Chapter 7: Invisible Globe

The buzzer of their radiophone was sounding, but so intent were they on this phenomenon they were facing, they paid it no heed. Their eyes were alight, their lips in firm straight lines of resolve, as they dived down upon the invisible obstruction--whatever it was--from whose surface the telltale updraft came.

It was Eyer who made the suggestion:

“Let’s measure it to see what its plane extent is.”

“How?” asked Jeter.

“Measure it by following the wind disturbance. We travel in one direction until we lose it. There is one extremity. In a few minutes we can discover exactly how big the thing is. What do you think it is?”

Jeter shook his head. There was no way of telling.

Jeter nodded agreement to Eyer. Then he spoke into the radiophone, telling Hadley what they had found, to which he could give no name.

“The world awaits in fear and trembling what you will have to report, Jeter,” said Hadley. “What if you become unable to report, as Kress did?”

“Don’t worry. We will or we won’t. If we succeed we’ll be back. If we fail, send up the other ... No, perhaps you hadn’t better send up the new planes. But I think Eyer and I have a chance to discover the nature of this strange--whatever-it-is. If you can’t contact us, delay twenty-four hours before doing anything. I--well, I scarcely know what to tell you to do. We’ll just be shooting in the dark until we know what we’re in for. You’ll have to contain yourself in patience. What did you want with me?”

“Only to tell you of another strange news dispatch. It gives no details. It merely tells of strange activity around Lake Baikal, beyond the Gobi Desert. Queer noises at night, mysterious cordons of Eurasians to keep all investigators back, strange losses of livestock, foodstuffs...”

Jeter severed connection. There was little need to listen further to something which he couldn’t explain yet, in any case.

Eyer, at the controls, banked the plane at right angles and flew on. In shortly less than a minute he banked again.

In five minutes he turned to Jeter with a queer expression on his face.

“Well,” he said, “what’s to do about it? What is it? It seems to be some solid substance approximately a quarter mile square. But it can’t be true! A solid substance just hanging in the air at ninety thousand feet! It’s beyond all imagining!”

“What man can imagine, man can do,” replied Jeter. “A great newspaper editor said that, and we’re going to discover now just how true it is.”

“What’s our next move?”

For a long time the partners, stared into each other’s eyes. Each knew exactly what the other thought, exactly what he would propose as a course of action. Jeter heaved a sigh and nodded his head.

“We’re as much in the power of the enemy here as we would be there, or anywhere else. We can’t discover anything from here. Set the wheels down!”

“We can’t tell anything about the condition of the surface of that stuff. We may crack up.”

Jeter had to grin.

“Sounds strange, cracking up at ninety thousand feet, doesn’t it? Well, hoist your helicopter vanes and drift down as straight as you can--but be sure and keep your motor idling.”

Again they exchanged long looks.

“O.K.,” said Eyer, as quietly as he would have answered the same order at Roosevelt Field. “Here we go!”

He pressed a button and the helicopters, set into the surface of the single sturdy wing, snapped up their shafts and began to spin, effectually slowing the forward motion of the plane. Eyer fish-tailed her with his rudder to help cut down speed.

“We can’t see the surface of the thing at all, Lucian,” said Eyer. “I’ll simply have to feel for it.”

“Well, you’ve done that before, too. We can manage all right.”

Down they dropped. The updraft was now a cushion directly under them. And then their wheels struck something solid. The plane moved forward a few feet--with a strange sickening motion. It was as though the surface of this substance were globular. First one wheel rose, then dipped as the other rose. The plane came to rest on fairly even keel, and the partners, while the motor idled, stared at each other.

“Well?” said Eyer, a trace of a grin on his face.

“If it’ll hold the plane it will hold us. Let’s slide into our stratosphere suits and climb out. We have to get close to this thing to see what it is.”

“Parachutes?” said Eyer.

Jeter nodded.

“It would simplify matters if the thing happened to tilt over and spill us off, I think,” said Jeter, matching Eyer’s grin with one of his own. “I can’t think with any degree of equanimity of plunging ninety thousand feet without a parachute.”

“I’m not sure I’d care for it with one,” said Eyer.

They were soon in the tight-fitting suits which were customarily used by fliers who climbed above the air levels at which it was impossible for a human being to breathe without a supply of oxygen in a container. Their suits were sealed against cold. Set in their backs were oxygen tanks capable of holding enough oxygen for several hours. Over all this they fastened their parachutes.

Then, using a series of doors in order to conserve the warmth and oxygen inside their cabin, they let themselves out, closing each successive door behind them, until at last they faced the last door--and the grim unknown. They glanced at each other briefly, and Jeter’s hand went forth to grasp the mechanism of the last door. Eyer stood at his side. Their eyes met. The door swung open.

They stepped down. The surface of this stratosphere substance was slippery smooth. Now that they stood on its surface they could sense something of its profile. Movement in any direction suggested walking on a huge ball. The queer thing was that they could feel but could not see. It was like walking on air. Their plane appeared to be suspended in midair.

For a moment Jeter had an overpowering desire to grab Eyer, jerk him back to the plane, and take off at top speed. But they couldn’t do that, not when the world depended upon them. Had Kress encountered this thing? Perhaps. How must he have felt? He had been alone. These two were moral support for each other. But both were acutely remembering how Kress had come back.

And his plane? They’d perhaps discover what had happened to that too.

Eyer suddenly slipped and fell, as though he had been walking on a carpet which had been jerked from under his feet. From his almost prone position he looked up at Jeter. Jeter dropped to his knees beside him. Their covered hands played over the surface of their discovery, to find it smooth as glass. As though with one thought they placed their heads against it, right ears down, to listen. But the whole vast field seemed to be dead, lifeless. And yet--a solid it was, floating here in space--or just hanging. It seemed to be utterly motionless.