Part 6

"We kept our size, but using the repellent force of this Inner Surface, I gradually cut down our velocity. Down more and more until that last light-year or so took us a week to traverse. The girl, Father, is approximately 5,000,000 light-years from here. We--our earth--may be near the center of the void. I don't know. Perhaps we are much nearer the girl's side. It isn't important . . .

"The Inner Surface at last lay close beneath us. It took us an additional week of diminishing velocity to reach its atmosphere. I was cautious; I had the velocity under control always."

He paused a moment, seeming carefully to consider his next words. "I want you now to forget earth standards. Take the larger viewpoint exclusively. Let me speak of miles, not in relation to earth, but miles--in relation to the Inner Surface--which are 100 million times longer. Let me speak then of myself as again but six feet high; the vehicle, 52.8 feet high. Realize that by the larger standards I was but one-twentieth of a light-year from earth."

Dr. Gryce said gravely, "Your telescope would show a globe like the earth very plainly at one-twentieth of a light-year of distance. You must explain, Brett, why you could not see it--or any of the great stars of our immediate universe."

Brett nodded. "We could not see the earth, because to our size it was merely a little orange. To be more exact, a ball about five inches in diameter. A tiny ball I could have held in my hand, whirling out there in Space, spinning like a top on its axis to make your infinitesimal days and nights; traversing its entire orbit--a complete revolution around its little sun--more than three times every second!

"With these other standards, then, I want you to visualize us as we sat on the floor of the vehicle gazing down through the lower window. We were, say a hundred miles above the Inner Surface, just entering the upper strata of its atmosphere, and falling gently downward. Beneath us lay a broad vista of land and water; vegetation; forests; here and there patches of human habitation--houses, villages. It was a strange, unfamiliar landscape, yet not unduly abnormal. In every direction--as we dropped closer--it spread upward to our horizon. A rolling country; gently undulating hills, broad valleys--and off near the horizon a jagged mountain range. It seemed not far away; we could see black yawning holes in it; the mouths of caves, or tunnels, perhaps.

"The broad crescent lake lay directly beneath us. Trees bordered its banks; trees strange of shape--yet one would call them trees at once. A collection of low, flat-roofed buildings lay beside the water. A village--or a city. The buildings were queerly curved--seemingly crescent-shaped. They had no straight lines. They seemed generally of but one story, though a few were larger; and upon an eminence near the water stood one much larger; more ornate of shape than all the others.

"It was not a fantastic scene, but wholly rational to our own accepted standards. A sylvan atmosphere seemed to hang upon it. Trees and flowers were everywhere; the roof-tops seemed gardens as luxuriant as those beside the houses. The streets were broad and orderly; and beyond the city ribbons of roads wound out over the hills.

"A sylvan landscape, with an air of quiet peace upon it. I felt a sense of surprize. This was not modernity; nor a civilization more advanced than our own--nor yet was it barbarism. Later I knew it was decadence. A people who once had been far up the slope of civilization, over the peak, and now were coming down upon the other side. The peaceful, restful ease of decadence, which to complete the inevitable cycle of all human life ultimately would again bring them to barbarism.

"We saw these details as we fell gently toward the crescent lake. You will notice I have not mentioned color in the scheme, nor movement. Our Time-mechanism was operating. The scene beneath us was stricken motionless, since always we were holding to the same instant of its Time. An unreality lay upon it; a flat, shadowy grayness of aspect. An unnatural stillness. We dropped closer. A shadowy boat seemed on the lake--a boat with a sail. It lay there, immobile. The water was rippled by a breeze; but they were frozen ripples. And in the streets now we saw people and curious vehicles--all standing like waxen figures.

"The grove of trees--the woodland dell wherein the girl was lying--was a short distance down the lake shore from the city. A single house was near it; but in the other direction was unbroken forest. An open space was there--a few hundred feet from the girl and her assailants. We decided to land there. We knew we were invisible as yet--a ghost of a vehicle, all in this same instant coming from Space to land upon the lake shore.

"We had not yet decided just what we would do. But it was necessary to land first. And necessary also for the vehicle to assume the Time-rate of this realm before we could leave it. When that was done we would be normal humans, to rescue the girl as best we might.

"We dropped into the little clearing at the edge of the lake, and gently came to rest--and upon the surface of the ground, since to us it would have had no substance; but within a foot of it, where, like a ghost hovering, I held us level. The unreality of us, I must repeat, was not to us apparent; we seemed solid--it was the ground, the forest about us which was unreal. Spectral trees; a gray twilight. I made sure that nothing was touching us. We were a few inches only above a soft-looking gray ground. We were ready to cut off our Time-change--to take our places normal to this new realm."

