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  ASTOUNDING

  STORIES

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  VOL. VI, No. 3 CONTENTS JUNE, 1931

  COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSO

  _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "Manape the Mighty."_

  THE MAN FROM 2071 SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT 295

  _Out of the Flow of Time There Appears to Commander John Hanson a Man of Mystery from the Forgotten Past._

  MANAPE THE MIGHTY. ARTHUR J. BURKS 308

  _High in Jungle Treetops Swings Young Bentley--His Human Brain Imprisoned in a Mighty Ape._ (A Complete Novelette.)

  HOLOCAUST CHARLES WILLARD DIFFIN 356

  _The Extraordinary Story of "Paul," Who for Thirty Days Was Dictator of the World._

  THE EARTHMAN'S BURDEN R. F. STARZL 375

  _There is Foul Play on Mercury--until Danny Olear of the Interplanetary Flying Police Gets After His Man._

  THE EXILE OF TIME RAY CUMMINGS 386

  _Larry and George from 1935, Mary from 1777--All Are Caught up in the Treacherous Tugh's Revolt of the Robots in the Time World of 2930._ (Part Three of a Four-Part Novel.)

  THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 416

  _A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories._

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  Issued monthly by The Clayton Magazines, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street,New York, N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, Secretary.Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office atNew York, N. Y., under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as aTrade Mark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group. Foradvertising rates address The Newsstand Group, Inc., 80 LafayetteStreet, New York; or The Wrigley Bldg., Chicago.

  * * * * *

  The Man From 2071

  _By Sewell Peaslee Wright_

  _He clutched at the gangway--and fell._]

  [Sidenote: Out of the flow of time there appears to Commander JohnHanson a man of mystery from the forgotten past.]

  Perhaps this story does not belong with my other tales of the SpecialPatrol Service. And yet, there is, or should be, a report somewhere inthe musty archives of the Service, covering the incident.

  Not accurately, and not in detail. Among a great mass of old recordswhich I was browsing through the other day, I happened across thatreport; it occupied exactly three lines in the log-book of the_Ertak_:

  "Just before departure, discovered stowaway, apparently demented, and ejected him."

  For the hard-headed higher-ups of the Service, that was report enough.Had I given the facts, they would have called me to the Base for along-winded investigation. It would have taken weeks and weeks, filledwith fussy questioning. Dozens of stoop-shouldered laboratory menwould have prodded and snooped and asked for long, written accounts.In those days, keeping the log-book was writing enough for me andbeing grounded at Base for weeks would have been punishment.

  Nothing would have been gained by a detailed report. The Serviceneeded action rather than reports, anyway. But now that I am an oldman, on the retired list, I have time to write; and it will be aparticular pleasure to write this account, for it will go to provethat these much-honored scientists of ours, with all their tremendousappropriations and long-winded discussions, are not nearly sowonderful as they think they are. They are, and always have been, toomuch interested in abstract formulas, and not enough in theirpractical application. I have never had a great deal of use for them.

  * * * * *

  I had received orders to report to Earth, regarding a dull routinematter of reorganizing the emergency Base which had been establishedthere. Earth, I might add, for the benefit of those of you who haveforgotten your geography of the Universe, is not a large body, but itspeople furnish almost all of the officer personnel of the SpecialPatrol Service. Being a native of Earth, I received the assignmentwith considerable pleasure, despite its dry and uninteresting nature.

  It was a good sight to see old Earth, bundled up in her cottonyclouds, growing larger and larger in the television disc. No matterhow much you wander around the Universe, no matter how small andinsignificant the world of your birth, there is a tie that cannot bedenied. I have set my ships down upon many a strange and unknownworld, with danger and adventure awaiting me, but there is, for me, nothrill which quite duplicates that of viewing again that particularlittle ball of mud from whence I sprang. I've said that before; Ishall probably say it again. I am proud to claim Earth as mybirth-place, small and out-of-the way as she is.

  Our Base on Earth was adjacent to the city of Greater Denver, on thePacific Coast. I could not help wondering, as we settled swiftly overthe city, whether our historians and geologists and other scientistswere really right in saying that Denver had at one period been farfrom the Pacific. It seemed impossible, as I gazed down on that blue,tranquil sea, that it had engulfed, hundreds of years ago, such a vastportion of North America. But I suppose the men of science know.

  * * * * *

  I need not go into the routine business that brought me to Earth.Suffice it to say that it was settled quickly, by the afternoon of thesecond day: I am referring, of course, to Earth days, which areslightly less than half the length of an enaren of Universe time.

