The Devolutionist and the Emancipatrix by Homer Eon Flint (books to read for self improvement .TXT) 📖

further from him. For all practical purposes, the investigation was narrowed down to what Billie, through Mona, and her husband, through Powart, were able to uncover. But it was enough; enough to strain their imaginations to the snapping point, and make all four doubt their new-found senses.

Van Emmon declared that he intended to warn Powart that his plan was suspected. "It's only fair," stoutly, "after what you told Fort, through Mona." And Billie had no answer to that.

So the geologist watched the chief closely, finding it decidedly hard to catch him in the required state of semiconsciousness. Apparently Powart was always alert, even up to the exact moment of going to sleep; after which he invariably slept like a log, but awakening with a start, bolt upright in bed. But Van Emmon continued to watch his chance.

Meanwhile another message had been received from the Alma expedition. It ran as follows, after decoding:

People here are planning to construct a great fleet to visit Hafen and Holl about the middle of next year. To carry a regular army of missionaries, to preach the gospel of social democracy.

Better make the most of your reign while it lasts, Mr. Powart.
Married yet?

The chairman was glad to get this, rather than otherwise. Somehow the thing strengthened his whole plan. From his standpoint the proposed invasion of missionaries "to preach the gospel of social democracy," was far more to be feared than a military invasion.

So, although he made certain changes in the message, he did not have to counterfeit his earnestness when he presented the matter to his staff, the former commission. Perhaps the expedition's last remark, "Married yet?" had something to do with the vigor of his tones.

"They are planning," he told the nine, "to undo all that our civilization has accomplished. Unless we can circumvent them, Hafen and Holl will be turned into bedlam."

He lost no time about what he had next to say. "Knowing what we do about Alma's designs upon us, I believe that it would be folly to wait until we are attacked. They doubtless possess inventions against which we would be powerless; they are such highly advanced people in such matters. So what I propose is to prevent them from attacking us at all!"

He paused portentously, finding in each face before him an anxious excitement which was exactly what he wanted. They were hanging breathlessly upon his words.

"Let me remind you that Alma is not only our nearest neighbor in the solar system, but that, at present, only a few million miles separate us. She is within a few weeks of the nearest point. Furthermore"—speaking with care—"we must remember that Alma is not only nearer the sun than we are, but it is a much older planet. Were it not for the glass with which she is completely roofed in, the people would suffer from lack of air. In short, this roof of theirs is vitality itself to them. Now, my campaign—subject to your suggestions and advices—shall be to puncture that roof!"

The sensation was tremendous. None of the nine had ever heard the like before. And yet, such was the dominating energy of their commander, it bridged the gap for them all; instantly they saw that his idea was the best possible.

"The only question, of course—sir—is the matter of means." The shock-headed man spoke with immense respect. The others looked as though they envied him his nerve.

Powart was ready with his reply. "I have already considered this. Briefly we shall construct a piece of artillery of such dimensions that we can bombard the planet directly!"

He explained that it meant operations on a scale never before attempted. It meant a cannon as much beyond what had ever been made before, as that roof had exceeded anything of the kind. "And so far as I have figured the matter, the total resources of Holl will have to be pressed into service for the purpose. There will be no opportunity for insurrection while this work is in progress."

And he went on to elaborate. The nine made some suggestions, a few of which were adopted. The thing was worked out, then and there, with such completeness that the plan was publicly announced the very next day.

Powart himself carried a copy of the manifesto to Mona. He found her superintending the work of her gardeners. She did suggest going into the house, but offered him a seat on the grass beside her. He stood instead.

"It seems to be the only thing to do," commented the surgeon, after reading the document in silence. She had not the remotest idea, of course, that the whole thing was based upon pure fraud. "Are you sure that this bombardment will not cost a good many lives?"

"I doubt if there will be any loss at all," he replied. "It is my intention to communicate with Alma just before the first shot is fired, and warn them what to expect; so that they can keep away from the spot we shall aim at, and get supplies ready for repairing the break."

"I see. Your plan is to keep them so busy mending breaks that they will lose all interest in their proposed invasion." She laughed a little. "Really, it is a rather comical sort of warfare. But you certainly deserve a great deal of credit for finding such a humane way out of the difficulty. You will go down in history as the world's greatest man!"

Powart drew a deep breath. But he said quietly enough, "Don't you think that I have done enough to—dispose of that objection of yours?"

She was momentarily at a loss for words. "Really—the thing is so immense—I can hardly believe that you did all this entirely on my account. Did you?"

He was taken off his guard. "Yes—I mean, no. Your objection was what set me to thinking; but the opportunity of doing our people a service—that, Mona, is what—" He hesitated; it was not easy, with the girl staring innocently at him, declare that he had not deliberately formed his opportunity out of thin air.

But she had no suspicions. Billie had not been able to reach her again.

The four on the earth knew little of Fort. He called up Powart two days after the Cobulus's sensational flight, reporting that he had been kidnapped "by some masked men" along with Reblong and the others, but that he alone had escaped. The ship, was found, abandoned, in an undeveloped part of Holl; and all signs indicated that the former prisoners had separated at this point. Prolonged search failed to locate them, or the missing employees.

