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                            Doctor Universe

                            By CARL JACOBI

               Grannie Annie, who wrote science fiction
            under the nom de plume of Annabella C. Flowers,
                had stumbled onto a murderous plot more
             hair-raising than any she had ever concocted.
             And the danger from the villain of the piece
          didn't worry her--I was the guy he was shooting at.

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                       Planet Stories Fall 1944.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


I was killing an hour in the billiard room of the _Spacemen's Club_
in Swamp City when the Venusian bellboy came and tapped me on the
shoulder.

"Beg pardon, thir," he said with his racial lisp, "thereth thome one to
thee you in the main lounge." His eyes rolled as he added, "A lady!"

A woman here...! The _Spacemen's_ was a sanctuary, a rest club where
in-coming pilots and crewmen could relax before leaving for another
voyage. The rule that no females could pass its portals was strictly
enforced.

I followed the bellhop down the long corridor that led to the main
lounge. At the threshold I jerked to a halt and stared incredulously.

Grannie Annie!

There she stood before a frantically gesticulating desk clerk, leaning
on her faded green umbrella. A little wisp of a woman clad in a
voluminous black dress with one of those doily-like caps on her head,
tied by a ribbon under her chin. Her high-topped button shoes were
planted firmly on the varpla carpet and her wrinkled face was set in
calm defiance.

I barged across the lounge and seized her hand. "Grannie Annie! I
haven't seen you in two years."

"Hi, Billy-boy," she greeted calmly. "Will you please tell this
fish-face to shut up."

The desk clerk went white. "Mithter Trenwith, if thith lady ith a
friend of yourth, you'll have to take her away. It'th abtholutely
againth the ruleth...."

"Okay, okay," I grinned. "Look, we'll go into the grille. There's no
one there at this hour."

In the grille an equally astonished waiter served us--me a lime rickey
and Grannie Annie her usual whisky sour--I waited until she had tossed
the drink off at a gulp before I set off a chain of questions:

"What the devil are you doing on Venus? Don't you know women aren't
allowed in the _Spacemen's_? What happened to the book you were
writing?"

"Hold it, Billy-boy." Laughingly she threw up both hands. "Sure, I knew
this place had some antiquated laws. Pure fiddle-faddle, that's what
they are. Anyway, I've been thrown out of better places."

She hadn't changed. To her publishers and her readers she might be
Annabella C. Flowers, author of a long list of science fiction novels.
But to me she was still Grannie Annie, as old-fashioned as last year's
hat, as modern as an atomic motor. She had probably written more drivel
in the name of science fiction than anyone alive.

But the public loved it. They ate up her stories, and they clamored for
more. Her annual income totaled into six figures, and her publishers
sat back and massaged their digits, watching their earnings mount.

One thing you had to admit about her books. They may have been dime
novels, but they weren't synthetic. If Annabella C. Flowers wrote a
novel, and the locale was the desert of Mars, she packed her carpet bag
and hopped a liner for Craterville. If she cooked up a feud between two
expeditions on Callisto, she went to Callisto.

She was the most completely delightful crackpot I had ever known.

"What happened to _Guns for Ganymede_?" I asked. "That was the title of
your last, wasn't it?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Grannie spilled a few shreds of Martian tobacco onto a paper and deftly
rolled herself a cigarette.

"It wasn't _Guns_, it was _Pistols_; and it wasn't _Ganymede_, it was
_Pluto_."

I grinned. "All complete, I'll bet, with threats against the universe
and beautiful Earth heroines dragged in by the hair."

"What else is there in science fiction?" she demanded. "You can't have
your hero fall in love with a bug-eyed monster."

Up on the wall a clock chimed the hour. The old woman jerked to her
feet.

"I almost forgot, Billy-boy. I'm due at the _Satellite_ Theater in ten
minutes. Come on, you're going with me."

Before I realized it, I was following her through the lounge and out to
the jetty front. Grannie Annie hailed a hydrocar. Five minutes later we
drew up before the big doors of the _Satellite_.

They don't go in for style in Swamp City. A theater to the grizzled
colonials on this side of the planet meant a shack on stilts over the
muck, _zilcon_ wood seats and dingy atobide lamps. But the place was
packed with miners, freight-crew-men--all the tide and wash of humanity
that made Swamp City the frontier post it is.

