The Lightening Men Read online

  The Lightning Men

  JOHN COLEMAN BURROUGHS and HULBERT BURROUGHS

  Authors of “The Man Without a World ”

  THE TARZAN-TEAM AGAIN

  Lightning strikes twice — at least in the case of John Coleman Burroughs and Hulbert Burroughs. In the first story by the Tarzan-team, “The Man Without A World,” published in our Tenth Anniversary Issue, the descendants of Earth’s sole survivors discovered a new habitable world — but a world perpetually bombarded with lightning bolts.

  So here’s the sequel, THE LIGHTNING MEN, a complete novelet in itself, wherein Mai Mandark II and the founders of Nova Terra combat the electrical elements. The story sparkles with scientific speculations, so let’s have a few flashes from you readers as to its possibilities. And here’s a word from the duo:

  ---Editor Thrilling Wonder Stories Feb. 1940

  THE LIGHTNING MEN, of course, is little more than a chronicle of events that took place upon Nova Terra as flashed to us upon our magni-corpuscular telescopic visiscreen. As interstellar static occasionally interfered with our reception, and since the events had not yet actually taken place, it was necessary for us to draw liberally at times upon our imaginations to furnish a scientific explanation of what we were witnessing.

  When our audiophones hummed and sizzled and the Lightning Men appeared on our screen we felt certain they would be the natural inhabitants of a planet whose atmosphere fairly bubbled with electrical potential.

  We saw immediately how inevitable it was that the Lightning Men should evolve condenser accumulators of high dielectric capacity to store the vast potential which they pulled from the supercharged atmosphere of Nova Terra. Armed with the power of lightning, what wonders could they evolve! First of all we knew they would create great transformers that would furnish mechanical power and operate machinery to alleviate their chores of living.

  To lessen further the tasks accompanying the maintenance and operation of the machinery the Lightning Men would make use of slaves. Being inclined toward labor saving anyway, we thought the Lightning Men would naturally make use of their powers to transform their slaves into shapes best suited for specific functions.

  Now this we knew they could do only by shooting highly accelerated electronic beams at the protons within the living tissue cells and thereby stimulate a change of growth or shrinkage according to any preconceived pattern. Thus, for example, when a slave was needed to turn a crank, he would be transformed into a single living hand and all extraneous limbs and energy consuming parts would be eliminated.

  With the capture and enslavement of other human beings to serve their every want the Lightning Men would become the acme of indolence. And therein, we felt certain, lay the plot of the story; for when our visiscreen showed us that Mai Mandark II and his Arkian people had been captured we knew things would begin to hum for the lazy Lightning Men.

  To find out just what did hum, we humbly beg you to read our story. Then see if you wouldn’t like to be a big mouth and sit around all day and have someone feed you salted peanuts.

  ---John Coleman and Hulbert Burroughs Feb 1940

  CHAPTER I - Son of the Stars

  A mystery ship drifted silently through the dark clouds above the purple planet. The triple moons of Nova Terra bathed the giant craft in eerie light as she flew into open spaces across the sullen sky.

  On the ground below two men watched the sombre vessel through powerful telectroscopic binoculars. Here was an airship that could not be — yet was! A moment later it vanished, consumed by gloomy night and darker clouds.

  Impulsively, the older, white-bearded man flung a powerful rifle to his shoulder. Three fiery blasts ripped out from his Zuick gun toward the spot where the vessel had disappeared. The echoes came back from the clouds and the hills, reverberating above the noise of the everlasting thunder.

  “It’s no use, Rador!” cried the other, a clear-eyed youth with jet-black hair and fighting shoulders. “They’ve gone, who or whatever they are!” He broke into a run, covering with long easy strides the smooth and jagged surfaces of glass that composed the ground beneath his feet.

  “Let’s hope our men at that outpost are safe!” the youth flung back to Rador.

  The older man took out after the other.

  “Death rides in that ship, Mai, every time it cruises out of the clouds near Arkadia — death descending closer to us every time. Heaven knows what happens to others of our people who vanish!”

