Part 2

“That is better,” came the voice, as the bowl was taken from me and the hand on my shoulder removed, “now I shall talk to you. Sit quite still. You cannot possibly escape, and besides I can see you perfectly, so--”

I gave a gasp of incredulity. It was conceivable that the owner of this voice might be so used to the dark that he could make his way around; but as for seeing me perfectly in this smothering blackness . . . the man must be mad! That was it! I had been captured by some lunatic, and brought to this underground cavern for a terrible purpose. My only chance was to humor the creature, to use my wits and watch for a chance to overpower him. He was evidently endowed with a sort of sixth sense, and I would have to bide my time. Then, his voice--it was not the voice of a normal human being.

“I see that you do not believe my statement,” went on that drawling, peculiar voice. “You think that it is not possible for anyone to see in the dark. You not only think I am lying, but you think I am crazy. When I get done talking to you, it will be surprising if you do not think yourself crazy instead. We know no difference between light and dark, such as you dwellers on the Earth. Light is used by us only to intensify that which we already see--it is similar to what magnification would be to you. Light makes a reaction on certain nerves of ours, corresponding to your optic nerves, that simply intensifies the image. The stronger the light, the larger the image. As I look at you now, you are your normal size. We have lived and worked so long here that we are even more partial to dark than to light, although in our work we find it necessary--”

“Just a minute,” I broke in, realizing now that there was indeed a dangerous madman on my hands, and that only if I pretended to keep up a discussion on the topic which obsessed him could I hope to gain his good graces, “you must remember that I have only just arrived, and know nothing about you or your work. Where are the others who are associated with you? Did you bring me here to help you in any way? I’ll be glad to do anything I can.”

“I am not sure you will be needed after all,” said the voice, “I am appointed to look after you until--well, until you are summoned. The others you will see in due time. Meanwhile, as you have that human trait of curiosity and your face has expressed bewilderment and incredulity at certain things I have said, I shall explain what and who I am, so that you will grasp what I am talking about. To begin with, I am not a human being. Do not, however, let that fact alarm you. Because you cannot see me, and because I am talking to you in a language you can understand, you think I am utterly insane. You will shortly see for yourself that I am right. Listen carefully to what I tell you, so that you will be prepared to comprehend what will be shown you later.”

“But if you are not a human being,” I expostulated in a bewildered tone of voice that I strove to make matter of fact, “what are you? You speak English very well, and only human beings can talk. Are you a god of some sort?” I thought by this remark to flatter the fellow, and thus draw him out further in his absurd statements.

“Foolish one, of course I am not a god. But your question is reasonable, nevertheless. You suppose that only human beings can talk, which is correct as far as it applies to inhabitants of this planet. My parents came from the planet you know as Venus about one hundred of your years ago, and I myself was born here, in this cavern!”

AT this amazing statement I must have registered a very ludicrous astonishment, for my invisible captor gave a deep, throaty laugh and continued: “It is too bad you cannot see yourself now, Mister Stan-lee Murduck (that is about the way he pronounced it). You, too, would laugh. You see, we are not without a sense of humor. I know your head is seething with a conflicting tumult of thoughts. How did I know your name? From the notebook you had in your shirt pocket. You would no doubt be interested in my name. It is Oomlag-Tharnar-Illnag, or Oomlag for short. You may call me that. I am sorry that I cannot let you see my face just now, but we prepare all our involuntary visitors with a little talk in the dark first, so that our intentions will be made clear and they can better stand the shock of seeing us and our work.”

“Do you mean to tell me that other people have been brought here, too?” I shuddered at the thought. “What do you want with us--with me--and what becomes of us--‘involuntary visitors’?”

Again came the gurgling laugh.

“Oh, we have a certain very definite purpose with you. We would not trouble to bring you here, unless we could make good use of your services. We have only invited a very few visitors, but they are all people of much more than ordinary intelligence, such as yourself, and peculiarly fitted to aid us in our--ah, purpose.”

I realized fully my terrible position--talking in black darkness with a madman who claimed that his parents came from Venus, that others were associated with him in some sinister undertaking here in the cavern, and that several other people had also been made prisoners, for what unholy purposes I could not guess. The darkness and the strength of my unwelcome host were against me. In despair, I was now certain that my only hope was to draw him out in “a little talk,” and perhaps thereby gain information to help me escape, or, by pretending to be very eager to help him, to insinuate myself into his good graces and catch him unaware at a favorable moment.