In front was a big sign. It read:

                            ONE NIGHT ONLY
                        DOCTOR UNIVERSE AND HIS
                             NINE GENIUSES
                        THE QUESTION PROGRAM OF
                              THE SYSTEM

As we strode down the aisle a mangy-looking Venusian began to pound a
tinpan piano in the pit. Grannie Annie pushed me into a seat in the
front row.

"Sit here," she said. "I'm sorry about all this rush, but I'm one of
the players in this shindig. As soon as the show is over, we'll go
somewhere and talk." She minced lightly down the aisle, climbed the
stage steps and disappeared in the wings.

"That damned fossilized dynamo," I muttered. "She'll be the death of me
yet."

The piano struck a chord in G, and the curtain went rattling up. On the
stage four Earthmen, two Martians, two Venusians, and one Mercurian
sat on an upraised dais. That is to say, eight of them sat. The
Mercurian, a huge lump of granite-like flesh, sprawled there, palpably
uncomfortable. On the right were nine visi sets, each with its new
improved pantascope panel and switchboard. Before each set stood an
Earthman operator.

       *       *       *       *       *

A tall man, clad in a claw-hammer coat, came out from the wings and
advanced to the footlights.

"People of Swamp City," he said, bowing, "permit me to introduce
myself. I am Doctor Universe, and these are my nine experts."

There was a roar of applause from the _Satellite_ audience. When it had
subsided, the man continued:

"As most of you are familiar with our program, it will be unnecessary
to give any advance explanation. I will only say that on this stage are
nine visi sets, each tuned to one of the nine planets. At transmitting
sets all over these planets listeners will appear and voice questions.
These questions, my nine experts will endeavor to answer. For every
question missed, the sender will receive a check for one thousand
_planetoles_.

"One thing more. As usual we have with us a guest star who will match
her wits with the experts. May I present that renowned writer of
science fiction, Annabella C. Flowers."

From the left wing Grannie Annie appeared. She bowed and took her place
on the dais.

The Doctor's program began. The operator of the Earth visi twisted his
dials and nodded. Blue light flickered on the pantascope panel to
coalesce slowly into the face of a red-haired man. Sharp and dear his
voice echoed through the theater:

"_Who was the first Earthman to titter the sunward side of Mercury?_"

Doctor Universe nodded and turned to Grannie Annie who had raised her
hand. She said quietly:

"Charles Zanner in the year 2012. In a specially constructed
tracto-car."

And so it went. Questions from Mars, from Earth, from Saturn flowed in
the visi sets. Isolated miners on Jupiter, dancers in swank Plutonian
cafes strove to stump the experts. With Doctor Universe offering
bantering side play, the experts gave their answers. When they failed,
or when the Truthicator flashed a red light, he announced the name of
the winner.

It grew a little tiresome after a while and I wondered why Grannie had
brought me here. And then I began to notice things.

The audience in the _Satellite_ seemed to have lost much of its
original fervor. They applauded as before but they did so only at the
signal of Doctor Universe. The spell created by the man was complete.

Pompous and erect, he strode back and forth across the stage like a
general surveying his army. His black eyes gleamed, and his thin lips
were turned in a smile of satisfaction.

When the last question had been answered I joined the exit-moving
crowd. It was outside under the street marquee that a strange incident
occurred.

A yellow-faced Kagor from the upper Martian desert country shuffled by,
dragging his cumbersome third leg behind him. Kagors, of course, had an
unpleasant history of persecution since the early colonization days of
the Red Planet. But the thing that happened there was a throw back to
an earlier era.

Someone shouted, "Yah, yellow-face! Down with all Kagors!" As one
man the crowd took up the cry and surged forward. The helpless Kagor
was seized and flung to the pavement. A knife appeared from nowhere,
snipped the Martian's single lock of hair. A booted foot bludgeoned
into his mouth.

Moments later an official hydrocar roared up and a dozen I.P. men
rushed out and scattered the crowd. But a few stragglers lingered to
shout derisive epithets.