_CHAPTER 8_

THE ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST GLADE

Martt said, "I would have thrown off the Time-switch and rushed out at once. But Brett wanted to talk about it."

Brett smiled. "It was difficult for us to remember that no haste was needed. No haste--until we took the girl's Time-rate. And then we would need all haste possible. We discussed what we were to do. We had weapons--the electronic flash, for instance, with which we could have struck down that giant as with a lightning bolt. But could we? I was not sure--not absolutely sure--that the weapon would be operative. Or that, perchance, this giant would not by some strange means be proof against it. A man sixty feet tall is no mean adversary. Suppose he held the girl before him? Would I dare attack?"

"I suggested," Martt put in, "that we take the normal Time-rate of the girl, and be in hiding until the giant's size had dwindled to hers. The dwarfs were growing. But there would only be three of them, against two of us--and so far as we had seen, they were not armed."

Brett went on: "That didn't seem a good plan. The giant's size was, we had calculated, rapidly dwindling. Within five minutes he would be the girl's size. But suppose, instead of standing there during those five minutes he picked up the girl--made off with her? It was too dangerous.

"At last we decided to make the vehicle, and thus ourselves, somewhat larger. At the risk seriously of frightening the girl, we decided to take a stature larger than the giant. Thus, since he was not armed, we would have little difficulty keeping the girl from harm.

"The forest glade within which our vehicle was hovering was ample for the growth. We adjusted the mechanisms; and in a few moments of growth we had reached the determined point. We shut off the switches; the vehicle fell its few inches to the ground. . . .

"The scene clarified. We were in a somber forest of dull, orange-colored vegetation. Above us was a deep purple sky, with a few drifting clouds, and stars gleaming up there in the darkness. They were the stars of that last universe we had passed; unnatural of aspect, for they seemed unduly close and unduly small.

"It was not day--nor yet was it night. A queerly shimmering twilight; shadowless, for the light seemed inherent to everything.

"We were aware of all this in an instant, but we did not stop to regard it, for Time now was passing. The girl and her assailants were now, we knew, in full motion. With the flash cylinders in hand we stepped hastily from the vehicle doorway.

"The forest trees were saplings no higher than ourselves. We plunged through them, came to the other glade. The girl was sitting up with hands pressed to her breast in terror--a tiny figure of a girl not as long as my hand. The dwarfs were so small I did not see them at first; they were standing beside her--an inch perhaps in height. The giant, with what drug acting upon him we could only guess, had dwindled until he was only about half our own present height. He had dropped his tree-bludgeon, which now was too large for him, and was stooping down to seize the girl. His leer, with the reality of motion upon it, was horrible.

"Momentarily we had stopped at the edge of the glade. The figures there were aware of us. The girl screamed--a little voice, shrill with terror, an agony of sudden fear--at her assailants, and doubtless most of all at ourselves. The giant--I can no longer call him that, since we saw him as no more than three feet tall--at our appearance he straightened. Stared at us. Surprize, then fear swept his ugly hairy face. He shouted something to his tiny companions.

[Illustration: "The girl screamed--a little voice, shrill with terror, an agony of sudden fear."]

"Martt's hand went up; he fired his cylinder. But he was confused--and the nearness of the girl to his mark made him aim high. The bolt missed; lodged harmlessly in a tree with a ripping of its bark. I rushed forward to seize our adversary, but he eluded me, leaped over the girl. I was afraid of trampling her--I stepped backward--clutched Martt, fearful of what he might do.

"It had all happened in a moment. The dwarfs had vanished; but the other man--he was now no higher than my knees--was standing by a tree behind the girl. He shouted again; and now the terror had left his face and he was grinning, I saw his hand go swiftly to his mouth. Had he taken more of his strange drug? Had he warned his two companions to do the same? I think so, for before my eyes he was swiftly diminishing in size. I knelt carefully beside the girl. Her figure--smaller than my foot and near it--was huddled into a little ball, her head against her upraised knees. She may have fainted; I did not heed her, save to be careful my movements did not strike her. With arm stretched over her I reached for the man. But he hopped away and eluded me. Still grinning. As small now as my little finger he stood half hiding behind a grass-blade. On hands and knees I pursued him. But like an insect, he was too quick for me. Smaller always until I was probing the grass with my fingers to find him--saw him momentarily like an ant in size as he leaped into a tangle of tiny grass-blades and was gone.

