To The Ultimate

by John Russell Fearn, Vargo Statten

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

The universe a creation of thought, a series of mathematical equations being worked out against a background of figurative abstract ether! Three men set out on an incredible voyage to the beginning of Time in search of the Supreme Mathematician who had created the universe-only to discover that He is now striving to destroy it by the ultimate cancellation of all figures, in order to free Himself from an eternity of mental toil! The most audacious story of is author, novelized from the pages of the famous pre-war pulp, Astounding Storie s!

Release date: March 31, 2015

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 82

Sample

Commander Dawson of XM-12 exploration space machine, used for the purpose of testing new space lanes between Venus and the sun, was in the control room with his first mate when the Charter came in.

“Have you a moment to spare, Commander Dawson?”

“What is it, Mr. Drew?” Dawson did not turn from his study of the meters. “I am extremely busy at the moment. This run to Mercury is demanding all my attention.”

“I realise that, sir, but a vital matter has come up. To put it briefly, Mercury is not the nearest planet to the sun.”

The Commander and first mate exchanged glances. They had heard of men going mental before, especially in regions where solar outpourings did strange things to a man.

“Better lie down, Mr. Drew,” Dawson remarked dryly. “Mercury has been the nearest planet to the sun since astronomical records were kept—and that’s where we’re heading.”

“I’m not mad, sir,” Drew said calmly. “There is a definite stellar body, smaller than Mercury, pursuing an orbit much closer to the sun. I think you had better come and see for yourself.”

Dawson hesitated no longer. Drew’s expression was enough to guarantee his sanity. He was a lean, immovable man with profound knowledge of the cosmic wastes. To become a Charter, First Class, demanded a tremendous grasp of mathematics and cosmic movement.

Dawson left the control room with Drew behind him. Together they entered the observation tower where, beneath a dome of warpless, unbreakable glass the Charter set the course of the vessel and generally acted as look-out. Here also all the ship’s astronomical instruments were housed, including the powerful telescope linked to a mathematical calculator.

“If you’ll take a look, sir,” Drew said, “you’ll find an unexplained body in Sector Three. According to my reckonings it cannot be called a genuine planet. It has none of the usual features.”

The Commander was already peering through the lenses. They reflected back a vision of a perfect circle, one side of it glittering with intense brightness where the sun’s rays caught it, the other in deepest shadow. Unlike Mercury, there were no signs of rough terrain, inevitable irregularities betraying the presence of rocky landscape. There was about this creation an intense smoothness.

“I have here, sir, some plates taken on the high-power Camera,” Drew remarked, and the Commander abandoned his scrutiny to turn and look at the photographs Drew held out to him. They were scale marked so that, at a glance, the dimensions of the unknown body were instantly apparent.

“One thousand miles diameter,” Dawson mused. “Mmmm, most interesting. Even more interesting is the fact that, in this photograph, that body appears to be a mass of curved plates, riveted together.”

Drew nodded. “That seems to be the situation, sir. Since we are heading for the Mercury exploration I wondered if you would care to alter course and examine this newcomer.”

“Newcomer?”

“It amounts to that, sir, as far as we are concerned. From Earth it has never been seen and up to now no space machines have come this far sunward. So it can be added to the list of planets. It has no revolution, far as I can tell.”

“How close is it to the sun?” Dawson tossed down the photograph and stood thinking.

“Little more than fifteen million miles.”

“Whew, that’s damned close range. There’ll be a devil of a pull from the sun at that distance. We mightn’t even be able to resist it.”

“Warp of four tensions to the diametric field,” Drew said, glancing at his calculations. “We could just about make it, providing our jets work at full blast, that is.”

“Any danger of angle pull from Mercury?”

“None whatever, sir. The only danger at all is from the sun, but that’s only to be expected once we move into the central core of his field.”

Dawson still reflected. As an exploration space man it was his task to examine any object not charted on the normal cosmigraphs in order that it could be logged for the benefit of future pilots. The spaceways were full of drifting uncharted asteroids, as big a menace to space machines as wrecks to old time seagoing liners. Therefore, despite the obvious danger of being snatched to destruction by the sun’s overwhelming gravity, duty demanded that this unknown planetoid of glittering metal be examined and, if possible, a sample of it be taken back to Earth for analysis.

