The Project Gutenberg eBook of The crystal ray
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Title: The crystal ray
Author: Raymond Z. Gallun
Illustrator: S. Strother
Release date: June 27, 2024 [eBook #73926]
Language: English
Original publication: New York, NY: Stellar Publishing Corporation, 1929
Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRYSTAL RAY ***
The Crystal Ray
BY RAYMOND GALLUN
_By the Author of "The Space Dwellers"_
[Illustration: RAYMOND GALLUN]
_The greatest advances in science will come during the next
hundred years, when our understanding of the different forms of
rays emitted by various strange materials is better developed. The
past century witnessed the discovery of X-rays, as well as the
emanation rays of radium and others. Only very recently a new ray,
the cosmic ray, has been announced as a very potent factor in our
lives. That many more materials found to emit powerful rays will
be discovered, some of them with deadly and altogether unexpected
qualities, is a foregone conclusion. The present story deals with
such instrumentalities and, incidentally, the author has built a
marvelous stirring story which cannot fail to impress you._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Air Wonder Stories November 1929.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
A mid-afternoon sun of the stirring war year 2141 A.D. shone upon a
small battle flier which was speeding southward at an altitude of
fifteen miles. It was a two-seated outfit, cigar-shaped and made of
an aluminum alloy. On the shining metal of its body were painted
several red, white and blue stars--the insignia of the United States;
mounted on its prow were two dangerous looking automatic guns.
Beneath the body of the machine was a convex, hollow sheet of metal
containing a substance which neutralized gravity when acted upon by
the electromagnetic waves sent out by the power stations throughout
the western hemisphere; this device, the Whitley gravitational screen,
supported the craft in the air. Hissing jets of gas ejected at the
stern were driving the machine through the thin atmosphere at a
velocity of nearly a thousand miles an hour. A faint wake of bluish
vapor trailed behind like the tail of a comet.
In the flier were two men wearing the oxygen masks and metal armor
necessary at extreme altitudes; attired in this fantastic garb they
looked for all the world like a pair of goblins from some distant
planet.
As members of the U. S. Scout Squadron Number Five, both had done their
bit in the seemingly hopeless battle of Caucasian nations against the
yellow men of Asia. Holding the controls was George Calhoun, the ace
who had to his credit more than sixty aerial victories, including the
bombing of two great battleships of the skies. Joseph Pelton, his
companion, who in peace time had devoted all his spare moments to
science, was not so successful a fighter; but he had participated in
many hazardous struggles.
These men were now on a three days' leave of absence. The United
States--the only formidable power of the Occident that had so far
escaped being wiped out by the air fleets of Asia, could ill spare
either; but science had not yet found a way to relieve the fatigue that
comes with constant war.
Above them the aviators could see the deep blue-black sky, sprinkled
with stars because of the rarity of the atmosphere. Beneath rolled an
ever-changing panorama of earth, seemingly turned up at the edges like
an enormous saucer. Now they were over the Gulf of Mexico veiled in its
gray-blue mist; now above the verdant agricultural districts of Central
America, long ago occupied by the invaders.
A little more than three hours after they had set out from Chicago,
the young men hung over the snow-capped pinnacles of the Andes, which
looked like mere ash heaps far beneath. Here was one of the few spots
on earth that did not yet resound with the din of war; it was such a
place they sought.
Presently the airboat began to descend in a long spiral; a few minutes
later it settled gently at the edge of a little adobe village on the
eastern slope of the mountains.
The Legend of the Mountain
A flier was an unusual sight here and the inquisitive inhabitants, men,
women and children, crowded around to get a glimpse at the wonderful
machine.
There was nothing resembling a hostelry in the village; but, when the
worthy Señor Hernando Diaz, its richest citizen, learned that these
young men were soldiers like his own three sons who were fighting
against the Asiatics in Argentina, he offered his hospitality.
After the evening meal Señor Diaz and his guests repaired to a broad
veranda which faced west. For quite a time the three men remained
silent. Pelton and Calhoun were absorbed in the grandeur of the
mountains over which dusk was settling, and Hernando Diaz knew too well
the power of silence and the spell of that majestic sight, to break it
with words.
At length Calhoun murmured musingly: "God is up there--God and Peace.
Even war couldn't disturb the eternal serenity of those Andes."
