The Great White Space Read online

  The pink tape went along endless passages and alleyways before it came to an abrupt conclusion in the middle of a featureless circle of clay. In the middle of the oval space someone had scrawled a huge question mark with the point of a stick.

  I had come to the end of my examination of this enigmatic construction and was about to put the first of my queries to my companion when we were suddenly interrupted by a curious noise. It was like a high, whining shriek and I followed Scarsdale as he rose and led me over to the window. The rain had cleared a little now and from farther down the slope of lawn, which dropped away to a lake in the distance, there was a fold of tumbled, orchard-like ground which had been left rough and full of weeds.

  From out the tangled mass of grass and nettles the snout of an extraordinary grey machine was protruding. It poked its way like some blind animal finding its route; then the grasses parted and I could see tracks, something like a tank’s, moving delicately as a caterpillar’s legs beneath a metal skirt. A shutter slid back in the upper half of the structure, revealing an oval window. A head appeared in the conning tower or whatever it was, surveyed the landscape and the shutter slid to. The screaming of the engine increased, the thing turned and then a fence-post snapped off as the machine slid back down the slope from our view. Scarsdale swore. He went over to the fireplace and pressed a bell set in the moulding of the surround.

  The manservant appeared with astonishing alacrity.

  ‘Collins,‘said Scarsdale. ‘You might tell Dr Van Damm that I would appreciate him keeping to the agreed terrain and not invading the garden. I do not own the property, as he knows, and must pay for any damage.’

  ‘Certainly, Professor,’ said the attendant, as though the Professor’s instruction were a long-standing one. He went out, closing the double-doors behind him.

  ‘Now that you’ve seen our little exhibition,’ said the Professor, resuming his original seat by the fireside, ‘I’d like to tell you what my proposition is all about.’

  2

  ‘I am not at liberty to divulge how I came by all my information,’ said Scarsdale, ‘but you may remember the occasion which first prompted my getting in touch with you.’

  ‘My photographs of the Crosby Patterson relics, if I remember rightly,’ I replied. ‘With particular reference to the inscriptions on the rock excavated from under the ice by Patterson’s team.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said the Professor. ‘You may recall from the public prints of the time that I expressed great interest in the hieroglyphs. Not only was it extremely unlikely that such things could have been found in the Polar regions. I had another reason for my interest. You see, I had seen them before.’

  There was silence in the room for a while, broken only by the faint sputtering of logs on the hearth. The wolfhound appeared to be dreaming; his flanks were heaving and from time to time one of his hind legs gave a satisfied twitch.

  The Professor drained the last of his brandy and looked round for the coffee percolator. He carefully poured himself half a cup and added sugar and cream before he went on.

  ‘Some strange things have been happening in the world this past few years,’ he said. ‘Not only in the world but out there in space.’

  He indicated the window, with an expansive wave of his hand.

  ‘Yet most of mankind seems absolutely oblivious of the implications. Do you remember what the press were pleased to call the “Scarsdale Lights”? Back in 1932?’

  ‘I seem to recall something of it now that you mention it,’ I said. ‘Weren’t they put down to solar flares…’

  Scarsdale interrupted me with an exasperated snort.

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude my dear fellow,’ he said. ‘But you really must learn to keep an open mind. I will just tell you the facts as I see them. Without the theorising behind them, you understand. That will come later. There will be much time, when we are out there. The solar flares, as you call them, were something much more. I have made a long study of the phenomena and it is my considered opinion — borne out by field research I might add — that the hieroglyph inscriptions appeared at the same time, in various parts of the world.’

  ‘From space you mean?’ I asked him.

  Scarsdale gave me a long, fierce look.

  ‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘If we could but read the inscriptions in their entirety we might possess the secrets of the universe. I believe, most sincerely, that the tablets are instructions of some sort, for beings who may visit our planet at some future time. Or who may even be amongst us as we sit here.

