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Skylark Vol 3 – Skylark of Valeron – E E. Doc Smith

Wish Mart was here, maybe he could see through it.”

“You don’t wish so half as much as I do!” Margaret exclaimed feelingly.

“Well, anyway, we’ll pretend that Two can’t run off and leave us here. That certainly is a

possibility, and it’s a cheerful thought to dwell on while we can’t do anything else. Now

close your eyes and go bye-bye.”

They fell silent. Now and again Margaret dozed, only to start awake at the coughing

grunt of some near-by prowling hyperdenizen of that unknown jungle, but Seaton did not

sleep. He did not even half believe in his own hypothesis of their automatic return to their

space ship; and his vivid imagination insisted upon dwelling lingeringly upon every hideous

possibility of their return to three-dimensional space outside their vessel’s sheltering

walls. And that same imagination continually conjured up visions of what might be

happening to Dorothy-to the beloved bride who, since their marriage upon far distant

Osnome, had never before been separated from him for so long a time. He had to

struggle against an insane urge to do something, anything; even to dash madly about in

the absolute darkness of hyperspace in a mad attempt-doomed to certain failure before

it was begun-to reach Skylark Two before she should vanish from four-dimensional

space.

Thus, while Seaton grew more and more tense momently, more and ever more

desperately frustrated, the abysmally oppressive hypernight wore illimitably on.

Creeping-plodding—d-r-a-g-g-i-n-g endlessly along; extending itself fantastically into the

infinite reaches of all eternity.

12 REUNION

As suddenly as the hyperland had become dark it at last became light. There was no

gradual lightening, no dawning, no warning-in an instant, blindingly to eyes which had for

so long been strained in vain to detect even the faintest ray of visible light in the platinum-

black darkness of the hypervoid, the entire countryside burst into its lividly glowing

luminescence. As the light appeared Seaton leaped to his feet with a yell.

“Yowp! I was never so glad to see a light before in all my life, even if it is blue! Didn’t

sleep much either, did you, Peg?”

“Sleep? I don’t believe that I’ll ever be able to sleep again! It seemed as though I was

lying there for weeks!”

“It did seem long, but time is meaningless to us here, you know.”

The two set out at a rapid pace, down the narrow beach beside the hyperstream. For a

long time nothing was said, then Margaret broke out, half hysterically:

“Dick, this is simply driving me mad! I think probably I am mad, already. We seem to be

walking, yet we aren’t, really; we’re going altogether too fast, and yet we don’t seem to

be getting anywhere. Besides, it’s taking forever and ever . . .”

“Steady, Peg! Keep a stiff upper lip! Of course we really aren’t walking, in a three-

dimensional sense, but we’re getting there, just the same. I’d say that we are traveling

almost half as fast as that airship was, which is a distinctly cheerful thought. And don’t try

to think of anything in detail, because equally of course we can’t understand it. Try not to

think of anything at all, out here, because you can’t get to first base. You can do it,

physically-let it go at that.

“And as for time, forget it. Just remember that, as far as we are concerned, this whole

episode is occupying only a thousandth of a second of our own real time, even if it seems

to last a thousand years. Paste that idea in your hat and stick to it. Think of a thousandth

of a second and snap your fingers at anything that happens. And, above all, get it down

solid that you’re not nutty-it’s just that everything else around here is. It’s like that wild

one Sir Eustace pulled on me that time, remember? ‘I say, Seaton old chap, the chaps

hereabout seem to regard me as a foreigner. Now really, you know, they should realize

that I am simply alone in a nation of foreigners.’ ”

Margaret laughed, recovering a measure of her customary poise at Seaton’s matter-of-

fact explanations and reassurance, and the seemingly endless journey went on. Indeed,

so long did it seem that the high-strung and apprehensive Seaton was every moment

expecting the instantaneous hypernight again to extinguish all illumination long before they

came within sight of the little island, with its unmistakably identifying obelisk of reddish

stone.

“Woof, but that’s a relief!” he exploded at sight of the marker. “We’ll be there in a few

minutes more-here’s hoping it holds off for those few minutes!”

“It will,” Margaret said confidently. “It’ll have to, now that we’re so close. How are you

going to get a line on those three peaks? We cannot possibly see over or through that

jungle.”

“Easy-just like shooting fish down a well. That’s one reason I was so glad to see that tall

obelisk thing over there -it’s big enough to hold my weight and high enough so that I can

see the peaks from its top. I’m going to climb up it and wigwag you onto the line we

want. Then we’ll set a pole on that line and crash through the jungle, setting up back-

sights as we go along. We’ll be able to see the peaks in a mile or so, and once we see

them it’ll be easy to find Two.”

“But climbing Cleopatra’s Needle comes first, and it’s straight up and down,” Margaret

objected practically. “How are you going to do that?”

“With a couple of hypergrab-books—watch me!”

He wrenched off three of the bars of his cell grating and twisted them together, to form a

heavy rod. One end of this rod he bent back upon itself, sharpening the end by squeezing

it in his two hands. It required all of his prodigious strength, but in his grasp the metal

slowly flowed together in a perfect weld and he waved in the air a sharply pointed hook

some seven feet in length. In the same way he made another, and, with a word to the

girl, he shot away through the almost intangible water toward the island.

He soon reached the base of the obelisk, and into its rounded surface he drove one of

his hyperhooks. But he struck too hard. Though the hook was constructed of the most

stubborn metal known to the denizens of that strange world, the obelisk was of

hyperstone and the improvised tool rebounded, bent out of all semblance and useless.

It was quickly reshaped, however, and Seaton went more gently about his task. He soon

learned exactly how much pressure his hooks would stand, and also the best method of

imbedding the sharp metal points in the rock of the monument. Then, both books holding,

he drove the toe of one heavy boot into the stone and began climbing.

Soon, however, his right-band book refused to bite; the stone had so dulled the point of

the implement that it was useless. After a moment’s thought Seaton settled both feet

firmly and, holding the shaft of the left-hand hook under his left elbow, bent the free end

around behind his back. Then, both hands free, be essayed the muscle-tearing task of

squeezing that point again into serviceability.

“Watch out, Dick-you’ll fall!” Margaret called.

“I’ll try not to,” he called back cheerfully. “Took too much work and time to get up this far

to waste it. Wouldn’t hurt me if I did fall-but you might have to come over and pull me out

of the ground.”

He did not fall. The hook was repointed without accident and he continued up the obelisk-

a human fly walking up a vertical column. Four times he had to stop to sharpen his

climbers, but at last he stood atop the lofty shaft. From that eminence he could see not

only the three peaks, but even the scene of confused activity which he knew marked the

mouth of the gigantic well at whose bottom the Skylark lay. Margaret bad broken off a

small tree, and from the obelisk’s top Seaton directed its placing as a transitman directs

the setting of his head flag.

“Left ‘way left!” His arm waved its hook in great circles. “Easy now!” Left arm poised

aloft. “All right for line!” Both arms swept up and down, once. A careful recheck . . .

“Back a hair.” Right arm out, insinuatingly “All right for tack-down she goes!” Both arms

up and down, twice, and the feminine flagman drove the marker deep into the sand.

“You might come over here, Peg!” Seaton shouted, as he began his hasty descent. “I’m

going to climb down until my hooks get too dull to hold, and then fall the rest of the way-

no time to waste sharpening them-and you may have to rally ’round with a helping hand.”

Scarcely a third of the way down, one hook refused to function. A few great plunging

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Categories: E.E Doc Smith
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