He spoke in Spanish. Both Calhoun and Pelton had a fairly complete
mastery of that language.
Diaz leaned far forward in his chair: "God in those mountains, Señor?
Ah, yes, perhaps in the great peaks far off; but do you see that one
which is quite near? It is less than two thousand meters high and at
its summit there is a small depression or crater. Madre de Dios--there
indeed is the lair of Satan!"
A quizzical smile came over Calhoun's lips. He turned toward the
Ecuadorian: "I'm afraid the gentleman you mention has gone north to
help with the big row up there. But let's hear the rest of what you
were going to say. I'm intensely interested and I think that Joe is
perfectly willing to listen too."
"There is a legend about 'The Devil's Nest' which says that in ancient
times the Indians made human sacrifices to the sun there," Diaz began
in a low voice, while he toyed nervously with the ends of his curling
mustache: "Certainly there is something dreadful about the place still,
but no one knows what. In the memory of living men, only two have
ventured into it. That was ten years ago. A certain youth named Pedro
Menendez was driven by the spirit of adventure, which is the inherent
possession of most boys, to scale the heights of 'The Devil's Nest.' He
failed to return. Three days later his father ventured up the walls of
the extinct volcano in search of him. No human eye has seen either of
them since. Truly, it was as though Satan had swallowed up both."
"Men have gone up into mountains before, and failed to return," said
Pelton: "There are places where footing is precarious, and crevices in
which it would be almost impossible to find a human body. However, we
have a little mystery here to solve--George, what do you say if we take
a trip to 'The Devil's Nest' tomorrow?"
"Bully enough, old egg," returned Calhoun laughingly: "We've faced
devils before, haven't we? They were real devils hurtling at us from
out of the sky and shooting streams of poisoned lead dangerously close
to our gills. They will probably get us anyway in a week or two and, if
we get killed in the mountains, we will at least have the satisfaction
of cheating them."
Seeing that argument was useless against such reckless hot-heads, their
host merely muttered softly to himself: "They are rash--these soldiers
of the United States."
The last pale light had faded from above the peaks of the Andes, a
faint wind soughed through the trees. The conversation drifted to other
topics.
The Devil's Nest
When the early morning sun of another day had mounted up into a
cloudless firmament, the two aviators were preparing for their
adventure. Believing that the vigorous exercise of climbing would do
their little-used muscles good, they decided to leave the flier behind.
Since this was so, they realized that it might be necessary to camp on
top of the mountain that night; consequently they packed up a light
tent, a couple of blankets and some extra provisions.
Señor Diaz did not urge them to desist from their venture but, when
he wished them good luck, Pelton noticed that there was something
strangely solemn about his voice and eyes. His attitude was not at all
that of a friend bidding him good luck at the outset of a holiday of
sport; it resembled, instead, the attitude of a certain fatherly old
captain speaking kindly to him when he was about to risk his life in an
aerial combat.
When all was ready, Calhoun and Pelton started out up the slopes of
the Andes. For a couple of miles the going was easy; but, as they
approached closer to the sinister bulk of "The Devil's Nest," the
ground grew steep and sterile and the trail more and more difficult.
Calhoun was outwardly in a carefree mood and he scoffed often about
the story. "Just imagine, Joe," he would say, "demons and what-not in
these mountains that are nearer to God than anything on earth--beneath
this blue sky that is the very symbol of peace and beauty! What a
superstitious lot the Señor and all his kind are!"
Pelton said very little. Somehow he felt that his friend's
lightheartedness was forced, and over his own mind there was coming a
sense of depression that increased as the mountain grew more rugged.
Was there really some horror in the ancient, extinct crater far above?
"No!" he told himself emphatically. The idea was ridiculous; he was a
fool even to think of it.
The two men paused to eat their noonday meal at a small level space
nearly three thousand feet above the village. The stillness of the
place and his own gloomy mood inspired strange thoughts in the mind of
Pelton. Finally he turned to Calhoun who was vigorously chewing the
last fragment of a ham sandwich (yes--this ancient food still delighted
palates of the twenty-second century.)
"Do you think often of Death, George?" he asked.
The other swallowed hard and then smiling slightly, answered: "Death?
Well rather. I couldn't help thinking of him now and then, because
you see I play hide-and-seek with him pretty nearly every day. He's
come to be about my most intimate playfellow, and he's a real sport.
