Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Astounding Stories, July, 1931 by Various (ebook reader library TXT) 📖
- Author: Various
Book online «Astounding Stories, July, 1931 by Various (ebook reader library TXT) 📖». Author Various
It led down abruptly, for a while, then more gradually, with many windings and twistings, and ending presently in another barred door.[66]
This they in turn battered in—to be greeted suddenly by a volley of rifle-fire that dropped three of them in their tracks.
Stoddard was one of those who fell.
Bending over him, Professor Prescott lifted up his head.
"Jack!" he called. "Where are you hit? Answer me!"
"I—it seems to be in the shoulder," came the weak reply. "If you've got a handkerchief—"
The professor produced one and staunched the flow of blood as best he could, working with the aid of his flashlight.
Meanwhile, ahead, the crash of pistols and rifles continued to split the stillness of the passage, as the attacking party pressed forward.
"There—that does it!" gasped Stoddard, at length. "Help me up. I'll be all right."
Prescott steadied him to his feet. They continued on.
ow the firing ceased, and in a moment Major Hendricks appeared, at the head of his party.
"Well, we've got them," he said, saluting Stoddard. "How are you, old man?"
"All right," was the gritted reply. "Let's have a look at them."
A flashlight was swept across the stolid group of Cossack prisoners, but as Stoddard peered into one face after another, he realized that Krassnov was not among them.
"You haven't got the leader," he said. "See here, you birds," he addressed the Cossacks, "where is he, eh?"
If they understood, they gave no indication of it, but shook their heads sullenly.
"Well, damn it, we'll find him!" Stoddard wheeled and strode past them. "Give me three or four men, Major. I'll smoke out that Russian bear. He must be here somewhere."
Hendricks sent the main body above, with their prisoners, and gave him the men he wanted, putting himself at their head.
"You'd better go on up, too, Professor," said Stoddard, addressing Prescott. "You've risked enough, in my behalf."
But the older man shook his head.
"No, I'll come along, if you don't mind," he insisted. "I want to see the end of this thing."
t was an end that came with dramatic suddenness.
Pausing before a barred door some fifty paces down the passage, they were debating what their next move would be—when suddenly it was flung open.
"Come in, gentlemen," came a suave, ironical voice. "Sorry my servants were so uncivil."
In the glare of light from beyond, Stoddard and the professor saw that it was Prince Krassnov.
He stood there unarmed, smiling.
"Is this the fellow?" rasped Major Hendricks, his automatic levelled.
"It is," said Stoddard.
Slowly, cautiously, they followed the man into the room, which in reality was merely the end of the passage sealed off, though its walls were richly panelled and it was luxuriously furnished.
Pausing beside a small, heavy table, he swept his hand over it, indicating a heap of rough diamonds that must have represented millions.
"Merely a fraction of my treasure, gentlemen," he told them, with a deprecating shrug. "I hadn't quite finished storing away the last shipment, when you interrupted me."
He strode to one of the walls, drew out a small drawer from a built-in cabinet and dumped its glittering contents on the table with the rest.
All around the room, Stoddard noted as he stood there swaying, were other cabinets dotted with the knobs of similar drawers.
"And this, gentlemen, is but my American sub-headquarters," the[67] Prince went on. "In Siberia, in Brazil—but why bore you with the multiplication of my now useless wealth? Tell me, instead, my good friends—Professor Prescott, Doctor Stoddard—how come you back here, after I saw you safely on your way earlier in the afternoon?"
"Because I happen to have a knack with can-openers, and my colleague is rather adept with machinery," Stoddard told him, "while Major Hendricks here is quite a hand with geography, not to mention aviation."
question or two, which they answered briefly, and Krassnov had the story.
"Ah, my poor rocket!" he sighed. "But it is fate, I suppose; Kismet, as the Turkish say. Still, I deserved a better fate than to be captured by a pair of American professors, when the secret service of the world was on my trail."
"Then cheer up!" said Stoddard, gritting his teeth to keep back the pain of his throbbing shoulder. "For I have the honor to represent Washington in this case."
At that, the prince scowled darkly for a moment. Then he brightened.
"Kismet again! I might have acted differently, had I known that, but—well, I drink to your success, Doctor Stoddard!"
Whereupon, before they could restrain him, he lifted a vial from a shelf over one of the cabinets and downed its contents.
"A diamond-dust cocktail!" he smiled, replacing the vial. "The most expensive, even in your country of costly drinks—and the most deadly!"
But Stoddard knew, as the doomed nobleman stood there facing them in stoic triumph, that diamond dust in the human system was as slow as it was deadly, and that the desperate gesture had been futile, so far as justice was concerned.
There would be ample time, in the weeks Prince Krassnov of Imperial Russia still lived, to round up his international allies and stamp out the remnants of their amazing ring of diamond smugglers.
While as for Professor Prescott, he was thinking with what amazement the members of his expedition back on Kinchinjunga would receive the cablegram he would dispatch that night, informing them that Stoddard and himself were safe in El Paso, Texas.
[68]
"The slaves!" gasped Jim, and involuntarily backed into the room.
