Tom Swift and the Mystery Comet (18 page)

"Just waiting for a little muscling from Bud Barclay!" Tom joked.

Bud was already probing deeper into the open space beyond as the others trampled over the loose stones and crowded in behind him. They were in another corridor. Tom’s lamp showed that it opened out into blackness a few yards ahead. They approached slowly in throbbing anticipation, all but overwhelmed by the musty eeriness of their surroundings.

Bud, in the lead, suddenly stopped. "Careful. The floor ends in stone steps. We’ll need some light up here." In a breath Tom, Feng, and the others clustered around him. All four gasped at the sight revealed by Tom’s flashlight beam.

Ahead lay a big, low-ceilinged chamber, its floor a few feet lower than that of the corridor. As Tom played the beam about they could see that the chamber was filled with ancient alchemists’ equipment!

"We have found it!" Feng choked in a trembling voice. "The hidden center of alchemical knowledge!"

But there was more, and Bud gasped in fear as it leapt into view in the moving beam. Tom’s light fell across a broken skull that leered back at them!

"It’s okay, Bud," Tom said. "Old Mr. Bones looks glad to see us. He’s grinning!"

Stepping down past Bud, he strode into the sanctum chamber, widening his beam and swiveling the flashlamp. Interrupted here and there by thick support pillars, the crypt like room was about fifty feet square. Arranged about the floor were brick athanors, or furnaces, with bellows and tongs hanging ready for use. Flasks, crucibles, retorts, pelican jars, and coiled distilling apparatus stood everywhere. Several long wooden tables bore bottles, mortars and pestles, and earthenware vessels. A number of oil float lamps hung on chains from the roof of the cavern.

The chamber was occupied!—by silent occupants who hadn’t moved in many centuries. Shattered, crumbling skeletons littered the floor and the tops of the work tables. The intruders could make out rotted shreds of cloth—monk’s robes.

Dr. Feng was whispering to himself. Listening, Tom was surprised to discover that he was speaking, not English or German, but Latin—the language of the Brothers of Hermes. "Dr. Feng...?" said the young inventor tentatively.

The scholar stared at him for a moment as if uncomprehending. "I—oh. Forgive me Tom, gentlemen," he said slowly. "This moment is, to me—stunning!"

"Wasn’t that Latin?" asked Tom.

"Yes. It’s
their
Latin. Just being here, in this ancient chamber...

"Can you not feel it as well? Their anguish, knowing that they would never again see the sun and the stars? Yet they continued. Days passed, food and water and lamp-oil ran out, but they continued studying the symbols of the higher wisdom, making notes in their manuscripts—even as they knew that the parchments would crumble to dust before they would be seen by other eyes.

"For they
knew
, don’t you see? They
knew
what would come to pass, how many centuries would go by in the outside world before an
avatar
, one young man touched by the hand of wise Mercury, would lead others through the stones."

"How long have you rehearsed that speech, Feng?" snarled Dr. Sarcophagus in contempt. "What are you pretending to do, channel the lingering spirits of these pathetic fanatics? For all we know this complex could have been built during the last world war by Hitler’s pet occultists. We’ll need radiocarbon to tell us the date, not pixie dust!"

"You know
nothing
, you poor man," replied Karl Feng. "The truth finds no place in your rigid mind."

"Okay, enough of that," demanded Tom Swift. "We’re here to find out about the comet. There’s an inscription carved on that wall—Latin. Can you make it out, Dr. Feng?"

He stepped closer, squinting. "Oh yes indeed. It is the Sacred Statute of Hermes Trismagistos, who was called the human image of Divine Mercury on Earth."

KNOW YE ALL MEN THAT NONE SHALL ENDEAVOR AFTER THE SACRED WISDOM OF ALCHEMY BUT HE WHO IS PURE IN HEART AND INSPIRED BY THE LOFTIEST OF INTENTION

"Purified of
intelligence
," grumped Sarcophagus under his breath, "and inspired by rubbish."

Tom was intrigued by several tripod-mounted assemblages of polished mirrors and slabs of crystal. "I’m sure these were usable telescopes—made
centuries
before Lippershey’s invention of 1608!" Evidently the occupants of the Sanctum Never Seen had mingled astronomy with their alchemical studies, just as the ancient traditions had claimed!