  A number of my friends had come to meet me, visit with me during mybrief stay on Earth; and, having finished my business with suchdispatch, I decided to spend that evening with them, and leave thefollowing morning. It was very late when my friends departed, and Istrolled out with them to their mono-car, returning the salute of the_Ertak's_ lone sentry, who was pacing his post before the hugecircular exit of the ship.

  Bidding my friends farewell, I stood there for a moment under theheavens, brilliant with blue, cold stars, and watched the car sweepswiftly and soundlessly away towards the towering mass of the city.Then, with a little sigh, I turned back to the ship.

  The _Ertak_ lay lightly upon the earth, her polished sides gleaming inthe light of the crescent moon. In the side toward me, the circularentrance gaped like a sleepy mouth; the sentry, knowing the eyes ofhis commander were upon him, strode back and forth with bri
sk,military precision. Slowly, still thinking of my friends, I made myway toward the ship.

  I had taken but a few steps when the sentry's challenge rang outsharply, "Halt! Who goes there?"

  I glanced up in surprise. Shiro, the man on guard, had seen me leave,and he could have had no difficulty in recognizing me. But--thechallenge had not been meant for me.

  * * * * *

  Between myself and the _Ertak_ there stood a strange figure. Aninstant before, I would have sworn that there was no human in sight,save myself and the sentry; now this man stood not twenty feet away,swaying as though ill or terribly weary, barely able to lift his headand turn it toward the sentry.

  "Friend," he gasped; "friend!" and I think he would have fallen to theground if I had not clapped an arm around his shoulders and supportedhim.

  "Just ... a moment," whispered the stranger. "I'm a bit faint.... I'llbe all right...."

  I stared down at the man, unable to reply. This was a nightmare; noless. I could feel the sentry staring, too.

  The man was dressed in a style so ancient that I could not rememberthe period: Twenty-first Century, at least; perhaps earlier. And whilehe spoke English, which is a language of Earth, he spoke it with aharsh and unpleasant accent that made his words difficult, almostimpossible, to understand. Their meaning did not fully sink in untilan instant after he had finished speaking.

  "Shiro!" I said sharply. "Help me take this man inside. He's ill."

  "Yes, sir!" The guard leaped to obey the order, and together we ledhim into the _Ertak_, and to my own stateroom. There was some mysteryhere, and I was eager to get at the root of it. The man with theancient costume and the strange accent had not come to the spot wherewe had seen him by any means with which I was familiar; he hadmaterialized out of the thin air. There was no other way to accountfor his presence.

  * * * * *

  We propped the stranger in my most comfortable chair, and I turned tothe sentry. He was staring at our weird visitor with wondering,fearful eyes, and when I spoke he started as though stung by anelectric shock.

  "Very well," I said briskly. "That will be all. Resume your postimmediately. And--Shiro!"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "It will not be necessary for you to make a report of this incident. Iwill attend to that. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir!" And I think it is to the man's everlasting credit, and tothe credit of the Service which had trained him, that he executed asnappy salute, did an about-face, and left the room without anotherglance at the man slumped down in my big easy chair.

  With a feeling of cold, nervous apprehension such as I have seldomexperienced in a rather varied and active life, I turned then to myvisitor.

  He had not moved, save to lift his head. He was staring at me, hiseyes fixed in his chalky white face. They were dark, longeyes--abnormally long--and they glittered with a strange, uncannylight.

  "You are feeling better?" I asked.

  His thin, bloodless lips moved, but for a moment no sound came fromthem. He tried again.

  "Water," he said.

  I drew him a glass from the tank in the wall of my room. He downed itat a gulp, and passed the empty glass back to me.

  "More," he whispered. He drank the second glass more slowly, his eyesdarting swiftly, curiously, around the room. Then his brilliant,piercing glance fell upon my face.

  "Tell me," he commanded sharply, "what year is this?"

  * * * * *

  I stared at him. It occurred to me that my friends might haveconceived and executed an elaborate hoax--and then I dismissed theidea, instantly. There were no scientists among them who could make aman materialize out of nothingness.

  "Are you in your right mind?" I asked slowly. "Your question strikesme as damnably odd, sir."

  The man laughed wildly, and slowly straightened up in the chair. Hislong, bony fingers clasped and unclasped slowly, as though feelingwere just returning to them.

  "Your question," he replied in his odd, unfamiliar accent, "is notunnatural, under the circumstances. I assure you that I am of soundmind; of very sound mind." He smiled, rather a ghastly smile, and madea vague, slight gesture with one hand. "Will you be good enough toanswer my question? What year is this?"

  "Earth year, you mean?"