“Possibly,” Drew said, as his superior mused, “this planetoid isn’t altogether unknown, sir. I think it’s Vulcan. It was once recorded, you’ll recall, by Le Verrier, the French mathematician. He proved its presence by perturbations in the orbit of Mercury, but he never actually saw the planet, due to the intense solar glare. We are better favoured.”

“We hope,” Dawson said grimly. “I don’t like the risk, Drew, but we’ve got to take it. All right, get the exact course charted and—”

“Here it is, sir. I imagined you would do exactly as you have done.”

Dawson gave a grim smile, took the cosmigraph, and then returned to the control room. The first mate looked at him questioningly.

“Well, sir, had Drew got space-bends?” he inquired.

“Anything but that, Mister. He’s found Vulcan, and the law of the spaceways being what it is we’re going to take a look at that planet. If planet it is …” and, in between studying the course, Dawson gave the facts.

“Fifteen million miles from Sol!” the first mate cried. “It’s suicide, sir! On our gravity-quotient we can’t possibly make it.”

“Drew thinks we can, and I’m inclined to agree with him now I see his maths. Our duty is to examine every unknown body and obtain a sample, if we can. But in a case like this the risk is extreme and I am not entitled to jeopardise the lives of the crew. That being so—”

Dawson reached to the intercom switch by which means an alarm was sounded throughout the vessel. This brought half the crew into the control room after a moment or two, the other half remaining at their posts. Everybody who mattered was present, from the chief rocketeer to the cook.

“Boys, we face a ticklish job,” Dawson said frankly. “I am prepared to take the risk in the name of the Service, but if you in the majority are against it I’ll abandon the attempt. Briefly, we are called upon to approach within fifteen million miles of Sol to explore a new planet. Probably Vulcan.”

A less intelligent man than Dawson would have taken the plunge anyway, but he always consulted his crew in an emergency and by that means usually got the best out of them.

“We’ll need a hundred atmospheres on the jets to steer within fifteen mil,” said the chief rocketeer, thinking. “It’s not getting the pressure that matters: it’s holding it.”

“With every available man and every available auxiliary atomic plant you can do it, Mr. Beddows.”

“Yessir.”

The other men had no great technical knowledge. Most of them were life’s cast-outs who didn’t care whether they lived or died, otherwise they would not have been cruising in the depths of infinity. Finally, after a brief pow-wow, they began to nod.

“Okay, Cap. We’re willing.”

“Can’t learn anything without risks, anyway.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Dawson said calmly. “Mr. Beddows, charge up to a hundred atmospheres, maximum, and notify me when you have reached it. That will be all.”

The men filed out of the control room and Dawson turned back to the instruments. There were no more complaints from the first mate. The decision had been taken and the rest was up to good spacemanship and reliable atomic power plant. The moment the signal came from the rocket-hold, Dawson altered course. The blast of the side-jets turned the huge vessel from her movement towards Mercury and directed her towards the at present invisible planetoid. Automatically the sun also swung into position, blinding and devouring, the prominences curling far out into space.

Dawson closed a switch and purple shields dropped over the windows. As time went on and the vessel swept nearer more shields were used until as many as ten layers were in position. Even then the inconceivable glare bit deep into the eyes when either the Commander or first mate chanced for a moment to glance sunward.

Despite the insulation with which the vessel was covered the heat began to rise steadily. Down in the rocket-hold it was 106 deg. In the control room it was six degrees lower—but, just the same, Dawson and the first mate pulled off their official jackets.

An hour later they were stripped to the waist, caring no more for the perspiration which rolled incessantly from them. The windows were entirely blotted out now with metal shutters and flight was being accomplished solely by instruments. At this dangerous nearness to the sun it could not be studied even through the maximum density of shields. Relief could only come when Vulcan’s own pull swung the vessel’s nose round, thereby making the sun move to the tail of the machine.

This did not come for three more hours. By that time half the crew was reported prostrate with the heat, but Commander Dawson drove on, using what few rocketeer. . .