  ‘This is why I was so interested in your pictures of the Patterson relics. I was already working on my own line of research; one that was cut short after I had made a promising beginning. The route you see on the sand-table there was traced by myself, with much labour and danger, just over a year ago. I cannot divulge its exact location, for reasons which will become apparent later, but I believe it to be of vital importance to the future of our race. Or even to the survival of our race as we know it.’

  Scarsdale looked unusually serious as he made this pronouncement and he made an imperious figure as he sat before the fire in the gloom of the big study, the light from the shaded lamps catching the fleeting expressions of his face, half shadowed by the beard.

  ‘This was why I chose you,’ he resumed after a moment. ‘You are not only a first-rate photographer and a man with a scholarly background who would understand my views. You also have other attributes which are admirable for my purposes. You have physical courage, youth and strength, and you have already demonstrated your spirit of adventure by seeking out the tasks you have already accomplished. All of which taken together adds up to a pretty convincing package from my point of view.

  ‘The three scientists I have already chosen to accompany me are first-rate people and eminent in their own fields, but none of them have the physical strength necessary for certain aspects of our task. That will have to be up to you and I. I need at least one other man who is a man of action, an adventurer as well as a technician. My own capabilities I have already proved to my satisfaction. Are you game?’

  ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re driving at. Professor,’ I said. ‘Neither do I know where we’re going or what we’re going to do when we get there, but I wouldn’t miss this trip for anything. As long as I’m able to photograph and you indicate the sort of equipment I’m likely to need that’s all that matters to me.’

  The Professor struck his thigh with a long sigh and clasped me by the hand. The gesture was a theatrical one and he drew his hand away almost immediately with a muttered apology as though he were ashamed of the movement, yet it was a perfectly apposite one. He did look like a man who was worried over his future plans and it did also appear that my agreement had solved his particular problems.

  I smiled and said that though I had now agreed to come and that nothing would turn me from my purpose so long as he wanted me, I would still like to know more about the project. I appreciated that he didn’t yet want to tell us where we were going and the precise nature of our enquiries but I would be interested to hear more of the enigmatic matters of which he had already hinted.

  Scarsdale sat back in his chair and drained his coffee cup before replying.

  ‘The lights,’ he said. ‘I have been engaged in research for many years on such matters. My particular line of enquiry directed me to the remote region for which we are bound. After a great deal of difficulties — some of them, I am compelled to say, caused by my own ignorance and foolhardiness at the time of which I am speaking, I achieved a partial success. The expedition I am mounting, plus the skills of its members combined with the special equipment, much of which I have myself designed, should now be able to score a complete success.’

  Scarsdale paused again and then went on. ‘You will find some strangeness, I daresay. The title of the project is the Great Northern Expedition. Yet we are not going north. This is a purely diversionary measure designed to placate the press and the wider world. The sc
ientists and other colleagues who have long sneered at my efforts in this field, may think and say what they will. But secrecy as to our intentions is a prime necessity. I must ask you to behave with the utmost discretion and must also urge you to move in here with us within the next week. This is in order that you may train with your companions and get to know us well before we embark.’

  He looked at me enigmatically for a moment.

  ‘You have no ties, I take it? A fiancee, sweetheart or…?’

  ‘Any other entanglement,’ I finished for him. ‘No, there is nothing of that sort. I am a completely free agent. I have a permanent housekeeper in London and my solicitor looks after my affairs. I am often away for long periods, so there will be nothing new in your business.’

  Scarsdale nodded satisfaction.

  ‘As a matter of interest how long should we expect to be away?’ I asked him.

  ‘At least a year' was his reply, given without the slightest hesitation. ‘It goes without saying that proper contracts will be drawn for your signature before we leave England. And the commercial value of your photographs and films will be your own, once we have made arrangements for our own material.’

  ‘That is extremely generous of you, Professor,’ I said. ‘We may take everything as agreed then, apart from details.’