  He stared at me, his eyes flickering.

  "Yes," he said. "Earth year. There are other ways of ... figuring timenow?"

  "Certainly. Each inhabited world has its own system. There is a mastersystem for the Universe. Who are you, what are you, that you shouldask me a question the smallest child should know?"

  "First," he insisted, "tell me what year this is, Earth reckoning."

  I told him, and the light flickered up in his eyes again--a cruel,triumphant light.

  "Thank you," he nodded; and then, slowly and softly, as though hespoke to himself, he added, "Less than half a century off. Less than ahalf a century! And they laughed at me. How--how I shall laugh atthem, presently!"

  "You choose to be mysterious, sir?" I asked impatiently.

  "No. Presently you shall understand, and then you will forgive me, Iknow. I have come through an experience such as no man has ever knownbefore. If I am shaken, weak, surprising to you, it is because of thatexperience."

  * * * * *

  He paused for a moment, his long, powerful fingers gripping the armsof the chair.

  "You see," he added, "I have come out of the past into the present. Orfrom the present into the future. It depends upon one's viewpoint. IfI am distraught, then forgive me. A few minutes ago, I was JacobHarbauer, in a little laboratory on the edge of a mountain park, nearDenver; now I am a nameless being hurtled into the future, pausinghere, many centuries from my own era. Do you wonder now that I amunnerved?"

  "Do you mean," I said slowly, trying to understand what he had babbledforth, "that you have come out of the past? That you ... that you...."It was too monstrous to put into words.

  "I mean," he replied, "that I was born in the year 2028. I amforty-three years old--or I was a few minutes ago. But,"--and his eyesflickered again with that strange, mad light--"I am a scientist! Ihave left my age behind me for a time; I have done what no other humanbeing has ever done: I have gone centuries into the future!"

  "I--I do not understand." Could he, after all, be a madman? "How cana man leave his own age and travel ahead to another?"

  "Even in this age of yours they have not discovered that secret?"Harbauer exulted. "You travel the Universe, I gather, and yet yourscientists have not yet learned to move in time? Listen! Let meexplain to you how simple the theory is.

  * * * * *

  "I take it you are an intelligent man; your uniform and its insigniawould seem to indicate a degree of rank. Am I correct?"

  "I am John Hanson, Commander of the _Ertak_, of the Special PatrolService," I informed him.

  "Then you will be capable of grasping, in part at least, what I haveto tell you. It is really not so complex. Time is a river, flowingsteadily, powerful, at a fixed rate of speed. It sweeps the wholeUniverse along on its bosom at that same speed. That is my conceptionof it; is it clear to you?"

  "I should think," I replied, "that the Universe is more like a greatrock in the middle of your stream of time, that stands motionlesswhile the minutes, the hours, and the days roll by."

  "No! The Universe travels on the breast of the current of time. Itleaves yesterday behind, and sweeps on towards to-morrow. It hasalways been so until I challenged this so-called immutable law. I saidto myself, why should a man be a helpless stick upon the stream oftime? Why need he be borne on this slow current at the same speed? Whycannot he do as a man in a boat, paddle backwards or forwards; back toa point already passed; ahead, faster than the current, to a pointthat, drifting, he would not reach so soon? In other words, why can henot slip back through time to yesterday; or ahead to to-morrow? And ifto to-morrow, why not to next
year, next century?

  * * * * *

  "These are the questions I asked myself. Other men have askedthemselves the same questions, I know; they were not new.But,"--Harbauer drew himself far forward in his chair, and leanedclose to me, almost as though he prepared himself to spring--"no otherman ever found the answer! That remained for me.

  "I was not entirely correct, of course. I found that one could not goback in time. The current was against one. But to go ahead, with thecurrent at one's back, was different. I spent six years on theproblem, working day and night, handicapped by lack of funds,ridiculed by the press--Look!"

  Harbauer reached inside his antiquated costume and drew forth a flatpacket which he passed to me. I unfolded it curiously, my fingersclumsy with excitement.

  I could hardly believe my eyes. The thing Harbauer had handed me was afolded fragment of newspaper, such as I had often seen in museums. Irecognized the old-fashioned type, and the peculiar arrangement of thecolumns. But, instead of being yellow and brittle with age, andpreserved in fragments behind sealed glass, this paper was fresh andwhite, and the ink was as black as the day it had been printed. Whatthis man said, then, must be true! He must--

  "I can understand your amazement," said Harbauer. "It had not occurredto me that a paper which, to me, was printed only yesterday, wouldseem so antique to you. But that must appear as remarkable to you asfresh papyrus, newly inscribed with the hieroglyphics of the ancientEgyptians, would seem to one of my own day and age. But read it; youwill see how my world viewed my efforts!" There was a sharpness, abitterness, in his voice that made me vaguely uneasy; even though hehad solved the riddle of moving in time as men have always moved inspace, my first conjecture that I had a madman to deal with might notbe so far from the truth. Ridicule and persecution have unseated thereason of all too many men.

