The Angry Planet by John Keir Cross Read Free Book Online Page B

opened suddenly and we floated out.”
    “You can count yourselves lucky you didn’t suffer any
worse effects than a bout of harmless unconsciousness from the start-off,”
grunted the Doctor. “You were young and healthy enough to get off lightly.”
    He surveyed them sternly.
    “And whether we like it or not,” he said, “you’re with
us now. There’s no sort of hope of turning back—I can’t control the ship
properly in empty space going at this speed. My heavens!” he exploded suddenly,
“little did I think I’d have three children on this trip with me! Children! You’d
think it was a holiday outing to Brighton! And it’s a voyage to Mars, do you
understand?—the first in history! You’re on your way to Mars!”
    The children stared at him sheepishly. At least, Paul
and Jacqueline did. Mike was behind them, and out of the immediate gaze of the
Doctor. And I’ll swear he was grinning—and that I heard, as a gentle whisper in
the air of the cabin, the one triumphant word—”Whoopee!”
     
    We had calculated before leaving earth—or rather, the
Doctor had—that if we achieved through his patent fuel the truly incredible
initial speed we hoped for, it would take a little under three weeks for the Albatross to reach Mars. As I have said, once we got into outer space, we
had no outward notion of time. The Doctor, however, was able, eventually, to
calculate day and night by examining the surface of the earth as it came into
our view as a globe—he observed the rotation of it on its axis, and from that,
allowing for our movement, got a fairly reliable standard of measurement.
    As the journey progressed we settled down to a routine—we
grew accustomed to the extraordinary conditions. We all kept diaries of
sorts—jotted down something at least of our impressions (the Doctor, of course,
as well as a personal notebook, kept a most careful and scientific log which
has since proved invaluable to astronomers). Writing at first was very
difficult—the merest push of a pencil sent it floating off the paper altogether
(we had to write with pencils: ink simply would not flow from the nib of a
pen). However, this, like everything else, soon came under control. It is a
brief selection of some of the most representative entries in these odd
journals and notebooks that makes up the next part of this chapter. Here they
are:
     
    Dr. McGillivray’s Personal Notebook—2nd Day. Everything goes according to plan. The ship travels
beautifully—to us on it, by a paradox, almost imperceptibly. There is nothing I
can do to steer the Albatross —we can only pray that I did not in any
degree miscalculate our direction when leaving earth, and that we shall fall
within the gravitational pull of Mars. If we do not,
then—heaven help us!—we travel from now to the end of time—lost in
space—another meteor, no more. Our food (of which, fortunately, I have enough
in store for these unhappy children who have joined us)—our food would give
out, our air would exhaust itself—we should die here unmourned in measureless
space. No one would know. Centuries hence, if we had not collided with a planet
or meteor, we should still be traveling on and on, going nowhere—nowhere!  . . .
    But this is pessimism. Useless
to dwell on such thoughts—I cannot have miscalculated. I was too careful—I
checked and counter-checked everything .  . . .
    My days are very full. I make
continuous observations—I am well equipped with instruments. The earth is now
visible as a vast globe, seemingly over our heads—terrible and beautiful
against the darkness of space. Further out, when it is smaller, we shall see it
in phases, as it were the moon—in thin crescent and half crescent. It is
unbelievably beautiful and fascinating .  . . .
     
    Extract from the Journal of
Michael Malone—2nd Day of Journey. This is the most wizard thing that has ever happened
to anybody, I bet. It’s terrific, I can tell you. Of course, we’re used to