we had no navigation to do. Even so, we were hard put to it to keep up and every so often Scarsdale's sharp injunction would come across to us as the line went taut, due to our inability to match their speed.

But after half an hour Prescott and I had settled down to stroke and our thoughts wandered in a pleasant form of euphoria, our responsibilities surrendered to those on the main craft, our minds as well at ease in this place as they would ever be. We needed both hands for the paddles, but even so our rifles were hardly at our feet, wedged against crates, cases and bundles of camping equipment. My main concern had been the safety of my cameras and my supply of photographic plates; to this end I had secured them in the middle of the mound, well wrapped in waterproof material. My companions had regarded my possibly excessive precautions as faintly ludicrous and even Van Damm was tempted to remark, on embarkation, 'We aren't going to America, Plowright.'

'Who knows where we are going?' Scarsdale had put in unexpectedly and, on reflection, he was, of course, right. The lake might be of enormous extent, if it were on the scale of the works we had already seen. My reflections were interrupted at this point by a sudden lurching movement of the craft, and its tipping at one end, accompanied by a slight ingress of water. My smothered exclamation was followed by a curt shout from the Professor and a muttered apology from Prescott, who had caught his paddle in the securing line.

The interruption was timely, however, and I looked more sharply about me, noting that the phosphorescence of the water remained unabated; that the slight tidal movement continued; and that the surface vapour had receded a little so that our two craft floated in a clear circular area about half a mile in extent. The illumination from above continued steadily so that we seemed to be sailing beneath the dim sky of earth and the warm breeze which had blown steadily from the north appeared, to my imagination at least, to be a little stronger.

With it, I fancied a faint vibration as of some great machine a long way off, giving out a pulsation like a heart-beat. I glanced at Prescott but saw that he had already heard it and looking ahead, I could see that the other party had stopped their vigorous paddling and were all poised, water running off their paddle blades in fiery particles, as they listened intently.

I was amused to see that almost immediately Van Damm bent to his knees and I then made out that he was scribbling furiously in his notebook; he glanced at his wristwatch and continued his entry as he recorded a log observation of the phenomena. After this slight pause the three paddles of our companions dipped as one and Prescott and I measured our own strokes to theirs and so the two ungainly rubber craft went bobbing and nodding into the mist.

Some fairly stiff paddling followed and from various indications, verified by Prescott, we estimated that we might be about halfway across the lake; the current strength was increasing here and it seemed to run roughly from east to west, bearing out Scarsdale's earlier theory. However, nowhere was it really troublesome and by allowing for it by heading off from true north on the compass Scarsdale and his companions ahead of us continued travelling almost due north over the ground.

It was slow work though, and we had no means of estimating our progress as we had on the tractors; without benefit of the compass and because of the encircling mist Prescott and I would have been completely lost but for the guidance of the lead craft and one could go round for hours in those conditions without navigational aids. The strangeness of the light also, both from the water as well as from what we called the sky, resulted in a peculiar sense of disorientation, and we were both glad to hear Scarsdale's hail from the lead craft about two hours later, that we were approaching the opposite shore.

At a conservative estimate we must have been covering something like three miles an hour over the ground so the extent of the lake width might be somewhere in the region of five miles; a prodigious area for an underground feature of this sort. The Scarsdale See was living up to its newly given name. Prescott and I slackened our paddling and as we drifted farther towards Scarsdale's boat, which had also paused in front of us, we could distinctly hear the faint susurrance of water on the shore before us.

As we rocked slowly inwards, parallel with the first rubber boat, I could see, from the first glimpse, that the shore was almost an exact replica of the one we had left. Here were the same black rocks, the water lapping at the dark sand and tumbling phosphorescent round the base of the rocks; the mist low down on the shoreline; the dim light coming downwards through the vaporous haze; and the sand receding into rocky distance.

I noticed that Scarsdale and our companions had their revolvers drawn and we all waited in that uneasy surge until a gesture from our leader set us all to paddling again, so that the two boats grated and foamed their way ashore. We jumped on to the wet, yielding sand and dragged the frail craft up way beyond the water line. As before, Scarsdale was in no hurry to proceed; exploration could wait while he established another camp and we unloaded the supplies. We chose a spot in the rear of a heaped tumble of boulders and there set up the tents, unpacked what equipment we would need for a night's stay and dragged up the two boats, which the Professor insisted should be tethered to stakes driven into the sand, though what purpose that served I did not quite see.

