Wanderers of Time Read online

  He threw every ounce of his weight against the side. Hesitantly the cylinder rolled, this time, until the ports came uppermost. For a second it hung poised; then there came a clank against the side, just in time to stop it from settling back.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE MAN FROM 10,402

  Swiftly Roy reached up and slid back his panel, to admit a welcome gust of fresh air. Sitting up, he thrust out his head and looked back, to see that Betty’s panel also was open. Her dishevelled head appeared, but she gazed beyond rather than at him. He spun round, and stared in astonishment at the figure which stood by the battered forepart of the cylinder. His surprise was reciprocated, and for some seconds the two faced one another in silence.

  Roy felt a shock at the sight of the man before him. He stood barely four feet in height, and his body, hands and feet were in good proportion to that size. But his totally bald head was of normal dimensions—perhaps a trifle larger—and gave an odd effect of being insecurely balanced on his small frame. His visible clothing consisted of a single silvery garment designed on the lines of a smock, but caught around his waist by a broad leather belt to which a number of dangling objects were hooked.

  He approached them as they climbed out of the cylinder. Betty shrank back, an expression of disgust on her face. Roy pulled himself together.

  ‘You speak English?’ he inquired.

  ‘English is my language,’ the other replied, his accent differing but little from Roy’s own. He continued to regard the two with a puzzled air.

  ‘Then we have you to thank for our rescue. I am Roy Saber, and this lady is Miss Betty Mordan.’

  ‘And I,’ returned the little man, ‘am Del Two-Forty-A.’

  In the ensuing pause, Roy became aware of the unexpected aspect of the countryside. A large, red Sun was pouring down from the cloudless sky to show, not the fertile land he had left, but a tumbled scene of sand and rock. Nowhere was it relieved by a single soothing patch of green, and over all hung the deathly silence of desolation. They stood in a steep-sided valley, whose floor was dotted with fallen masses of rock and banked in many parts with drifts of sand. An unhurried river ran twisting past them, disappearing where the curve of the valley cut off their view, a mile away. There was inexpressible dreariness in the barren vista. Roy glanced up at the hillside behind them.

  ‘It’s a miracle we weren’t smashed in rolling down there,’ he murmured.

  ‘It certainly is,’ replied Betty’s voice, harshly. ‘And no credit to you, either. Now suppose you get us back—and quick. I’d like to know what sort of game you think you’re playing with me?’

  Roy stared at her, and then recovered himself. After all, there was some excuse for her tone.

  ‘Something went wrong,’ he began. ‘That cop-’

  ‘Oh, yes? Something went wrong, did it? Well, it’s your job to see that it darned well goes right again. Say, do you realise that this is abduction?’

  Roy spread his hands helplessly, looking ruefully at his ruined time-traveller.

  ‘I can’t make that work again. When the cop fired into the machinery, he jammed something. And now that roll down here’s smashed the thing right up.’

  The dwarf had been peering interestedly into the wreckage of the forepart, prying among the tangled wiring and examining the remains of shattered vacuum tubes. Still looking perplexed, he turned to Roy again.

  ‘What is your date?’ he asked.

  Roy suffered another surprise. He had not expected the immediate recognition of his time-traveller for what it was.

  ‘I’m from 1951,’ he replied.

  ‘1941,’ Betty corrected. ‘What’s wrong with your memory?’

  ‘No, 1951. I’ll explain later.’

  ‘So early? That is remarkable,’ said the little man, indicating the cylinder. ‘My own date is 10,402.’

  ‘Say, what is all this about?’ Betty demanded.

  ‘It means that the cop’s shot has landed us in the year 10,402,’ Roy informed her.

  Betty’s regard was scornful and scathing. ‘Suppose,’ she suggested, ‘you quit the kidding. I’m in no mood for it. What’s more, the sooner you get us back home, the better it’s going to be for you. Get me?’

