thesize and marking of both were identical, as hitherto reported.
"Also, you'll observe that they are slightly warm. In fact, they areappreciably warmer than when they were first brought in. Curiousbehavior, this, for new-laid cometary eggs! More like seedsgerminating than meteorites cooling, wouldn't you say?"
"But good Lord!" Jim was somewhat taken aback to hear this celebratedscientist apparently commit himself to that wild view. "You don'treally think they're seeds, do you?"
"Why not?"
"But surely no seeds could survive the temperature they hit gettinghere."
"No seeds such as we know, true. But what, after all, do we know ofthe types of life to be found on other planets?"
"Nothing, of course. Only these didn't come from a planet. They camefrom a comet."
"And who can say a comet is not a disintegrated planet? Or suppose wetake the other theory, that it is an eruption from some sun, ours oranother. In any event, who can say no life can survive intense heat?Certainly these seeds--or call them meteorites, if you choose--camethrough the ordeal curiously unscathed."
"Yes, that's true. Funny, too!"
"And another thing is true, Jim. If by chance they _should_ be seeds,and _should_ germinate, the life they would produce would be somethingquite alien to our experience, possibly quite inimical to--"
Professor Wentworth broke off abruptly as a startled cry came fromJoan, and, turning, they saw her standing with eyes fixed infascinated horror on the laboratory table.
* * * * *
Following her gaze, Jim saw something that caused his own eyes tobulge. The color of those mysterious orange spheres had suddenly,ominously heightened. They lay glowing there like balls of fire.
"Good God!" he gasped. "Look, Professor! Do you see that?"
Professor Wentworth did not answer but himself stood gazing spellboundat the astounding scene.
Even as they looked, the metal table smoldered under the fierymeteorites and melted, and in a little while the meteorites themselvessizzled from view. Flames licked up from the floor; dense, suffocatingfumes rose and swirled through the laboratory.
"Quick!" cried Jim, seizing Joan's arm. "Come on, Professor! Nevermind trying to save anything. Let's get out of here!"
They staggered from the laboratory and once outside, plunged down thehill. It was none too soon.
Behind them, as they fled, came suddenly two deafening explosions.Looking back, they saw the roof of the observatory tilt crazily; sawthe whole building shatter, and erupt like a volcano.
But that, startling though it was, was not all they saw. For now, asthey stood there speechless, two incredible forms rose phoenix-likefrom the flames--two weird monsters, orange against the red, hideous,nightmarish. They saw them hover a moment above that fiery hell, thenrise on batlike wings to swoop off into the night.
Nor was that all. As the awed trio stood there halfway downObservatory Hill, following the flight of that pair of demons, otherexplosions reached their ears, and, turning to the city below, theysaw vivid jets of red leap up here and there, saw other orange wingsagainst the night.
While off across the southeast sky, receding fast, spread the MysteryComet whose tail had sowed the seeds of this strange life.
* * * * *
Still silent, the trio stood gazing upon that appalling scene for someminutes, while the ruddy shadows of the flaming observatory lit theirtense faces.
"Well, the seeds have hatched," said Professor Wentworth at length, ina strained voice. "I am afraid some of the curious who have beengathering those meteorites so eagerly have paid a dear price forthem."
"Yes, I'm afraid so," echoed Jim. "We were lucky. If Joan hadn'thappened to spot those things just when she did--" He broke off andpressed her hand fondly. "But somehow I can't believe it, even yet.What do you think the things are, Professor?"
"God knows! As I told you, those seeds, should they germinate, wouldproduce something quite alien to our experience; and as I feared, itis a form of life that will not blend well with humanity."
Jim shuddered.
"But look, father!" exclaimed Joan. "They're flying away! They seem tobe way up among the stars. Maybe they've left the earth altogether."
Professor Wentworth following his daughter's gaze, saw that many ofthe monsters were now mere orange pinpoints against the night.
"Let us hope so!" he said fervently.
But in his heart there was no conviction, nor in Jim's, strangely.
* * * * *
On the way back to New York, Jim had plenty to heighten hisuneasiness. The scene below him everywhere was red withconflagrations, the sky everywhere orange with the wings of thosefiery moths.
More than one swept perilously close, as he pushed his auto-plane onat top speed; but they showed no inclination to attack, for which hewas devoutly thankful.
Over the metropolitan area, the scene was one beggaring description.All the five boroughs were a blazing checker-board. New Jersey,Connecticut, Westchester--all were raging. Hundreds of those deadlybombs must have burst in Manhattan alone.
But the fire department there seemed to have the situation in hand, henoticed as he swept down onto the Plaza landing platform.
Leaving his plane with an attendant, he took the first elevator to thestreet level, and crossing hastily to the Press tower, mounted to thecity room.
There absolute pandemonium raged. Typewriters were sputtering,telegraph keys clicking, phones buzzing, reporters coming and going ina steady stream, mingled with the frantic orders of editors,sub-editors, copy readers, composing-room men and others.
Carter fought through the bedlam to the city editor's desk.
"Sorry I couldn't bring you that egg, Chief," he said, with a grimsmile. "I had one right in my hand, but it hatched out on me."
