01 Kings Of Space Read online

  'What on earth's all this?' asked Tiger, in a tone of voice that suggested astonishment. 'I'

  ve seen a good many Highland lodges in my time, but this is the first I've seen that thought it necessary to put itself behind a wall as if it were a prison. Who in the name of goodness would go to the trouble and expense of putting up something that is surely quite unnecessary?'

  'How about finding the entrance and begging a cup of tea?' suggested Rex practically. '

  Maybe the people inside will answer your question.'

  'What's more important, they should be able to tell us where we are,'

  returned Tiger.

  Following the wall, they had to go some way before a rough, overgrown track guided them to a massive wooden door let into the wall. They looked in vain for bell or knocker, although there was an iron handle, and a small grille of the same metal at about eye level.

  'They must expect yisitors to walk straight in,' said Rex. This is only an outer wall.' So saying he grasped the handle. Instantly a cry of shock broke from his lips.

  'What's the matter?' asked Tiger quickly.

  'I can't let go.'

  'What d'you mean - you can't let go?'

  Something's happened. My arm's paralysed. I can't open my hand, I tell you.' There was a note of fear in Rex's voice as he tugged in his efforts to free himself.

  'What the—' Tiger stepped forward and grasped Rex's hand, only to stop with a jerk of surprise. 'You're right,' he said in a curious voice. 'My arm's gone numb, too. What lunacy is this?' he added, a rising inflection in his voice expressing anger.

  The answer was forthcoming. It came from the grille, behind which a panel had been pushed aside to reveal a pale, indistinct blur that was evidently a face.

  'Who are you? What do you want?' asked a calm, modulated voice.

  'We're deer-stalkers, caught in the fog. We've lost our way,' answered Tiger. 'We saw some lights. What've you done to this door?'

  The question was ignored. 'May I have your names, nationalities and professions, please,'

  came the same emotionless voice.

  'You may,' replied Tiger curtly. Group Captain Timothy Clinton, and his son, Rex Clinton. Nationality, British born. Professions, aircraft engineer and aircraft apprentice.'

  'Thank you, sir,' came back the voice evenly. 'I'm sorry to subject you to some slight inconvenience, but it is only temporary. One moment, please.' Footsteps could be heard retreating.

  'We've struck a madhouse all right,' asserted Rex.

  'Let's reserve judgement,' answered Tiger. 'After all, nobody invited us to open the door.

  It'll be interesting to see how it works.' He staggered slightly, as did Rex, as the re-straining force was cut and they found themselves free.

  Before they had time to comment the door was flooded with light from an unseen source, and swung open to reveal a somewhat portly man of middle age, going bald in front, in butler's uniform. His attitude was one of dignity with respect. For a brief moment grave eyes regarded them from a face devoid of expression. Then said the same suave voice: '

  Enter, gentlemen. Professor Brane will see you.'

  'Thank you,' answered Tiger politely, as they crossed the threshold and the door closed silently behind them. 'I'm sorry to give you this trouble but we were faced with the prospect of spending the night on the hill.

  May I ask where we are?'

  This is Glensalich Castle, sir, in the glen of that name,' was the quiet rejoinder. 'Please follow me.'

  'How did you know we were at the door?' asked Rex. We couldn't knock or ring.'

  'Professor Brane may answer that question, sir,' replied the man smoothly.

  A short, stone-flagged path marched straight through a jungle of overgrown shrubs to the door of a stone-built mansion-house. There was no time to observe details, for the butler, after relieving them of their caps and equipment, was showing them in to a big, warm, well-lighted hall, on the far side of which, apparently awaiting them, was a figure so in-congruous, so out of keeping with what might have been expected at such a place, that Rex, forgetting his manners, could only stare in astonishment.

  'Come in, Group Captain, come in!' was the cheerful greeting.

  Tiger looked puzzled. I didn't hear your man announce us. How did you know who I was?'

