Captain Future 08 - The Lost World of Time (Fall 1941) (18 page)

Then they steered for Venus. They had to comb nearly all the planets of the System, for every available scrap of uranium would be needed for Darmur's colossal proposal.

It's a titanic job we've set for ourselves," said the Brain as the
Comet
flashed toward the second planet.

"I know, but it was the only way," Curt said soberly. "Uranium was the key to everything and that is the only way in which enough can be had."

Venus was a hot, new world of low lands, covered with primitive plants. They swung back and forth over it, using the time drive on the main uranium deposits. Then they went on tirelessly to the next world.

Earth, in this early age, was an even wilder planet than when they had visited it in the Mesozoic. Its steamy seas washed on beaches of wholly unfamiliar continents. Its life consisted mainly of scrubby plants and crawling crustaceans. Rain fell constantly from the heavy skies.

THE Futuremen rocketed past Mars without stopping when they continued their gigantic time engineering expedition.

"There must be uranium deposits on Mars, too," pointed out Grag.

"Undoubtedly there are, but it'd do no good to force them ahead to Darmur's age. The hostile Martians wouldn't permit the Katainians to collect the element."

Through the Solar System, stopping at world after world, the Futuremen continued their unceasing labor. How long they had already spent at it, Curt had no idea. Keyed up by the desperate urgency of Katain's plight, he had snatched rest only in the journeys between planets.

But the long toil now approached completion. They wearily searched for the uranium beds on Pluto, the outermost planet. It was a snowy, fairly cold world in this age, though not as terribly cold as in their own time. Hanging in a driving snowstorm above rolling, white-clad hills, the Futuremen sent their concentrated time force down to hurl the last available uranium deposit of major proportions across time.

"That finishes it," Curt Newton said, staggering with fatigue. "We can start back now. If Darmur's men have done their part, there'll be enough uranium on its way to Yugra to hurl that moon clear to Sirius."

"We didn't cover all the uranium in the System, did we?" Otho asked. "The way I feel, though, it seems we must have."

"No, we covered only the biggest, richest deposits. There are plenty of smaller deposits left on all these worlds, but they won't be needed."

Grag headed the
Comet
up through the flying snow of somber Pluto to open space. Curt stumbled to the time-thruster and cut out the auxiliary projector so that the mechanism would again drive the ship itself forward in time.

"Screaming moon-devils!" yelled Grag suddenly from the control room. "There's a fleet of great ships coming!"

"You're off your orbit from weariness," soothed Curt Newton patiently. "There aren't any ships in this age. There wasn't even semi-intelligent life on any of the planets we've just covered."

"I don't care, I see space ships coming!" Grag boomed excitedly.

They hurried into the control room. One of its windows was telescopic, magnifying many times what was seen through it. Grag pointed into the black vault beyond Pluto, to the interstellar void that stretched toward the brilliant stars.

"Devils of space, there are ships!" Otho said incredulously. "A fleet of thousands — and look at the
size
of them!"

The Futuremen were looking upon the most incredible sight that had yet met their eyes in all their spectacular journey through time. From the interstellar void toward the System was coming a vast armada of unestimable thousands of great space craft. The ships were of totally alien design. Like gigantic cylinders, they flew at tremendous speeds without any sign of rocket-tubes or any other visible propulsion.

"Who's in them?" babbled Otho bewilderedly. "There's only the most primitive life on the System's worlds in this age, no creature of any real intelligence at all — nothing that could build ships like those."

Curt Newton's gray eyes were narrow with thought.

"The only time I ever saw a space ship of that kind was when I found that interstellar derelict in the Sargasso Sea of Space," he said slowly. "You remember the strange cylindrical craft that had come from another star and was powered by reactive force pressure instead of rockets."

"You mean these ships are coming to our System from another star?" breathed Otho. "It must be. They're approaching from outer space."

"They're coming from the direction of the star, Deneb, if that means anything to you," the Brain said significantly.

REALIZATION flashed across Curt Newton's brain. Simon's remark had recalled to him the great mystery that had puzzled him so deeply on their odyssey through time — the peculiar reverence for the star, Deneb, shown by every planetary people.

Deneb had been a sacred star to the Katainians of Darmur's age, and to every other planetary people, as well. All had venerated it, though none had known why.

"Look, their fleet is splitting up!" Otho exclaimed wonderingly.

The
Comet
was hanging above the plane of the ecliptic. The Futuremen could gaze down upon the great fleet from Deneb, which now was dividing into ten squadrons. One headed toward each of the System's planets.

They saw the squadron nearest them circle around Pluto and land upon that snowy world. Then, peering down through the higher powered electro-telescope, Captain Future witnessed men in strange space-suits emerging from the newly landed ships.

Curt looked up at his comrades.

"It's just as I guessed when Simon pointed out that they came from Deneb. They're colonists from that star who are settling on the worlds of our System. We're seeing a great historical event. We know now that the human race did not originate in our System at all!"

"Holy sun-imps!" yelped Otho. "You mean that these colonists from Deneb are the ancestors of all the human planetary races?"

"There can be no doubt of it," Curt affirmed. "See, they're already beginning the construction of a temporary city down on Pluto. They must be doing the same on the other planets." His eyes were shining. "We've solved the cosmic riddle that perplexed us. This is why the peoples of later times regard Deneb as a sacred star. Those planetary peoples are the retrograded descendants of these colonists from Deneb. All that has survived of these colonists in future ages is the dim racial memory that Deneb is important, a venerated star."