Grannie Annie came out from behind the box office then. She took my arm
and led me around a corner and through a doorway under a sign that read
THE JET. Inside was a deep room with booths along one wall. The place
was all but deserted.

In a booth well toward the rear the old lady surveyed me with sober
eyes.

"Billy-boy, did you see the way that crowd acted?"

I nodded. "As disgraceful an exhibition as I've ever seen. The I.P. men
ought to clamp down."

"The I.P. men aren't strong enough."

She said it quietly, but there was a glitter in her eyes and a harsh
line about her usually smiling lips.

"What do you mean?"

       *       *       *       *       *

For a moment the old lady sat there in silence; then she leaned back,
closed her eyes, and I knew there was a story coming.

"My last book, _Death In The Atom_, hit the stands last January,"
she began. "When it was finished I had planned to take a six months'
vacation, but those fool publishers of mine insisted I do a sequel.
Well, I'd used Mars and Pluto and Ganymede as settings for novels, so
for this one I decided on Venus. I went to Venus City, and I spent six
weeks in-country. I got some swell background material, and I met Ezra
Karn...."

"Who?" I interrupted.

"An old prospector who lives out in the deep marsh on the outskirts of
Varsoom country. To make a long story short, I got him talking about
his adventures, and he told me plenty."

The old woman paused. "Did you ever hear of the Green Flames?" she
asked abruptly.

I shook my head. "Some new kind of ..."

"It's not a new kind of anything. The Green Flame is a radio-active
rock once found on Mercury. The _Alpha_ rays of this rock are similar
to radium in that they consist of streams of material particles
projected at high speed. But the character of the _Gamma_ rays has
never been completely analyzed. Like those set up by radium, they are
electromagnetic pulsations, but they are also a strange combination of
_Beta_ or cathode rays with negatively charged electrons.

"When any form of life is exposed to these _Gamma_ rays from the Green
Flame rock, they produce in the creature's brain a certain lassitude
and lack of energy. As the period of exposure increases, this condition
develops into a sense of impotence and a desire for leadership or
guidance. Occasionally, as with the weak-willed, there is a spirit of
intolerance. The Green Flames might be said to be an inorganic opiate,
a thousand times more subtle and more powerful than any known drug."

I was sitting up now, hanging on to the woman's every word.

"Now in 2710, as you'd know if you studied your history, the three
planets of Earth, Venus, and Mars were under governmental bondage. The
cruel dictatorship of Vennox I was short-lived, but it lasted long
enough to endanger all civilized life.

"The archives tell us that one of the first acts of the overthrowing
government was to cast out all Green Flames, two of which Vennox had
ordered must be kept in each household. The effect on the people was
immediate. Representative government, individual enterprise, freedom
followed."

Grannie Annie lit a cigarette and flipped the match to the floor.

"To go back to my first trip to Venus. As I said, I met Ezra Karn, an
old prospector there in the marsh. Karn told me that on one of his
travels into the Varsoom district he had come upon the wreckage of
an old space ship. The hold of that space ship was packed with Green
Flames!"

If Grannie expected me to show surprise at that, she was disappointed.
I said, "So what?"

"So everything, Billy-boy. Do you realize what such a thing would mean
if it were true? Green Flames were supposedly destroyed on all planets
after the Vennox regime crashed. If a quantity of the rock were in
existence, and it fell into the wrong hands, there'd be trouble.

"Of course, I regarded Karn's story as a wild dream, but it made
corking good story material. I wrote it into a novel, and a week after
it was completed, the manuscript was stolen from my study back on
Earth."

"I see," I said as she lapsed into silence. "And now you've come to the
conclusion that the details of your story were true and that someone is
attempting to put your plot into action."

Grannie nodded. "Yes," she said. "That's exactly what I think."

I got my pipe out of my pocket, tamped Martian tobacco into the bowl
and laughed heartily. "The same old Flowers," I said. "Tell me, who's
your thief ... Doctor Universe?"

She regarded me evenly. "What makes you say that?"

I shrugged.

"The way the theater crowd acted. It all ties in."

The old woman shook her head. "No, this is a lot bigger than a simple
quiz program. The theater crowd was but a cross-section of what is
happening all over the System. There have been riots on Earth and Mars,
police officials murdered on Pluto and a demand that government by
representation be abolished on Jupiter. The time is ripe for a military
dictator to step in.