“YOU tell me,” I said, as casually as possible, “that your visitors are allowed to see your work, but that before that event you prepare them by a little explanatory lecture here in the dark to better withstand the ‘shock.’ Would it be presumptuous of me to ask why it should be a shock to see you and your work?”

“Not at all,” came the voice of Oomlag. “But before I do that, you should be enlightened further as to why you are here. In a way, you are our slave, in the sense at least, that you will be compelled by us to spend the next few years underground. However, if you cooperate with us as I believe you will, you will be well treated and allowed to roam around as you please. If, after things have been fully explained to you, you do not prove agreeable and refuse to help, I can only say that you will very soon change your mind.

“Now, if you will be kind enough not to interrupt me, I shall give you a little discourse that you will probably not believe. No matter. You have all, being earth creatures, been most skeptical about what is, to your way of thinking, impossible. But at least try to follow me, and when you _do_ see us at work, you will be less apt to think it is all a dream or that you have lost your reason.

“As I said before, we are from the planet you call Venus. For many hundreds of years past we have been in a high state of civilization, one as far superior to yours as yours is to that of the crudest cave-man. We have developed certain scientific instruments and discovered forces that enable us to do things scarcely dreamed of by your scientists. Some of these things you will be shown in due time. It is well that we have made the wonderful advance that we have, for it has given us the secret of interplanetary flight, and in time to relieve the pressure of our population. Fortunately, your earth is only a little larger than ours, some 10%, and though almost half again as far away from the sun, your atmosphere is even better suited to us than our own. It is cooler and more stimulating. We were energetic enough as it was, but here on your earth we are paragons of energy. After we have conquered you and eventually exterminated you, as all your own superior tribes have done to your own inferior ones, we shall be the absolute masters of the two planets. With what we already know, plus things we shall find out as we begin to expand, I know that our population problem will not bother us again for untold centuries.

“After we have consolidated our position here, we intend to make an expedition to the ruddy planet you call Mars. We do not intend to settle, as conditions are not at all favorable for prolonged life there for us; but we do intend to see that the Martian civilization is broken and we ourselves secure from their menace. Though we cannot live comfortably on their planet, they can on yours, so it is wise to crush them as soon as possible, as they have a rather advanced civilization and might outdo us later. As for the larger planets known to you, such as Saturn, Neptune, and Uranus, and our smaller neighbor, Mercury, they may be disregarded, some being populated by crude insect-like creatures and others having only a low form of vegetation. Besides, their mass alone would prohibit our survival, even as it would yours. Though I weigh several pounds more here on your Earth than I would on Venus, its only effect is to give a corresponding feeling of well-being. Those who have come here direct, as my parents, say it is like a man under weight getting his full quota of flesh; he feels stronger, and he is stronger.”

THE creature paused, and I could hear his garments rustling. In spite of the fact that I still thought I was dealing with a lunatic, I felt but little fear. Though the strange throaty quality of his voice gave the words an accent rather difficult to understand at times, his choice of English was excellent and stamped him as a man with a splendid education. Perhaps he was some professor of astronomy who had become insane from overstudy, and was living his life underground, clever enough to wrest a living by going at times to the outside world and obtaining food somehow. Long familiarity with his habitat undoubtedly explained his uncanny ability to get around in the dark, and sense my position. And his rock camouflage--that was wonderfully clever. Yes, I would rather deal with an intelligent man obsessed on one subject than with a rambling, mumbling idiot. Could there be any truth about others working with him? Hardly. Later he would probably point out an imaginary series of tunnels and what not, firmly believing everything was there. If I was diplomatic enough I might get him to show me the entrance through which he had brought me, and then make a break for freedom. . . .

My face must have betrayed my growing interest and lack of fear, for Oomlag’s next remark indicated as much.

“What do you say now, Stan-lee?” he asked me, his garments still rustling like strips of dry, hard leather rubbing against each other. “Have I told you enough to make you realize how very much you are in my power, and to make you wish to see the things I have mentioned; or do you wish to ask questions about things I have overlooked? Our Field General has communicated with me, wanting to know if you are sufficiently enlightened. If you care to proceed now, I shall give the signal and we may advance; but if you are still afraid for your safety, further parley is your privilege.”

