World in Reverse. John Russell Fearn

exhibited the same peculiarity as that seen from the window. They were definitely growing backwards. Another unusual thing was that there was nothing dead anywhere. No broken and decayed branches, no sear and yellow grass—not even a smashed blade of it at the edges of the Ultra’s enormous weight. Everywhere a newness, a fresh greenness—and a fantastic vision of branches everywhere shrinking with the slowness of a thread of mercury exposed to gradual cold.

      There was something else, too, decidedly less positive, which the four could all feel. It was a sensation of growing irritation—even anger—out of all proportion to the circumstances. None of them had anything to be angry about, even less to be angry with each other, and yet they were. Each and every one of them.

      Suddenly Abna halted. With a raised hand he made the others halt, too. They looked at him, unreasonable resentment smoldering in their eyes.

      “Well, what now?” the Amazon demanded. “What have we stopped for?”

      “To get ourselves straight,” Abna said, plainly having something of a struggle to master himself. “If the plants can grow backwards, then it is logical to assume that love—or at any rate, affection—can take the inverse form of hatred and irritation.”

      The others were silent, grasping at the truth of the statement.

      “You’re right,” the Amazon said, keeping a hold on herself. “Even so, it is going to be almost impossible to keep a constant grip on the emotions. We’lI have to think of another way of exploring.”

      “The trouble didn’t affect us inside the ship,” Viona commented. “If that’s any guide to what is happening.”

      “I believe it is,” Abna said, thinking. “The Ultra is always shielded by a repulsive shell, electrical in basis, which stops any dangerous radiations from penetrating. So this emotional disturbance is produced by electrical means. Something must be affecting our brains.”

      “In that case we want insulated helmets,” the Amazon said. “Hadn’t we better return to the Ultra and manufacture some?”

      Abna answered by striding back along the path they had come. Fortunately, they had traveled no great distance, otherwise the emotional repercussions might have been considerable. And once within the giant vessel they could sense the unbearable irritation relaxing as the mysterious influence, whatever it was, was cut off.

      The manufacture of the protective helmets, which fitted in the fashion of skullcaps, was a simple job with the workshop’s infinite resources—then, thus protected, they set off again through the jungle, and no hint of emotional disturbance touched them.

      Then suddenly the people of this fantastic world became visible—six of them, dressed in one-piece, lilac-colored tunics. They were human enough in appearance, though rather below average size. The curious thing about them was that they kept their distance from each other. Each one was separated from his neighbor by about six feet. Apparently they were not particularly hostile, for they carried no weapons.

      Emerging completely from the forest, they stood staring with round, big-pupiled eyes, an expression of infinite puzzlement on their faces.

      “Look harmless enough,” the Amazon murmured, taking her hand away from her proton gun. “See what you can do with them, Abna.”

      Abna raised a powerful hand. “Friends,” he said deliberately. “We come as friends.”

      The reply from one of them sounded a mere gabble of words, but in a questioning tone. Abna shook his head and sighed.

      “Language trouble,” he said, glancing at the Amazon. “We will only get over it by taking them to the Ultra and giving them a session with the Language Instructor.”

      “If they’ll come,” the Amazon answered doubtfully.

      It was worth a try, anyhow. By signs Abna showed what he wanted, pointing back along the trail, and after a moment the men of this queer planet seemed to comprehend. Quite willingly, but still maintaining their distance from each other, they began to follow as Abna led the way. And they continued to follow through the whole distance, pausing at last to look in silent awe upon the immense mass of the Ultra. Even then they did not converse with each other, maintaining their odd separation.

      Abna opened the airlock and led the way into the control room, after which he had some trouble in making the six men understand that they were not in any way in danger. Finally one of them seemed willing to take a chance, and cautiously entered the control room to look about him.

      From this beginning Abna went by easy stages, until he had completely secured the man’s confidence—then, with the other men peering in interestedly at the doorway, he went to work with the Language Instructor, a helmet controlled electrically which, when placed on the head, automatically transferred all the knowledge required concerning the English language, as well as the identities of the four Crusaders.

      In a matter of ten minutes the transference of knowledge was complete. Abna removed the helmet and smiled down on the little man as he rubbed his forehead in puzzled wonder.

      “Everything all right, my friend?” he inquired, smiling.

      “Yes. Yes, everything’s all right, even though I do not understand how I am able to speak your language. You are a worker of great scientific marvels.”

      “Do you wish me to transfer language to your comrades, so they may understand what is transpiring?”

      “That is unnecessary, Abna. I can tell them what you have to tell me. I am the leader. And none of us gives to the other any more than he can help.”

      Abna glanced at the Amazon. Both of them were vaguely puzzled by this remarkably selfish outlook.

      “From where do you come, Abna?” the little man asked. “We saw your machine cross our town and knew it had fallen somewhere, so we came to look for it. My name is Disi, of the planet Umnol.”

      “Greetings,” Abna replied gravely. “We come from a world so far away its distance would be meaningless to you. We are indeed from another space entirely, beyond this one—or perhaps that doesn’t make sense to you?”

      “It makes perfect sense,” Disi responded surprisingly. “We have a fair knowledge of science, though not of space travel. Indeed, we hope by science to save ourselves from disaster.”

      “Oh?” Immediately Abna was on the alert.

      “It is a long story,” the little man said, “but still one which you may care to hear. The wonder of a visit from beings of another world rouses me to a realization of my duties. Would you care to be my guests?”

      Abna, though he smiled at the man’s grandiloquent use of his new-found language, nodded politely.

      “We would be delighted to accompany you, Disi. There is a lot we wish to learn about you—and on the other hand, there is probably much that you wish to know about us.”