  `Tut-tut. No need, my dear sir, no need. I overheard the conversation at the door,' was the candid admission. I must apologize for what happened outside, but there was a reason for it. Thank you, Judkins.'

  The butler retired.

  Smiling, their host advanced with outstretched hands. Brane is my name,'

  he said. Brane by name and brainy by nature — that's what they used to say of me at school when I was your age, young man,' he went on with a chuckle, looking at Rex. He turned to Tiger. 'So it is my good fortune to meet the brilliant Group Captain Clinton. How do you do.'

  'Brilliant?' queried Tiger as they shook hands.

  'Certainly, although apparently an asinine government hasn't realized it yet. They have so few brains among themselves that they don't recognize them when they see them. I have watched your work at the Aircraft Experimental Establishment with the greatest interest.

  If you don't mind my saying so, I think you went wrong over that last jet booster, but no doubt you were under pressure from people of less intelligence. I couldn't work under those conditions. That's one of the reasons why I'm here. I was in the fortunate position of being able to work my own way. But, dear me, what am I doing, keeping you standing when you must be in need of hot water, a rest and refreshment. Assuming that you will stay the night with us, Judkins — he's my man of all work — will prepare beds for you.

  By the time you've had a wash no doubt he will have found something for you to eat.'

  'I gather you're interested in aeronautics,' said Tiger, after a brief, awkward silence.

  'In my own little way, yes. I hope we shall be able to have a chat about that later. I gather you saw some lights on the hill.' Yes. Red lights.

  What on earth were they?'

  The professor shrugged off the question. 'A little thing of my own.

  Supposing I was safe from observation I was making a test, by remote control, under fog conditions.'

  While the Professor had been talking Rex's eyes had been on his face, held, it seemed, by a peculiar fascination. Why this should be was not easy to determine, for had he met him in a city street he would have taken him to be an insignificant clerk, with eccentric ideas about clothes, out of a job. Everything about him would have supported such a belief.

  But this, he perceived, was certainly not the case. He could only conclude that they had encountered an amiable old man, well endowed with this world's goods and slightly off his rocker. Was he old? Rex was not sure about that. He could, he thought, be anything between forty and sixty, so difficult was it to estimate his age.

  What he actually saw was a mild-looking, elderly gentleman, rather thin, below average height, with an untidy head of hair and large, old-fashioned, metal-rimmed spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his nose. When it appeared certain that they must fall off he pushed them up with a quick movement. But every time he looked down at anything they started to slide again. If there was anything remarkable about his face then it was no more than a pair of bright blue eyes, which, under bushy brows, were so alive with animation that they almost appeared to sparkle.

  His forehead was abnormally high, and seemed to slope slightly forward rather than back. For the rest, he was clean-shaven, with no particular feature calling for comment. The general impression was one of a harmless little man of cheerful disposition.

  His clothes, although he appeared to be blissfully unaware of it, were odd, to say the least; and in the matter of condition were certainly nothing to boast about. A soft-collared shirt, too large round the neck, hung below a prominent adam's apple. A narrow strip of black tie had worked loose and to one side. A frock-coat of old-fashioned cut, spotted and stained, ha
d seen better days. The same could be said of narrow black trousers, the frayed bottoms of which half concealed a pair of cheap tennis shoes.

  Such was Rex's first impression of Professor Lucius Brane, MA, who at school had been called Brainy, before the butler returned to show them to their quarters. How far his nickname was appropriate he had yet to learn.

  2 The Professor answers some questions For a late supper, thought Rex, when he came down half an hour later, literally as hungry as a hunter, Professor Brane had certainly done them well. He himself, as he said, had already dined, and had the tact to leave his guests alone while they enjoyed an overdue meal. It was no ordinary meal, either, and only the presence of the sedate Judkins, who anticipated their every want with a calm efficiency that was really rather disconcerting, prevented him from commenting on the luxuries provided. It was evident that the Professor was a man of healthy appetite and epicurean taste.

