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Title: Gateway to Yamara
Author: E. Everett Evans
Illustrator: Rudolph Belarski
Release date: November 1, 2026 [eBook #79895]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Hanro Corp., 1953
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79895
Credits: Tom Trussel - Stories of Futures Past (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GATEWAY TO YAMARA ***
Gateway to Yamara
by E. Everett Evans
=A strange gate led him to a strange fate ... and an undreamed-of new
life!=
_“Watcher of the Gate reporting to Yamara. Two men-things from above
have climbed within the Walls, and one of them has just stumbled
through the Gate.”_
_“Report received. Continue your watch.”_
_The graceful young woman stretched lazily, then concentrated
curiously. She saw an enclosure of about an acre’s extent, surrounded
by a weatherbeaten wall. This, in turn, was concentrically surrounded
by a similar but larger wall, thirty feet away._
_Within the enclosure a slim, good-looking young man was staring with
amazement at a sort of shimmering spot of light in the center of the
encircled space. Even as she looked, he took a few rapid steps forward
into the haze of light. Instantly he disappeared from the enclosure._
* * * * *
There was a moment of vertigo that wracked him, and then Fred Foxe fell
to the ground--or rather, fell further than the ground on which he
had been walking. About three or four feet, he guessed, as he picked
himself up, unhurt but surprised.
He saw his companion, George Roberts, standing a few feet away, also
apparently unhurt. The other was looking around him with a puzzled
expression in his usually stolid face.
George turned and saw him. “Fred,” he said. “The walls--they’re gone.”
The statement startled Foxe, and he glanced back quickly. A feeling of
consternation ran through his veins like a thread of ice.
He turned again and took one swift, comprehensive look about his new
surroundings. He saw a little clearing, carpeted with a heavy growth
of tall, rank grass of which every stalk bore on its tip a small,
star-shaped blossom of some pastel color. There was jungle beyond, huge
fern trees that spread intense gloom below them. The air was hot and
steamy. An upward glance at the sun hanging low over the trees shocked
him. It was a swollen, blood-red sun. After a moment, he nodded to
himself, and the sense of shock passed.
“Well,” he said aloud. “We’re where we expected to be--approximately.”
Roberts turned slowly. “Yeah? Where are we, anyway?”
Fred smiled. “Just about where we were a minute ago, George. But ...”
he added, “...I wouldn’t say we were anywhere in Canada or the United
States, or even in North America. Lord knows what this continent is
shaped like right now.”
“What in the devil are you talking about?” Roberts grunted impatiently.
“Are we here, or aren’t we?”
“Don’t you see, George?” Fred said, his grin warm with victory. “We did
it! We found the Time Gate--and we got through it! When I got you into
this deal I told you the stories the Indians have been telling me--and
this proves that they were right!”
Roberts looked around ruefully. “You got me into something, all right,”
he said. “These jungles look worse than the ones you dragged me through
in the South Pacific. Think there are any Japanese snipers in those
trees?”
“I doubt it,” Fred smiled. “Old as the Japanese Empire is, it’s not
even a gleam in the Sun Goddess’ eye right now.”
“Right now! Right now!” Roberts said nervously. “You keep saying that!
When _is_ right now, anyway?”
Fred was thoughtful. “That’s just it. When we passed through that
shimmering spot of light back there inside the walls, we didn’t travel
very far in space, but I think we went a long, long way back in _time_.
The Indian legends I’ve been listening to mentioned repeatedly a ‘Time
Gate’ into which people disappeared, never to be seen again. And I
think that spot of light was it.”
Roberts, huge, stubborn fighter that he was, who had been cool and
daring under enemy fire as Fred’s patrol leader in the Pacific,
shivered frankly. “It don’t sound so good, does it?”
Fred looked at him grimly. “Sorry you came, Sergeant? I told you the
score. You said my years of wandering around the Canadian hills for my
doctor’s degree in paleontology and listening to old Indian legends had
sent me off my rocker, but you agreed to come looking for this place,
anyway. You came of your own free will--so don’t start griping now.”
“Yeah, okay, Lieutenant,” Roberts agreed grimly. “I ain’t got nobody to
blame but myself for listening to your crazy talk about time gates and
wacked-up Indians.” Then he grinned. “But I never was as smart as you
was, so give it to me again--slow. Just where are we?”
“I think,” said Fred slowly, “that Time Gate is a place where the Past
and the Present meet; that when we went through it we went backwards in
time a thousand or a million centuries. I’m positive we’re now in some
pre-historic age, but in the same geographical location.”