"I had forgotten my weapon. Illogically I had had no desire to kill that tiny figure--only to catch it. But Martt had had no such feelings. He was stamping around the glade--trying to stamp upon the other figures--and mumbling angrily to himself. I called to ask if he had caught them. He didn't know. He had seen them momentarily--seen them raise their hands to their mouths. But they had dwindled so fast, they were lost in a moment.

"The girl was unconscious, lying there in a huddled little heap. Gently I raised her, held her in the palm of my hand. She was white as a little waxen figure--white and beautiful; and so small I scarce dared to touch her with my huge rough fingers.

"Martt brought water from the lake. I rested my hand on the ground, with her still lying in it. And then presently she opened her eyes."

Brett paused, and as he gazed at each of us in turn I thought I had never seen his face so earnest. And there was upon it, too, a look almost of exaltation--a look which transfigured it. He added gently: "You three--my father, my sister, my friend, I have no need to hide from you my emotions. I think then--incongruously perhaps, for that little figure of girlhood lying there so soft and warm in the palm of my hand--I think then my love for her was born."

Hide his emotions! He could not had he wished. This love in his heart was written plain on his face, to soften it, to uplift it to something--or so it seemed to me--something just a little more than human. A touch, perchance, of divinity. And I think now that love does that--if only for some fleeting moment--to each one of us.

He went on very softly: "She opened her eyes. I was afraid she would be frightened. I tried to look very gentle, compassionate. I held my hand very still. I think that for an instant Martt and I stopped breathing. . . She opened her eyes--met mine. I saw in hers a flash of terror. But something, strangely, must have conquered it--against all reason as she stared at me. Stared while the terror faded, and her little lips parted and smiled a welcome and a thanks. . ."

_CHAPTER 9_

"DWINDLING GIANTS FROM LARGENESS UNFATHOMABLE"

There was not one of us who would have interrupted Brett when he paused to light an arrant-cylinder and to choose what next he would tell us. He was speaking softly, reminiscently, and with a curious gentleness.

"I carried her to the vehicle, showed it to her. Obviously she could understand nothing of my words; but she was very quick to read my gestures; smiling readily now, with her fear quite gone. And sitting up in the palm of my hand, with her arm flung about my thumb to steady her, she bade me raise her to my ear. Her words--the softest, the tiniest of human voices--what she said was wholly unintelligible, save that I understood her name was Leela.

"She stood beside a tree at a distance while we re-entered the vehicle and brought it down to a size normal to her; and came out of it to confront her."

Martt burst out: "I tell you that was when I realized how beautiful she is. Say, you never saw a girl like her--you can't describe it----"

"I'm not trying," said Brett with his gentle smile. "She met us--there by the vehicle--to us then, Frannie, she was about your size--perhaps a little smaller. She took our hands, laid them against her forehead as though with a gesture of welcome. And led us presently to her home--the house near by. Her father (her mother is dead) her father is a musician. Noted--very high of rank and standing among his people. A kindly old man, with gray and black hair worn long to the base of his neck. We--Martt and I--didn't let ours grow, though as you see we took their mode of dress."

"How long were you there?" I asked.

"We slept perhaps three hundred times," he answered. "There are no days and nights--always that same half-luminous twilight. No change of seasons--or very little. It is nature in her softest mood. Nothing to struggle against--life made easy. Too easy. . . It was not we who learned Leela's language, but she, like an unnatural precocious child, who learned ours. . . We created a commotion among the people; the ruler sent for us. . . Oh, I have so much I'd like to tell you. But Martt can tell it--after----"

He checked himself suddenly. His words, some vague hint of what he almost had added, sent an ominous chill to my heart; and I saw, too, that Dr. Gryce had felt it, for a cloud came to his face and in his eyes I saw fear lurking.

But Brett went on at once: "I'd like to tell you of these people. A race at peace with nature and themselves. The struggle for existence all in the past. Decadence. The down-hill grade. Only by struggle can Man progress, Father. This race, with the peak of its civilization thousands of generations in its Past, gently resting, with the inevitable decadence drawing it inexorably back to the barbarism from whence it sprung. I'd like to tell you of their customs, their government--their mode of life. . . Some other time--or Martt will tell you. . . It was all so beautiful--so romantic. . . Music--their strange, beautiful arts--Music as Leela's father gave it--Art to take the place of Science and Industry. . . You ask Martt to tell you about the dancing--the pageants, if you want to call them that, to which we went so many times with Leela. . . But just now I'm tired--I think I've talked too much--and I'm worried--and it seems to press me, against all the logic of our Science, that I have no time to spend, telling all this to you. . ."