The Slave Ship From Space
By A. R. Holmes
wice that night the two young men had seen the thing, and their hour for turning in had long since passed as they lay half reclining on the ground by their campfire waiting, hoping that it would return once more. Their interest in the strange visitant had completely banished all sensations of fatigue from a full day of vacation fishing in the cold Adirondack streams among which they were camping for that month.
They had discussed the appearance until there was[69] nothing more they could say; and now as for the last hour, they watched in silence, only moving to knock the dottle from their pipes and to get fresh lights off the splinters they stuck into their slumbering fire. The velvet night was now at full reign, and the myriad stars in their familiar patterns leaned close—brilliant jewels for man to share but never pluck.
Jim Wilson had seen the thing first—a pinpoint of cherry red that moved upward in a perfect arc against the brilliant white constellations of the east. As it rose, it grew perceptibly larger, to dwindle again as it arced over the western horizon.
Nearly an hour later it had appeared again; but this time, when halfway up the skies, it had changed its direction until it was heading directly over the spot where the two thrilled campers were watching; and as it approached they saw its color fade slowly until it had disappeared completely from sight among the inky patches between the stars overhead. For minutes the two were not able to locate it—until Jim, once again, had pointed to a faint red spot that grew in color and intensity as it drew away from the zenith. Once again it had disappeared over the rim of the western world—and from then on there was no thought of sleep in the minds of Jim Wilson and Clee Partridge. They were watching the skies, hoping it would return.
"What was the thing?" Jim Wilson exclaimed suddenly with exasperation. "I've been racking my brain, Clee, but nothing I can think of makes sense. It couldn't have been a plane, and it couldn't have been a meteor. And if it was a fire-fly—well, then I'm one too." He paused, and looked at the other. "Any new suggestions?" he asked.
"Me—I still think it was a space ship from Mars or Venus," Clee Partridge answered drily; "searching for a couple of good Earth-men to help 'em out of some jam. You noticed the way it disappeared for a moment when it was overhead: it was looking us over."
"Then it'll be back," answered Jim, not to be outdone, "for it's not apt to find anyone better qualified. I, myself, would kinda like to take a joy-ride out through the Great Dipper."
lee smiled and looked down at the luminous dial of his wrist watch. The two resumed their vigil, and there was quietness between them. For some time they lost themselves in the sparkling glory of the firmament, hardly moving, except to pull closer the collars of their flannel shirts against the increasing coldness of the mountain air.
And then for the third time that night the mysterious sky traveler sprang over the trees on the eastern horizon. Suddenly it appeared; both men saw it at once; and this time it made a clear, beautiful arc straight for the zenith. As it raised, it grew in size, a beautiful, delicate cherry star spanning the whole welkin. The two men got to their knees and watched it, breathless with fascination.
"Look!" cried Jim suddenly.
As had happened on its second appearance, the thing began to slow up and its color gradually faded as it drew directly overhead. By the time it should have reached the zenith it could no longer be seen. It had dissolved against the inky spaces above.
"It should come into view again in a moment," Clee said; "a little farther on, like the other time."
They watched, thrilled by the mystery of the midnight phenomenon. Minutes passed, but still it did not appear. Clee grew restive, and as his eyes chanced on his wrist watch he started violently and held out his arm for Jim to see. The[70] radium-painted hands and dial were glowing with unusual brilliance.
Looking quickly into the skies again, Clee sensed something wrong; something different. For a moment he could not figure out what—and then it came to him. One of the great stars, one that he had been watching in its climb up the sky through the night, had disappeared!
e got excitedly to his feet, grabbed his companion's arm and pointed out this strange thing—and as he pointed another star blinked out and did not reappear.
"Something's happening up there," Jim said soberly. "I don't know what; but I, for one, don't feel quite comfortable."
He kept peering at the place pointed out, at a spot of black even darker than the inky sky; or did he only imagine it was darker? he asked himself. Soon the spot enlarged; became a distinct patch; then, growing still, obliterated one star after another around its borders. It made a pure circle; and before long the starlight glinting off its sides showed it to be a great, tinted sphere.
Swiftly it dropped down on the two men, and they watched it hypnotized, incapable of moving. It was only a hundred yards overhead when some presence of mind returned to Clee.
"Run, Jim!" he yelled, moving away. "It's coming straight down!"
Wilson came out of his daze and the two sprinted wildly for the path that led down the spur on which their camp was located. They had not made more than fifty yards when they heard a dull thud, and, turning, saw the great sphere resting on the ground with a slight rocking motion that quickly ceased.
A gully cut into the trail ahead, and when they reached it Clee grabbed his partner's arm and pulled him off to one side, where, panting with their sudden exertion, they wormed up to the brow and peeped over at their strange visitor.
he sphere stood in the starlight on the very spot they had been occupying when they first saw it. Right in their campfire it lay—a great, dark-red crystal shape perhaps fifty feet in diameter, whose surface sparkled with innumerable facets. It rested quietly on the ground, as if oblivious of the two routed men breathlessly watching it from a short distance. No ports or variations of any kind were visible to mar its star-reflecting sides.
"It must be some new kind of dirigible!" murmured Jim; "but why did it go and pick on us for its midnight call!"
"It's a space ship from Mars," answered Clee with a serious face. "They heard you, and're coming to take you for your ride. See?" he added quickly, pointing.
A large door was opening in the side of the
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