"And you can lay it all to the Green Flames. It seems incredible that a
single shipload of the ore could effect such a wide ranged area, but in
my opinion someone has found a means of making that quantity a thousand
times more potent and is transmiting it _en masse_."

If it had been anyone but Grannie Annie there before me, I would
have called her a fool. And then all at once I got an odd feeling of
approaching danger.

"Let's get out of here," I said, getting up.

_Zinnng-whack!_

"All right!"

On the mirror behind the bar a small circle with radiating cracks
appeared. On the booth wall a scant inch above Grannie's head the
fresco seemed to melt away suddenly.

A heat ray!

Grannie Annie leaped to her feet, grasped my arm and raced for the
door. Outside a driverless hydrocar stood with idling motors. The old
woman threw herself into the control seat, yanked me in after her and
threw over the starting stud.

An instant later we were plunging through the dark night.

       *       *       *       *       *

Six days after leaving Swamp City we reached Level Five, the last
outpost of firm ground. Ahead lay the inner marsh, stretching as far as
the eye could reach. Low islands projected at intervals from the thick
water. Mold balls, two feet across, drifted down from the slate-gray
sky like puffs of cotton.

We had traveled this far by _ganet_, the tough little two headed pack
animal of the Venus hinterland. Any form of plane or rocket would have
had its motor instantly destroyed, of course, by the magnetic force
belt that encircled the planet's equator. Now our drivers changed to
boatmen, and we loaded our supplies into three clumsy _jagua_ canoes.

It was around the camp fire that night that Grannie took me into her
confidence for the first time since we had left Swamp City.

"We're heading directly for Varsoom country," she said. "If we find
Ezra Karn so much the better. If we don't, we follow his directions to
the lost space ship. Our job is to find that ore and destroy it. You
see, I'm positive the Green Flames have never been removed from the
ship."

Sleep had never bothered me, yet that night I lay awake for hours
tossing restlessly. The thousand sounds of the blue marsh droned
steadily. And the news broadcast I had heard over the portable visi
just before retiring still lingered in my mind. To a casual observer
that broadcast would have meant little, a slight rebellion here, an
isolated crime there. But viewed from the perspective Grannie had
given me, everything dovetailed. The situation on Jupiter was swiftly
coming to a head. Not only had the people on that planet demanded that
representative government be abolished, but a forum was now being held
to find a leader who might take complete dictatorial control.

Outside a whisper-worm hissed softly. I got up and strode out of my
tent. For some time I stood there, lost in thought. Could I believe
Grannie's incredible story? Or was this another of her fantastic plots
which she had skilfully blended into a novel?

Abruptly I stiffened. The familiar drone of the marsh was gone. In its
place a ringing silence blanketed everything.

And then out in the gloom a darker shadow appeared, moving in
undulating sweeps toward the center of the camp. Fascinated, I watched
it advance and retreat, saw two hyalescent eyes swim out of the murk.
It charged, and with but a split second to act, I threw myself flat.
There was a rush of mighty wings as the thing swept over me. Sharp
talons raked my clothing. Again it came, and again I rolled swiftly,
missing the thing by the narrowest of margins.

From the tent opposite a gaunt figure clad in a familiar dress
appeared. Grannie gave a single warning:

"Stand still!"

The thing in the darkness turned like a cam on a rod and drove at us
again. This time the old woman's heat gun clicked, and a tracery of
purple flame shot outward. A horrible soul-chilling scream rent the
air. A moment later something huge and heavy scrabbled across the
ground and shot aloft.

[Illustration: _Grannie Annie fired with deliberate speed._]

I stood frozen as the diminuendo of its wild cries echoed back to me.

"In heaven's name, what was it?"

"Hunter-bird," Grannie said calmly. "A form of avian life found here
in the swamp. Harmless in its wild state, but when captured, it can be
trained to pursue a quarry until it kills. It has a single unit brain
and follows with a relentless purpose."

"Then that would mean...?"

