BEYOND LIGHT
By NELSON S. BOND
Venus was civilized ... so the Universe thought! But
deep in its midnight caverns ... beyond light, beyond
the wildest imaginings of an ordered System ... dwelt Horror.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1940.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
They stood in the Orestes' tiny observation turret, Mallory'sdefiant arm still tight about the slim and lovely girl, just exactlyas bull-voiced Captain Lane had found them. The shimmering reflectionof the planet Venus, only a few thousand miles ahead, bathed the trim,hard-jawed man and the softly pretty girl in a gentle glow, but itfailed to soothe the grizzled space ship skipper.
"What in hell does this mean?"
Mallory, remembering an old forgotten saying—something about a softanswer turning aside wrath—spoke rapidly. "Sorry if we gave you ashock, sir," he said. "But your daughter and I are engaged."
Few medical men would have guaranteed Space Captain Jonathan Lanea long life at that moment. His usually ruddy face was a violentmauve-scarlet, his eyes hot pin-points of anger, his lean, hard bodywas atremble with emotion.
"Engaged. Engaged!" He made a convulsive motion. "Did you sayengaged? To this inane young fool. You're talking nonsense. Go to yourcabin, girl."
Dorothy Lane sighed and looked hopefully up at Mallory.
Tim Mallory had forgotten his old and wise quotation.
"Why not engaged," he snapped. "What have you got against me?"
"What," growled Captain Lane. "He asks me what!"
He had a reason; one which he shared with all fond parents who haveever seen a beloved child slipping from their arms—jealousy. Jealousyand grief. Now his mind pounced on a substitute for the true reasonsthat he would not—could not—name.
"Well, for one thing," he said curtly, "you're not a spaceman. You'renothing but a blasted Earthlubber!"
Mallory grinned.
"You can hardly call me an Earthlubber, Captain. I spent two years onLuna, three on Mars; I'll be five or more on Venus—"
"Pah! Luna ... Mars ... Venus ... you're still a groundhog. I'll notsee my girl married to a money-grubbing businessman, Mallory."
"Tim's not a businessman," broke in Dorothy Lane. "He's an engineer."And anyone seeing her young fury would have smiled to note how muchalike she was to her bucko, space captain father.
"Engineer! Nonsense! Only an astrogation engineer deserves that title.He's a—a—What is it you do? Build ice-boxes?"
"I'm a calorimetrical engineer," Mallory answered stiffly. "My main jobis the designing and installation of air-conditioning plants wherethey are needed. On airless Luna, the cold Martian deserts, here onVenus. The simple truth is—"
"The simple truth is," stated the skipper savagely, "that you're agroundhog and a damned poor son-in-law for a spaceman. You being whatyou are, and Dorothy being what she is, I say the hell with you, Mr.Mallory! Perhaps I can't prevent your marriage. But there's one thing Ican do—and that is wash my hands of the two of you!"
He watched them, searching for signs of indecision in their eyes. Hefound, instead—and with a sense of sickening dread—only sorrow.Sorrow and pity and regret. And Tim Mallory said quietly, "I'm sorry,sir, that you feel that way about it."
Lane turned to his daughter.
"Dorothy?" he said hoarsely.
"I'm sorry, too." Her voice was gentle but determined. "Tim i