Smith Amazing Tales Volume 134

1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-3-98744-991-8
Verlag: OTB eBook publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 148 Seiten

Reihe: Classics To Go

Dive into the enthralling universe of Amazing Tales 134, where each story unravels a unique blend of mystery, adventure, and the unknown. This anthology brings together four compelling narratives that explore the boundaries of science fiction and the human spirit. In George O. Smith's The Death Crystal, a seemingly innocuous object turns into a harrowing ordeal for a team of scientists. As they uncover the crystal's unpredictable and terrifying powers, they find themselves ensnared in a perilous situation where every decision could be their last. This tense narrative keeps readers on edge, questioning the limits of human understanding. Transitioning from science to the supernatural, Arthur J. Burks presents The Vanishers, a chilling tale of Earth's final stand against a shadowy army whose touch brings annihilation. The story's atmospheric tension and the defenders' desperate courage paint a vivid picture of bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. Next, Arthur K. Barnes takes us on an exhilarating journey with Siren Satellite. Follow the legendary Gerry Carlyle as she embarks on an interstellar voyage filled with unexpected challenges and cosmic wonders. This adventure captures the spirit of exploration and the thrill of venturing into the unknown, leaving readers eager for the next discovery. Finally, Edmond Hamilton's Forgotten World delivers a captivating narrative aboard the star-ship Larkoom. Here, the cynical Laird Carlin navigates his disdain for both the vessel and its inhabitants as they near Earth, a planet rich with forgotten history. Carlin's journey is one of inner conflict and revelation, contrasting his apathy with the awe of those around him. Amazing Tales 134 invites readers to immerse themselves in these mesmerizing stories, each offering a fresh perspective on the extraordinary and the everyday.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Smith, George O.

Leseproben

The death crystal

George O. Smith

CHAPTER ONE

The Shape of Danger

They looked at the crystal in horror.

It was the horror of the serpent, or of the Gorgon's head. They were fascinated; in that moment not one of them could have torn his gaze away. All work ceased. The noises in the concrete-walled room died until the whish of breathing and the thumping of hearts could be heard.

Then panic caught them, and fought against training. Panic cried, Run! and training said, Remove yourself quickly.

With the motion-saving efficiency of the emergency drill, each man turned from his position and walked rapidly towards whichever exit was nearest.

Actually, they could not outrun the danger any more than one can duck a rifle bullet or outrace the atomic bomb. But they went, five men and one woman, out through the zigzag corridors towards a mirage of safety.

One man remained.

Dave Crandall stepped forward and picked the crystal from its place in the evaporation dish. He turned, doused hand and crystal under a faucet, and then dropped the crystal on an anvil. He hit it with a heavy hammer. Anvil and crystal rang musically, and the crystal rebounded and flew through the air unharmed.

Cursing under his breath, Dave Crandall darted, picked it up again, and looked around wildly.

There were vats of acid handy; an electronic furnace glowed white-hot through its slit; a tunnel gaped unexcitingly but in its depths were the invisible radiations of the atomic pile. None of these would work soon enough.

Dave turned to the desk. He flipped open the end of the pneumatic message tube and popped the crystal into the chamber. There was the whroooom! of pumped air, a few tinkles as the crystal hit the sides of the tube on its way down.

Then from somewhere outside the concrete-walled room came the awesome blast. The wave-front traveled down the zigzag passages and Dave thought he could almost see it. The roar deafened him.

Dave went out through the zigzag passage.

A mile across the plain, a billowing white cloud was rising.

Claverly greeted Dave. Claverly was a bit shaken, and more than a little abashed. "The relay station," he said, pointing at the rising cloud.

"Oh?" remarked Crandall. He asked, frowning, "Anybody in there?"

"No."

Crandall smiled wryly. "That's a relief," he said. "But I didn't have time to ask where that tube went. I might have blown up the administration building."

Claverly laughed. "About all you've done is to cut a large hole in the coast-to-coast pneumo," he said. "No jury in the world would convict you."

DeLieb came around from the other side of the building. "There," he said, "but for the Grace of God—" pointing at the billowing pillar of smoke. "Thanks, Dave. This makes you unique, you know."

"Unique?"

"You are the only living man who has seen one of those devils' rocks in operation."

"We were all there," objected Dave, "and how about the Manhattan Crystal?"

"In the first place, the Manhattan Crystal is furnishing New York with electrical power—from a generating plant twenty miles outside New York, telemeter-controlled, and completely unattended. Montrose and Crowley and their associates who first made the crystal went up trying to reproduce it at Brookhaven. So did Brookhaven. Harvard, Purdue, Caltech, and Argonne went up trying to make one, too."

"But you were there, too, and you've seen it."

DeLieb nodded. "It is a six-sided crystal about three inches long, with a pyramidal point at either end, and about three-quarters of an inch across the hexagonal flats. It is clear with a trace of blue tint. So much we know, Dave. But what shape was it when you tossed it into the tube?"

"Cubical, and full of flashing red glints," said Dave.