"That it was sent by our enemy, the same enemy that shot at us in the
cafe in Swamp City. Exactly." Grannie Annie halted at the door of her
tent and faced me with earnest eyes. "Billy-boy, our every move is
being watched. From now on it's the survival of the fittest."

       *       *       *       *       *

The following day was our seventh in the swamp. The water here
resembled a vast mosaic, striped and cross-striped with long winding
ribbons of yellowish substance that floated a few inches below the
surface. The mold balls coming into contact with the evonium water of
the swamp had undergone a chemical change and evolved into a cohesive
multi-celled marine life that lived and died within a space of hours.
The Venusians paddled with extreme care. Had one of them dipped his
hand into one of those yellow streaks, he would have been devoured in
a matter of seconds.

At high noon by my Earth watch I sighted a low white structure on one
of the distant islands. Moments later we made a landing at a rude
jetty, and Grannie Annie was introducing me to Ezra Karn.

He was not as old a man as I had expected, but he was ragged and
unkempt with iron gray hair falling almost to his shoulders. He was
dressed in _varpa_ cloth, the Venus equivalent of buckskin, and on his
head was an enormous flop-brimmed hat.

"Glad to meet you," he said, shaking my hand. "Any friend of Miss
Flowers is a friend of mine." He ushered us down the catwalk into his
hut.

The place was a two room affair, small but comfortable. The latest
type of visi set in one corner showed that Karn was not isolated from
civilization entirely.

Grannie Annie came to the point abruptly. When she had explained the
object of our trip, the prospector became thoughtful.

"Green Flames, eh?" he repeated slowly. "Well yes, I suppose I could
find that space ship again. That is, if I wanted to."

"What do you mean?" Grannie paused in the act of rolling herself a
cigarette. "You know where it is, don't you?"

"Ye-s," Karn nodded. "But like I told you before, that ship lies in
Varsoom country, and that isn't exactly a summer vacation spot."

"What are the Varsoom?" I asked. "A native tribe?"

Karn shook his head. "They're a form of life that's never been seen by
Earthmen. Strictly speaking, they're no more than a form of energy."

"Dangerous?"

"Yes and no. Only man I ever heard of who escaped their country outside
of myself was the explorer, Darthier, three years ago. I got away
because I was alone, and they didn't notice me, and Darthier escaped
because he made 'em laugh."

"Laugh?" A scowl crossed Grannie's face.

"That's right," Karn said. "The Varsoom have a strange nervous reaction
that's manifested by laughing. But just what it is that makes them
laugh, I don't know."

Food supplies and fresh drinking water were replenished at the hut.
Several mold guns were borrowed from the prospector's supply to arm the
Venusians. And then as we were about to leave, Karn suddenly turned.

"The Doctor Universe program," he said. "I ain't missed one in months.
You gotta wait 'til I hear it."

Grannie frowned in annoyance, but the prospector was adamant. He
flipped a stud, twisted a dial and a moment later was leaning back in a
chair, listening with avid interest.

It was the same show I had witnessed back in Swamp City. Once again I
heard questions filter in from the far outposts of the System. Once
again I saw the commanding figure of the quiz master as he strode back
and forth across the stage. And as I sat there, looking into the visi
screen, a curious numbing drowsiness seemed to steal over me and lead
my thoughts far away.

       *       *       *       *       *

Half an hour later we headed into the unknown. The Venusian boatmen
were ill-at-ease now and jabbered among themselves constantly. We
camped that night on a miserable little island where insects swarmed
about us in hordes. The next day an indefinable wave of weariness and
despondency beset our entire party. I caught myself musing over the
futility of the venture. Only the pleadings of Grannie Annie kept me
from turning back. On the morrow I realized the truth in her warning,
that all of us had been exposed to the insidious radiations.

After that I lost track of time. Day after day of incessant rain ... of
steaming swamp.... But at length we reached firm ground and began our
advance on foot.

It was Karn who first sighted the ship. Striding in the lead, he
suddenly halted at the top of a hill and leveled his arm before him.
There it lay, a huge cigar-shaped vessel of blackened _arelium_ steel,
half buried in the swamp soil.

"What's that thing on top?" Karn demanded, puzzled.

A rectangular metal envelope had been constructed over the stern
quarters of the ship. Above this structure were three tall masts. And
suspended between them was a network of copper wire studded with white
insulators.