  Roy stared at her. Her menacing tone of voice shocked him. He felt bewildered, as though the girl he knew had suddenly turned into a stranger. In his surprise, he had forgotten Del, who broke in as he turned:

  ‘You are mistaken. I meant to say only that I started from the year 10,402. What this year is, I do not know—save that it is many millennia later.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Betty. ‘You must keep the joke up! But I’m not laughing—I can’t see that you’re both so damned funny as you think you are.’

  A plaintive expression passed over Del’s face. ‘What does she mean?’ he inquired.

  Roy changed the subject. Turning to the dwarf: ‘Why did you come to this year?’ he asked.

  Del shook his head. ‘Something was wrong with my machine, just as something was wrong with yours. It is over there.’ He pointed to a large boulder some twenty yards away. The end of a bright metal bar protruded from behind it.

  ‘It is smashed too?’

  ‘Only slightly damaged.’

  ‘Let’s go and look at it.’

  Before they left the cylinder, Roy groped in the control compartment and produced his revolver. He stuffed a handful of cartridges into each side pocket, and they moved off. Betty followed sulkily.

  Del’s machine bore no resemblance to his own. The impression it gave was of a cubical cage with six-foot sides, and built of an intricate criss-cross strutting of two metals, one silvery, the other black. A padded bucket-seat was set in the middle, with a small control-board before it. The driving mechanism was evidently contained in three black boxes clamped to the base framework and interconnected by heavy cables. Roy’s heart sank as he saw it. An idea that parts of his own cylinder might be used to render Del’s machine workable was roughly quashed. The two contrivances had nothing constructionally in common.

  Del mutely pointed to one base corner, where the framework was wrenched and sadly twisted. It was also noticeable that the cover of one of the black boxes was split open. Roy leaned over to examine the damage more closely.

  ‘You see,’ Del began, ‘unlike your machine, this works by the capillary absorption of light. The rays striking-’

  ‘Look, look! ’ cried Betty, behind them.

  They wheeled to find her pointing up at the skyline of the opposite hill, where a row of strange objects was progressing in single file. There was nothing to give them scale, and Roy was able to estimate their height only very roughly in the neighbourhood of twenty feet. Each consisted of an egg-shaped main bulk balanced upon two trellised supports, tapering towards the ground. These ‘legs’ were joined in the middle and like the ‘body’ above, were coloured a bright red. Around the main upper bulk, complexities of levers were folded.

  For some seconds, the three stood motionless and staring.

  ‘What-?’ Roy began; but Del shook his head before the question was formed. There had been nothing like these in his century.

  From the leader of the five red contrivances, a jointed arm suddenly swept to the ground and caught up a rock. Without pausing in its stride, it sent the mass, fully half a ton in weight, sailing across the valley. Somewhere on the hill behind them it landed, with a crash and a clatter of metal. Roy abruptly dragged his companions into the shadow of the nearest boulder, fearful that discovery might bring a rock hurtling in their direction.

  The red machines strode on their way with unhurried, stilted gait, a faint metallic clanking accompanying their movements. Apparently the rock had accomplished its purpose, whatever that might be: at any rate, no more followed, and the metal arm was refolded against the egg-shaped body-piece. The three watched in silence as the five red figures carried themselves away in long, stiff strides. Even Betty’s indignation had momentarily given way to nervousness.

>   ‘What were they?’ she demanded.

  Roy shrugged his shoulders. Speculation was worse than useless. He stood up to assure himself that the machines were truly out of sight. As he rose, there came a clatter of metal against stone, a sound rapidly approaching up the valley. His hand snatched at his revolver.

  A group of machines came abruptly round the masking turn of the valley. Contrary to Roy’s expectations, they bore little similarity to the rock-hurling monsters of the hilltop. Only the shape of the body-pieces was similar. They stood some seven feet to the highest point of the rounded back, and their egg-shaped hulls progressed with a scurrying motion upon six jointed legs. Four waving metal tentacles protruded from the extreme front and, above them, two lenses were set flush in the smooth case-work.