“Ain’t eddication wonderful!” Roberts said witheringly. He looked
around again, then exclaimed, “Hey, lookit the sun.”
“I did. Eons ago the sun appeared much larger and redder than it does
back in our normal time.”
“You mean it really isn’t any bigger?”
“No, it’s just the refraction of this heavier, damper air that makes it
seem so big. Like the moon does some nights. But, whenever or wherever
we are, we’d better see about whether or not we can get back when we
want to. I’m not particularly anxious to stay here the rest of my life.”
“Gosh, me neither.”
“The ground level is apparently lower than back in our time,” Foxe said
as they both turned and looked back. “I remember falling several feet
when I came through. But I can’t see anything to show where the gate
is, can you? No shimmer of light; no anything.”
Roberts searched carefully. “Me neither.” Then their situation seemed
to penetrate. “Yipe! What a spot!” he groaned.
“Uh-huh!” Fred agreed. There was a strained silence between them as
they carefully examined the ground. Soon Roberts called, and Foxe
joined him. They examined even more carefully a spot which showed some
marks in the dirt, above the grasses and other weird vegetation had
been crunched and broken.
“This must be where we landed.” Foxe was feeling in the air with his
hands as he spoke. Finding nothing, he picked up a rather long stick
and tried with that to locate the enigmatic and illusive time fault
through which they had fallen.
* * * * *
_“Now, Yamara?”_
_“Wait! He intrigues me. He has passed the first barrier; he has
scientific curiosity.”_
_“Which one do you mean, Yamara?”_
_“Silence, stupid fool!”_
* * * * *
“Well, that’s that,” Foxe said at last. “It appears we stay here for
some time, at least. That being the case, we’d better fix us some sort
of place to live in.”
“Yeah, the afternoon’s about gone. What kinda place?”
“All the jungle stories I’ve read seem to speak favorably of some sort
of a tree-house. Find a couple of stout limbs that’re parallel, build a
floor across them with branches....”
“...and put up some sides and a roof, eh?”
“Sure. That puts you away from the larger ground animals, if any, and
all you got to worry about are tree-climbing cats.”
“Speaking of animals, how much ammo you got?” Roberts counted rapidly.
“I only got thirty rifle shells, and a couple extra clips for my
automatic.”
“I have twenty-seven shells and four full clips,” Foxe inventoried.
“And our hatchets and skinning knives. Boy, we’ll have to be careful
not to waste no shots.”
They started across the clearing toward the jungle, searching
for a tree large and strong enough for their purpose, yet easily
climbable. Foxe, in the lead as usual, was intensely interested in the
giant fern-trees, which so clearly showed him they were now in the
Carboniferous age-period.
“There’ll be coal and oil under and about those walls, in the present,”
he thought, then grinned to himself, “the _old_ present.”
The jungle was heavily undergrown with bushes, interspersed with fallen
branches, rotting leaves and fronds from an incalculable number of
preceding centuries, making the going tough. There was a riot of color
everywhere, from millions of strange blossoms, which covered not only
the ground but much of the trees as well. There were huge creepers or
lianas that drooped from and made strange interlaced patterns between
the trees.
Foxe was pleased to discover that he could still enjoy this
breathtakingly beautiful scene, even while he was trembling inwardly at
their dangerous predicament. He pushed resolutely on.
Suddenly he heard a groan and a curse behind him. Swiveling about, he
recoiled at the sight of a tremendous snake, looped along the branch of
a tree under which he had just passed. Its head and a dozen feet of its
enormous body were swinging downward. Cold with sudden revulsion, he
saw his friend struggling helplessly yet valiantly in its constrictive
coils.
Wave on wave of sickness flooded Foxe, for he had a phobia against
snakes. But he fought it down and, tugging his hatchet from his belt,
ran forward toward the struggling man and serpent.
Roberts saw him coming and yelled, “Watch his head. Don’t let him fang
you!”
“Constrictors aren’t venomous!” Foxe yelled back. He leaped onto the
cold, writhing body. His hatchet slashed cruelly into the reptilian
body. Roberts’ arms were so pinioned by the coils about him that he
could not move to fight in his own defense, although his heavy-shod
feet were kicking at the snake’s body where he could reach it.
The huge python squirmed and twisted more swiftly, seeking now to
envelope this new foe in its great coils.
Foxe kept chopping at the same time trying to keep himself from being
encoiled. One of the evolutions of the snake freed Roberts’ left arm.
He quickly yanked his knife from its belt-sheath and joined Foxe in
slashing at the great body.
It was hard to hit twice in the same place on that swiftly moving
sinuousness. But they kept at it. Great wounds were beginning to sap
the reptile’s enormous strength. Its movements became slightly slower.