He's always 'it' and he never gets sore. So far he hasn't found me,
and I will continue to keep out of his way if I can. However, if it's
necessary, I'll take my hat off to Death and admit I'm beaten. I'd
rather do that than become a slave to those Asiatics."
"I don't fear death in the physical sense any more than you do,
George," said Pelton, "but, Lord! How I hate to be forgotten! I'd
like to survive this war and live long enough to work out some of my
scientific theories. Since I was just a kid I have dreamed of doing
something really big and that idea has grown to be almost an obsession
with me. You are lucky; even our enemies will remember you as one of
the cleverest aerial duelists that ever fought."
"Pshaw!" returned Calhoun; "If there isn't anybody left on earth
to remember me but those disgusting Asiatics, I'd rather not be
remembered. But listen here, old fellow, I don't think it is the least
bit nice of you to make this holiday disagreeable with your glum talk.
Just forget it and stow some food and then let's be on our way. The top
of the mountain is still about three thousand feet above us, and if we
want to reach it before sunset we had better get a move on."
A few minutes later the adventurers continued with their ascent. Now
they began to encounter real difficulties; there were rugged, almost
perpendicular crags, offering but the barest hand- and foot-holds.
These almost baffled the amateur climbers. Here and there were narrow
shelves where they could stop to get their breath.
The Blue Crystals
It was during one of these rests that Pelton noticed crystals of a
bluish, semi-opaque mineral clinging to the rocks about him. These
crystals appeared to become more and more plentiful as they neared the
summit of the volcano. Pelton knew something of mineralogy, but never
in his considerable experience had he encountered such a substance.
Curious to know its nature, he thrust several pieces into his pack;
hoping that some day, if luck was with him, he might analyze them.
Just as the two Americans were starting on the last hundred feet of
climbing that lay between them and their goal a large cloud came over
the declining sun and an ominous gloom settled over the world.
And now the youths peered eagerly over the rim of the crater into "The
Devil's Nest." Five minutes later they had descended fifty feet to its
floor.
They found themselves in a small, circular valley about a thousand
feet across. Everywhere, topping the walls of multi-colored stone that
surrounded it, were pinnacles of the strange blue mineral, pointing
toward the sky like the thin minarets of a city of goblins. On the
summit of the rocky barrier at the western side of the crater was a
huge mass of the crystal that gleamed darkly under the shadow of the
obscuring cloud which hung persistently before the sun.
"This place has more weird beauty than 'The Island of Death'," said
Calhoun. "It would make a fine painting. Somehow, there's something
about it that gives me a creepy feeling."
There were a few patches of hardy grass and several bushes scattered
here and there over the floor of the crater. Suddenly Pelton's
searching eyes fell upon a circular spot of bleached earth, not more
than ten feet across, lying thirty paces away at the center of the
valley. For a moment he scrutinized it intently and then he grasped his
companion violently by the arm. "Look, George!" he cried.
A moment later the two youths were bending over a pair of human
skeletons whitened by years of exposure. With them there lay several
coins, two tarnished brass buckles and the rusted remnants of a few
metal buttons. The owners of those bones had obviously been dead for a
very long time.
"These are evidently the men that Diaz spoke of," said Pelton, "but
what in the name of Heaven could have killed them, George?" There was a
look almost expressive of fear in his face.
"Volcanic gases, probably," essayed Calhoun.
"Impossible, man!" returned Pelton; "This volcano has certainly been
extinct for ages."
Calhoun knelt down beside the skeletons and began to examine them.
"Let's see if there are any marks of violence, fractured skulls, broken
ribs, or anything," he said.
Pelton stepped back from the ghastly patch of earth. Never afterward
was he able to tell exactly why.
And then a miracle happened--a miracle and a tragedy. The setting sun
at last escaped from the cloud that covered it and its ruddy rays,
coming over the summit of a nearby Andean peak, fell upon the mass of
crystal at the western edge of the valley. A beam of bluish light,
like the reflection from the glossy scales of a black serpent and
more evilly gorgeous than the slumbering fires of a thousand opals,
leaped from it. The ray struck Calhoun squarely. He staggered to his
feet, uttered a choking cry, and crumpled lifeless to the earth! A few
moments later the sun dropped behind the mountains and "The Devil's
Nest" was again in shadow.