  For the most part the meal was taken in silence, as is usual with men who are really hungry; but Tiger, his curiosity getting the better of him, refusing to be intimidated by the urbane figure who stood behind him, did go so far as to ask how such provisions, usually to be found only at expensive restaurants, managed to reach such a remote spot.

  'They are forwarded by train from London, sir, to the nearest railway station, some thirty-five miles distant,' explained Judkins, in his even, dispassionate voice. 'From there they are conveyed by road to a point where they are collected by a pony boy and brought in panniers to the castle. Except when he is engrossed in an experiment, the Professor chooses his food with some care.'

  'I can see that,' murmured Tiger drily. 'How do you like the Highlands?'

  he prompted apparently seeking information.

  'I see very little of them, sir. Indeed, as little as possible. They are not, if I may use an expressive colloquialism, my cup of tea.'

  Rex could not repress a smile. He suspected that Judkins, behind his suave exterior, had a human heart, and even the glimmerings of a sense of humour which he kept under control.

  A memorable meal concluded, Judkins said he would serve coffee in the study where the Professor awaited them.

  Tiger assented, and they were conducted to where their host stood with his back to the fireplace in a room where every available inch of space was so cluttered up with papers, books, instruments, pieces of metal, perspex, plastic, and a hundred other things, that Rex, remembering the orderliness of his own home, was more than a little shocked.

  'I'm afraid I'm rather untidy,' said the Professor, looking at them whimsically over his glasses. 'But as I tell Judkins, who has striven for years to break my habit of leaving things about, it doesn't really matter because I know where everything is.'

  Rex smiled mentally at the understatement, rather untidy. Never had he seen such a litter.

  'Sit down — sit down. Make yourselves comfortable,' went on the Professor. 'You must have had a nasty experience outside. I seldom go out. I haven't time. Besides, I refuse to misdirect my energies by walking except when it is unavoidable. Did you manage to kill something with that antiquated blunderbuss you were carrying?'

  Tiger looked pained. Ìf you're referring to my rifle, it's a brand new Remington.'

  `Tut-tut. I don't care how new it is, it's as obsolete as a good many other so-called modern contrivances.'

  Tiger dropped into an easy chair. 'What would you use instead of a rifle, Professor, if you had occasion to use such a weapon?'

  'A little thing I amused myself with for a time,' was the casual reply.

  'I haven't given it a name. I don't use it. No need. It's quite small.

  Carry it like a fountain pen. It could be made any size, of course.'

  'It must fire a very small bullet.'

  'As a matter of fact there is no missile. It kills by atomic pulsations.

  Knocks you flat.

  Burn a hole right through you if necessary. It has several advantages.

  It's hardly possible to miss with it and it never needs reloading. One small charge will last for years.'

  'Have you offered this unique weapon to the War Office?'

  The Professor looked shocked. Good gracious, no. Imagine such a weapon in the hands of an unintelligent recruit. Why, bless my soul, in a moment of carelessness he might kill half his own regiment.'

  see,' said Tiger slowly. 'Be awkward if the enemy got hold of it.'

  'Calamitous, not awkward. I've taken steps to see that that can never happen.'

  'You are, I gather, an inventor,' prompted Tiger.

  'I've done nothing else than invent things all my life,' stated the Professor calmly. '

  Always inventing something or other. You can call it a hobby, an obsession, or a mental disorder, whichever you like. In the matter of mechanical and scientific devices the world is in its infancy. We're on the verge of an era of such inventions as will pass belief, and make such things as radio and television kindergarten toys. It's the only hope for life on earth.'

  Tiger sat back staring, while the Professor poured out more coffee. 'In what way?' he asked.

  'In every way, my dear Group Captain. The natural resources of the earth are fast becoming exhausted. Food, coal, oil, metals — even the soil is impoverished. Do men suppose they can go on for ever using up the planet they're living on without making good the damage? The habitable parts of the world are shrinking, and at the rate the population is increasing they'll soon have to do something about it or it'll be too late.