  * * * * *

  The type was unfamiliar to me, and the spelling was archaic, but Imanaged to stumble through the article. It read, as nearly as I canrecall it, like this:

  Harbauer Says Time

  Is Like Great River

  Jacob Harbauer, local inventor, in an exclusive interview, propounds the theory that man can move about in time exactly as a boat moves about on the surface of a swift-flowing river, save that he cannot go back into time, on account of the opposition of the current.

  That is very fortunate, this writer feels; it would be a terrible thing for example, if some good-looking scamp from our present Twenty-first Century were to dive into the past and steal Cleopatra from Antony, or start an affair with Josephine and send Napoleon scurrying back from the front and let the Napoleonic wars go to pot. We'd have to have all our histories rewritten!

  Harbauer is well-known in Denver as the eccentric inventor who, for the last five or six years, has occupied a lonely shack in the mountains, guarded by a high fence of barbed wire. He claims that he has now perfected equipment which will enable him to project himself forward in time, and expects to make the experiment in the very near future.

  This writer was permitted to view the equipment which Harbauer says will shoot him into the future. The apparatus is housed in a low, barn-like building in the rear of his shack.

  Along one side of the room is a veritable bank of electrical apparatus with innumerable controls, many huge tubes of unfamiliar shape and appearance, a mighty generator of some kind and an intricate maze of gleaming copper bus-bar.

  In the center of the room is a circle of metal, about a foot in thickness, insulated from the flooring by four truncated cones of fluted glass. This disc is composed of two unfamiliar metals, arranged in concentric circles.

  Above this disc, at a height of about eight feet, is suspended a sort of grid, composed of extremely fine silvery wires, supported on a frame-work of black insulating material.

  Asked for a demonstration of his apparatus, Harbauer finally consented to perform an experiment with a dog--a white, short-haired mongrel that, Harbauer informed us, he kept to warn him of approaching strangers.

  He bound the dog's legs together securely, and placed the struggling animal in the center of the heavy metal disc. Then the inventor hurried to the central control panel and manipulated several switches, which caused a number of things to happen almost at once.

  The big generator started with a growl, and settled immediately into a deep hum; a whole row of tubes glowed with a purplish brilliancy. There was a crackling sound in the air, and the grid above the disc seemed to become incandescent, although it gave forth no apparent heat. From the rim of the metal disc, thin blue streamers of electric flame shot up toward the grid, and the little white dog began to whine nervously.

  "Now watch!" shouted Harbauer. He closed another switch, and the space between the disc and the grid became a cylinder of livid light, for a period of perhaps two seconds. Then Harbauer pulled all the switches, and pointed triumphantly to the disc. It was empty.

  We looked around the room for the dog, but he was not visible anywhere.

  "I have sent him nearly a century into the future," said Harbauer. "We will let him stay there a moment, and then bring him back."

  "You mean to say," we asked, "that the pup is now roaming around somewhere in the Twenty-second Century?" Harbauer said he meant just that, and added that he would now bring the dog back to the present time. The switches were closed again, but this time it was the metal plate that seemed incandescent, and the grid above that shot out the streaks of thin blue flame. As he closed the last switch, the cylinder of light appeared again, and when the switches were opened, there was the dog in the center of the disc, howling and struggling against his bonds.

  "Look!" cried Harbauer. "He's been attacked by another dog, or some other animal, while in the future. See the blood on his shoulders?"

  We ventured the humble opinion that the dog had scratched or bit himself in struggling to free himself from the cords with which Harbauer had bound him, and the inventor flew into a terrible rage, cursing and waving his arms as though demented. Feeling that discretion was the better part of valor, we beat a hasty retreat, pausing at the barbed-wire gate only long enough to ask Mr. Harbauer if he would be good enough, sometime when he had a few minutes of leisure, to dash into next week and bring back some stock market reports to aid us in our investment efforts.

  Under the circumstances, we did not wait for a response, but we presume we are persona non grata at the Harbauer establishment from this time on.

  All in all, we are not sorry.

  I folded the paper and passed it back to him; some of the allusions Idid not understand, but the general tone of the article was very clearindeed.