Overton looked up wearily. He was a man who had seen a miracle, agodless miracle that restored his faith in the devil.
"Don't talk--just write!" he growled. "I've seen and heard too muchto-night. We're all going to hell, I guess--unless we're alreadythere."
But Jim wasn't ready to write yet.
"What's the dope elsewhere? The same?"
"All over the map! We're frying, from coast to coast."
"And abroad?"
"Cooked, everywhere!" He paused, and turned an imploring face to Jim."Tell me, Carter--what's happening? You've seen Wentworth, I suppose.What's he make of it?"
"He--doesn't know."
"God help us! Well, go write your story. If we've got a plant by presstime, we'll have something on page one to-morrow--if there's anyone toread it."
* * * * *
By morning the fires in the metropolitan area had been brought undercontrol and it was found that neither the loss of life nor the damagewas as great as had at first been feared. Mainly it was the oldertypes of buildings that had suffered the most.
The same thing was true in other parts of the country and elsewhere inthe world; and elsewhere, as in New York, people pulled themselvestogether, cleared up the debris, and went ahead with theiroccupations. Business was resumed, and rebuilding operations werebegun.
Meanwhile, where were those fiery moths that had sprung sodevastatingly from their strange cocoons?
For a while no one knew and it was believed they had indeed winged offinto interstellar space, as Joan had suggested that night onObservatory Hill.
Then came rumors that damped these hopes, followed by eye-witnessreports that altogether dashed them. The bat-like monsters had flown,not off into space, but to the world's waste-lands.
Strange, it was, the instinct that had led them unerringly to theremotest point of each continent. In North America it was the greatArizona desert, in South America the pampas of Argentina, in Europethe steppes of Russia, in Asia the Desert of Gobi, in Africa theSahara, in Australia the Victoria; while in the British Isles,Philippines, New Zealand, Madagascar, Iceland, the East
Indies, WestIndies, South Seas and other islands of the world, the interiors weretaken over by the demons, the populace fleeing for their lives.
As for the oceans, no one knew exactly what had happened there, thoughit was obvious they, too, had received their share of the bombardmenton that fateful night; but, while temperatures were found to besomewhat above normal, scientists were of the opinion that the deadlyspawn that had fallen there had failed to incubate.
* * * * *
Immediately the presence of the monsters in the Arizona desert wasverified, Overton called Jim Carter to his desk.
"Well, I've got a big assignment for you, boy," he said, rather moregently than was his fashion. "Maybe you know what, huh?"
"You want me to buzz out and interview those birds?"
"You guessed it. And photograph 'em!"
"Okay, Chief," said Carter, though he knew this would be the toughestjob yet.
Overton knew it, too.
"It won't be easy," he said. "And it may be dangerous. You don't haveto take the assignment unless you want."
"But I want."
"Good! I thought you would." He regarded the younger man admiringly,almost enviously. "Now, about those photos. The Television News peoplehaven't been able to get a thing, nor the War Department--not so muchas a still. So those photos will be valuable."
Overton paused, to let that sink in.
"They'll be worth a million, in fact, in addition to what the WarDepartment offers. And to you they'll be worth ten thousand dollars."
"How come?"
"Because that's what the Old Man said."
"Well, I can use it!" said Jim, thinking of Joan.
"All right. Then go to it!"
* * * * *
Leaving New York late that night, Carter timed his flight to arriveover the eastern edge of the desert just before dawn.
The trip was uneventful till he crossed the Rockies over New Mexicoand eased down into Arizona. Then, flying low and fast, he suddenlycaught a glow of color off ahead.
For an instant Jim thought it was the dawn, then called himself afool. For one thing, the glow was in the west, not the east. And foranother, altogether more significant, it was orange.
His quarry!
Pulling his stick back hard, he shot like a rocket to ten thousandfeet, figuring that a higher altitude, besides giving him a betterview of the lay of the land, would be considerably safer.
Winging on now at that height, he saw the orange tide rise higher inthe west by seconds, as he rushed toward God knew what eery lair. Hesuddenly gasped in amazement, as he saw now something so incredible itleft him numb.
Below, looming above the on-rushing horizon was a city! But such acity as the brain of man could scarcely conceive, much less execute--acity of some fluorescent orange material, rising tier on tier, levelon level, spreading out over the sandy floor of the desert for miles.
And, as Jim draw nearer, he saw, too, that this weird city was teemingwith life--terrible life! Thousands of those hideous monsters wereworking there like an army of ants in a sand-hill--a sand-hill ofglistening, molten glass, it seemed from the air.
Were they building their city from the sand of the desert, thesehellish glaciers?
Carter decided to find out.
"Well, here goes!" he muttered, diving straight for that dazzlingcitadel, one hand on the stick, the other gripping the trigger of hisautomatic camera. "This'll make a picture for the Old Man, all right!"
Off to the east the dawn was breaking, and he saw, as he swept down,its pearly pastel shades blending weirdly with that blinding orangeglare.