  They stopped at sight of Roy, with the suddenness of complete surprise, and stood motionless save for their waving tentacles. He called in a low tone to the others to remain hidden, and stepped forward, revolver in hand. An indecisive movement ran through the ranks of the machines. They seemed on the point of retreat; but at that moment Betty, ignoring Roy’s advice, chose to emerge from behind the rock.

  The machines moved as one, and came scuttering forward with a great waving of tentacles. Three shots from Roy’s revolver crashed among them, with no visible result. He turned, to become aware that Del was now out of concealment, fumbling with a tube which looked like a flashlight.

  ‘Run! ’ Roy snapped. ‘Get to the river! ’

  He had some faint hope that the machines might not be water-tight. Betty was already fleeing, and Del turned to follow her. Roy stayed long enough to send another three shots, and then started to run with the machines almost upon him, but he made no more than a dozen yards before something fouled his ankle and flung him heavily to earth. As the machines overtook him, he saw Del turn and raise his tube, and two tentacles of the nearest pursuer fell to the ground as though they had been chopped off. Del switched the tube at another, but now there were a half-dozen of the machines bearing down on him.

  One more tentacle fell; then, like a silver whip-lash, another struck the tube from the dwarf’s hand and wrapped itself around him. The tube sailed high through the air and fell with a splash into the river. A fountain of steam, like the jetting plume of a geyser, roared into the sky, while the water all around broke, seething and bubbling. Betty, almost at the brink, recoiled. The feeler of a pursuing machine snatched at her, tearing away her red frock. It tossed the garment away, wrapped the feeler like a shining belt about her waist, and carried her back towards Roy and Del.

  With relief, Roy saw that no injury seemed intended towards any of the party. Each of them was carefully picked up in a wrapping of tentacles, and the machines set off down the valley in the direction from which they had appeared. For five miles they followed the tortuous river course; then the hills were left behind and they came out upon a level plain where patches of coarse grass, half choked by drifting sand, struggled hardily to grow. The machines changed their formation as they reached the open country, and Roy found that Del’s captor was travelling alongside his own, while Betty’s was some yards in advance. He spoke across to Del, and received assurance that he was uninjured.

  ‘The most unfortunate thing is that my tube is lost,’ the dwarf added.

  ‘What was it? I’ve never seen anything like that before.’ ‘A heat-ray. You did not have such things in the twentieth century?’

  Roy shook his head, and went on to talk about their captors! On this subject, both were equally at a loss.

  ‘Robots? Distant-control mechanisms? They might be either,’ Del suggested.

  ‘Or, perhaps, vehicles,’ added Roy. ‘The bodies of the race may have atrophied into complete uselessness and made these machines necessary for carrying the brains.’

  Del considered the theory an unlikely one. ‘But they certainly have a high level of intelligence. No doubt you noticed that they are bringing along our wrecked machines?’

  Roy, glancing back past the curving metal flank of his captor, could see his battered cylinder supported by the tentacles of two following machines.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CAPTIVES OF THE MACHINES

  Betty had caught the sound of their voices. She called back, querulously, to know why Roy did not do something. The indignity of capture had done nothing to soothe her temper and, now that no immediate danger threatened, her tone had resumed its nagging quality. After a devastating flow of abuse, Del inquired curiously:

  ‘Is she hurt?’

  ‘Yes; but not in the way you mean. She’s been pinked in her pride. She was riled to begin with. Now she’s lost her dress and is being carried over a desert in her underclothes. She’s hurt, all right ! ’

  Del looked surprised at Roy’s tone. He was silent for some moments before he suggested:

  ‘I wonder whether that red dress had anything to do with the attack? It was at her appearance that the machines went into action, and when the dress was torn away, they became much calmer. Also, the first machines we saw were coloured red….’

  No reply came from Roy. He seemed uninterested in the suggestion. Del relapsed into a contemplative silence.

  During their advance, the country was losing severity. The hard, wiry grass gradually became supplanted by a softer type, growing more luxuriantly and almost hiding the sandy soil. A dotting of infrequent, stunted shrubs managed to find sustenance. In the distance, a line of darker green suggested the presence of trees.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Roy said, fervently. ‘I had begun to fear that the world might be all desert.’