The men’s chopping and slashing blows were now more accurately placed.
They managed to greatly enlarge one wound. Finally Foxe chopped
completely through the backbone. He and Roberts concentrated on that
spot, and soon cut through the huge body.
The severed section, still convulsively entwined about Roberts, and
with Foxe clinging to it, dropped to the ground, where it continued its
writhings. Aided by Foxe, the imprisoned man was finally extricated
from the horrid folds.
“You hurt?” Foxe gasped anxiously.
“Nope, just winded and squoze.” Roberts staggered away from the
remains, and sank to the ground.
Foxe leaned against a nearby tree. “Snakes! Ugh! Hate ’em. To actually
touch one.... I never have thought I....” He was nauseatingly sick.
When at last he recovered a bit, Foxe saw Roberts sitting on the
ground, silently watching, sympathetic.
“Looks like that tree-house idea ain’t so hot,” the big man said
finally. “Especially if that baby’s got any relatives. Maybe we better
go back to the clearing, make a fire, and stand watches this first
night. Tomorrow maybe we can figure out something better, eh?”
“You’re right there. No more of this damned jungle for me during the
dark. Me for the wide-open spaces.”
* * * * *
_“Now, Yamara? They destroyed Teffani!”_
_“Wait, I tell you! He had great physical and psychic courage. The
second barrier could not stop him.”_
_“Of what barriers do you speak, Yamara?”_
_“You would not understand. Watch, protect, and do not molest!”_
_“I hear and obey!”_
* * * * *
Beside a blazing fire, Fred Foxe stood looking about the deepening
shadows of the unfamiliar world. A few feet away his companion lay
stretched out in highly vocal slumber. They had dined on the last of
their rations. It had been too late to think of hunting for meat, nor
had they seen any small animals as yet at any time.
As soon as they had returned to the clearing, they started gathering
a great pile of dry wood for their night-fire. Roberts carried the
heaviest loads, although Foxe used his lesser strength just as
vigorously. But soon he noticed that his huge companion was carrying
smaller loads; that he was beginning to stop and rest frequently; that
he often rubbed his sides as though to relieve a pain.
“Take off your shirt, George,” Foxe commanded. “I want to have a look
at you. That snake must’ve hurt you.”
“Aw, it’s nothing.”
“Then I want to see nothing!” He helped remove the shirt, and gasped
aloud at the great black and blue welts revealed.
“I take first watch, George, and no arguing,” he snapped. “You lie down
and get some rest and sleep. You’re lots worse off than you’ll ever
admit. Those bruises aren’t going to heal in a few minutes, you know.
Man, you’ve really been squeezed. Sure no ribs are broken?”
“Well, all right, Lieutenant,” George agreed slowly. “No, there’s no
ribs busted. And you be sure and call me at midnight. I’m no sissy,
Fred, and I can take....”
“Okay, Okay, I’ll call you. Now pipe down. Make yourself comfortable
and rest. One good thing, it’s hot enough here so we won’t catch cold
sleeping on the ground without bags or blankets.”
It was, indeed, humidly hot. Both men had long since shed the heavy
mackinaws they had been wearing against the Canadian winter cold before
they came through the Time Gate.
* * * * *
_“One sleeps, Yamara. The other stands guard, but is drowsing.”_
_“Watch and protect, but do not allow yourself to be seen.”_
_“I do not understand your forbearance, but I hear and obey.”_
* * * * *
But Foxe was not drowsing. His eyes were continually darting about,
watching closely his surroundings, even if his body was still.
A sudden movement, half-seen from the corner of his eye, roused him to
greater vigilance. He wheeled to face it, his rifle at the ready. Just
within the fringe of jungle growth he saw a dim, wraith-like figure
gliding noiselessly among the bushes and between the boles of the
fern-trees.
Foxe threw more wood on the fire, then examined more closely this
strange apparition in the light of the higher-leaping flames. This time
he saw not one but a number of them. Slowly revolving his body he could
now see them all around him, all moving so silently, seemingly aimless.
Yet the two men were completely surrounded.
Foxe stood perfectly still for moments, nervously watching. Slowly he
lifted his rifle. He tried to pierce the gloomy depths to see more
clearly who or what was out there. Several times he was on the point of
waking Roberts, but each time withheld as the mysterious, spectre-like
figures made no hostile move.
“Doggoned if I can make out whether they’re men, animals or what,”
he muttered. The thought of ghostly spirits entered his mind, but he
pushed it roughly aside. “I don’t think they’re men--those shapes are
too amorphous for that. And if they’re animals, they’re like nothing I
ever saw or heard of.”