Pressing the trigger now, he drove his screaming plane on withthrottle wide--and yes, it was glass!--glass of some sort, that crazynightmare down there.
"Whew!" gasped Carter as waves of dazing heat rose about him. "Boy,but it's hot! I can't stand much of this. Better get out while thegetting's good."
But he clenched his teeth, and dove on down to see what those fierydemons looked like. Funny they didn't make any effort to attack.Surely they must see him now.
"Take that, my beauties!--and that!" he gasped, pressing the triggerof his camera furiously.
Then, at a scant two thousand feet, he levelled off, his wingsblistering with the heat, and zoomed up again--when to his horror, hisengine faltered; died.
* * * * *
In that agonizing moment it came to Jim that this perhaps was whyneither the Television News nor the War Department pilots had beenable to get pictures of the hell below.
Had something about that daring heat killed their motors, too, as ithad his? Had they plunged like fluttering, sizzling moths into thatinferno of orange flame?
"Well, I guess it's curtains!" he muttered.
A glance at his altimeter showed a scant eighteen hundred now. Anotherglance showed the western boundary of the city, agonizing miles ahead.Could he make it? He'd try, anyway!
So, nursing his plane along in a shallow glide, Jim slipped downthrough that dazing heat.
"Got to keep her speed up!" he told himself, half deliriously, as hesteadily lost altitude. "Can't pancake here, or I'll be a flapjack!"
At an altitude of less than a thousand he levelled off again, eased ondown, fully expecting to feel his plane burst into flames. But thoughhis eyebrows crisped and the gas must have boiled, the sturdy littleplane made it.
On a long last glide, he put her wheels down on the sandy desertfloor, a bare half mile beyond that searing hell.
The heat was still terrific but endurable now. He dared breathedeeper; he found his head clearing. But what was the good of it? Itwas only a respite. The monsters had seen him, all right--no doubtabout that! Already they were swooping out of their weird citadel likea pack of furious hornets.
On they came, incredibly fast, moving in a wide half-circle thatobviously was planned to envelop him.
Tense with horror, like a doomed man at the stake, Jim watched theflaming phalanx advance. And now he saw what they really were; sawthat his first, fantastic guess had been right.
They were _ants_--or at least more like ants than anything onearth--great fiery termites ten feet long, hideous mandibles snappinglike steel, hot from the forge, their huge compound eyes burning likegreenish electric fire in their livid orange sockets.
And another thing Jim saw, something that explained why the fearfulinsects had not flown up to attack him in the air. Their wings weregone!
They had molted, were earthbound now.
* * * * *
There was much food for thought in this, but no time to think. Alreadythe creatures were almost on him.
Jim turned his gaze from them and bent over his dials in a lastfrantic effort to get his motor started. The instinct ofself-preservation was dominant now--and to his joy, suddenly thepowerful little engine began to hum with life.
He drew one deep breath of infinite relief, then gave her the gun andwhirled off down the desert floor, the enraged horde after him.
For agonizing instants it was a nip-and-tuck race. Then as he felt hiswheels lift, he pulled hard back on his stick, and swept up and awayfrom the deadly claws that clutched after him in vain.
Climbing swiftly, Jim banked once, swept back, put the bead full onthat scattering half-circle of fiery termites, and pressed the triggerof his automatic camera.
"There, babies!" he laughed grimly. "You're in the Rogues' Gallerynow!"
Then, swinging off to the northeast, he continued to climb, givingthat weird ant-hill a wide berth.
Funny, about those things losing their wings, he was thinking now.Would they grow them again, or were they on the ground for good? Andwhat was their game out there in the desert, anyway?
Questions Jim couldn't answer, of course. Only time would tell.Meanwhile, he had some pictures that would make the Old Man sit up andtake notice, not to mention the War Department.
"They'd better get the A
rmy on the job before those babies getair-minded again!" he told himself, as he winged on into the risingsun. "Otherwise the show they've already staged may be only a littlecurtain-raiser."
* * * * *
Jim's arrival in the city room of _The New York Press_ that afternoonwas a triumphant one, for he had radio-phoned the story ahead andextras were out all over the metropolitan area, with relays flashingfrom the front pages of papers everywhere.
No sooner had he turned over his precious pictures to the photographicdepartment for development than Overton rushed him to a microphone,and made him repeat his experience for the television screen.
But the city editor's enthusiasm died when the negatives came out ofthe developer.
"There are your pictures!" he said, handing over a bunch of them.
Carter looked at them in dismay. They were all blank--just so muchplain black celluloid.
"Over-exposed!" rasped Overton. "A hell of a photographer you are!"
"I sure am!" Jim agreed, still gazing ruefully at the ruinednegatives. "Funny, though. The camera was checked before I started. Ihad the range before I pulled the trigger, every shot." He paused,then added, as though reluctant to excuse himself: "It must have beenthe heat."
"Yeah. I suppose so! Well, that was damn expensive heat for you, mylad. It cost you ten thousand bucks."
"Yes, but--"
Jim had been going to say it had nearly cost him his life but thoughtbetter of it. Besides, an idea had come.
"Give me those negatives!" he said, "I'm going to find out