This was named Camp Three and the boats and the heavier stores would remain here while the five of us, reduced to a walking party, went on with the packs, tents and more portable supplies. But the day's activities would include a preliminary exploration inwards by three of the party; the remaining two would prepare the camp's midday meal and make an effort to investigate this far shoreline if there were time. Once again machine-guns were dragged out and mounted on their tripods. Their line of fire commanded both approaches to the beach, that is from west to east, but again I could not possibly see what lay behind the Professor's reasoning.

Apart from the flapping of what I took to be wings, we had heard or seen nothing of any living creature since we went underground, though I could not deny that the dwarfs mysterious and sinister end was enough to ensure the most stringent precautions. We drew lots for the parties and it fell to Van Damm and Holden to remain in camp while Prescott and I under Scarsdale's guidance would press on to see what lay beyond the beach.

In addition to weapons we took with us a portable radio with which the Professor hoped to keep in contact with Camp Three and he also had with him a Very pistol; we were, of course, armed and at our leader's insistence we donned the headgear with the lamps, in case we had to explore any passages or tunnels away from the dim luminescence of the main caverns. Normally we would mount sentries on all our camps from now on but Scarsdale felt that as long as Van Damm and Holden kept together, they could leave camp for a trip along the beach if they wished.

Van Damm and Holden carried on unloading the remaining stores from the boats and we waited a few minutes to test the radio link before Scarsdale gave the order to start out. In single file the three of us marched up the beach; I looked back only once to see the figures of our companions already swallowed up in the haze. After a few hundred yards the noise of water ceased and the air became dry and arid; the wind blew, as it always had, from the north, that is directly in front of us and with it, for the first time, tiny particles of grit blew past our faces and lodged in our clothing.

The faint pulsations I had earlier heard were also stronger though indefinable as to source and obviously far away; we paused while the Professor noted the temperature and other atmospheric conditions in the notebook he habitually carried and I then tested the radio link again, being reassured on hearing Van Damm's squeaky voice. He also took a note of my brief report and reported in his turn that he and Holden were proceeding eastwards along the beach. They had seen and heard nothing of note. Scarsdale and Prescott had gone ahead a little by this time, but when I caught them up I passed on Van Damm's remarks, as the Professor had instructed me.

I fancied he had more confidence in me than I deserved; perhaps I gave him the appearance of being steady and reliable but my facade belied my interior. Unlike all the other expeditions on which 1 had engaged, the Great Northern was special in many ways, and I had rarely faced the days before me with greater foreboding. I knew that Holden had realised this also and it was my fancy that Scarsdale, for all his bluff exterior, guessed the power of the unknown forces with which we might be faced. It was true we had physically seen nothing since the expedition began but apart from Zalor there was a dreadful atmosphere emanating from this terrible twilight world that a man would have to be made of stone not to sense.

As we came up from the beach the mist had now thinned away and we were on a broad, stony gulley which stretched out in all directions before us; but our view was limited by the dimness of the light so that there was always a rim of darkness about half a mile ahead which made a natural horizon. Until we had advanced toward it we were never sure whether our way was blocked by a cliff of the black basaltic rock or the darkness was merely composed of vast space.

We had told Van Damm we would be back in two hours, unless anything untoward occurred, which gave us an hour each way; in any case we could report any delay on the radio link. I glanced at my wristwatch and saw that we had already been walking across the plain for a little over twenty minutes. I had one of my smaller cameras slung round my neck and I stopped to set up my tripod to take a vista of the desolate scene with the minute figures of Scarsdale and Prescott now some distance ahead. I saw them quicken their steps as I was dismantling my equipment and I hurried after them just as they began to disappear into the rim of darkness. Scarsdale, however, paused as soon as he saw that I had fallen behind and the two men waited for me to catch up; 1 then saw what had caused them to hurry on. There, across the plain before us, loomed a blank wall, broken by another of the gigantic portals we had already seen at the entrance to the mountain. At Scarsdale's nodded instruction I radioed Van Damm; his voice came through, after a minute or so, distorted by static. I gave him Scarsdale's message and told him to stand by.

The three of us then walked forward across to the great portico which loured across the plain at us. As I had surmised, there was another plinth in front of it, which bore the same strange hieroglyphs we had already noted outside the mountain range and which, according to Scarsdale, bore so sinister an inscription. I took some photographs while Prescott stood looking round in the dim light; Scarsdale had gone over to the plinth and was laboriously copying out the inscription. It seemed to correspond to some passage in the Professor's copy of The Ethics of Ygor, for I saw him excitedly comparing extracts as he scribbled. When I had finished my photographic work, I put the camera back in its case and waited with Prescott. Neither of us spoke to the other.