  In spite of his years Rador kept close to the flying metal-shod heels of Mai Mandarck, II, as they raced toward the outpost buildings of Lightning Shaft 13. The great hollow metal rod rose majestically out of its massive concrete base and shot straight up into the clouds for two thousand feet. Down the lightning shaft’s outer surfaces flowed continually the deadly charges that it lured from the supercharged atmosphere of the purple planet. Charges that forever threatened the lives of the Arkians — descendants of the only survivors of a lost Earth.

  SightT of that shaft still standing pumped hope into Mai; but the lonely dark outbuildings filled him with dread.

  “It’s there yet, boy! By God, it’s still up!” shouted Rador as the outlines of the shaft grew clearer.

  “That ship hasn’t molested one of these rods in two months, Rador,” said Mai. “That means we’ll be two months older when they finally decide to crumble our last shaft and the lightning blows us into atomic bits!”

  The outpost was still several hundred yards away. Unconsciously they slowed down their pace, some queer sense warning them that all was not well. Mechanically Rador jerked fresh shells into his rifle. Mai’s hand crept to the handle of his father’s gold-mounted space gun.

  Like his father before him, the man without a world, Mai Mandark had lived for his people. It was a Mandark who had led that little band of scientists and picked youth away from the doomed Earth in the great Ark of Space. After two hundred and twenty years the Ark had found a planet in the system of the giant sun Sirius. But to land meant death — death from titanic bolts of lightning that constantly struck the planet.

  Mai’s father had made it possible for the Ark to land. He had anchored a giant lightning conductor chain upon Nova Terra’s surface, a chain held aloft by a great mechanical kite. Through this conductor unequal static charges found release, rendering safe a small area surrounding the chain. The Ark landed, but Mai’s father was electrocuted while anchoring the chain. He had been born in space and died in space — a man without a world.

  Under Rador’s leadership the Arkians had built permanent lightning rods that insulated the air and ground for a considerable area around each one. With shafts erected at suitable distances so that their protective areas partly overlapped, the Arkians were able to live and work in perfect safety from the deadly blasts of lightning that continually shot from the electrically super-charged storm clouds enveloping the entire planet.

  Beyond the precious zones of safety no Arkian dared venture. Their uninsulated planes forbade exploring the surface of Nova Terra. What lay beyond their boundaries no one knew. The unusual penetrating power of Nova Terra’s lightning had thus far been too much for Arkadia’s learned scientist, Professor Mapeswitch. His failure to perfect suitable insulation for their planes had kept them well within the insulated air close to home.

  Their gardens and livestock, carefully brought from Earth, kept them well fed. There had been few worries. As the years went by only the more curious speculated about what lay beyond Arkadian boundaries. Life was too peaceful and happy to ponder much over such things,

  But one day seven of their huge lightning rods thundered to the ground, demolished. Caretakers at the
shafts had vanished. Farmers nearby told of seeing a giant aircraft disappear in the clouds following the crash.

  Mai Mandark, II was assigned command of a company detailed to guard the remaining shafts. Fighting planes patrolled within the insulated bound

  Tonight Mai and Rador had been far afield with a cosmic ray miner-alogiflector seeking more of the precious Nova metal to replace the fallen shafts, for Nova metal could not be re-smelted or re-cast a second time. As usual their search was fruitless. They were returning toward Arkadia when the mystery ship disappeared in the black clouds above Lightning Shaft 13.

  “They’re gone, Mai,” said Rador as they reached the dark lightning rod outpost. “Vanished, like the others!” Old Rador’s voice was tense and weary.

  “Look here, Rador!” Mai was down, his face close to the ground. Tracks of the guards showed plainly in the soft powdered glass.

  “Great Galaxies, boy, it can’t be!” exclaimed Rador, kneeling down, “All these footprints just stop—in the middle of smooth, flat ground! That can mean only one thing —”

  “Right!” snapped Mai, grimly. “It means that Major Roto, Professor Mapeswitch and the other men were snatched into space!”