Ready for Battle
Six more weeks rolled by and, now the Asiatic Air Fleet advancing up
the Mississippi Valley was only five hundred miles from Chicago. Should
this last big city of the Occident be destroyed, all hope for further
resistance would immediately crumble; for here were situated the
munition factories and here was the government that kept the dwindling
energies of the United States organized.
Surrender was useless to the Americans. The blood lust of their foes
had grown to such proportions that they had proclaimed that only the
complete extermination of Occidentals would satisfy them. In a few more
days, when the needed reinforcements had arrived from China, there
would be a battle surpassing in magnitude and horrors all previous
struggles. Then the men from the East would dump tons of chemicals upon
the American metropolis; her twenty million inhabitants would suffer a
moment of intense agony and, in a few minutes, she would be left silent
and empty. So, at least, thought Tsu Tsin Ho, "The Wizard of the East,"
and many another wise head among the invaders; for the air fleet of
the United States was outnumbered three to one.
But there was one thing that the brilliant Orientals did not know of.
In Whitley Park, Chicago's most important pleasure ground, an unusual
engineering operation was in progress. Four slender, two-thousand-foot
towers of steel, seemingly as frail as spider web, were rising as if by
magic. They were arranged in a square and between them skillful workmen
were fastening a maze of fine wires.
In the center of the rectangle formed by the towers two enigmatic
machines were being assembled. One was a huge apparatus, very similar
in appearance to a gas engine of the twentieth century. Fully a hundred
feet its eight bulky cylinders reared, gleaming with a glossy black
sheen. There was something sinister and awesome about it--a suggestion
that within its slumbering frame there lurked sufficient power to send
the earth hurtling from its orbit. Beside the engine a great drum-like
contrivance was slowly taking form beneath the hammers and riveters of
the construction crew. It was a generator that would soon supply energy
to the mass of wires overhead.
What was the sinister purpose of this gigantic wireless power plant?
Only a few men knew, and these often smiled grimly.
With feverish haste Chicago's factories were turning out new and
strange devices by the thousand--things the purpose of which even their
builders did not know. They were tubes of varying sizes, from one foot
in length to twelve, made of black enameled steel.
The report that the impending battle was very near came sooner than
was expected. In the midst of a glorious June day, the sunny serenity
of which was mocked by the awful contest that was going on, a lone
air scout raced over the city from the south. He brought news that
the enemy was preparing every available ship, evidently for the final
struggle.
Ten minutes after the arrival of the messenger, a hundred and fifty
battleships, America's only reserve force, arose majestically from the
landing stage to join the main fleet.
What appeared to be Chicago's last day of life was drawing to a
close when they reached their destination. With this reinforcement
the American fleet numbered about 2,000 large battlecraft. They hung
stationary, supported high above the earth by their gravitational
screens, awaiting the attack.
To the south of them, at a distance of perhaps twenty miles, the ships
of the enemy were being arranged in battle formation. From deck,
port and bridge, keen eyes watched their movements, through powerful
glasses. There were at least five thousand of them--all first-class
fighting machines of the largest size. Accompanying them was a
countless hoard of small fliers.
Now the Orientals began to advance in a great V-shaped arrangement.
A thousand feet above them, the one-man craft moved like a swarm of
hornets.
Suddenly the position of the Asiatic fleet seemed to change from
south to a little west by south in a way that would have made a man
of the twentieth century doubt the evidence of his senses. But these
latter-day Americans knew well what was happening. It was merely a
weird illusion--another creation of Thomas Whitley's master mind.
Soon after he invented the gravitational screen, he had found that,
under the influence of certain electromagnetic waves produced by a
special generator, air could be made to refract light enormously. This
discovery was of tremendous advantage in war. Both the Caucasians and
the Mongolians used it to prevent each other from knowing the exact
position of their forces. It practically eliminated battles at long
range since, without knowing exactly where the enemy is, a gun crew
cannot fire with any degree of accuracy. At a range of less than five
miles the Whitley "mirafractor," as the device was called, was useless;
and consequently within these limits the great contests were fought. At
such close quarters the guns shooting projectiles filled with the new
radioactive explosive, _terrorium_, could be used with dreadful effect.
The Last Stand
The Asiatic fleet was quite close now. In order to meet their onslaught
the Americans had arranged their ships into three vast rings, one above
the other.