We went on for several minutes until the portico had grown so large that the greater part of it was now lost to us in the shimmering vastness above; the right-hand side of the massive stone blocks of which the lintel was composed, bore two lines of inscription only and I photographed these while Scarsdale again noted them. He then radioed Van Damm' personally and gave him an account of our actions for the doctor’s log.

As we went forward again I saw that a vast flight of steps led upwards into the gloom; the interior was not entirely dark however, and fluted openings in the roof let through the phosphorescence from above. I observed wryly to myself that we were now twice removed from the earth above and that we were plunging from the eternal twilight into the stygian abyss; I wondered how many transformations there would be, each, like a series of Chinese boxes, more subtly wrought than the last and each more irrevocably committing us to this underground cosmos with its own arid and sterile atmosphere.

As we went under the portico the Professor observed to me in level tones that we would make Camp Four just outside the entrance the following day. To my surprise the warm, dry wind still blew as we went up the stairs. These were singular indeed and took us some time to mount. Their construction seemed to be of some light-coloured stone like marble or granite; they were not worn in any way and looked as freshly- minted as the day the unknown masons had completed their work.

But the most extraordinary thing about them was their dimensions and configuration. Scarsdale's exclamation reached a climax of admiration as we went upwards and Prescott and I could not help joining in. The steps were the most remarkable I had ever seen. Each was about two feet high, so that we had to scramble awkwardly over the lip, using both our hands to get leverage; the step, if that was the right term, then ran across for more than ten feet before the next pushed upwards into the dimness, and the whole process on our part was repeated. Our progress was necessarily slow under these circumstances and as the warm wind blew steadily down towards us, I was soon perspiring fairly heavily.

Our eyes were by now used to the lower level of light inside and we did not need to use the lanterns in our helmets. I did note, however, that a narrow band of ornamentation ran along each side of the steps, separating it from the wall and I drew this to the Professor's attention. I used my head lamp for this and Scarsdale took a sketch of the zig-zag patterning which ran along the double banding of the step border. I took several pictures for the record and then we went on.

Fortunately, the flight of steps was fairly short, though of great length, due to the ten or twelve feet levels in between each one. At the top we walked forward into what looked like a long rock gallery, perfectly built, and illuminated by the fluted interstices from above. It is now the time to become perfectly precise in my description of the scene, so I must choose my words carefully. We had not gone far into the gallery before I saw that along each side were ranged hundreds of what I must call, for want of a better term, jars. They were in single file, about two feet out from each wall and each bore above it a twin-lettered symbol.

I went up close and pushed at the rim of one of the vessels; though of great thickness and weight it rocked slightly. As far as we could make out in the available light the jars were greyish in colour, about five feet high by about two feet across. They were sealed at the tops with a flat stopper of what looked like clay or rock, cemented with some mucous- like substance round the edges which caught the light of my lantern and glittered. The seal also bore hieroglyphs corresponding to those on the wall above. The sides of the jar, from the indications given at the neck were about an inch thick. They had no necks or shaping such as we understand but were merely cylindrical with a flat base and the same circumference all the way up.

Scarsdale cleared his throat which made an unpleasant rasping noise in the gloom of the gallery. The sound went echoing down the long vista and I saw Prescott visibly start and look about him. He and the Professor conferred together and presently came back to me. The Professor had a geologist's kit with him, containing various small hammers, cold chisels and other implements. He and Prescott chose tools to their liking and selecting the nearest jar, commenced to loosen its sealing stopper. Working from opposite sides, while I reinforced the available lighting from my helmet lantern, they commenced to chip away at the bonding material.

The chinking as the hammer heads descended on to the chisels stirred unnatural echoes in the gallery and once again I saw Prescott, who was staring about him as if to guard our activities from intruders, visibly wince. I could understand his feeling as the echoes seemed to vibrate down the gallery and continue long after they should have died away in the natural order of events. Of course the configuration of the gallery was probably responsible for this eccentric aural phenomena but its effect was unnerving to say the least.