  Mai felt a helplessness for a moment, standing there in the ever-moving shadow of the giant lightning shaft. He came from a fighting race. But how could he fight against a power that could crumble ships, demolish lightning rods, scoop up his soldiers into space?

  Across the plain to the southeast Mai could see the twinkling lights of Arkadia.

  When all the lightning shafts had crumbled, this last little group of Earth-race descendants would vanish forever.

  Mai heard Rador speak softly.

  “In ten years, Mai, our people, and you and I, will all be gone — regardless of the mystery ship.”

  Mai looked up, puzzled, as the old engineer continued.

  “I’ve never told our people,” he said, “but my continued analyses have shown me that the metal composing the lightning rods is gradually disintegrating. The tremendous electrical charges that flow down the shafts from the supercharged atmosphere are slowly carrying away ions and changing the atomic structure within the metallic molecules. My calculations give the Arkians only ten years before their lightning shafts become entirely useless.”

  At these last words Mai’s hand shot out, jerked Rador back into the protecting shade of the great shaft. On the ground ahead the moonlight was suddenly blotted.

  Toward them across the plain moved a gigantic shadow.

  “It’s coming back!” whispered the young Arkian, peering into the sky.

  Motionless as the shaft above them, the two men stood watching the sombre hulk of a huge airship moving toward them.

  “It’s coming back to finish the job!” said Rador tensely. “They’re after this shaft! And if they destroy it we’ll be killed by the lightning!”

  Mai’s thoughts were racing. A grim, daring idea had seized his fancy.

  “The lightning shafts on all sides of this one have been crumbled—remember, Rador?” he reminded. The old scientist nodded as Mai snapped out his next words.

  “Less than a mile away on either side are Shafts Eleven and Fifteen. We have a slight chance to reach those zones of safety before this shaft goes down. If we set out in opposite directions, one of us might make it!”

  “You’re right, Mai,” agreed Rador, “but if only one of us gets through, I hope it’s you. I’m getting too old—”

  “The ship’s dropping lower,” said Mai, “we’d better be off. You hoof it for Eleven — I’ll take the other.”

  For a long second the two Arkians gripped hands. Then Mai turned and ran, loosening his gun in its holster. Rador set out in the opposite direction.

  One hundred yards away Mai halted behind a massive outcropping of emerald glass that jutted its grotesque head out of the purple plain. He scrambled to the top of the jagged crag.

  The craft was nosing down toward the middle of the lightning shaft. Mai knew that in a few seconds the shaft would crumble. One hundred thousand tons of metal would collapse in a thundering heap. The surrounding air and ground, no longer insulated, would be open targets for the lightning blasts that would follow. He and Rador would be snuffed out in no time.

  Mai pulled the gun at his hip. Steadily, he poured a solid stream of electronic ether rays into the giant hulk of the mystery vessel. He hoped only to delay it and give Rador time to reach the safety of the next lightning shaft.

  His other idea was part of a bold plan.

  The youth sheathed his gun and smiled. The bow of the craft was turning slowly in his direction. Then things began happening uncannily fast!

  Lightning Shaft 13 began to crumble from the top downward, like a melting candle speeded up a thousand times! With a deafening, groundshaking roar the once solid shaft settled down on itself to form a truncated cone of metallic dust.

  The outpost buildings were completely buried.

  The concussion hurled Mai off his glass perch, spun him over the ground. For a second he lay there in the deathly, ominous silence, gasping, trying to breathe.

  The first blast of lightning struck one hundred feet from Mai on the pinnacle where he had been standing. It sent whistling boulders of glass and jagged crags of silicate shrieking by his ears. When the frightened air rushed in to fill the gaping hole in its side, Mai was sucked along the ground, rolling and bouncing like a piece of cork in a cyclone. The thunder pounded at his ears, shook him until his bones rattled.

