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Subjects
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #74576.
The opening · free to read
Earth was conquered by Venus and her master. But the mysterious faces of Mt. Rushmore became the gods that gave hope and fighting courage to beaten Man!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic Adventures November 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"That," said Stephen Duane, "is that!" He wiped his hands on an acid-stained apron, turned to his assistant. "We all set now, Chuck? Got the stuff?"
"Right here, Lootenant."
"What? What's that you called me?" Stephen Duane's voice flattened.
"I said--" Chuck began.
"I heard you. Chuck, for Pete's sake, won't you lay off that 'Lieutenant' nonsense? I've got a front handle; one you've been using for three years. What's the matter? Don't you like it any more?"
Chuck Lafferty shrugged. "Them," he said patiently, "was the good old days. But times has changed. We're in the Army now. You've got bars on your shoulders--remember?--and I'm just a sergeant. Which makes a difference."
"Nuts!" snorted Steve. "I'm still a chemist, Chuck, and you're my lab assistant. And so far as you're concerned, I'm still just plain old Steve Duane. Get it?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure, Lootenant."
"_Wha-a-at?_"
"I mean, yeah, sure--er--Steve."
"That's better. Now, let's get to work on the final experiment. If this gas does what I think it will, World War II is going to end all of a sudden, and a madman named Hitler is going to be caught with his panzers down. Let's find out. Bring that flask over here while I get one of the guinea pigs from the cage. Put it on the--Wait a minute! Who left that door open?"
Chuck, gingerly lifting a small, stoppered vial from its shockproof rack, glanced over his shoulder wonderingly.
"Not me!" he denied. "I always make sure it's shut. Maybe the guard outside--?"
"Well, whoever did it," frowned Duane, "must be more careful. Our country's at war, and there's been entirely too much enemy sabotage and espionage around these parts already! You outside there! Guard!"
A khaki-clad figure appeared in the doorway, saluted smartly.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Close that door, soldier, and see that it's kept--say! What is this, anyway? Why the gas-mask?"
The guard's voice was weirdly muffled by his rubbery face covering.
"Orders, sir. Trial blackout and mock gas attack in fifteen minutes, sir. All men on duty have been ordered into masks, sir."
"So?" Steve Duane stared at the guard thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, you may resume your post. But this time close the door carefully. Oh, and by the way, soldier--"
He spoke with studied casualness as the guard turned away. The other man glanced back.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"You might be kind enough to--_Achtung!_"
His voice shifted abruptly from a tone of easy camaraderie to one of sharp command. It was an old ruse--but it worked! Reflexes conditioned into the soldier's body through long years of training exercised themselves. The man's heels clicked together, his frame stiffened.
On that instant, his suspicion verified, Steve Duane hurled himself forward.
"I thought so!" he roared. "A spy at our very door, eh? Grab him, Chuck!"
But the room was wide, and the Nazi spy had realized his mistake the moment he made it. He, too, swept into swift action. A tug wrenched the .44 from his holster; impetuously he ripped the mask from his face to reveal eyes gleaming with fanatic determination. Malice thickened the heretofore well-concealed guttural accent which bespoke his ancestry.
"Stop! Another step, Leutnant, and you die! We are alone here. That has been arranged. We are not so foolishly overconfident as you stupid Americans. _Ja_--" He laughed--"it was I, Eric von Rath, who opened the door, the better to watch your progress, hear your braggart claims. Zu, you have a new weapon to end the war, nicht wahr? But our Fuehrer is the one who will use that weapon. Now--" He swung the ugly muzzle of his automatic to bear on Chuck Lafferty--"bring me the vial! Quickly, bitte! I have no time to waste--"
Dazed by the sudden turn of events, Chuck faltered a half step forward, stopped, turned questioning eyes to Duane. Steve nodded imperceptibly. His quick mind had appraised the gravity of the situation, found but one slim chance of coming out on top.
To take the flask from Lafferty's hand the Nazi must for a split second, at least, relax his guard. It was narrow figuring, but if in that second he could move....
"Go ahead, Chuck. Give it to him," he ordered.
"B-but--" hesitated Chuck.
"Give it to him!"
The enemy agent laughed coarsely. "Your Leutnant is no fool. A coward, yes; but, then, all Americans are cowards at heart, nein? Bring the flask here! _Ach_--be careful, you blundering eisel!"
The last sentence broke in a gasp from von Rath. He was not the only one to shout warning. Steve's fearful voice echoed his cry.
"Good Lord, Chuck, be careful! Don't drop that! We will all be--_look out! Be care_--"
The cold sweat of sudden fear broke on his forehead. Not fear of his foeman, but of what might now seize them all. Even as he shouted, the glass shattered upon the floor. From if rose a pale, chill, ominous mist. A sharp, unidentifiable odor assailed his nostrils; black vertigo staggered him. The world reeled and tumbled into wells of seething darkness; the darkness was peopled with gray, swirling phantasms; he sensed motion within and about him; a multitude of half-heard sounds rolled like surging waters past his ears. This for a fearful moment. Then:
"--_ful!_" he cried. "That's dangerous, Chuck--"
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