He strode forward with what he hoped was the appearance of boldness.
“Might as well find out now as later,” he grunted. The misty, phantom
shapes did not seem to retreat before his advance, merely continued
their apparently aimless moving about.
Suddenly the night air was rent with peal on peal of raucous guffaws
that echoed among the trees and across the clearing, waking Roberts and
bringing him to his feet with a bound, to find Foxe almost doubled up
with laughter.
“What’s up?” Roberts demanded, running forward, his gun ready in his
hand.
“You are,” Foxe replied at last, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“So now you can take over and let me get some sleep. Boy, that was
the grand champion of all waking nightmares! Thought we were being
surrounded by a ghostly army, and it’s just those masses of drifting
fog-mists.”
“Aw, go get some shut-eye, you slap-happy sap.”
“I intend to. How are you feeling now?”
“Okay. Plenty stiff and sore yet, but not as bad as I was. The rest did
me good.”
* * * * *
_“It is afraid of shadows and dancing mists, Yamara.”_
_“Yet now he sleeps calmly. It takes fineness of character and mental
stability to overcome the barriers of the Unknown. The future race
we seek must have those characteristics--and that delicious sense of
humor.”_
* * * * *
Day woke up, yawned rosily, and smiled upon the visitors from the far
future. Riotous noises broke out from myriads of strange-looking birds.
Whether they sang only at dawn, or the men had been too preoccupied to
hear them before, was a question the two debated briefly.
After a breakfast of fruits which Foxe saw the birds eating, and so
considered safe for human consumption, the men set out to search for
water. A little gurgling brook not over a dozen yards into the jungle
across the glade, provided not only this but also yielded some very
fine fish which big George Roberts, happy at the chance to supplement
his meagre breakfast, carried back to the fire and cooked. It tasted,
but did not look like, trout.
“Well, we won’t starve, at least,” Roberts licked his fingers and
belched contentedly as they stood on the bank of the stream once more.
“And this brook’ll make a pathway for us to start our explorations,”
Foxe declared. He began to move upstream, and Roberts followed. As he
pushed along, Foxe blazed several trees along the bank so that they
could find their way back to the clearing of the Gate.
They had gone several miles, sometimes having to hack their way through
walls of dangling branches, fronds or lianas. Roberts was leading when
they broke through a last wall of heavy growth to find that the narrow
brook widened into a more marsh-like place, another semi-clearing.
Foxe saw Roberts striding forward even faster, but soon noticed that
the big man was having increasing difficulty in lifting his feet each
time he set one down.
“Stay back, Fred!” Roberts yelled suddenly. “It’s quicksand, or
something like that.” He tried to turn back, but Foxe saw that even in
the brief pause his companion had become mired nearly to his knees.
Foxe swiftly began gathering a quantity of large, fallen fernfronds and
was laying them as a pavement when Roberts, twisting at the hips to
look backward, saw him. “Stay out of here, you darned fool! No use you
getting caught, too!” His own efforts to extricate himself seemed but
to drag him in deeper.
“Stand still, George!” Foxe commanded peremptorily. “You won’t sink so
fast if you don’t struggle. I’ll get to you pronto!” But he didn’t,
for no matter how thick he piled his improvised paving, it would not
hold his weight. “Well, it was nice knowing you, pal,” Roberts grinned,
white-faced. By this time he was in nearly to his hips.
“Shut up, you dope,” Foxe snapped, but there was a catch in his voice.
“We’re not licked yet.” Looking swiftly and purposefully about, he ran
back towards the edge of the jungle. Clambering into a small tree,
he hacked furiously at a long, tough liana with his hatchet. It took
only moments to cut off a long section and this he carried back to the
slough. It took several attempts, but he finally managed to throw one
end so that Roberts could catch it.
Foxe dug his heels into the ground and started pulling. His face grew
red, cords stood out in his neck, and his muscles ached with the
strain, but the suction of the muck merely pulled the lighter man
forward, rather than releasing the imprisoned man.
* * * * *
_“Stand by to go to their aid, but wait out of sight.”_
_“Why, Yamara? It is an easy way to be rid of them.”_
_“You dare question me? Obey, instantly!”_
* * * * *
“I guess it’s no use, George,” Foxe panted, his strength gone, his
limbs trembling from the strain.
“Tie your end around a tree. I’ll pull myself out.”
Foxe did so, and the muscles on Roberts’ powerful arms, shoulders and
back stood out in ridges as he put all his splendid strength into
effect.
