Adventure stories; Life on other planets -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Science fiction
The Sasso-creature sensed his intention, turned its force into
Margaret's receptive mind and drove her into a blind attack. With an
inhuman scream she launched herself from the platform after Eldon, her
dagger thrusting forward and down as she fell.
In mid-air Eldon pressed the button and with the supreme effort of his
life ignored the frothing Vat below and the agony of the rod's backfire
to concentrate the resonant power into the Gateway, into the terrible
Thing solidifying there, and with Vardan control of mind over matter to
warp the discharge of the particular frequency his Thin World knowledge
told him was necessary.
A blazing cone from the rod sizzled and spat. The crimson glare of
the Gateway flashed through the spectrum, exploded in a scintillating
violet flare, and went black. There was the stunning crash of a world
being tore asunder and through it an alien cry of rage--and of dawning
terror.
In the upper hemisphere of the globe a group of white-glowing pinpoints
appeared, arranged in a pattern that had grown familiar. The stars of
Varda shining through! With incredible speed the rift in the temple of
Sasso spread. Collapse!
As he plunged toward the Vat he knew he had won, knew he had found the
proper modulation to disrupt the finely balanced system of resonant
bound charges of the Gateway. And he knew the alien thing called Sasso
had been caught between worlds, in _no world at all_, doomed to dwindle
into the nothingness from which it had arisen by feeding upon stolen
lives.
He felt one last wave of malignancy, a wave that faded and left only
his own bodily pain. Then that too became indistinct even though his
finger still stabbed the button of the ruined blast rod smoking red
hot against his palm. And he was falling, not into the Vat but through
limitless space.
The shattered remnants of the Globe and the Gateway dissolved in a
tearing, melting sensation as though the very atoms of his being were
rearranging themselves, a _strain_ that made his mind shriek in torment
and flee to the verge of madness.
There was a flashing glimpse of a grotto, of crystalline, polychromatic
light and tingling warmth--the Chamber. Then that and the pain too was
gone and he fell interminably through blackness.
* * * * *
Seconds ... hours ... eons. And he struck with unexpected mildness on a
hard, flat surface.
He opened one eye--and the other. He placed the palms of his
hands--both hands--against the floor and pushed himself to a sitting
posture.
The fluorescent lights of his own laboratory cast shadowless brilliance
upon him. The charge collectors still whined, their pitch lowering
slowly as he listened, and the air was still pungent with ozone. It
couldn't be--or could it?--that only a few moments of Earth time had
elapsed?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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