My mind was made up. Under the circumstances, there was only one thing I could do--go with the fellow, and find out once for all whether he was a lunatic or not. I could only hope I would not be hurled into some pit in the darkness.

“Sure, Oomlag,” I said, striving to seem very enthusiastic, “bring on your big show! Tell your General I am ready, and that my services are at his disposal. I think I can stand about any shock now.”

“You stood the darkness test better than most,” remarked Oomlag, dryly. “Usually we must speak long before we get near enough to touch. The fluid you drank was water with a mild drug to make your mind more active. Since you are ready, I will give the signal.”

Again his garments rustled. About a minute passed, but nothing happened to break the impenetrable darkness or my keyed-up sense of suspense.

“The Field General says to bring you in. Stand up, Stan-lee!” Oomlag ordered, at the same time grasping my right elbow with his lean, powerful fingers. As soon as I was on my feet, he faced me half way around and gave me a little shove.

“Walk straight forward until I tell you to stop!” he commanded, the gruff, guttural words being spoken close to my ear, “and do not speak a word. Say nothing until you receive my permission.”

I took a few slow, shuffling steps into the darkness, hands held before my face.

“Walk naturally!” Oomlag whispered, and there was nothing to do but obey. The floor of the cave sloped gently down, and I expected momentarily to go hurtling into some chasm. I was wholly at the mercy of this strange being, and tried to steel myself for whatever might happen. I imagine that walking the plank would be a similar sensation, the only difference being the certainty of destruction.

AFTER I had taken about a hundred steps, the floor seemed to become level. Oomlag was right behind me. I could hear the soft shuffle of his feet and rustle of his clothes. But he gave me no more spoken directions. Either I happened to be going in the right direction, or, what was more probable, I was being guided by some unknown influence. The floor continued level, and we must have walked fully five minutes in the dense blackness of the place before I noticed a little draft of warm air. At the same time I became aware of a rather high-pitched humming sound that grew louder as we moved forward. Then I began to hear more shuffling sounds, and a sort of subdued murmuring on all sides, as though a crowd of people were gathered and whispering to one another.

Suddenly Oomlag’s hand grasped my shoulder and stopped me in my tracks. Without uttering a word, we stood there, his hand still gripping my shoulder. My senses were keenly acute, and I knew, from the indistinct rustlings and murmurings I could hear, that we were surrounded by other beings.

Slowly, as the lights in a theater are gradually turned on, objects around me became visible. First I could make out several shadowy, tall figures standing about on all sides, and the outlines of two enormous white stalagmites. As the light became brighter by imperceptible degrees, I could see that it emanated from a multitude of octagonal crystals set in the walls of the cavern at regular intervals. Before me rose up a sort of throne built into a large niche in the cavern wall, and on this throne, apparently hewn from the living rock, sat one of the most preposterous-looking beings the imagination of man could conceive. The two stalagmites flanked this throne on either side, and other bizarre creatures were thronged in the space between the stalagmites and below the throne.

I shall do my best to describe the Field General commanding the hordes from Venus that are to conquer our earth in a few short years. I was sickened by the revelation that Oomlag was indeed no madman, but really one of an invincible vanguard with the world in their grasp. The Field General, as Oomlag had termed him, was a terrible thing to look upon. A tall figure, well over seven feet, with unbelievably long, skinny arms and legs, a torso like a pouter-pigeon, and above it, set on a short, thick neck, a head shaped like an ostrich egg. The head was entirely bald, covered with skin like parchment and of a most revolting ochre yellow color. The ears tapered almost to a point; the eyes, small and set close together, burned like those of a cat in the dark; the nose was very wide and flat, almost pig-like; and the mouth, thick-lipped and exceedingly wide, was doubly hideous due to the total absence of chin. In conversation later he revealed his teeth, the front four evidently filed to a point and the rest flat; all of a dark gray color. He was clothed in some sort of tight-fitting dull green garment which, together with a brick-red jacket or vest over his huge, round chest, gave him the appearance of a grotesque turnip. On his long, tapering feet he wore flat sandals held in place by thongs laced through the ends of his doublet, if I may call it that. His fingers were all long and of equal length, and he kept toying with some object resting in his lap. It looked like a bassoon without the mouthpiece.

THE lights had now reached their maximum, giving the huge room the effect of being flooded by intensely bright moonlight. Behind me, and on all sides, stood scores of these creatures, similar in appearance to the Field General on the throne, except that they wore dull green jackets instead of brick-red. They stood motionless, regarding me stolidly with their smoldering, beady eyes.