Slow, heart-breaking moments passed as the tug of war continued. Inch
by hardfought inch Roberts was withdrawing his imprisoned body from
the gripping quicksand. But that terrible constriction of the snake
had taken toll of his vitality; his struggles became weaker and less
successful long before he had released a quarter of his submerged body.
Desperately Foxe looked around him, trying to think of some method
of more efficient leverage. His searching eyes noticed a slim but
stout-looking tree that seemed more like the trees he knew than those
other arboreous ferns. At once a childhood trick sprang into his memory.
“Got an idea, George! Slack off a minute!”
With a quick twist he unfastened his end of the liana and, holding it
clasped firmly in one hand, climbed as fast as possible up the sapling.
As he neared the top, it bent further and further beneath his weight.
When he dared climb no higher for fear of breaking or splintering the
trunk, he tightly tied the liana to it.
“Get set, George!” he yelled. “Be ready for the yank when I jump!”
“Right! Let ’er go!”
Glancing down to see that the way was clear below him, Foxe yelled
“Geronimo!” and sprang away and down from the bent-over tree. As it
whipped back into place, Roberts was pulled clear of the sucking bog
and lay, panting and winded, on the edge of more solid ground.
* * * * *
_“He has loyalty, too, and resourcefulness. These, too, are
characteristics the race needs.”_
* * * * *
Back in the clearing of the Gate, which somehow neither of them wanted
to leave for very long, both men slept long and soundly that night, not
bothering to keep watch. The great, swollen sun was well up into the
sky when they finally woke and arose. A bath in the brook, and they ate
ravenously, then made ready for the day’s expedition, this time in the
opposite direction.
This time Foxe led the way. They had gone less than a quarter of a mile
when, through the foliage to their right, a building of some sort was
glimpsed.
It appeared to be of the same sort of stone construction as the two
great walls back in the Canadian woods, but not weathered and old as
they were.
“What on earth is that?” Roberts gasped.
“I don’t know,” Foxe shook his head while he studied the strange
structure. “Looks like it might be a castle. Or more probably,” as an
afterthought, “a temple of some sort. But we certainly want to look at
it.”
“Well, what you waiting for? Let’s get going.”
* * * * *
_“Yamara, they approach directly to the Place of Living.”_
_“I observe. Test them. But do not kill!”_
* * * * *
The two men had turned to wade ashore when a sudden noise stopped them.
Almost at once a gigantic, lizard-like snout appeared, followed by a
long neck and the forefeet of a huge body.
The thing stopped, too, as it spied them, then with a coughing grunt
came on toward them at surprising speed.
“Back, fast!” Roberts yelled as he whirled and started back up the
creek. “No room to fight here. Back to the clearing!”
Foxe was almost treading on the big man’s heels in the retreat.
Splashing, stumbling through the foot-deep water, they reached the
glade barely a few yards ahead of their pursuer. As soon as they were
on dry land they separated, and turned to fire.
“Aim at the eyes!” Roberts yelled again as they fired at the great head
of the giant reptile. The beast was about forty feet long from nose-tip
to end of horny-skinned tail. It stood about fifteen feet high at the
shoulders. The extended neck was carapaced, the head long and snouted,
the open mouth exposing a large number of sharp-pointed teeth.
Their shots were hitting the monster, biting and _spanging_ against its
thick, bony hide, disconcerting it so that it seemed in a great state
of indecision, turning first toward one and then the other of the men.
Its movements were so erratic and swift that Roberts’ idea of blinding
it was not so easily carried out.
Both men were on the move every second, to escape the rushes of the
huge dinosaur, its darting head, or its threshing tail. Its skin of
bone-like, over-lapping plates or scales seemed to stop most of the
bullets, although it was beginning to bleed in places.
Suddenly Roberts stumbled just as the thing was starting in his
direction. Foxe saw him try to roll out of the way, but the giant also
stumbled. A great foot stepped squarely on the man’s head.
“George!” Fred Foxe howled in bitter anguish.
* * * * *
_“Yamara, I....”_
_“I saw. It was accident. I do not condemn.”_
* * * * *
In a furious rage, Foxe started pumping bullets at the giant saurian.
Then he steadied, quickly, grimly, and with his shots tried to locate
and puncture the heart or some other vital spot.
The huge reptile swung about and started in the direction from which
that hail of stinging bullets was coming. Foxe ran to one side, then
turned towards the rear of the monster. There was a tremendous _swish_
of the great tail, which caught Foxe squarely in the side. He felt a
wave of pain, then realized he was flying through the air. He landed
with a shattering impact, and fainted.