  * * * * *

  "You see?" said Harbauer, his voice grating with anger. "I tried to becourteous to that man; to give him a simple, convincing demonstrationof the greatest scientific achievement in centuries. And the foolreturned to write _this_: to hold me up to ridicule, to paint me as acrack-brained, wild-eyed fanatic."

  "It's hard for the layman to conceive of a great scientificachievement," I said soothingly. "All great inventions and inventorshave been laughed at by the populace at large."

  "True. True." Harbauer nodded his head solemnly. "But just the same--"He broke off suddenly, and forced a smile. I found myself wishing thathe had completed that broken sentence, however; I felt that he hadalmost revealed something that would have been most enlightening.

  "But enough of that fool and his babblings," he continued. "I am hereas living proof that my experiment is a success, and I have atremendous curiosity about the world in which I find mys
elf. This, Itake it, is a ship for navigating space?"

  "Right! The _Ertak_, of the Special Patrol Service. Would you care tolook around a bit?"

  "I would, indeed." There was a tremendous eagerness in the man'svoice.

  "You're not too tired?"

  "No; I am quite recovered from my experience." Harbauer leaped to hisfeet, those abnormally long, slitted eyes of his glowing. "I am ascientist, and I am most curious to see what my fellows have createdsince--since my own era."

  I picked up my dressing gown and tossed it to him.

  "Slip this on, then, to cover your clothing. You would be an object oftoo much curiosity to those men who are on duty," I suggested.

  I was taller than he, and the garment came within a few inches of thefloor. He knotted the cincture around his middle and thrust his handsinto the pockets, turning to me for approval. I nodded, and motionedfor him to precede me through the door.

  * * * * *

  As an officer of the Special Patrol Service, it has often been my dutyto show parties and individuals through my ship. Most of these partiesare composed of females, who have only exclamations to make instead ofintelligent comment, and who possess an unbounded capacity for askingutterly asinine questions. It was, therefore, a real pleasure to showHarbauer through the ship.

  He was a keen, eager listener. When he asked a question, and he askedmany of them, he showed an amazing grasp of the principles involved.My knowledge of our equipment was, of course, only practical, save forthe rudimentary theoretical knowledge that everyone has of present-dayinventions and devices.

  The ethon tubes which lighted the ship, interested him but little. Theatomic generators, the gravity pads, their generators, and thedisintegrator-ray, however, he delved into with that frenzied ardor ofwhich only a scientist, I believe, is capable.

  Questions poured out of him, and I answered them as best I could:sometimes completely, and satisfactorily, so that he nodded and said,"I see! I see!" and sometimes so poorly that he frowned, andcross-questioned me insistently until he obtained the desiredinformation.

  In the big, sound-proof navigating room, I explained the operation ofthe numerous instruments, including the two three-dimensional charts,actuated by super-radio reflexes, the television disc, the attractionmeter, the surface-temperature gauge and the complex control system.

  "Forward," I added, "is the operating room. You can see it throughthese glass partitions. The navigating officer in command relays hisorders to men in the operating room, who attend to the actualexecution of those orders."

  "Just as a pilot, or the navigating officer of a ship of my day giveshis orders to the quartermaster at the wheel," nodded Harbauer, andbegan firing questions at me again, going over the ground we hadcovered, to check up on his information. I was amazed at the uncannyaccuracy with which he had grasped such a great mass of technicaldetail. It had taken me years of study to pick up what he had takenfrom me, and apparently retained intact, in something more than anhour, Earth time.

  * * * * *

  I glanced at the Earth-time clock on the wall of the navigating roomas he triumphantly finished his questioning. Less than an hourremained before the time set for our return trip.

  "I'm sorry," I commented, "to be an ungracious host, but I amwondering what your plans may be? You see, we are due to start in lessthan an hour, and--"

  "A passenger would be in your way?" Harbauer smiled as he uttered thewords, but there was a gleam in his long eyes that rather startled me,and I wondered if I only imagined the steeliness of his voice. "Don'tlet that worry you, sir."

  "It's not worrying me," I replied, watching him closely. "I haveenjoyed a very remarkable, a very pleasant experience. If you shouldcare to remain aboard the _Ertak_, I should like exceedingly to haveyou accompany us to our Base, where I could place you in touch withother laboratory men, with whom you would have much in common."

  Harbauer threw back his head and laughed--not pleasantly.

  "Thanks!" he said. "But I have no time for that. They could give me noknowledge that I need, now; you have told me and showed me enough. Iunderstand how you have released atomic energy; it is a matter sosimple that a child should have guessed it, and man has wondered aboutit for centuries, knowing that the power was there, but lacking a keyto unfetter it. And now I have that key!"