Suddenly a light puff of smoke broke from the side of one of the
Mongolian aircraft. For a fraction of a second a high, plaintive
whine was heard above the roar of rocket-motors. Then, with a report
that sounded like the crack of doom, the forward end of an American
greyhound of the air was bent into a twisted mass of scrap. Upon the
wreckage was spattered a greenish slimy fluid that gave off a gas which
turned the shattered flesh of men black, the instant it touched them,
and ate into bright metal like a powerful acid, covering it with half
an inch of grayish compound.
The titanic struggle had begun--a thundering, hissing maelstrom of
destruction. Again and again the Asiatics rushed upon their intended
victims and, as often as they did so, they were beaten back by the
revolving rings of American aircraft that poured broadside after
broadside into their midst.
Losses to both contestants were awful, but among the invaders they were
greatest. Time and again a monster dreadnaught gaudily painted with
orange suns would crumple up under well-directed _terrorium_ shells and
take the ten-mile dive to earth, almost completely burying itself in
the soft soil. Gradually, however, the Asiatics were getting the upper
hand by force of numbers.
After night had fallen the scene of battle was brilliantly illuminated
with searchlights and magnesium flares.
In the purple sky the stars glittered as calmly as ever. Though the
fates of the human races of the world hung in the balance, nature's
serenity was unruffled.
And now the slow retreat of the Americans toward Chicago had begun.
Every mile of the way was contested with dogged courage. Time was what
the United States needed, and the commander of the fleet meant to gain
time if it were humanly possible. "Hang on, men--for God's sake--hang
on!" were his constant orders, "If we can delay long enough, victory is
ours!"
Set in the revolving turrets at the bow and stern of each American
dreadnaught were strange thick cylinders; at the end of each was a mass
of glassy crystalline substance, looking like a staring ray. What was
the purpose of these queer devices? Many Asiatics wondered. Why was it
that they did not flash forth some new kind of dreadful death? Their
silence was enigmatic.
Now the contending fleets were a hundred and fifty miles from Chicago,
now a hundred, and now only twenty-five. "How much longer must we hold
them?" the American commander queried anxiously by radio.
"Fifteen minutes," was the reply. "By then we think that we can be
ready. There has been some unforeseen delay of operations at Whitley
Park."
And so the Americans continued to fight for time with all the reckless
pluck they had to offer.
Chicago stood as dead and silent as though the Asiatics had already
dumped their poisonous vapors upon her. Her unlighted skyscrapers
loomed up wanly under the blinking stars and her streets were gorges
of Stygian shadow. Scarcely a speck of radiance was left to betray her
location to the enemy. The inhabitants had shut themselves indoors.
A few wept quietly, but otherwise there was no inordinate display of
emotion. These people had lost much of their terror of war by constant
contact with it.
The Crystal Ray
In the glow of floodlights, a thousand workmen were laboring like
demons on some giant machine that gleamed dimly in the faint radiance.
Far, far aloft, supported by four slender towers, was a vast network of
wires.
Plainly the finishing touches to the engine were in progress. A hundred
men were fastening cables to a two-hundred ton cylinder-head which
would in a moment be hoisted into place by an electric crane. Other
workers were inspecting and oiling the giant machine.
At one end of the strange titan was a control board bearing many
levers, switches and dials; and before it stood the gaunt figure of a
man who shouted orders through an amplifier system. It was Pelton; but
how greatly changed from the plump young aviator of two months before!
His hair was wildly disheveled, and sweat streamed down his shrunken
face which, in the wan light, looked almost like a parchment mask
hiding the visage of a skull. Lack of sleep and endless hours of labor
had wrought this startling change. In spite of his worn condition,
there was something magnetic about him that could not help but inspire
confidence.
"Crew One, see to the lubrication of the cylinder valves and other
parts," he cried; "use the L. F. liquid. Crew Two, examine all the
connections of the Z wires. Crew Three, fill the main fuel tanks with
the liquid _terrorium_ preparation; Crews Four and Five will take care
of the cylinder-head. Are all the cables securely fastened? We can't
afford another mishap, you know. Good! Now start the crane."
Every man realized that it was vitally important that he should perform
his task to the best of his ability in the shortest possible time; and
every man responded to the will of his chief with the promptness of
a well-oiled machine. In a moment the mass of aluminum alloy soared
upward and settled into position.