"And why were we suddenly scared bright green?"

"Because it began to change shape before our eyes," said Dave.

"And it was still fluid when we—left."

"I think so," said Dave uncertainly.

DeLieb turned and went into the laboratory again, with the others following. He inspected the anvil and straightened up with a wry smile. There was the dent on the soft iron, made by the crystal under Dave's blow. "That," said DeLieb, "is the impact of a hexagonal crystal slightly distorted. A hexagonal form half-changed to a cubical shape. So, Dave Crandall, you are the only man alive to have seen such a crystal. Who knows the shape of the Manhattan Crystal by now?"

Steps clicked along the other zigzags. Phelps came in through one. "No hits," he said, "one run, and the only error was shutting off the cross-country pneumo. Tough. But the country got along without the shipment of short-lived radioisotopes before and it'll have to do without them again until they get the tube put together. Nice going, Crandall."

Behind him was Jane Nolan—Doctor Jane Nolan. Like her colleagues, Jane Nolan was often quoted in texts, had made several contributions to science, and was an authority on several subjects. She was not a beautiful woman; but her quiet air sometimes permitted a rather interesting personality to show through. Men forgot her mature thirty years and her lack of breath-taking beauty and dated her; then found themselves at once intrigued by her personality and completely baffled by her quick mind—and then went elsewhere in search of wide-eyed pulchritude.

Deep interest or honest admiration often lighted up her face and made it handsome if not beautiful. She looked very attractive now as she went to Crandall.

"That was brave," she said.

"Self-preservation," he said.

"We have that too," she replied with a slight smile. "And we also know that we cannot outrun that sort of thing. But we ran."

He smiled at her cheerfully. "I'm not a scientist," he said. "I'm just a newspaperman, remember? Perhaps I'm just too ignorant to realize the degree of danger."

Jane Nolan shook her head. "You've either seen the remains or pictures of them, of the other labs that failed. You know—"

"Look," he chuckled, "let's put it this way. We were dead ducks anyway. The devil himself couldn't have outrun that explosion without jet assistance." He turned to Claverly, "If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have tried to smash it. I should have known that belting it with a hammer wouldn't have stopped it—if anything, it should have hastened the explosion."

"I hardly think so," said Claverly thoughtfully. "Remember that the crystal is not an explosive in itself. Or so we believe. Anyway—"

"Anyway, thanks to Dave, we still have our lab," said Jane. "Let's get back to work."

Dave shook his head. There was no point in arguing with them. They called him brave. Nuts! Nine great laboratories had gone skyward with their complement of scientists, trying to reproduce the fabulous Manhattan Crystal which was now furnishing the city of New York with electrical power. And with the deadly record of nine to nothing against them, the scientists continued to try. Theirs was the true bravery. It was a deadly experiment, and one that was not permitted—

Dave looked startled. "I thought the government insisted that these experiments be run by telemeter control?"

"They are."

"Then what in the hell were we doing here?" demanded Crandall.

"The crystal," said Claverly, "was developed last week. We'd done everything but taste it by telemeter. It had been tested chemically, electrically, mechanically, atomically, physically and about any other way you can think of. We've had it white-hot and down to a half-degree Kelvin. We've dropped it, hit it, subjected it to electrostatic and electromagnetic fields, dunked it in everything from aqua to zerone, looked at it and through it, bombarded it with every radiation possible from the pile, and let it sit on a glass-topped platform to meditate. We believed it was safe; that we'd been successful. We came in to hook it up and test its power output, like the Manhattan Crystal. You came along."

Dave nodded. The message in his pocket told him that Merion Laboratory had successfully created a replica of the Manhattan Crystal and if he so desired, he could be present at its testing.

He said slowly, "It seems as if there might be something important here."

"What?"

"I hate to suggest it; it sounds silly."

"So do a lot of things," said Claverly. "Go on."

"I'm out of my depth here," said Dave. "But I've read of the so-called human aura. The sort of thing that gives certain gardeners a 'green thumb' and makes other men capable of curing a headache by merely rubbing the head with the fingertips. Is this sort of thing merely superstition or has it any basis in fact?"

Claverly frowned. "We don't like to answer such questions," he said. "But I'm being honest with you, Dave. The reason we don't like to answer is that we are not too certain. The best answer is maybe, and who knows?"

"So the crystal sat here and took all sorts of radiation, treatment, investigation, and the like. Then when the group of us assemble, blooey!"

Claverly looked at Dave. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest that the crystal be worked on by one person at a time. Perhaps there's a critical mass of life-force—?"

"Sounds fantastic. You'll keep this out of your paper, Dave?"

"You bet—until we prove it. I don't want to sound any crazier than I am." He looked around. "I'm going to file a yarn on the explosion," he said. "Where's a typewriter and a telephone?"

Claverly said, "Jane, you show him. The rest of us will mix another batch and make us a new crystal. Then—" He left it unfinished.

Jane Nolan nodded. "Come on, Dave."

She led...