  "True. But perhaps our scientists would like, in exchange, the secretof moving forward in time," I suggested, reasonably enough.

  "What do I care about them?" snapped Harbauer. He loosened the cord ofthe robe with a quick, impatient gesture, as though it confined himtoo tightly, and threw the garment from him.

  * * * * *

  Then, suddenly, he took a quick stride toward me, and thrust out hisugly head.

  "I know enough now to give me power over all my world," he cried."Haven't you guessed the reason for my interest in your engines ofdestruction? I came down the centuries ahead of my generation so thatI might come back with power in my hand; power to wipe out the foolswho have made a mock of me. And I have that power--here!" He tappedhis forehead dramatically with his left hand.

  "I will bring a new regime to my era!" he continued, fairly shoutingnow. "I will be what many men have tried to be, and what no man hasever been--master of the world! Absolute, unquestioned, suprememaster!" He paused, his eyes glaring into mine--and I knew from thelight that shone behind those long, narrow slits, that I was dealingwith a madman.

  "True; you will," I said gently, moving carelessly toward themicrophone. With that in my hand, a slight pressure on the GeneralAttention signal, and I would have the whole crew of the _Ertak_ herein a moment. But I had explained the workings of the navigating room'sequipment only too well.

  "Stop!" snarled Harbauer, and his right hand flashed up. "See this?Perhaps you don't know what it is; I'll tell you. It's an automaticpistol--not so efficient as your disintegrator-ray, but deadly enough.There is certain death for eight men in my hand. Understand?"

  "Perfectly." What an utter fool I had been! I was not armed, and Iknew that Harbauer spoke the truth. I had often seen weapons similarto the one he held in the military museums. They are still there, ifyou are curious--rusty and broken, but not unlike our present atomicpistols in general appearance. They propelled the bullet by theexplosion of a sort of powder; inefficient, of course, but, as he hadsaid, deadly enough for the purpose.

  * * * * *

  "Good! You are a good sort Hanson, but don't take any chances. I'm notgoing to, I promise you. You see,"--and he laughed again, the light inhis long eyes dancing with evil--"I'm not likely to be punished for afew killings committed centuries after I'm dead. I have never killed aman, but I won't hesitate to do so now, if one--or more--should get inmy way."

  "But why," I asked soothingly, "should you wish to kill anyone? Youhave what you came for, you say; why not depart in peace?"

  He smiled crookedly, and his eyes narrowed with cunning.

  "You approve of my little plan to dominate the world?" he askedsoftly, his eyes searching my face.

  "No," I said boldly, refusing to lie to him. "I do not, and you knowit."

  "Very true." He pulled out his watch with his left hand, and held itbefore his eyes so that he could observe the time without losing sightof me for even an instant. "I doubted that I could secure your willingcooperation; therefore, I am commanding it.

  "You see, there are certain instruments and pieces of equipment that Ishould like to take back to my laboratory with me. Perhaps I would beable to reproduce them without models, but with the models my taskwill be much easier.

  "The question remaining is a simple one: will you give the properorders to have this equipment removed to the spot where you first sawme, or shall I be obliged to return to my own era without thisequipment--leaving behind me a dead commander of the Special PatrolService, and any other who may try to stop me?"

  * * *
* *

  I tried to keep cool under the lash of his mocking voice. I have neverbeen adept at holding my temper when I should, but somehow I managedit this time. Frowning, I kept him waiting for a reply, utilizing thetime to do what was perhaps the hardest, fastest thinking of my life.

  There wasn't a particle of doubt in my mind regarding his ability tomake good his threat, nor his readiness to do so. I caught the faintglimmering of an idea and fenced with it eagerly.

  "How are you going to go back to your own period--your own era?" Iasked him. "You told me, I believe, that it was impossible to movebackward in time."

  "That's not answering my question," he said, leering. "Don't thinkyou're fooling me! But I'll tell you, just the same. I can go back tomy own era: that is, back to my own actual existence. I shall returnjust two hours after I leave; I could not go back farther than that,and it's not necessary that I do so. I can go back only because I camefrom that present; I am not really of this future at all. I go backfrom whence I came."

  "But," I objected, thinking of something I had read in the clipping hehad showed me, "you're not going back to your own era. You cannot. Ifyou returned, you would put your project into execution, and historydoes not record that activity." I saw from the sudden narrowing of hisabnormally long eyes that I had caught his interest, and I pressed myadvantage hastily. "Remember that all the history of your time iswritten, Harbauer. It is in the books of Earth's history, with whichevery child of this age, into which you have thrust yourself, isfamiliar. And those histories do not record the domination of theworld by yourself. So--you are confronted by an impossibility!"