To the south, and high in the air, a vast oval patch of white light,
looking like the head of some enormous comet, had appeared. It had
drifted ominously near, and from it there came a subdued roar. In it
thousand of insect-like specks flitted, and from them tiny points of
radiance leaped as though they were fireflies. It was the battle.
As they fought the two contesting fleets had done their best to get
above each other, to gain the advantage of position. As a result their
altitude was prodigious. They must have been fully twenty miles above
the earth.
"See! They are almost upon us," shouted Pelton. "Hurry! Ten minutes
more of delay and we will be too late! Doubtless they are already
bombing the outskirts of the city."
With all the speed they could muster the workmen bolted the
cylinder-head into place.
"Is everything ready?" cried Pelton.
"Everything is ready," echoed Jerry Armstrong, his chief subordinate.
"Then, stand back, out of danger!" Pelton twirled a few dials on the
control board; and then, grasping the big black switch at its center,
he pulled it far down. There was a series of ponderous throbs that
rapidly grew into an easy humming. The engine and the generator to
which it was connected, were in operation. Leaping in the network
of wires far above were many bright flashes like the lightning of a
violent thunderstorm.
And now all eyes in Chicago had turned fearfully and expectantly
toward the monstrous sea of light that was dropping plummet-like from
the sky upon the city. The ships were only four or five miles above
the ground now, and they could be seen quite plainly in the glow of
their searchlights and magnesium flares. The American formation had
been broken up and scattered. Apparently there was nothing that could
prevent the Asiatics from completely crushing them within the next few
minutes. Then they would destroy the city. Already an occasional bomb
was falling, like the big raindrops that herald a summer thundershower.
They contained the green chemical that gave off the gas which ate into
human flesh like sulphuric acid.
With mingled doubt, fear, and hope gnawing at his very soul, Pelton
stared at the sky. Had he calculated correctly? For a few seconds
nothing happened; then his heart leaped with a mighty exultation! From
the bow of one of America's ships a faint beam of bluish light stabbed
out and struck an enemy craft, sweeping it from stem to stern! It
passed through the vessel as though she had been made of glass, instead
of thousands of tons of metal. Immediately the dreadnaught began to
blunder oddly as though completely out of control. What had happened to
her occupants? A grim smile passed over Pelton's lips, for he knew!
[Illustration: From the bow of one of America's ships a beam of bluish
light stabbed out and struck an enemy craft. It passed thru the vessel
as tho it had been made of glass instead of thousands of tons of steel.]
Presently, other beams of blue light awoke--hundreds of
them!--thousands of them! And other Oriental craft rushed about
crazily, crashing into each other or hurtling earthward. At the very
threshold of complete success, the alchemy of fate was changing Asia's
victory into crushing defeat.
Pelton Explains
Now Pelton felt a hand upon his shoulder. Turning he saw that Jerry was
standing beside him. The man's face was pale with awe and when he spoke
his voice was husky: "Congratulations, Capt. Pelton--here, shake! When
it looks black as night, along you come and put those invaders in their
proper place. I can't see through this at all. What wonder is it that
you have created?"
The fulfillment of his ambition beyond the wildest dreams of his school
days had wrought the young scientist up to a pitch of excitement more
intense than ever before, "It is the thing that killed Calhoun, the
ace," he almost shrieked; "The crystal ray!"
"You mean that your weapon inflicts death with just a beam of light?
That sounds impossible."
"But it isn't! I'll tell you about it." Pelton's eyes were glittering
and his face was flushed: "Not more than a month and a half ago I was
in Ecuador with Calhoun on leave of absence. We explored an extinct
Andean volcano of particularly ghastly reputation. There I found a
peculiar crystal, which, on analysis proved to be a complex compound
of silicon, iron and the hitherto supposedly inert gas, krypton--I call
it _andite_.
"It was just by chance that I discovered what terrible things _andite_
could do. There was a big block of the material at the crater's western
edge. The sun had been obscured by a cloud and, when it came out, its
light struck the block, passed through it, and came out as a bluish
beam. It hit my old friend and sent him on the long journey west. Thank
God, it was not in vain!