"But if they're all men of the same race, how can they colonize the ten different planets?" Otho objected. "The conditions of gravitation and heat and atmosphere are nothing like each other on the different worlds."

"There's only one possible explanation for that," Captain Future suggested. "These people must have a great science, to have been able to build ships like those, a greater science than any we've ever encountered. Before coming here in force, they must have investigated the conditions. Then they prepared for the expedition by conditioning, perhaps even breeding definite types of people who would be able to live permanently in their own selected environment."

"Are you saying that they bred a race of Plutonians, a race of Jovians, and so on, before they came here?" Otho marveled.

Future nodded, his features wistful as he stared out at the great ships.

"But if they're colonizing the planets so scientifically," Simon put in, "how came it that their colonies reverted to savagery on some worlds, and a lower plane of civilization on others?"

"Natural conditions must have caused that," Curt offered. "The rising of the seas on Venus, the seismic convulsions on Earth, all the difficulties caused by the System's aging. We'll go a little farther in time and see."

They turned on the thruster. The
Comet
was hurled forward a million years and again came to rest in time.

THEY peered out eagerly at the planets. Now beautiful cities covered almost all. From this populated System, vast ships constantly came and went toward Deneb and various other stars.

"Contact with the mother-race at Deneb has been maintained," Curt said. "I had never thought of the possibility of an interstellar civilization. Later ones were puny, compared with this. It seems so advanced, so deeply entrenched, what could have made it collapse?"

A million years beyond that point, he shook his head sadly. The ships no longer plied outer space. Though there was still some travel between the planets themselves, the great cities appeared stagnant.

"Some unknown disaster across the Universe must have broken the line of communication," Curt guessed. "Now, isolated here, they're subject to inevitable decline, as we already know. I'd give a lot to find out what happened, but we can't take the chance. We must get back to doomed Katain, and we can't risk operating too long without our full battery of cycs."

He started the thruster. After a long period, the gage at last registered the date of Darmur's time. Curt stopped the machine.

The
Comet
floated in the outer reaches of the System. Without delay the Futuremen drove headlong across space toward the yellow spark of Katain, which was moving with its tiny moon toward the ominously close disk of Jupiter. Curt eyed the two nearing planets somberly. When they came into conjunction in a few weeks, it would be all over. Katain would perish forever.

Their ship screamed down through the sunny skies of Katain toward the beautiful city, Vavona. Otho landed expertly within the garden of Darmur's bubble-like black mansion. Darmur and Lureen came running to meet them. The old man's face was pale with emotion, as were the lovely features of the girl.

"What's wrong?" Curt demanded, sensing calamity.

"Everything is lost!" choked the old scientist, "Our work, your tremendous expedition into the past, all for nothing. Zikal has sailed with the poison fleet for Mars!"

"What?" cried Curt. "But the four weeks the Council gave us isn't up yet."

"No, but Zikal convinced the Council that your plan was too mad to succeed, that you were lost in the past. He won them over, despite my pleas. His fleet is on its way now to slaughter a whole race!"

CAPTAIN FUTURE was stunned. It seemed indeed that their odyssey across time to help the people of this doomed world achieve their interstellar migration had all been for nothing. A race of civilization almost as high as the Katainian was about to be murdered to the last man, woman and child by the ambition and power-lust of one man. Death was soon to come irrevocably to the whole Martian people. "Why did your Council let Zikal do this?" Otho was raging to Darmur. "They promised us four weeks to get the uranium collected on Yugra for the migration. We've gone back and forced the necessary uranium forward into this age. Your ships must be collecting it and bringing it right now."

"I know," moaned the old Katainian, "but none of the ships and men I sent have yet returned to Yugra. It's taking them time to collect the uranium. And Zikal assured the Council vehemently that the whole plan was fantastic, that the uranium would never be available. They finally submitted and gave him authority to carry out his plan."

"He told the Council that he was certain none of you would ever return to this age!" Lureen cried to Captain Future.

"He thought he'd made certain of it by putting a time neutron bomb in the
Comet"
gritted Curt, his gray eyes flaming. "We're not going to let Zikal carry out his scheme. How long ago did he start with the poison fleet for Mars?"

"More than a score of hours past," answered Darmur hopelessly. He wrung his hands. "Now that you've returned and we know the uranium is being secured, I could convince the Council to call off Zikal's expedition. But Zikal wouldn't heed messages and he has too much of a start to be overtaken."

"The
Comet
can overtake him and his poison ships!" Curt promised. He raced toward the compact teardrop ship. "Grag, Otho — we're blasting off!"

"You can't stop Zikal, his flagship is heavily armed —" Darmur was protesting, but already the Futuremen were inside the ship.

B-r-r-oom!

Thunderously roared the cycs as Curt sprang into the pilot chair and jammed down the pedal. The
Comet
flung up into the sky like a projectile from a giant gun. Friction alarms were shrieking by the time they roared out through the atmosphere of Katain. Curt laid a course straight toward the green orb of Mars, forcing every cyc and rocket-tube to the limit.

Somewhere ahead of them, a ponderous fleet of space tankers crammed with the deadliest of gases was speeding toward the murder of a race. Curt felt a bitter, throbbing hatred choking him, hatred for the man who would coldly carry out the crime to further his own ambitious ends.

Recklessly he strained the thundering cycs. Grag and Otho and Simon peered tautly from the telescopic window of the control room, their eyes searching the black, starry vault ahead. Hours passed like eternities.

"I see them!" yelled Grag's booming voice.