  We had just risen to our feet when there was a crash at the door and a tall, thin form stood in the entrance. The worried face of Collins could be seen at the intruder’s elbow.

  ‘By God, Scarsdale, this is a definite liberty!’ said a high, thin voice like a woman’s. ‘How are we to master these extraordinary contraptions if we can’t manoeuvre without you worrying about some damn potato patch?’

  ‘Come in. Van Damm,’ said Scarsdale smoothly, propelling me forward down the room.

  ‘I’d like you to meet the newest member of the expedition.’

  Three

  1

  Cornelius Van Damm was, as I have indicated, tall and thin, but it was not only his fluting, effeminate voice that had such an extraordinary effect upon those meeting him for the first time. When we had both exchanged nods, perfunctorily acknowledging Scarsdale’s sketchy introduction, and the Professor had brought us all back towards the fireside, I had more leisure to study him. Both he and Scarsdale engaged in a form of bickering which I later came to realise was a pose, a role both played to the full; the Professor emphasised his virile, bear-like qualities while the doctor developed a waspish querulousness which suited his squeaky voice.

  Underneath it all lay a profound theatricality, a streak common to both men; both were distinguished in their own spheres; in addition to being a first-class electrical engineer, Van Damm was learned in many fields, being also a geologist and metallurgist as well as a fine revolver and rifle shot. He was to find his talents fully exercised on the Great Northern Expedition.

  Fortunately, neither of the two remaining members, whom I had yet to meet, had such temperaments as those of Van Damm and the Professor: they preferred to leave the limelight to the two prima donnas, and were both immensely practical and phlegmatic by nature, which was no doubt why Scarsdale had selected them in the first instance. As for myself, I had no great axe to grind, as I have already indicated, and preferred merely to observe and practise my own specialised subject of photography.

  Now, as the two men snapped at one another in the firelight, the older man biting off his words like a pike swallowing a tasty morsel, the Professor blandly riding rough-shod over the other’s objections, I was amusedly summing up the doctor. What I saw was a man of exceedingly gaunt aspect; with a great craggy face, from which a pair of humorous brown eyes shone from within deep sockets. His thin sandy hair grew evenly over his scalp so that his skull resembled nothing so much as a pineapple; a delicate wisp of moustache bisected his face and a gold pince-nez, depending from a delicate silver chain, dangled from his third waistcoat button. He wore a green corduroy jacket, the waistcoat was of some dark brown material, and his trousers were of grey flannel. Over the whole was a sort of long brown dustcoat, such as that worn by stockmen or cattle-drovers in the Old West, and the dark brown riding boots, stained with mud, which completed his outfit, marked him as one of the oddest and most individual of men.

  However, he presently grew calmer and seeming to recollect my presence, turned to me and grasped me by the hand; still with a red flush on his cheeks and a slight stammer in his voice, when he turned to interject an occasional remark at the Professor, he proved himself an entertaining speaker. Later I was to discover that his eccentric exterior concealed one of the kindliest of men.

  However, all he said initially was, ‘You will find this a difficult sort of contract, Plowright. If we had a different leader, well then, that would simplify matters and one could guarantee success. But with such a boorish and obtuse person as Scarsdale, I will be extremely surprised if we achieve what we set out to do.’

  I had expected the Professor to reply with some monstrous outburst but to my intense surprise he merely threw back his bearded head and bellowed with laughter like a bull.

  ‘You never disappoint me, Van Damm,’ he chuckled at length. He glanced over at me. ‘Mark my words, my dear fellow, we shall have an admirable expedition.’

  Then he rang for Collins to clear the table and we all went back into the hall.

  ‘While the doctor is demolishing a few more pear trees I daresay you’d like to come and meet the remainder of your colleagues,’ Scarsdale said smoothly. ‘You’ll find them much more amiable.’

