The Death's Head Meteor
By NEIL R. JONES
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Air Wonder Stories, January 1930.]
Slowly the human race is emerging from its earthbound traditions and is casting its eyes towards the heavens. It was not so many years ago that weather changes were little understood, and there was much misinformation connected with them during the past twenty-five years. We have just begun investigating the atmospheric ocean, and we are slowly arriving at a point where long range forecasting becomes possible.
As soon as our activities are extended beyond our earth it will become necessary to send space flyers to chart the open spaces for scientific research. It is already known that the space between the earth and the sun contains a good deal of foreign matter, such as meteors, and even immense meteoric dust clouds. These, in cutting off the radiation of the sun, exert a tremendous influence upon our weather conditions. Furthermore, such meteors may contain strange and valuable elements. It is the exploration for such things that our author has used as a basis for his aviation story of outer space. And, incidentally, it is a story which will keep you on the jump right through.
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High up, on the top floor of a hundred-story building sat a man at a desk. Before him was an array of dials, a system of switches and intricate electrical appliances. Several hundred glass bulbs of various sizes flashed on and off intermittently in the wall over his desk. Fitting over the top of his head and around his ears was a shining, silver cap with a wire leading from the top to the apparatus before him. He was one of the world's interplanetary radio operators of the twenty-sixth century, sending and receiving daily messages between Mars and the Earth.
One of the largest glass bulbs suddenly shot into brilliance, and with a fierce crackling, an electric spark closed the gap between two metal cylinders, which paralleled one another about a foot apart. At the same time, the operator leaned forward, and with practiced hand, quickly manipulated several of the dials to various points, after which he threw one of the switches into place. A low droning sound filled the room, and a large cylinder upon which was rolled a continuous sheet of thin aluminum began to slowly revolve. As the brilliant blue-white flare in the glass bulb died away, the droning noise turned to a high keyed whine which broke off abruptly. The cylinder stopped while the multitude of tiny glass bulbs again glowed separately at intervals, as they had been doing just before the message had come in.
The operator shoved a lever at his side, and a small roller cut across the large cylinder, releasing a sheet of the thin aluminum which fell on to the desk before him. Cut through its thin metal texture was the message from Mars in the three universal languages of the Earth. The radio operator now turned his attention to a smooth plate which rested in the shape of a semi-circle about two feet long and half as wide. On the flat side of the thick composition plate, a black screen arose several feet in a vertical plane at a right angle to the plate, so that the screen faced the operator. Placing the aluminum sheet upon the plate, the operator threw another switch, simultaneously pressing a button marked "Meteorological Bureau." The screen suddenly glowed, throwing a series of orange-hued rays on a slant down upon the plate bearing the narrow sheet of aluminum which grew indistinct, finally fading, until it disappeared from sight. The radio man threw back the switch once more and the screen grew black again. The plate was now as empty and bare as before he had laid the message upon its surface.
In the Meteorological Bureau, two thousand miles away, the officials read the message from the aluminum sheet which had been transmitted by radio. One of them, an elderly man, walked over to the end of the room, the wall of which was bordered into a squared shape by panels. The color of the wall inside the dark panelling was a dull gray. He advanced to a round, metal, inlaid section of the floor. As soon as his feet came in contact with the metal, a picture suddenly flashed upon the surface of the wall, and the sounds of exclamations and loud laughter broke in upon his ears. The elderly scientist was looking into a comfortable room fitted up with lounges and easy chairs. Four young men were the sole occupants, being engaged in a game at one of the tables in the room.
The game ceased as the four came to sudden attention, facing their superior who now spoke.
"Jan Trenton."
"Here, sir."
"Get your ship ready for instant duty. I have a message from the Martian observatory at Fomar which states that several large meteors are approaching from the region of Jupiter and the asteroid group. It states that they will pass close to Mars to-night at 23:43, Earth time, two hundred thousand miles above its South Pole. From past experience, you know what is required of you. Bring back samples for the Bureau to analyze as well as any precious stones or metals you may discover."
The scientist turned towards his companions once more, and as his feet left the metal section of the floor, the picture immediately disappeared and the television screen was once more replaced by the somber, gray color.
At the space ship base, in the same huge city which held the Meteorological Bureau, Jan Trenton prepared for his trip. Getting into a private elevator, he propelled himself at a dizzy speed up through the interior of the tall building to the roof. The last five stories were open-air landing bases for the aircraft and space flyers. The first level was for the air flyers which plied among the ports of the Earth; the second was reserved for space ship freight carriers going to and from Mars; the third housed the freight ships which worked between Venus and the Earth; while the fourth was left to passenger service between the Earth and the two planets. The top landing level was used for miscellaneous purposes, the Meteorological Bureau controlling a section of it for their use.
Off Into Space
As Jan gained the roof, he found everything hustle and bustle, with space flyers and terrestrial aircraft coming and going. He went to the hangar of the Meteorological Bureau and entered. A long line of small space flyers stood side by side. Like the larger space ships, they used the same means of power, that supplied by atomic energy. A terrific speed could be obtained in outer space, and the fantastic speed of the Earth and the other cosmic wanderers of space might well be likened to the space flyers as the speed of a turtle is compared to that of a jackrabbit.
The young astronaut approached his tiny space flyer. It was shaped like an egg, except that it was more elongated, and the two ends tapered down to blunt points instead of being rounded. It was mounted upon four revolving metal spheres set into its keel instead of wheels as landing gear. It was especially adapted for the use of exploring meteors, for all sides were studded with grapples and jointed drills as well as claw-like iron rods. These latter, which were also jointed, were capable of acting in the capacity of fingers in grasping material and placing it into the receptacles which lined the sides of the little space car. All of the exterior apparatus was manipulated by mechanical control from within.
Jan inspected his oxygen tanks and fuel supply, and tested out the mechanism of the craft which he found to be working perfectly. He called an attendant, and together they wheeled the craft out upon the roof level which was bathed in the warm sunshine of a June morning. The young astronaut entered the space flyer, closed the door, and was alone in the air-tight compartment just large enough to accommodate him. On the instrument board before him were dials, levers, gauges, buttons and queer apparatus which controlled and operated the various features of the craft. He turned on his oxygen supply and his air rejuvenator so that the air could be used more than once, after which he shoved his starting lever forward. The craft raced suddenly off the roof and into the cloudless sky above the vast city of the twenty-sixth century.
Up and up he arose, until those upon the roof lost sight of his flyer as it disappeared, a minute speck against the deep blue of the sky. Below him, the city could be seen as an indistinct, white blur upon a background of green. Farther and farther he rose until he was in the rarefied atmosphere of the upper air currents. It grew intensely cold, and the young astronaut found it necessary to turn on the heating system. He now increased his speed from an even 300 miles an hour gradually to 1,000 miles an hour until he should find himself beyond the friction of the Earth's atmosphere. At this speed, it was but a short time before the tiny space flyer found itself in the vacuum of outer space. The little craft had six windows of a thick glass-like substance which was colored a deep transparent brown to nullify the blinding glare of the sun. The windows pointed in six different directions, and it was from these that Jan noticed the daylight ebbing, to be replaced by the utter blackness of night, except where the blazing ball of the sun shone through the brown glass windows. Through one window, he could see the curved contour of the Earth which he was so rapidly leaving, while from each of the other five windows the dazzling brilliance of the clustered stars shone with an iridescent gleam never seen upon Earth.