  There's talk of atomic energy saving the situation. So it may. But at present it's going the wrong way. We must find new matter, not destroy what we have. In a word, my dear sir, our little world is too small for the number of people who will soon be crowding on it.

  Simply moving people from one part of the world to another won't produce more corn, so it won't make the slightest difference.'

  'If emigration won't help, what will?'

  'There's only one answer to that. Cosmogration. That's my own word for extending our activities to the other planets of our solar system, and eventually the universe — always assuming that we can find a habitable globe not already occupied by someone else.

  Ultimately it's bound to come to that if humanity, as we understand it, is to survive. That'

  s ruling out the possibility that some careless atomic scientist doesn't press the wrong button and blow the whole place to smithereens. Wherefore I say that the sooner we see about finding a way to get off it the better.'

  The Professor made this startling pronouncement so calmly that Rex could only stare at him in wonderment. It was obvious that he was not joking.

  I see you've given some thought to this problem,' said Tiger.

  'It has been my major preoccupation for many years,' asserted the Professor. It's time someone thought about it. You, my dear Group Captain, have devoted your considerable engineering ability to increased speeds in horizontal flight. To what purpose? Will it benefit a man to be able to fly from England to Australia in ten hours, ten minutes, or even ten seconds, if he finds there the same conditions he has just left?'

  'Then you're not interested in high-speed horizontal flight?'

  Ùp to a point, yes. I merely say that it won't answer the problems with which the world will soon be faced. We've got to get off the earth, not just buzz round it like bees round a hive. That's why I've specialized in vertical flight. Your study is aeronautics. Mine is astronautics.

  Aeronautics have carried war to every land. Astronautics will, I hope, by enabling people to escape, lead to peace. You go round and round. I go up and up. Have some more coffee?'

  'Thanks,' accepted Tiger, who was beginning to look slightly dazed.

  From force of habit Tiger had produced his pipe, but hadn't lit it. The Professor must have noticed this, for he went on. 'Smoke if you want to.

  I don't mind in the least. I used to be a great smoker of cigarettes but had to give up the habit. I used to light one, put it down, and then forget about it. The resu
lt was, to poor Judkins' great anxiety, and, I suspect, irritation, I was always setting the place on fire. Finally I succeeded in blowing myself up.'

  How did you manage that?'

  'I was experimenting with liquid fuels at the time. One day, while so engaged, in a moment of absentmindedness, I took out a cigarette and lit it. The result, as one would expect, was an explosion of some violence.

  It held up my work for a time. Having thus been warned that the habit was a dangerous one for a man of my unstable equilibrium I had reluctantly to relinquish it. To support my determination to do so, in order to have something in my mouth I took to eating caramels. Now that has become a habit, but at least it doesn't cause explosions or set the house on fire.

  I make my own, using only the best ingredients, with just a little something added to keep my faculties alert.' The Professor pushed up his glasses, and switching the subject abruptly, inquired: Tell me, Group Captain, what is your view of these so-called flying saucers?'

  Tiger hesitated. 'Well, it's hard to know what to think about them,' he said slowly.

  The Professor shook his head. 'You disappoint me,' he stated frankly.

  'Tell me what you think?' countered Tiger.

  Surely you don't doubt their existence?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Do you find it hard to believe that the inhabitants of a planet, probably one older than ours, or one in which life appeared before it occurred on earth and is therefore in advance of us in scientific knowledge, have solved the problem which we are only just beginning to tackle?'

  'No.'

  'I should think not. These aerial explorers have been seen by hundreds, thousands, of people. Responsible people, too. Yet there are self-appointed critics who assert they don't exist. This reluctance to believe their own eyes is something I cannot understand.'

  'Evidently you believe in them.'

  Of course I do.'

  'As vehicles of some sort?'

  'What else can they be? Comets? Nonsense. We know how comets behave.