Oomlag stepped forward and saluted his commander with a sweeping motion of his right arm. He said something in a strange, guttural tongue, and the Field General evidently plied him with questions about me, for they kept up a long conversation, often glancing my way. Finally Oomlag turned to me.

“The Field General wants to ask you a few questions,” he said, stepping to one side.

The Field General regarded me intently for several moments. I quailed under the inspection of those calculating, cat-like, inhuman eyes of his. The only difference between him and what might be imagined in a nightmare was that he was the real thing--actual and horrible to look upon. With his loose, ochre lips exposing the sharp front teeth at every word, he spoke in a pronounced guttural accent, his English quite limited and hard to understand.

“You work rock work?” he asked with difficulty.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my heart pounding against my ribs for all I could do to calm myself. “I’m a geologist.”

A short interjection by Oomlag evidently explained to the Field General what a geologist was.

“You know then what is r-r-radium?”

“Yes.”

“You know what is bismuth?”

“Yes.”

“You know any in between?”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” I inquired.

The Field General spoke a few rapid words to Oomlag, who said to me: “He means, do you know of any element of atomic weight between bismuth and radium? You know, of course, they are roughly 208 and 225, using 16 for oxygen as the standard, and I promise you, on my word, that if you can place any element in that gap, you will be well rewarded for the information.”

“There has been none discovered that I know of,” I replied.

“That is all,” said the Field General, curtly, adding something in his own tongue to Oomlag.

Again came the high-pitched humming sound, and the lights dimmed perceptibly. The creatures round about, who had regarded me stolidly during my short conversation with the Field General, now broke up into little groups of four or five and walked off in different directions.

From this large room, which was the executive chamber of the Field General, branched four tunnels, about twenty feet in height and the same in width, lighted at intervals of some hundred feet by octagonal globes, set in niches in the solid rock and projecting out at an angle of 45 degrees. Down one of these tunnels Oomlag now bade me walk, himself striding along beside me, like some over-fantastic figure in a parade of mummers. We had only gone a short distance from where the tunnel branched from the Executive Chamber when I noticed that on both sides appeared, at regular intervals, large curtains or hangings of material resembling the jackets these people wore, both in color and material.

“These hangings,” said Oomlag, in the same way a guide would point out and explain objects of interest to a tourist, “conceal doors to our apartment houses. Our mode of life is practically the same as yours; we breathe, we take food through our mouth, we require shelter, we mate, we are gregarious. The apartments proper I am not permitted to show you, but this I can say: they are hewn from the solid rock, as are all these tunnels, by our own machine brought from Venus. As you shall probably spend several years down here with us, it is desirable that you should have this preliminary trip and explanation before you are assigned to quarters. By the way, Stan-lee--I forgot you are an earth creature and subject to more frequent pangs of hunger than we. Do you care for food or drink? It is only a short distance to the dining room of our involuntary visitors, and I shall be glad to take you there before we go further. What do you say?”

EVER since my introduction to the Executive Chamber, I had wondered, in the back of my mind, where my fellow prisoners might be. I had seen no living thing save these monstrous men of Venus, and this sounded like a chance to see some of the other unfortunate human beings held captive here.

“Yes, I am very hungry, Oomlag,” I lied, “and I was just about to ask you if I could have something to eat.”

“Follow me.”

I followed Oomlag down this main tunnel about a quarter of a mile to where a smaller tunnel branched to the right. Some hundred paces we took down this, then found the way blocked by the usual dull-green hangings. Oomlag’s hands reached under his jacket, there was a rustling sound, and instantly the hangings parted, revealing doors like huge square blocks of cement. These doors slid noiselessly into the walls of the tunnel on each side.

We entered a chamber about a hundred feet square and about fifteen feet high, containing a dozen large, round tables of smooth rock, with smaller stools, also of rock, serving as chairs. Over each table, as well as in the comers of the room, were the octagonal crystal lights illuminating the room with their cold, intense rays. Behind us the immense doors slid together again without a sound.

At one of these rock tables Oomlag and I seated ourselves. Again he reached under his jacket and again there was a rustling sound. I was about to ask him what sort of signals he produced by this mysterious maneuver, when a panel in the rock wall at the far end of the room slid back, and a girl bearing a tray stepped out.