  * * * * *

  My reasoning, now, sounds specious, and yet it was a line of thoughtwhich could not be waved aside. I saw Harbauer's black brows knittogether, and mounting anger darken his face. I do not know, but Ibelieve I was never nearer death than I was at that instant.

  "Fool!" he cried. "Idiot! Imbecile! Do you think you can confuse me,turn me from my purpose, with words? Do you? Do you believe me to be achild, or a weakling? I tell you, I have planned this thing to thelast detail. If I had not found what I sought on this first trip, Iwould have taken another, a dozen, a score, until I found theinformation I sought. The last six years of my life I have worked dayand night to this end; your histories and your words--"

  My plan had worked. The man was beside himself with insane anger. Andin his rage he forgot, for an instant, that he was my captor.

  Taking a desperate chance, I launched myself at his legs. His weaponroared over my head, just as I struck. I felt the hot gas from thething beat against my neck; I caught the reeking scent of the smoke.Then we were both on the floor, and locked in a mad embrace.

  Harbauer was a smaller man than myself, but he had the amazingstrength of a Zenian. He fought viciously, using every ounce of hisstrength against me, striving to bring his weapon into use, hammeringmy head upon the floor, racking my body mercilessly, grunting,cursing, mumbling constantly as he did so.

  But I was in better trim than Harbauer. I have never seen a laboratoryman who could stand the strain of prolonged physical exertion. Bendingover test-tubes and meters is no life for a man. At grips with him, Iwas in my own element, and he was out of his. I let him wear himselfout, exerting myself as little as possible, confining my efforts tokeeping his weapon where he could not use it.

  I felt him weakening at last. His breath was coming in great sobs, andhis long eyes started from their sockets with the strained effort hewas putting forth. And then, with a single mighty effort, I knockedthe pistol from his hand, so that it slid across the floor and broughtup with a crash against a wall of the room.

  "Now!" I said, and turned on him.

  * * * * *

  He knew, at that moment when I put forth my strength, that I had beenplaying with him. I read the shock of sudden fear in his eyes. Myright arm went about him in a deadly hold; I had him in a grip thatparalyzed him. Grimly, I jerked him to his feet, and he stood theretrembling with weakness, his shoulders heaving as his breath came andwent between his teeth.

  "You realize, of course, that you're not going back?" I said quietly.

  "Back?" Half dazed, he stared at me through the quivering lids of hispeculiar eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that you're not going back to your own era. You have come tous, uninvited, and--you're going to stay here."

  "No!" he shouted, and struggled so desperately to free himself that Iwas hard put to it to hold him, without tightening my gripsufficiently to dislocate his shoulders. "You wouldn't do that! I mustreturn; I must prove to them--"

  "That's exactly what must not happen, and what shall not happen," Iinterrupted. "And what will not happen. You are in a strangepredicament, Harbauer; it is already written that you do not return.Can't you see that, man? If it were to be that you left this age andreturned to your own, you would make known your discovery. Historywould record it. And history does not record it. You are struggling,not against me, but against--against a fate that has been sealed allthese centuries."

  * * * * *

  When I had finished, he stared at me as though hypnotized, motionlessand limp in my grasp. Then, suddenly, he began to shake and I saw suchdepths of terror and horror in his eyes as I hope never to see again.

  Mechanically, he glanced down at his watch, lifting his wrist into hisline of vision as slowly and ponderously as though it bore a greatweight.

  "Two ... two minutes," he whispered huskily. "Then the automatic switchwill close, back in my laboratory. If I am not standing where ... whereyou found me ... between the disc and the grid of my time machine, wherethe reversed energy can reach me, to ... to take me back ... God!"

  He sagged in my arms and dropped to his knees, sobbing.

  "And yet ... what you say is true. It is already written that I didnot return." His sobs cut harshly through the silence of the room.Pitying his despair, I reached down to give him a sympathetic pat onthe shoulder. It is a terrible thing to see a man break down asHarbauer had done.

  As he felt my grip on him relax, he suddenly shot his fist into thepit of my stomach, and leaped to his feet. Groaning, I doubled up,weak and nerveless, for the instant, from the vicious, unexpectedblow.

  "Ah!" shrieked Harbauer. "You soft-hearted fool!" He struck me in theface, sending me crashing to the floor, and snatched up his pistol.

  "I'm going, now," he shouted. "Going! What do I care for your recordsand your histories? They are not yet written; if they were I'd changethem." He bent over me and snatched from my hand the ring of keys, oneof which I had used to unlock the door of the navigating room. I triedto grip him around the legs, but he tore himself loose, laughinginsanely in a high-pitched, cackling sound that seemed hardly human.

