Kingpin Planet. John Russell Fearn
“Wouldn’t be much use,” the Amazon shrugged. “When it comes to mathematics I have to admit you are my superior.… What conclusion have you come to?”
“One very clear one. That the curious magnetism it seems to emit is an illusory one. Viewing the planet, we feel drawn towards it. There is a conviction of happiness about it—as though everything that happened on that world is of the sheerest joy. But it’s wrong, you know. Utterly wrong.”
“How—wrong?”
“It is emanating a series of radiations, most of which I can’t classify, and one of them has the effect of gearing up our nerves to intense exhilaration. Same as drink and drugs do back on Earth in some measure. It isn’t genuine: it’s a physical reaction.”
The Amazon nodded thoughtfully, and then turned to the enormous observation window. Standing there, with the stars visible through the flawless glass behind her, she seemed to Abna like a goddess for a moment. Which, in a sense, she was. The most extraordinary woman ever born on Earth, she was now the leader of the Cosmic Crusaders, a quartet committed to the self-imposed task of bringing scientific knowledge and uplift to distant worlds, a quartet comprised of herself, her husband, her daughter Viona, and Mexone—Viona’s husband. And it was the fact of being a Cosmic Crusader that caused the Amazon to now reflect deeply.
“Are we justified,” she asked presently, “in using our time and energies to explore a world that emits illusory waves? Would we be wasting our time?”
“Depends if the planet’s inhabited,” Abna answered. “Still more, it depends what sort of civilization—if any—is in existence there.”
“You haven’t seen any signs of civilization?”
“Not yet. We’re still too far away.” Abna rose and crossed over to the window. He put an arm about the Amazon’s shoulders and gazed with her into the incomprehensible deeps of space.
“We haven’t been traveling long toward that planet,” Abna added. “No more than two hours.”
The Amazon nodded silently. Her eyes were fixed on the world in question—a dazzlingly bright solitary point, with no trace of a sun near it. Its brilliance was such that Venus, when seen from Earth, would have been but a candle flame by comparison.
“Strange what a tremendous albedo it has,” the Amazon mused, lapsing into the technical term for light-reflection. “Considering that there is no sun near it.”
Abna nodded absently, then he gave a start. Something was coming in sight in the void ahead, a little to the left of the solitary mystery planet. In a matter of seconds the ‘something’ had transformed itself into a stupendous brilliance, growing ever brighter. Before long it had paled even the bright planet.
“What is it?” the Amazon asked in surprise, narrowing her eyes.
Abna gave no immediate answer. Instead he hurried to the nearby wall rack, took down a couple of pairs of blue goggles, and handed one pair to the Amazon. Their eyes thus protected, the two studied the phenomenon.
“Now I get it,” Abna said finally. “There is a sun lighting that planet—and that blinding spot of light is it. Up to now it was eclipsed from our view because of some dark world in between. Now it’s moved aside, we can see the sun clearly.”
Such indeed seemed to be the case. The sun of the mystery bright world was only a small one—but of tremendously intense power. Abna studied it in puzzlement for a while, then crossed to the instrument panel. In a moment he switched on an automatic analyzer. The Amazon, pushing her goggles up on to her forehead, came across and joined him, watching the faintly humming machinery intently.
“Now let’s see.…” Abna looked at a display on the instrument, frowning over the readings.
“High magnesium content,” the Amazon commented. “That accounts for the brilliance.”
“Accounts for the sun, yes—but not for the planet. Magnesium only reveals its brilliance when in the gaseous flame state. Normally it is gray and has hardly any albedo. Must be something else to account for the planet’s brightness.”
Returning her goggles to her eyes, the Amazon went back to the window.
“Obviously,” she said at length, “that sun is nearer to us than the planet—in fact, it has to be, otherwise the planet would be half- or quarter-lighted. And it isn’t. The whole disc is illuminated.”
“And apparently there are no other planets in the system,” Abna added. “That in itself is queer. A one-planet system—or two-, if we count that hulk which was causing the eclipse—is something we haven’t come across yet. Wonder where the others are?”
The Amazon shrugged. “Since we can’t answer that, let’s concentrate on what we’ve got. Any chance of telescopic examination?”
“Certainly; but I think we’d better wait until we’re a bit nearer. We’re 120 million miles away. I’ll put on speed and bring our wondering to an end.”
When presently they had crossed the orbit of the dead planet, which had formerly been eclipsing the sun, the Amazon turned.
“That definitely makes it a two-planet system, Abna. That planet, though, is just a burned-out hulk of rock without any air or water. Wonder what happened to devastate it to that extent?”
Abna did not answer. He was too busy focusing the powerful telescope. At length he got it to his liking, and a blurry image came into view on the scanning screen. A twist of a knob and the view was sharply defined.
“Come and look,” he said briefly, and the Amazon moved to his side.
Silent, they stood surveying the mystery world, the glare of the sun rending the left-hand side misty and indistinct. But they could see enough, such as is was. There seemed to be thousands of tiny squares in the midst of an intolerably bright sea, squares that made neither sense nor reason.
“Any suggestions?” the Amazon asked presently, her eyes beginning to ache with the glare.
“Not yet. Those blobs in an apparently molten sea don’t make any sense—unless they’re mountains or something. Try later when we’re still nearer.”
“If the planet’s molten, it’s no use carrying on,” the Amazon said. “Anyway, we’ll see what happens.”
This they did, in another two hours when they had come measurably nearer the planet. A second telescopic observation was made, and this time it was perfectly clear that the planet was not molten, but covered with some brilliantly gleaming substance. By this time the various squares and queer formations had resolved themselves into buildings—of sorts. Queer sort of buildings, mainly square and very crude. If there were any inhabitants, the distance was still too great for the telescope to pick them up.
“Atmosphere’s all right,” the Amazon said, busy with the analyzer. “About the same as Earth. So also is the gravity. The only thing against our landing on that world is the glare. Think we’ll be able to stand it? Even at this distance we need these blue goggles.”
Abna did not answer the question directly. Instead he said: “The more I study this world the more sure I become that it’s made of some precious metal—eroded and polished to enormous brilliance by the action of wind and weather. And the metal, I think, is silver.”
The Amazon reflected. “Well, it’s possible, I suppose. We can find out when we land—if our eyes will stand it. How long before we touch down?”
“About three hours. We’d better tell Viona and Mexone, then they can be ready.”
The Amazon duly alerted the two, who were deeply sleeping. Presently they came into the control room and without pause, crossed to the observation window, to immediately recoil from it at the terrific glare that smote their eyes.
Viona gasped. “That planet’s just like a huge mirror reflecting the sunlight.”