The Professor and his companion worked on for several minutes and their efforts seemed to be having a visible effect; there was a steadily widening crack in the material between the neck of the jar and the sealing disc and in about a quarter of an hour the seal began to give. The Professor and Prescott then both transferred their efforts to one side, and inserting their chisels under the stopper attempted to break the final layer of coagulant material. I heard a sharp crack, a muffled exclamation from Scarsdale who had slipped over, the stopper gave suddenly and there was a rush of air or gas from within the flask accompanied by a most shocking stench which made me feel quite ill. I turned away, groping towards the steps and the entrance of the gallery.

I leaned against one of the jars to clear that loathsome odour from my nostrils. I was thus some feet away from where Prescott and Scarsdale, their activities recommenced, had lifted away the stopper. The back of Prescott was between me and the jar, with the Professor on the far side. There was a grating noise, as the vessel was lifted on to its edge and the two men started to ease something out. I heard a muffled thump, the empty jar rolled with a hollow echo to one side and Prescott gave a loud shriek which jarred my nerves.

I jumped forward, the odour momentarily forgotten, to see Prescott backing away from something on the floor of the gallery; his face was white as he turned to me and his lips moved without formulating any words. I pushed round him somewhat unceremoniously and had to bite my own tongue to prevent my cry from joining the echoes of his own.

The creature which lay before us in shimmery putrescence on the rock bed of the gallery was unlike anything in my experience. It was about four to five feet high, with a shrivelled, white maggot-like body from which depended two stringy lower limbs, hinged in three places and packed behind it. On its back were gigantic wing-cases of bluish sheen. The thing appeared to be all the colours of the rainbow but as we watched the hues lost their brilliance, faded and finally died to a neutral brown as it degenerated in the air of the tunnel.

It was the nightmare face which had wrenched such a horrifying cry from Prescott's pallid lips and it would need the genius of a Bosch or a Goya to depict such a monstrosity in pencil or paint. The features, low set on a neck which seemed to form a contiguous alignment with its chest, were insectivorous. Black tipped antennae projected from a high domed forehead; a series of mucous-plugged holes underneath seemed to serve it for breathing purposes and a tangle of tubes writhed from where the ears would have been in a human visage. A horny slot in the hinged lower jaw served it as mouth but it was the eyes which were the most unnerving and terrifying aspect of the creature. As large as soup plates and all the colours of the rainbow they seemed yet to have life of their own; all the evil of cosmic space and the wisdom of ten million years seemed to gaze from them as the creature weltered in its own juices on the floor. It resembled nothing so much as a gigantic grasshopper imbued with extra-terrestrial intelligence and I breathed a little faster as I imagined its living counterpart countless thousands of years ago.

Scarsdale, as always, was the first to recover. He stepped forward again, removing the handkerchief he had held to his nostrils, the light of enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes.

'Did you ever see the like?' he said to his companion.

'Sacred objects? Or the slaves or pets of the gigantic beings who built these tunnels?'

'Revolting but undoubtedly fascinating,' said Prescott drily, though I caught in his voice the same excitement which was animating the Professor's conversation.

'Do you observe. Professor, the resemblance to the sacred baboon galleries in the tombs of the Ancient Egyptians?'

'Exactly,' said Scarsdale with a chuckle. 'I am glad the allusion had not escaped you. It would seem, however, that unlike the mummified remains of the Egyptians these creatures are highly perishable.'

He scrabbled with the toes of one thick riding boot on the suppurating mass before him; within fifteen minutes the grasshopper-thing had dissolved, melted and evaporated, leaving nothing on the floor but a few drying membranes and some thicker muscular portions of the creature's torso.

I apologised to the Professor for not having taken any photographs.

'Oh that's all right, Plowright,' he said casually. 'We'll open another one straight away and you can get your photographs. Then we'll have to get back.'

He took the radio microphone from me and commenced to dictate a stream of detail to Van Damm back at the base, who seemed, from his comments, as excited as our leader.

'This would happen when I remain behind,' he said irritably.

'Don't worry, Van Damm,' Scarsdale told him. 'There's enough material here for a hundred field workers. We will be returning within the next half an hour.'

He signed off and then he and Prescott turned over another of the jars. They merely broke this with their hammers and though I was expecting it this time, the sight of those hideous eyes staring up at me made it difficult for my trembling hands to focus the camera. However, I captured a dozen or so excellent shots of the thing before it too dissolved as the other before it. I was reminded irresistibly of Poe's description of M. Valdemar disintegrating into 'loathsome putrescence'.

All of us, it appeared to me, were walking rapidly when we turned our backs on the gallery for our long trek back to Camp Three.