Planet Stories Super Pack #2. Ray Bradbury, Nelson S. Bond, Leigh Brackett

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      A few feet to his right stood the metal chamber into which he had been thrust, the supposed "disintegration cell." Through the viewpane of this the Overlord was peering, a grim smirk of satisfaction on his lips. As Dirk watched, Garroway turned and gestured to the guardsman whose hand had depressed the activating switch. Dirk heard no words, but could easily read the movement of the Emperor’s lips.

      "Enough! It is done! "

      With an instinct born of illogic, Dirk reached forth as if to grip the throat of the murderous Garroway. In doing so, the crystal left his eyes. Instantly the scene vanished. He looked once more upon distance-purpled hills softly limned in the splendor of two suns.

      The girl laughed softly.

      "Confusing at first, isn’t it? But you’ll soon—"

      "Please!" begged Dirk hoarsely. "I must see—" He placed the mirrorlike object once more to his eyes, saw Graed Garroway lead the way from the execution chamber. Awkwardly, uncertainly, Morris took a step forward…another. Though he knew his feet trod the soil of the planet Nadron, to his eyes it seemed he glided forward across the floor of the prison.

      The door swung to behind Garroway and his followers, and involuntarily Dirk flinched…then grunted reproof at his own needless gesture. So far as he was concerned, that heavy metal barrier did not exist. For the briefest fraction of an instant his vision was blotted by jet darkness, then he stood outside the door, looking down the corridor.

      He hastened forward, stumbling, as feet that appeared to be traversing smooth floors actually trod uneven soil, and paused at last, an invisible presence at the tableau next enacted. He witnessed his friends’ release from the cell, read the movement of Hardesty’s dry lips as Neil whispered, "It…it is over? " He saw Garroway’s boastful warning, Brian’s hot denial, then watched—first with dazed incomprehension, then with fierce understanding—the betrayal, panic and execution of Fred Meacher.

      *

      When Meacher’s corpse lay on the floor at…or so it seemed…his very feet, and the comrades left the hallway, he would again have followed them. But at that moment he landed with a solid bump against something hard, and with a start he looked from the crystal to find a tree before him. More than a hundred yards away waited those who had befriended him. He retraced his steps slowly to their company.

      "Now you understand and believe, my boy?" the kindly alien asked.

      "I believe," said Dirk simply. "But, sir—"

      "My name, man of Earth, is Slador. On this world, I am known as the Ptan Slador, which is to say ‘teacher.’ This is my daughter, Rima."

      "I am called Morris. Dirk Morris. I also—" Dirk spoke bitterly—"have a number, as have all Earthmen of this unhappy century. Yes, Ptan Slador, I believe, but even yet I do not understand. I stand in one world, but looking through your crystal I see into another: my own. Why is this?"

      "Because, Dirk Morris, our two worlds lie adjacent."

      "Adjacent? You mean in Space?"

      "I mean in Space-Time. Look, my young friend…your Earth science knows of the atom?"

      "But of course. It is the building-block of matter. The smallest indivisible unit—"

      "Exactly. Yet even this minute fleck of matter, the building-block of worlds, so small that it cannot be observed under man’s strongest microscopes, is composed of ninety-nine per cent empty space!

      "Or, let me say, rather…what appears to be such to the men of all universes. Actually, there is no emptiness in the atom. It is composed of solid matter, but the individual zerons of this single entity are all vibrating at a different frequency in the Greater Universe which includes all of Space and Time.

      "Consequently, you on Earth, existing at one rate of vibration, see an entire universe vibrating at a period which matches your own. We of Nadron live under another vibration. Our solidity, our world, our universe…these are all part of the ‘emptiness’ of your world, just as your existence forms a part of the emptiness of our atom. Do you see?"

      "Vaguely," said Dirk humbly. "Only vaguely. We, the young men of my era, are not an educated people, Ptan Slador. There was a time in Earth’s history when all men were free to study where and as they wished, read what they willed. It is not so now. Only the highborn are permitted to own books, or borrow them from the Overlord’s crypts; only those designated by the Emperor are taught to read and write. The rest of us, hungry for a crust of knowledge, must gather in hidden places to learn our letters from instructors who risk their lives to teach us."

      "You mean," cried the girl, "one man has dared grasp so much power? So much evil power?"

      Slador nodded gravely.

      "Yes, my dear. I have long believed some such situation existed on our neighbor world. From scenes I have witnessed through the visor, snatches of whispered conversation, I guessed such might be the case. It is a sorry plight for a once proud world. Drowned in a sea of ignorance, sunken in a slough of misery and despair, mankind is beaten helpless—"

      Dirk laughed gratingly.

      "Pardon me, sir. Not beaten. Not helpless. We are ignorant, yes…but not yet have all of us abandoned hope of striking off our shackles.

      "We have a secret organization, fostered by the late Dr. Townsend, led until recently by myself, now headed by the bravest of my former comrades: Neil Hardesty. The members of this clan are pledged to one purpose…the overthrow of Graed Garroway, tyrant of the Solar System.

      "Our greatest hope for success lay in Dr. Townsend’s invention, the teleport. It is quite impossible to muster an armed band on any of the planets under Garroway’s thumb. His spies are everywhere. Even—" Dirk finished bitterly—"among our own supposed comrades.

      "Therefore we had planned to transport our bodies to some extra-Solar world, there gird ourselves for a last fight against Garroway’s minions. That was our dream. But now—"

      He paused, shaking his head sorrowfully. That dream was now ended. Dr. Townsend’s secret weapon was not what had been hoped. Instead—

      *

      Then, even as he despaired, understanding drove home with blinding force. The weapon was not a failure! It was a success…but in another way than had been planned. He cried aloud: "But, yes! I’ve been blind! This way is just as good…perhaps better!"

      "What way, Dirk Morris?" asked the girl.

      "There is no need to seek a far planet of a far sun! We planned that solely because we did not know anything about the existence of your world, your universe.

      "Nadron shall be our rallying spot! It is the ideal spot wherein to gather our forces. Close to Earth…seconds, not light-years, from the foe we would crush—"

      "A moment, Earthman!" interrupted Slador. "You mean to use our world as the breeding-place for conflict on yours? Is that your thought?"

      "But of course. What better place?"

      The Ptan shook his head gravely.

      "I am sorry, my son. But I fear that is impossible. The СКАЧАТЬ