"Made—and buried," said Bud. "Maybe the world could’ve
used
some of that ‘lost wisdom,’ Sarcophagus. Even if it just
unscientifically
jumped out of some guy’s head!"

Dr. Feng was more interested in the stone shelves of ancient leather-bound volumes and papyrus scrolls lining the walls. "What a treasure trove!" the professor enthused. He dared not open the books for fear their mildewed pages would crumble to the touch. "I see writing that must be the titles, but... ah well, impossible to read after all these years."

"Maybe I can help," said Tom. He made several careful adjustments to his electronic flashlamp, twisting segments of the barrel. The brilliant disk of illumination it produced faded. In its place was an intense halo of neon-like hues. "This phase-tuned polarized light should enhance contrast and make the faded letters visible."

The method worked. Awestruck, Dr. Feng translated several of the famous titles, mostly written in Church Latin or medieval German:
The Great Mirror of the World, Stairway of the Sages, The Magnum Opus Unveiled, The Book of the Twelve Gates.
"Many of the others," he said, "are totally unknown to historians of alchemy. I think some volumes may be written in Persian."

The parchments displayed out in the open were beyond even electronic recovery; most had crumbled to small brown scraps and fragments. "But look at this!" called Lett. On the shelf in front of him were several tarnished metal plates entirely covered with lines of writing.

"Whatever this is," said Tom excitedly, "it was important enough for them to etch it into bronze!"

Randolph Sarkiewski snorted, bluster obscuring awe. "Bronze? Too bad. I’d expect the important stuff to be inscribed on plates of gold!"

Dr. Feng examined the metal tablets carefully. "This section—a collection of the ancient symbols, the primordial alchemical signs that the adept must meditate upon to attain enlightenment! Yet I’ve never seen such an array of them..." Scrutinizing further, he gasped! "A passage in Latin—
Himmel
! It’s more of their story!"

As Feng began to peruse the Latin, Tom asked: "Sir—does it seem to have anything to do with the Messengers of Light?"

Dr. Feng didn’t answer. With wide eyes, he stood like a statue, gazing at the metal plate. His lips quivered.

"Good night!" Bud whispered. "The guy’s gone into a trance or something!"

Dr. Feng now spoke, very slowly and quietly. "The signs disclose the revelation—the signs in the sky..."

"The comet?" asked Tom urgently.

Feng seemed to be reading the passage. "
We all stood above to see the Messengers of Light weave their message in the night sky. Their torches flew about, for swift and sure is the stylus of Great Mercury, and they wrote above us in fire. Of all this lower world only we, we initiates, we adepts, we students, yea be it so, only to us was the knowledge granted, the sacred key. Many looked and saw this fire, but only we Brothers could read the light.
"

He fell silent again. Sarcophagus said, "The usual inspirational tedium from the séance room."

"Please be quiet!" Tom snapped.

Feng had stepped sideways and was gazing at the second metal plate. "I understand, now I
understand
. They were summoned and stood on top of this hill. The objects, bright lights in the night sky, moved in patterns almost faster than the eye could follow. They left glowing trails against the dark, symbols like those known to the alchemists of old, written in fire—made of light! The Brothers—it was Brother Albertus—copied them down. For years they studied them, concentrated on them, many years. Bit by bit the symbols translated themselves to the devoted ones. Even when they closed their eyes, they
saw
—they
knew
!"

"Enough of this!" grumbled Dr. Sarcophagus.

"G-go
on
, Dr. Feng," Bud urged.

The Chinese-German moved on to the third and last of the plates. "Yes—here it is, the revelation of the Messengers. But..." Suddenly it seemed the spell was broken. Feng looked up at Tom in confusion.

"Can you understand it, Doctor?" asked Tom.

"Only a little, Tom. The sky message is not in the Green Language. The Brothers have given the message in numbers and references to the zodiac and the fixed stars, to astrological configurations. I believe this message is the original source of the information about the comet, Comet Tarski."

Bud’s eyes were wide. "That—that warning? With the fangs? That... dead hand?"