  ‘I think we’re headed for that,’ said Del. He nodded ahead towards a vast spike which stabbed up into the heavens.

  Roy looked at it. The base was hidden among the trees many miles away, but even at this distance he could tell that its height must be measured in thousands of feet. Observation at such a distance gave no clue to its nature, save that it was too isolated and too abrupt to be a natural formation; yet it was roughly shaped, lacking the symmetry and lines of a normal artificial structure. Its vastness induced a sense of importance and a feeling of fatalism, and he watched it with rising disquiet until the great, red Sun died in a livid blaze.

  The machines did not hesitate, but held to their course through a mysterious, dark world in which the only sound was the scuttering of their own progress. Throughout the night they pursued a winding way among the trees, still bearing in the direction of the mighty spire. The darkness appeared to have little or no hampering effect upon them, and dawn found them with but few miles left to cover. And it was with a very weary thankfulness that the captives were carried clear of the forest into the open space surrounding the base of the artificial mountain. For they were not only fatigued, but hungry and thirsty, and oppressed by the impossibility of making their wants known.

  The mass of the building at short range was stupendous and overwhelming, rearing before them like an ill-smoothed cliff and dwarfing them into a feeling of helplessness. One high, arched entrance pierced it at ground level, and through this they were borne into ever-increasing gloom.

  For five minutes they travelled through pitch-black corridors filled with the scuttering sounds of many mobile machines; then their captors came to a stop, for the first time since they had left the rocky valley. There came a click, followed by a rattle, as a door of sheet metal slid up into the roof. Beyond it was revealed a dimly lit, cave-like hall. The binding tentacles loosened, to set the three on their feet. Gentle thrusts sent them staggering stiffly forward. The metal door clattered down behind them.

  For a moment they stood silently gazing about them. The meagre light emanated from a group of translucent balls placed in the middle of the floor, and served to show imperfectly the rear end of the hall. Of the other end, beyond the lights, nothing could be seen but a velvety darkness. Roy took a step forward, and then stopped abruptly at the sound of something moving in the shadows. He drew his revolver and pointed it menacingly, as he
continued his advance. Two figures came dimly into view, rounding the clustered light-balls.

  ‘Stop! ’ Roy ordered. He turned to speak to Del, but the little man brushed him aside and rushed excitedly forward, calling to the two figures.

  Roy, with Betty beside him, was left to look on wonderingly as the three greeted one another. He could see, now, that the strangers were similar to Del both in stature and clothing. A few moments later, they were led up and introduced. They regarded Roy and Betty with the same curiosity as Del had shown at the first meeting, and evinced the same incredulous surprise at hearing of their twentieth-century origin. Del explained :

  ‘These are my friends, Kal Two Eleven A and Ril Three Thirty-Two A. They were both of them my assistants,’ he added.

  Roy’s wonderment grew. ‘Then you are also from 10,402?’ he asked.

  The dwarfed Kal shook his large head. ‘No, we are from 10,424. It took us over twenty years to duplicate the time-travelling machine.’

  ‘But you know what date we have reached now?’

  Again Kal shook his head. ‘We have no more means of discovering than you have. One can only guess——’

  The clatter of the metal door cut short his speculation. The group spun round, to see three more human beings urged gently into the hall. There was a fleeting look of alarm on the face of the tallest of the newcomers. As the door rattled down behind them, he produced a black tube and advanced, holding it trained upon them.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded in a firm tone. ‘And by what right have you made us prisoners?’

  Roy looked the man over. He stood perhaps six feet, and was built with slender strength, in excellent proportions. His hair, though fine and sparse, was jet-black, as were the eyebrows which ran in a single frowning bar across his forehead. His jaw was square, his mouth thin-lipped and firm, and his

  eyes keen. The strength of character which he showed seemed out of accord with the soft silk (or synthetic silk) garments which clung in lustrous folds to his knees. One of his companions was similarly clad. The third newcomer hung back, little more than a shadow in the dim light.