Brett, indeed, seemed suddenly tired, or perhaps harassed at the thoughts which had come to him. I had been so absorbed--as had all of us--that we had given no heed to the passing hours. Abruptly I realized that the room was chill with early morning; through the window I saw the flush of the eastern sky.

Martt followed my glance. "Why, it's dawn! Brett's been talking all night."

Brett said strangely: "Too long! Father, this gentle race living out there in such seeming security had just been visited by beings from the great world outside it. A world known to them only by legend of their past ages which they scarce knew to be true or false. Those three assailants of Leela's--and other men like them--had suddenly appeared as dwindling giants coming down out of largeness unfathomable. They had already destroyed a city. . ."

Brett's voice had risen; he was talking faster now; and there was a touch of wildness in his tone--a wildness perhaps born of his exhaustion, and the emotional stress under which I knew now he had been laboring all night.

"Our arrival there, Father--the three assailants of Leela--I think the larger, him whom we have called the 'giant'--I think he is leader of the invaders from that greater world. Our appearance--our own power to change size which perhaps he observed there in the forest--must have frightened him. The invaders vanished. But at the end of those months we lived there--another of these giants was seen.

"They're coming back again--to threaten Leela and all her people! I came here to see you, Father--to tell you all I've told--and to leave Martt. But I'm going back--to do what I can against this threat--this invasion. And I want to go back to Leela. She----"

"She was afraid to come with us," Martt put in. "I wanted her to come--and now I want to go back with Brett. We've been arguing about it for days--he won't let me go back with him--he's stubborn----"

Brett reiterated: "I'm going back. I'm going alone. As soon as I've slept--I've got to sleep now--you, you'll excuse me--let me take a good long sleep--I'm too tired to argue about it now. . . Good night, Frannie, dear--good night, Father--good night, Frank."

He was presently gone from the room. Dr. Gryce had been sitting beside me and I put my hand on his arm. His face was quite colorless; his voice, suddenly very old and helpless, was murmuring, "I don't want him to go out there again. I'm afraid--and I don't want him to do it. . ."

_CHAPTER 10_

THE SOLITARY VOYAGER

"But Brett," I said, "there are one or two things I want to ask you. About your return voyage--for instance----"

It was mid-afternoon. Brett, thoroughly rested, was wholly himself again. Quiet, composed and smiling, but very determined; even a little grim. And I think he was a bit ashamed of the sudden, almost querulous way in which he had terminated his narrative and left us there in the observation room at dawn. He had had his sleep now; and had been alone for an hour with his father. Martt and Frannie had been called to them; I--an outsider--was not asked, or wanted. What took place there behind the closed door of the study, it was not for me to ask. But when they came out I knew that Brett had won. A questionable victory, for old Dr. Gryce was visibly broken; Frannie--pale and upon the verge of tears; and Martt for a time a trifle sullen; resentful that he was to be left behind. I think it hurt Brett--this fear he was bringing upon those he loved. But he was very determined; convinced that it was the right thing for him to do.

"I start back tonight, Frank," he told me soberly as he emerged from the study.

"Oh," I said. "For how long will you be gone this time?"

He hesitated. A look, which even now my memory fails to interpret, came to him. Then he smiled. "I don't know. But remember, Frank, I can return--with only those limitations the Almighty enforces--I can return to any point of earth-Time I wish. As you will live it--well, I shall aim to return here within a month."

It was then I asked him about the return voyage he and Martt had just made. "Brett, I've been wondering--did our aural ray guide you back?"

"Yes," he said. "On the voyage back, the first thing I did was to put the vehicle back through Time to a chosen instant at which I wished to arrive here on earth. When that was done, I held that instant always. We could not see the aural ray going out--when we looked back for it--for two reasons. One: Our Time had run far into earth's Future, and the ray was non-existent. The other: Even had we taken the proper Time-point, we were outrunning the light-rays themselves. In space, I mean, the aural ray left earth only with the speed of light. Our velocity exceeded that. You see? But on the return voyage we encountered the ray as we came in. A mere flash over the sky; but its characteristic color-bands guided us."

What he said about outrunning the light-rays made me think of the myrdoscope, the image of that girl--which they had received here on earth before the voyage--that image had crossed a space 5,000,000 light-years in extent. But when I mentioned it, he explained:

"The myrdal rays are not light, Frank, but only akin to it. Their velocity--why, light beside them is a laggard. We have no way of computing the velocity of the myrdal rays. But over a finite distance such as five million light-years--for practical purposes it is instantaneous. . .