"After a lot of effort I learned more about the wonderful properties of
the crystal. You know that light is the vibration of an all-pervading
medium sometimes called the ether, just as are radio waves. When a beam
of light passes through _andite_, its rate of vibration is enormously
increased; so that it exceeds by many thousands of times the vibratory
rate of even Hadley's Q-ray which is used as an anaesthetic. This
super-vibration is the crystal ray. It will penetrate four feet of
solid lead and a much greater thickness of any other metal. When it
strikes a man it produces within his blood a poison that is instantly
fatal. The process is comparable with that which goes on in the leaves
of a plant when starch is produced by the action of sunlight.
"The projectors of the crystal ray are merely specially constructed
radio lamps, equipped with a receiver of wireless power, and fitted
with a piece of _andite_ which modifies the light.
"After I had learned what my discovery was capable of, I staged a
demonstration before the best minds of America. They gave me the
cooperation of the whole country and this is the result."
"But what was the necessity of building this enormous power plant?"
inquired Jerry: "Couldn't the old stations supply the needed energy?"
"No," said Pelton; "The light produced in the ray projectors must be
many times as intense as that produced by ordinary lamps, in order to
be effective at any considerable range. Only this new power plant could
furnish sufficient energy. The filaments in the projectors would only
glow on the power supplied by the old outfits."
Momentarily the roar of _terrorium_ shells and the flashing of
magnesium flares waxed more intense in the air above. In the few
minutes that the big generator had been running, the Americans had
annihilated practically three-quarters of their foes. However, a few
were trying to escape into the night with their lights turned off. One
fifteen-hundred-foot monster was directly above at an altitude of not
more than half a mile. Its guns belching with the fury of despair at a
smaller but much more agile American ship that was rapidly approaching.
Suddenly the invaders scored a hit. The little vessel crumpled up and
fell. The big ship was continuing its retreat away from the scene
of battle when a bluish beam, originating from a projector in the
neighborhood of Whitley Park, leaped up from the earth and struck it.
The ray lingered over the whole expanse of its hull for a second and
then died out. The dreadnaught continued to hurtle blindly on its way,
its rocket-motors roaring full blast. It was headed straight for a
sky-scraper, and a moment later it struck. A third of the building's
height was sheared off; together with the twisted remnants of the ship
the mass of steel and masonry fell with a terrific crash into the cleft
of a dark street. There the airship still buzzed and hissed like a
wounded insect.
A wild impulse was surging up in the breast of Pelton--an intense
desire to take an active part in the victory he had done so much to
bring about.
He turned to his companion: "Keep the outfit running, Jerry, I've
simply got to be in this fight."
As rapidly as his legs would carry him, the young scientist raced to
the little shed nearby where he kept his flier. In his hand he carried
a small black tube fitted with a pistol grip and trigger. It was a ray
projector.
In a moment he had dragged the little craft out and climbed into the
cockpit. He turned a dial that operated the gravitational screen. There
was a sudden feeling of weightlessness--and then he shot upward amid
the gust of rising air.
Three thousand feet Pelton ascended before he started his _terrorium_
rocket-motors.
At a distance of perhaps half a mile, a "dog-fight" between countless
small craft, was in progress.
At first he thought there was no one in his immediate vicinity; and
then, above him and a little to the north, he saw a flier similar to
his own, but obviously Asiatic. A bar of opalescence leaped out from
the little weapon in Pelton's hand, and the enemy pilot was no more.
The discoverer of the crystal ray was in the act of turning around to
join the "dog-fight" when a dozen or more bullets directed with an
uncanny accuracy swept down upon him from above. He was unhurt, but a
lead pellet had struck his weapon, destroying it completely. When he
looked up, clammy fear seized him; for he saw a black flier painted
with orange suns and piloted with a fiendish skill, diving straight
toward him. Every inhabitant of the United States would have recognized
that craft. It belonged to Saku, the ace who had shot more than a
hundred opponents from the sky!
Impelled by the instinct of self-preservation, Pelton shut off the
power from his gravitational screen. It was all he could do. He thought
that perhaps by a rapid dive he could escape the yellow ace; but it was
a vain hope. Even as he began to fall plummet-like toward the earth, a
gust of poisoned bullets ripped through his body. Probably his sense
swam, and it was certain that he felt no pain; for death in those cases
is a matter of an instant. Nevertheless a faint smile crossed his lips.
Against the blackness of the eternity that poured into his brain, he
seemed to see his name written so that people of the future would read
with awe, and after his name the words: "_He won the war!_"
THE END
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