  His latter remark was within Van Damm’s hearing; the tall man stood with his feet planted apart at one side of the hall and I was even more surprised when I saw him smile appreciatively at the Professor’s disparaging comment. I began to understand the two men a little better as I followed the Professor out onto the front drive; he led the way around the house, our feet crunching in the gravel, until we came to a cobbled courtyard and a sort of stable, together with a group of outbuildings. From the latter came the low hum of machinery.

  In the centre of the courtyard was standing one of the strange grey machines I had already seen being demonstrated by Van Damm in the orchard below the house. The Professor looked at me keenly but there was no faltering in his even stride.

  ‘There’ll be time for that later,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to do this afternoon and you’ll not be wanting to get back to town too late.’

  I protested that I had all the time in the world, my previous reservations quite forgotten, so exciting and unusual did I find this new world, with its sense of mysterious purpose and urgency. Most of this, like an electric current, was flowing from the figure of the Professor himself, of course, and I was later to find that he affected almost everyone in the same way; even Van Damm was not immune, though he had learned to disguise his true feelings with an air of bickering criticism.

  At a long bench in the interior of the workshop two men were sitting. The older looked round as we entered and a broad smiled spread across his face. He jumped up impulsively and said to Scarsdale, ‘You were right, Professor. The wavelength made all the difference. I’ve ironed out the difficulties.’

  The Professor smiled and turned to me, making the formal introductions.

  ‘This is Norman Holden. Apart from being an excellent historian, he’s our radio expert. Van Damm will be responsible for maintaining the tractors.’

  Holden was a man of about fifty-five, of medium height and stockily built; he had even white teeth, a rather fleshy mouth and broad-set eyes of a deep brown. He had character and good humour in his face and I liked him immediately.

  The other man at the end of the bench got up and came towards us. Geoffrey Prescott was about forty-five; an expert linguist and specialist in Egyptology, he also had his strictly practical side. He would attend to map-making and cooking on the expedition and could apply his talents in a number of other directions. Fortunately, Scarsdale himself was also a doctor of medicine and could deal with any serious ills which mi
ght befall our little band.

  Prescott, I later understood from Scarsdale had helped decipher something of the hieroglyphs which had so intrigued the Professor and which had been the means of our meeting. Just now he excused himself from joining in our conversation; his current work demanded all his attention if the expedition was to get away on time. He looked at Scarsdale with an enthusiastic smile as he spoke and with a wave of his hand went back to the end of the bench. Scarsdale said nothing but got out a blackened old pipe from his pocket and bit at its yellow stem.

  We had been walking round the workshop and found ourselves near the door to the yard; there was another vast shed, like an aeroplane hangar adjoining and Scarsdale now put his bull-like shoulder to a sliding door and slid it shudderingly back. He moved about ahead of me, switching on lights.

  ‘Excellent people, Prescott and Holden,’ he said succinctly. ‘One couldn’t wish for better companions. You’ll fit in well, I think.’

  I stood blinking in the sudden glare of light from the banks of powerful reflectors set in the ceiling girders. Before me were two of the great grey tractor vehicles; these, unlike the one I had seen in the yard and the other in the orchard earlier, were shining with new paint and carried registration numbers. Both bore the stencilled black lettering, GREAT NORTHERN EXPEDITION. Number 1, I saw was labelled Command Vehicle and had Scarsdale’s name beneath. Number 2, bore Dr Van Damm’s name as commander. Numbers three and four would be accompanying us as reserve vehicles, explained Scarsdale, ushering me up the light metal steps into his own craft.

  Once inside the sliding doors, the Professor switched on the interior lighting and showed me his domain with somewhat justifiable pride.

  ‘We have developed these vehicles between the four of us, to overcome certain difficulties I have already encountered,’ said the Professor. ‘A new principle of friction-drive is incorporated in the tractor units. Van Damm, whatever his faults in other directions, was invaluable here. He also developed a new type of long-life heavy duty battery, which we are able to re-charge en route.’