  "Farewell!" he called mockingly from the doorway. Then the doorslammed, and as I staggered to my feet, I heard the lock click.

  * * * * *

  I must have acted then by instinct or inspiration. There was no timeto think. It would take him not more than three or four seconds tomake his way to the exit, stroll by the guard to the spot where we hadfound him, and--disappear. By the time I could arouse the crew, andhave my orders executed, his time would be up, and--unless the wholeaffair were some terrible nightmare--he would go hurtling back throughtime to his own era, armed with a devastating knowledge.

  There was only one possible means of preventing his escape in time. Iran across the room to the emergency operating controls, cut in theatomic generators with one hand and pulled the Vertical-Ascent leverto Full Power.

  There was a sudden shriek of air, and my legs almost thrust themselvesthrough my body. Quickly, I pushed the lever back until, with my eyeon the altimeter, I held the _Ertak_ at her attained height--somethingover a mile, as I recall it. Then I pressed the General Attentionsignal, and snatched up the microphone.

  Less than a minute later Correy and Hendricks, fellow o
fficers, werein the room and besieging me with solicitous questions.

  * * * * *

  It had been my idea, of course, to keep Harbauer from leaving theship, but it was not so destined.

  Shiro, the sentry on duty outside the _Ertak_, was the only witness toHarbauer's fate.

  "I was walking my post, sir," he reported, "watching the sun come up,when suddenly I heard the sound of running feet inside the ship. Iturned towards the entrance and drew my pistol, to be in readiness. Isaw the stranger we had taken into the ship appear at the exit, which,as you know, was open.

  "Just as I opened my mouth to command him to halt, the _Ertak_ shot upfrom the ground at terrific speed. The stranger had been about to leapupon me; indeed, he had discharged some sort of weapon at me, for Iheard a crash of sound, and a missile of some kind, as you know,passed through my left arm.

  "As the ship left the ground, he tried to draw back, but he was offbalance, and the inertia of his body momentarily incapacitated him, Ithink. He slipped, clutched at the gangway across the threads whichseal the exit, and then, at a height I estimate to be around fivehundred feet, he fell. The _Ertak_ shot on up until it was lost tosight, and the stranger crashed to the ground a few feet from where Iwas standing--on almost exactly the spot where we first saw him, sir.

  * * * * *

  "And now, sir, comes the part I guess you'll find hard to believe.When he struck the ground, he was smashed flat; he died instantly. Istarted to run toward him, and then--and then I stopped. My eyes hadnot left the spot for a moment, sir, but he--his body, thatis--suddenly disappeared. That's the truth, sir, for I saw it with myown eyes. There wasn't a sign of him left."

  "I see," I replied. I believe that I did. We had gone straight up, andhis body, by no great coincidence, had fallen upon the spot close tothe exit of the _Ertak_ where we had first found him. And his machine,in operation, had brought him, or rather, his mangled body, back tohis own age. "You have not mentioned this affair to anyone, Shiro?"

  "No, sir. It wasn't anything you'd be likely to tell: nobody wouldbelieve you. I went at once to have my arm attended to, and thenreported here according to orders."

  "Very good, Shiro. Keep the entire affair to yourself. I will make allthe necessary reports. That is an order--understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then that will be all. Take good care of your arm."

  He saluted with his good hand and left me.

  * * * * *

  Later in the day I wrote in the log-book of the Ertak the report Imentioned at the beginning of this tale:

  "Just before departure, discovered stowaway, apparently demented, and ejected him."

  That was a perfectly truthful statement, and it served its purpose. Ihave given the whole story in detail just to prove what I have sooften contended: that these owlish laboratory men whom this agereveres so much are not nearly so wise and omnipotent as they thinkthey are.

  I am quite sure that they would have discredited, or attempted todiscredit, my story, had I told it at the time. They would haveresented the idea that someone so much ahead of them had discovered aprinciple that still baffles this age of ours, and I would have had noevidence to present.

  Perhaps even now the story will be discredited; if so, I do not care.I am much too old, and too near the portals of that impenetrablemystery, in the shadow of which I have stood so many times, to concernmyself with what others may think or say.

  I know that what I have related here is the truth, and in my mind Ihave a vivid and rather pitiful picture of a mangled body, bloody andalone, in the barn-like structure the ancient paper had described; abody, broken and motionless, lying athwart the striated metal disc,like a sacrificial victim--a victim and a sacrifice of science.

  There have been many such.