* * * * *
_“Yamara, the blow knocked him through the Gate!”_
_“I observed. Again I know it was unintentional.”_
_“Orders, Yamara?”_
_“Do nothing, but get out of sight. He is of the breed that will
return, for he has pertinacity of purpose. See, even now he awakes and
is crawling back to the Gate.”_
_“Then it were better to kill him.”_
_“Silence, fool! He has the qualities the future race must have. And
leave that other body alone until I give word to move it.”_
* * * * *
Fred Foxe came out of his dazed faint to find himself back inside the
inner wall surrounding the Time Gate. Groggily he sat up, then crawled
over to where he and Roberts had dropped their packs when they first
climbed down inside the inner wall. He carefully skirted the Gate in
doing so.
From his own pack he got a bar of concentrated food and a can of fruit
juice, upon which he lunched, shivering in the winter cold as he did
so. When finished eating, he took a couple of anti-fatigue pills, then
lit a cigarette. Getting out the first-aid kit, he applied antiseptic
to and bandaged his various cuts and scratches, and taped his badly
sprained wrist.
Then he stood up slowly, looked around at the familiar Canadian woods,
at the distant Rockies. At the foot of that peak was the Indian village
they had started from--when was it? Days ago, weeks, a month? Beyond
that stretched the long trail out of this little-explored region, and
at the end of it, civilization, the modern world as he knew it.
He turned and looked at the shimmering light of the Gate. And beyond
_that_ lay the dead body of George Roberts, his buddy, who had fought
at his side through so many dangers, only to end this way.
He picked up the two packs, pitched them through that enigmatic,
shimmering Gate, then jumped through it. Expecting the drop, he landed
standing.
His first task was to dig a grave in the soft loam at the edge of the
little clearing with a trenching shovel. In this he reverently buried
the remains of his unfortunate friend.
“So long, fellow. You were a real man!” he saluted the long mound.
Making sure both rifles were loaded, he slung one over his shoulder,
and with the other at the ready in his hands started once more down the
little creek. His sharp eyes peered carefully about and ahead, lest
he again be taken unawares by one of those fierce denizens of this
primitive world.
* * * * *
_“Yamara, he comes again.”_
_“As I told you he would. He has every good trait of character that we
desire. Your task with him is done. Return to your watch of the Gate.”_
_“I hear and obey.”_
* * * * *
As he again caught sight of the now forbidding stone temple or castle,
Fred Foxe left the little stream and proceeded more cautiously than
ever towards the strange edifice. He climbed warily up the broad
stone steps, and went slowly through the opened doorway. Inside he
saw a fairly large, bare room, about thirty feet square, he guessed.
Leading from it on the other three sides were hallways, empty, dim and
mysterious.
He stood motionless, undecided as to which way to go first, when
suddenly he had the strangest feeling, as though a will other than
his own had taken charge of his mind and was forcing him to enter
the right-hand hall. Down this he walked for about fifty feet, his
curiosity keeping him from objecting to such cavalier treatment. Coming
at last to a large wooden door, he opened it.
Instantly the strange mental control was withdrawn, and he gasped at
the sight before him. This stone room was barbarically yet beautifully
decorated with dozens of softly-tanned skins of various beasts, most of
which he could not recognize, spread about the floor. There were huge
hanging drapes and tapestries covering the walls, and brilliant flowers
were strewn everywhere about the room. But his eyes noted those things
only in one passing glance.
For in the center of the room was a stone bench or bed, covered thickly
with more of the soft furs and with silken robes of various hues. On it
half-reclined a girl or young woman, whose startling beauty held him
rooted to the spot. There was something fascinatingly lovely about her.
“Her coloring!” he marveled then, as he saw it more clearly. “That
long, wavy hair is a silver-blue. Can it be a wig? But it doesn’t seem
like one. And that pearly-grey skin!” He noted that, grey though it
was, it was a living, healthy luster, and after the first shock it was
unutterably lovely--far from the dead-grey one sees in very ill people.
He advanced several steps nearer her, drawn by the glowing welcome in
her glorious eyes. When he was close enough, he saw that they were a
deep lavender, almost the shade of purple _fleur-de-lis_. Altogether,
she was the loveliest woman he had ever seen.
“Hello,” Foxe said hoarsely at last. “I hope I’m not intruding. But it
seemed as though I was rather expected to come here.”
She spoke in reply, and her voice was musical, but her words were
meaningless to him. However, her smile was entrancing, and when she
beckoned him to come to her, he slipped his guns and packs to the
floor. He went up to the couch. She extended her graceful hand to him,
grasped his, and drew him down beside her on the couch.