Fort continued to go and come quite as before. He called frequently upon Mona, with whom he was exceedingly careful to avoid all reference to Powart, for fear he might blurt out the truth. The girl told him that he still had a lot of time to make good; she would not marry, she said, until after all danger from Alma was past. He was satisfied.

"I have a little scheme up my sleeve," casually, "such as may amount to something, and may not. I need just about that much time to finish it, anyhow."

"Is it anything you can talk about now?"

"Not yet."

And the subject was dropped.

Thus matters stood when half the industrial army of Holl, taken from their regular tasks, were set to the making of the giant gun and its equally giant projectiles. Monstrous though they were to be, however, they were no less prodigious than Powart. Could Fort, wondered Mona, possibly equal him?

And so the weeks passed into months, and finally the great day came.

XVI THE BLAST

"I am glad to see so many moving-picture men," said Mona thoughtfully. "If it were not for photographs, I doubt if coming generations would believe this."

And she turned her glasses again upon the scene. From the cockpit of Fort's newest ornithopter, about three hundred yards from the ground and less than that distance from the spot, she could watch operations with exceptional ease. Fort agreed with her comment.

"Yes; to merely state that the mouth of that cannon is a hundred feet in diameter, and that it is set a mile and a half into the ground, at an angle of thirty degrees—it's too much of a strain on the imagination. However, I understand they've taken flash-light pictures from the interior, such as will make it easier to believe."

A huge compound crane was slowly swinging the first projectile into place over the muzzle of that colossal gun. Mona eyed the immense shell with curiosity.

"As I understand it," she said, "the projectile is really a number of shells, telescoping, one within another. I've forgotten how many there are."

"Fifty. The idea, of course, is that the original charge of powder within the cannon will send the projectile at something like two miles a second. Upon reaching a certain point in space another charge will be automatically fired in the base of the outermost shell. Thus it will act as another cannon, from which the remaining shells will be shot. And so on, until the forty-ninth shell has been blown to the rear. The remaining one will, by that time, have traveled far enough to get out of our gravitation into Alma's."

"What is the size of the fiftieth shell?"

"Only two feet in diameter; [Footnote: All dimensions are necessarily a matter of judgment; but they represent the opinion of an architect, whose sense of proportion is presumably better than average.] but of such length that it will hold five tons of explosive. It is expected to demolish a square mile of their roof."

The great projectile was carefully lowered until its tip was flush with the volcano-like mouth of the cannon. The proceeding took a long time; and it was well toward the end of the work that Powart's handsome yacht swept into the space provided for it in the circle of spectators. By prearrangement this space was next to that occupied by Mona and Fort.

As soon as the yacht had come to a stop its thrumming wings keeping it as steadily suspended in mid air as any of the lighter craft roundabout, Powart himself stepped out upon the tiny bridge. It was the signal for a great outburst of applause, in which Fort joined as heartily as any one.

"You don't seem at all envious of Mr. Powart," commented Mona, watching the athlete curiously.

He looked around as though surprised, and protested:

"On the contrary, I am really proud of his success. You see, it's this way, Mona: If he fails, then I fail too!"

And before she could ask what he meant he raised his voice enough for the dictator to hear:

"Congratulations, Powart! Everything coming along all right?"

Powart gave Fort one of his piercing looks, but showed no sign of irritation as he replied: "All reports satisfactory. We shall have our little fireworks promptly on the second." Then to Mona: "Sorry I cannot invite you aboard my ship; but I shall be so occupied with the ceremonial end of this, you know, that—"

"Of course," instantly. "I would really be in the way; and I shouldn't care to be that, to-day of all days."

And Van Emmon, through Powart's eyes, judged that the dictator stood mountain-high in her respect at that instant.

Fort listened with the utmost indifference, seeming to take a boy's rapt interest in the spectacle below him rather than in the affair at his elbow. He glanced at his watch and remarked: "Less than half an hour now. I can hardly wait!"

Mona eyed him speculatively. "What did you mean, just now, about your success depending upon Mr. Powart's?"

"Just that," he returned lightly. "Why, if he fails, my little scheme is a miserable fiasco! I shan't be able to marry you at all; that is, unless you grant an extension!"

Mona did not respond to his levity.

"I wish you'd be serious!" she rebuked him. "Just think what this affair means!"

He pretended to be thoughtful. "Oh, to Alma, you mean! Yes, indeed; the folks will be badly upset, I imagine, if the projectile actually reaches their roof."

"Why, do you think it may not?" surprised.

"It's barely possible. The whole thing has been very scientifically calculated, of course; but the slightest flaw in the mathematics could cause a miss. Yes, the projectile may never reach its mark; it's something to be considered."

"In which case," returned Mona, evidently convinced that he was teasing, "in which case, your own scheme falls through!"

"Oh, no," with the utmost calm. "My scheme depends upon the cannon, not upon the projectile."

Mona nearly lost her temper. "I wish you wouldn't talk in riddles!" But