  Two more searing blasts cracked in rapid succession, fifty feet away. And then Mai opened his eyes to see the ground speeding away from him a hundred feet below.

  Dully he realized his body was hurtling upward blasted high by the uprushing cyclone of air. In a second he would be starting down again. Mai closed his eyes.

  For horrible seconds he waited. Would his body never stop in that dizzy rise? If he could only lose consciousness! That would make the descent much easier. He relaxed and, unwittingly, let his father’s gun slip from his fingers.

  Suddenly Mai knew he was either dead or dreaming, that he would never start downward. A tremendous unseen force had caught him in mid-air, settled down over his limbs. Like an electric shock, it enveloped his entire body. He was being pulled into space! So his plan had worked. The mystery ship had spotted him — and he was “vanishing,” as his friends had vanished.

  Mai opened his eyes to see utter darkness. He felt extreme cold, and then he shot out of the dark void into a dimly lighted chamber.

  Something slammed beneath him and he once more stood upon his own feet.

  The vacuous eye of a gigantic rifle stared at him out of the gloom—a foot from his face!

  CHAPTER II - Invisible Power

  Instictively Mai ducked, leaped to one side; but the cavernous muzzle clung to him like a shadow. He thought he saw a ghostly face in the slit of the domed gun-turret. Again that unseen force shackled his muscles. It thrust him irresistibly into a narrow doorway through a long cylindrical corridor of gleaming copper walls. Tiny openings in the tunnel-like walls gave Mai the feeling that unseen eyes were watching him. Once he shot a glance over his shoulder. The gun was still on him.

  At the far end of the long corridor the blank wall slid noiselessly upward. Beyond was gloomy darkness. Moving forms sprang into the shadows.

  A sudden increase of the force at his back sent Mai sprawling into the room. The heavy door dropped behind him. He was left alone in a deathly black silence.

  Shakily, out of the darkness, came a familiar voice.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Professor!” Mai exclaimed.

  “Great Scott, Captain Mandark! Have they got you too?”

  “They’ve got me all right,” replied Mai. “Whoever they are!”

  “Hm-m,” commented Professor Mapeswitch. “Extremely interesting.” The room suddenly glowed with a soft weak light.

  Arkadia’s learned Professor Mapeswitch, thin, bald, stooped, had s
truck a match. The entire crew of the wrecked lightning rod outpost was there — fifteen of them.

  “Where’s Roto?” exclaimed Mai.

  “We think another craft got him, Captain,” replied thin, haggard little Corporal McWeety. “Two mystery ships were circling above our outpost.” Mai noted that all the guards had been disarmed.

  “Have you seen our captors yet?” he asked.

  The professor frowned, scratched his bald head with an index finger.

  “We have been captured and disarmed without once seeing a single living creature other than ourselves. Extremely interesting.”

  “I could have sworn I saw a face in that gun-turret,” exclaimed Mai.

  “There’s mystery and evil aboard this ship, Captain,” whispered the little corporal, “and I don’t like it!”

  “I think that rifle we were caught with,” said Mai, “is a powerful high frequency charger and electromagnet combined. In some remarkable way it is able to attract living flesh like a magnet attracts metal.”

  “You’re right, my boy!” exclaimed the professor. Lighting another match and adjusting his glasses he drew a crude diagram in the dust on the floor. “With a rifle here, consisting of two condensers, it would be possible, in the supercharged atmosphere of Nova Terra, to aim a positive electrical charge at a body on the ground. This positive charge could be of very high frequency and high voltage, but of low enough amperage so as not to electrocute. With the living body on the ground thus charged positively, the strong negative charge in the other condenser on the rifle would simply pull the living flesh up to it.”

  “That must be it,” agreed Mai. “And the whole set-up depends on the remarkable harnessing of Nova Terra’s lighting.”

  After hours of waiting in that tiny windowless room the heavy door opened. Instantly the men were on their feet.

  Once more the invisible magnetic force shackled them. They were forced through dark tubular passages, across great rooms housing the intricate control mechanism of the ship.