His heart was beating rapidly as her fragrance assailed him. She looked
deeply into his eyes, and he felt his senses leaving him--and realized
just as he dropped off that he was being very swiftly and thoroughly
hypnotized. He was asleep before he could fight back.
When he awakened--he had no conception of how long he had been
under--he was amazed to find that he could understand her words, could
reply in her own language, although his tongue had some trouble making
the strange sounds his mind knew.
When he remarked on this, she smiled warmly. “Yes, it was for that
reason I had to place you in sleep, that I might teach you our language
quickly. I apologize and hope you are not angry. May I now explain the
things you so want to know about me, about us, and this place?”
She poured two tall goblets full of a sparkling wine, and he sipped
appreciatively as he listened to an astounding explanation.
“I am called Yamara, and I am from the planet known to your scientists
as Venus,” she began. “I and others of us came to your Earth for a very
special reason, but to make you understand I will have to go back into
our planetary history a bit.
“For some unfortunate biological reason the males of our race have
always been very small--dwarfs, you would call them. Their heights
ranged from two to two and a half of your feet. The females, on the
other hand, have always been from five to five and a half feet tall,
during maturity.”
Yamara explained that the race of Venus had a known history of about
twenty-five thousand years, and that their science had long ago reached
a high point in almost all lines of study.
“One of our biological chemists,” she continued, her vivid eyes
flashing, “finally discovered a drug that would stimulate the male
growth glands, and make our men grow taller. It was greeted with great
joy by everyone, and put to use at once--too quickly, as it turned
out. It was so generally used that in two generations our men began
equalling the women in height. This was important to our men,” she said
earnestly. “They had always had to battle the psychological effects of
a great inferiority of spirit, because of their small size, in spite of
the fact that the women always loved and respected them.
“But soon an appalling thing became apparent.” Foxe felt his blood
quicken as he saw tears in her lovely eyes. Obviously, the remembrance
brought intense feeling with it. “It was found that the men of the
second generation grew tall and strong and mentally splendid until
they were about thirty Venerian years old.” She paused, then went on.
“Then--then they rapidly deteriorated, and before thirty-five were
dead! It all happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that this second
generation were almost all dead before we could find a counteragent. At
present there are less than a thousand native males alive, and since
all have taken the growth drug, we know that in a few years all will be
dead.”
Foxe took one of the girl’s slim hands, which gripped his with
surprising strength under her emotion. But she continued bravely,
telling how the scientists of Venus had long ago developed rockets
for flight, and how some daring adventurers had pierced the planet’s
eternal cloud-blanket and discovered that which was never visible
from the surface--the great universe about them. Huge flying
laboratory-observatories had been established in satellite orbits above
the clouds, and from these the scientists had learned the secrets of
the heavens, including the fact that there were other worlds in the
solar system.
“With the dying off of our men, we put our greatest resources of
knowledge and man-power into the construction of interplanetary ships,
in the hope of finding assistance on other planets.”
A crew had made a successful trip to their nearest outer neighbor--the
Earth--but had found to their dismay that it was in a very primitive
age; that the man-like creatures on Earth were little more than animals.
“Why, we ... oh, I see,” Foxe started and interrupted himself. “I keep
forgetting that I’m now back in the Carboniferous age.”
“That’s right. However, our own history made us feel sure that in time
these beast-men would develop into real persons, just as ours had
done. And, best of all from our viewpoint, these males were as large
or larger than their females, which augured well. Our deepest thinkers
felt sure it would be possible to open a Way into the future, and this
was done in the Time Gate through which you passed.
“Through this Time Gate from time to time came men of many future ages,
whom the Venerian women tried to enlist in their fight for survival.
However, they did not want just ‘males’. They desired and needed mates
who would have the finest and highest qualities possible, qualities
which they wanted their race to possess. For that reason a series of
test-barriers had been devised, in order that only those with the
proper attributes would be chosen.”
Foxe shook himself mentally. It sounded like an amazing fantasy,
all this she was telling. Yet he felt it was truth. He had fallen
more and more under the spell of this bewitchingly lovely Venerian
girl. She was, in his eyes, as fine or finer than any Earth girl he
had ever known. Like most men, he set high standards for his female
companionship, and he had never yet encountered a woman who promised to
possess the unique and extraordinary qualities he sought.
Apparently, from the fact that he was here, listening to her, he had
been considered acceptable. But George Roberts--. Why had he been
killed?
Yamara read the question from his mind. “That was entirely an accident,
for which I am deeply sorry. The guardian creature, whose simple mind
I control, was ordered to test you both, but not to kill. But when
your friend stumbled, the beast tried to swerve but also stumbled, and
stepped on his head. Yes, your friend would have been most welcome.