"The warning we already know about is after the astrological part, almost word for word. But it continues—there is more! ‘
Celestial messengers, He who in his graciousness has sent you, our praise, undying, endless. You leave this to mankind, to those children of children yet to come, so that when these things come to pass, the month, the day, the hour, the year, the seed of Adam shall be spared, they shall watch for the entrance of the White Queen, they shall read from her diadem the disclosures, the alchemy of truth, primum materium, to stay the vengeful hand of the consort, to fend off this evil, to stay the Dead Hand as it strikes the Sun, O Ye Sun Apollo, archangel, protect us, may we be saved as the Dead Hand burns the scroll of Man to ashes!
’

"And then one more line. The month, the day, the hour, the year is written in the Green Language," pronounced Dr. Feng. "I can read it—
this year!
Whatever is to be done—whatever
you
must do, Tom!—decides the fate of our world!"

EVEN AS the majestic
Sky Queen
streaked toward Kurenkastel to collect the two girls and Chow, Tom was on the Private Ear Radio to his father in Shopton. "I have the three plates in front of me right now, Dad," the young inventor reported, voice steady.

"Can you confirm the date information?"

"Yes. It’s also said in a different way in the numerical part of the inscription. I’ve been able to translate the astrological indicators and run the numbers. Feng was right. Whatever’s going to happen is about five months away."

Damon Swift’s voice was, as usual, very calm and crisp. "According to the Brothers of Hermes. We should give at least a little credence to Dr. Sarcophagus. As he told you―"

"Emphatically!"

"—end-of-the-world predictions are a dime a dozen throughout history. The
only
reason to take this ‘Dead Hand’ business seriously is that these medieval monks were able, in some fantastic way, to predict very exactly the year and month Comet Tarski would become visible to the unaided eye, and its trajectory through the inner solar system. However it happened, they ended up with the raw data."

Tom rushed in. "But—Dad—it’s more than just that. Dr. Feng and I agree that the ‘message’ alludes to other things that were, to them, centuries in the future."

"Such as you yourself."

"Maybe. He thinks so. But look, if those sky-lights were created by extraterrestrial beings, they may have the same mastery over space and
time
as the Planet X scientists. We can’t just rule out the possibility of a technology able to probe future times."

"We don’t need to debate philosophy, Tom," responded the older man bluntly. "I agree that we must take the passage seriously as a warning—at least
that
—of some catastrophic threat to Earth, connected in some way to the mystery comet."

"I’ve run the numerical and positional data in the body of the message itself," Tom continued. "It basically projects the course of Tarski all the way to the critical date. At that point, in five months, the comet will be within the orbit of Mercury and nearing its closest approach to the Sun."

"The message seems to be saying that it will actually strike the Sun."

"No, I don’t think that’s what it means," Tom disagreed. "Dr. Feng says the particular Latin words they chose imply that the Dead Hand will ‘strike’ from over a distance, like a warrior throwing a spear or―"

"Or a coiled snake suddenly springing!" Mr. Swift was quiet for a moment, turning it over in his mind. "None of it makes sense scientifically. Many comets pass closer to the Sun than Tarski will. And Tarski is just a haze of dusty fog trailing along after a little lump of rock and ice. Even if, somehow, these hermetic alchemists were given information about the comet and its composition—they’re
alchemists
, son. They have occult notions of the ‘powers’ of metals and chemicals. They may have read their own beliefs into the symbols produced by those ‘Messenger of Light’."

"But don’t forget, Dad, our own instruments show something unexplained going on, on the surface of the nucleus. There could be interstellar material in its core with properties we’ve never seen!"

"But—to constitute a danger to our planet from hundreds of millions of miles away..."

Tom interrupted. "Dad, I’ve decided to move up the departure date of the comet probe. I want to be in space in forty-eight hours!"

Mr. Swift was stunned. "Great Scott! Has Karl Feng
panicked
you with all this ‘dead hand’ talk? The space model of your telesampler isn’t even―"

"I know," said the young inventor. "I talked to Hank Sterling just ten minutes ago. Some last minute unsolved problems—but we can solve them en route, in the
Challenger
. Hank agrees."

"But—but why―"

"I don’t know if I can give you much of an answer," came the quiet response. "I sure don’t expect to give
Sarcophagus
any justification that he’d accept! But something inside me says that I should take the Messengers’ warning very seriously. I think—maybe I just
feel
—that Dr. Feng’s on to something, some kind of truth that we’re not able to see from way down here. I don’t know where imagination and intuition and hunches come from, Dad. But if real scientists are supposed to look at
all
the data—
that’s
a kind of data too! It’s just lazy prejudice to slough it off."