A Brand New World by Ray Cummings

June 14, 1957, I set down the date with my recollection that it was for me the most momentous day of my life to that time. And I think, for Dan and Freddie also -- the day upon which, after more than sixteen months of activity, we three were ready at last for the trip to Xenephrene. The events of those sixteen months were to me the mere bridging of an interval unimportant save in its consummation.

There were times when we all thought we would fail. I am not of a scientific trend of mind; nor is Dan. Upon Freddie both he and I depended for a complete understanding of father's scientific data.

Even so, there seemed to Dan and me in our impatience and futility at our own lack of scientific training a great deal about father's instructions that Freddie himself but half understood. And this Freddie admitted. We would have failed, I have no doubt, had our government disdained us. But it did not. From the first we had back of us not only government funds, but the full resources of the government's laboratories and technical staff.

The whole enterprise was conducted quietly; and though some inkling of it leaked out, the thing was kept fairly close. During most of this period -- these seemingly interminable months -- Dan, Freddie and I were in Miami, where in the government shops our vehicle was being built. The government laboratories were there also. In them our mechanisms were assembled; a thousand abstruse chemical and physical problems were solved.

The work progressed steadily, though with occasional maddening holdups. Father had suggested that the outer shell of the vehicle be constructed of alexite -- that strange alloy, largely aluminium, after the process perfected in 1943 by the Russ, Alexia. World conditions made it difficult for some of the materials to be quickly obtained in sufficient quantity. But they were obtained, and the shell was cast almost on the date set for it in Freddie's schedule.

The daylight months of 1956, in Miami, brought heat almost intolerable. It is not my plan to describe that now. Weird change from what had always before been the normal! The spring twilight thaws; the brief period of lengthening days until soon the day and night were equal; then, each twenty-four hours, a longer day, a lesser night. Swiftly changing, until soon the sun never set. Blistering summer. Then again the sun touched the horizon; rose; in twenty-four hours dipped a trifle. Night a minute long! Queer cycle! But we were growing used to it already, for human life springs swiftly to adjust itself to environment.

The summer of 1956 dragged itself past. In January, 1957, with the fall twilight days passing and night again upon us, the vehicle shell was cast. Assembling of the mechanism began in February. By April, in the frigid darkness of midwinter, I think we could have been ready to start. But Xenephrene was too far away. Daily now she was overtaking the earth.

We had to await the June conjunction when at her closest point for the year, father's data told us the intervening distance would be some seventeen and a half million miles. His notes named twelve o'clock noon, June 14, as our best starting time. And in this, as in every other detail, we were determined to follow his instructions to the letter.

We had been worried all these months over father's warning concerning the presence on earth of enemies from Xenephrene. Indeed, that first evening in the Cain plantation house when the storage battery of the Reet Catalyst had so nearly been stolen from us, proved that father's fears were fully justified. The precious white metal cube was unharmed; and there was nothing else missing from the cylinder, as we had at first feared.

The intruder had left no trace of himself; but he was a man, human like ourselves, undoubtedly. Dan and Freddie had come to grips with him; I had felt his burning blow upon my face. There was a red, blistered welt there for many days. Dan and Freddie were burned about the hands and face.

Curious marks! I say burned, for perhaps that best describes it. But it was not that. A queer irritation of the skin and flesh where they had been exposed to contact with the crimson radiance. It departed within a week; and the ringing in our ears, which for a day we all feared might presage deafness, was gone in a like period. Our eyes, too, were left smarting and burning. For a day afterward I found my sight queerly blurring at intervals; and any sudden light blinded me momentarily, as one is blinded who steps abruptly from darkness into daylight. But all these unpleasant sensations passed in a few days.

This crimson radiance had been undoubtedly of a very weak intensity. It had not been used as a weapon, but merely as a cloak of invisibility, behind which the intruder had evidently felt he could steal the cylinder and escape. This we realized, though of the nature of the radiance we knew not much more than before; nor was there anything in father's data to enlighten us.

We feared a repetition of this encounter; but none was attempted. All our work was done under guard in Miami; and everywhere in the world the secret service of every government was alert. It was incredible, of course, that upon earth there would be one man of Xenephrene -- and no more. We learned afterward that there were many, but at this time no trace of them was found.

It was the 4th of June when at last our vehicle was completely ready -- save its provisioning, some earth scientific apparatus which father had bade us bring, and our personal effects. The assembling was complete; the navigating mechanism was installed, tested and in working order.

It was then, but not until then, that success seemed assured. And with the relief of it, we all realized what a strain we had been under. By comparison, what lay ahead seemed simple. But that fancy passed; and, though we never said so, apprehension soon descended upon us again.