“Incidentally, the guardian, Drakoni, was once one of our males, as was
Teffani, the great snake you killed. They and other males accompanied
our expedition here, and just before their bodies died we transferred
their egos, their life-forces and minds, into those bodies, the
best we could find, that they might continue to live and serve us.
Unfortunately, they are gradually becoming more beast than man, as
the instincts of their bodies gain greater control of their mental
processes.
“But to conclude. This is our problem, and the way we have tried to
solve it. The need is desperate, if our race is to survive. We ask your
assistance, personally.” The glorious eyes were turned pleadingly upon
him, and she leaned toward him, hopefully, imploringly.
Fred Foxe was almost dazed with the idea. He had no strong personal
ties to hold him to Earth or to his own time. It would be a tremendous
adventure--going to another planet. And as for Yamara, he was already
half--. He tried to stop the thought, flushing as he remembered her
mind-reading ability.
He rose swiftly and paced the room, thinking furiously, for he was an
ambulant thinker. Should he go, or not? In a way it was a cold-blooded
proposition; in another a great challenge to his manhood.
“One sure thing,” he muttered to himself, “I’ll never have another
moment’s peace of mind if I don’t think this out and decide here and
now.” He looked at her.
“It will take some doing, you know--,” he said, “--to agree to give up
everything that is real and familiar to me in my own world.”
Her gorgeous eyes met his. “I know,” she said softly. “Think carefully
before you decide. You are under no compulsion to do this. It must be
entirely of your own free will.”
He drew a deep breath. “And if I decide--against--?”
“You will be taken back to the Gate and guided through it,” she said.
“No one will hinder you.”
With some effort he tore his eyes away from her. No compulsion! The
temptation to say the hell with everything, that all he wanted was to
be with her, was almost overwhelming.
He continued pacing and thinking. The adventurous excitement of the
thing alone was tempting, too. But there was so much more to be
considered. Could he possibly find happiness and contentment on Venus,
after the first flush of excitement had worn off? Could he exile
himself to a new world, to new conditions? Could he leave everyone and
everything he knew and liked here?
For nearly half an hour he prowled forth and back, chainsmoking and
studying the problem. He felt sure the girl was not now controlling his
mind--that she was wisely leaving it to him to decide for himself.
Yamara answered briefly and concisely the occasional questions he
asked, but he noticed that each time he looked at her she was mutely
beseeching, imploring. And--was there something else in those limpid
eyes? Did he read there a dawning love for him, personally--or was it
wishful thinking on his part? For himself, he knew now, definitely,
that he had fallen in love with her. She was the one woman he wanted,
the one in all the world who seemed to fulfill the requirements a man
sets for himself in choosing the woman who is to be his mate for all
time.
Finally he came back and sat down beside her again, his shoulders
straight with resolve. He took her slender little hand, and gazed
deeply and long into her eyes. “I ... I’ll accept on one condition,
Yamara.” He flushed and stammered a bit, but spoke honestly. “I ...
I’ve fallen in love ... with you, and if I can be your mate, and yours
only, I’ll go with you. Is that possible, and are you willing?”
She gave him a rapturous smile and drew him into her lovely arms. “Of
course it is possible. As for my willingness, I--oh, my darling! I
have been hoping and praying to my gods that you would make that very
request!”
* * * * *
Late that night, after Foxe had finally fallen asleep, the beautiful
Venerian girl carefully drew herself from his arms, rose and tiptoed
from the room. She went down one of the long halls, and into a large,
dormitory-like room filled with beds, on each of which reclined another
startlingly beautiful young woman. At sight of the newcomer they all
rose and pushed eagerly forward to greet her.
She smiled and nodded exultantly, joyfully.
_“Ah!”_ came from the group in a relieved and satisfied sigh.
“Who is next?” she asked them.
One of the girls came forward. “I am.”
“You all saw and heard everything?”
“Yes,” they nodded agreement. “We observed carefully and understand
perfectly.”
“Good.” She turned to the chosen one. “Hurry to the place of sleeping
before he wakens. But be very careful never to let him suspect. For he
is, as you have all perceived, the finest specimen of his species we
have yet caught in the Gate. We must keep him happy and contented here,
that he may breed as many of us as possible--before he discovers that
all we yamara are identical.” ...
Transcriber’s note:
This etext was produced from Orbit Science Fiction, September 1953
(Vol. 1, No. 1). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but
minor inconsistencies have been retained as printed.
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.
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