Grannie gazed a long moment through binoculars. "Billy-boy, take three
Venusians and head across the knoll," she ordered. "Ezra and I will
circle in from the west. Fire a gun if you strike trouble."

But we found no trouble. The scene before us lay steeped in silence.
Moments later our two parties converged at the base of the great ship.

A metal ladder extended from the envelope down the side of the vessel.
Mid-way we could see a circular hatch-like door.

"Up we go, Billy-boy." Heat gun in readiness, Grannie Annie began to
climb slowly.

The silence remained absolute. We reached the door and pulled it open.
There was no sign of life.

"Somebody's gone to a lot of trouble here," Ezra Karn observed.

Somebody had. Before us stretched a narrow corridor, flanked on the
left side by a wall of impenetrable stepto glass. The corridor was
bare of furnishings. But beyond the glass, revealed to us in mocking
clarity, was a high panel, studded with dials and gauges. Even as we
looked, we could see liquid pulse in glass tubes, indicator needles
swing slowly to and fro.

Grannie nodded. "Some kind of a broadcasting unit. The Green Flames in
the lower hold are probably exposed to a _tholpane_ plate and their
radiations stepped up by an electro-phosicalic process."

Karn raised the butt of his pistol and brought it crashing against the
glass wall. His arm jumped in recoil, but the glass remained intact.

"You'll never do it that way," Grannie said. "Nothing short of an
atomic blast will shatter that wall. It explains why there are no
guards here. The mechanism is entirely self-operating. Let's see if the
Green Flames are more accessible."

In the lower hold disappointment again confronted us. Visible in
the feeble shafts of daylight that filtered through cracks in the
vessel's hull were tiers of rectangular ingots of green iridescent ore.
Suspended by insulators from the ceiling over them was a thick metal
plate.

But between was a barrier. A wall of impenetrable stepto glass.

Grannie stamped her foot. "It's maddening," she said. "Here we are at
the crux of the whole matter, and we're powerless to make a single
move."

       *       *       *       *       *

Outside the day was beginning to wane. The Venusians, apparently
unawed by the presence of the space ship, had already started a fire
and erected the tents. We left the vessel to find a spell of brooding
desolation heavy over the improvised camp. And the evening meal this
time was a gloomy affair. When it was finished, Ezra Karn lit his pipe
and switched on the portable visi set. A moment later the silence of
the march was broken by the opening fanfare of the Doctor Universe
program.

"Great stuff," Karn commented. "I sent in a couple of questions once,
but I never did win nothin'. This Doctor Universe is a great guy. Ought
to make him king or somethin'."

For a moment none of us made reply. Then suddenly Grannie Annie leaped
to her feet.

"Say that again!" she cried.

The old prospector looked startled. "Why, I only said they ought to
make this Doctor Universe the big boss and...."

"That's it!" Grannie paced ten yards off into the gathering darkness
and returned quickly. "Billy-boy, you were right. The man behind this
_is_ Doctor Universe. It was he who stole my manuscript and devised a
method to amplify the radiations of the Green Flames in the freighter's
hold. He lit on a sure-fire plan to broadcast those radiations in such
a way that millions of persons would be exposed to them simultaneously.
Don't you see?"

I didn't see, but Grannie hurried on.

"What better way to expose civilized life to the Green Flames
radiations than when the people are in a state of relaxation. The
Doctor Universe quiz program. The whole System tuned in on them, but
they were only a blind to cover up the transmission of the radiations
from the ore. Their power must have been amplified a thousandfold, and
their wave-length must lie somewhere between light and the supersonic
scale in that transition band which so far has defied exploration...."

"But with what motive?" I demanded. "Why should...?"

"Power!" the old woman answered. "The old thirst for dictatorial
control of the masses. By presenting himself as an intellectual genius,
Doctor Universe utilized a bizarre method to intrench himself in the
minds of the people. Oh, don't you see, Billy-boy? The Green Flames'
radiations spell doom to freedom, individual liberty."

I sat there stupidly, wondering if this all were some wild dream.

And then, as I looked across at Grannie Annie, the vague light over the
tents seemed to shift a little, as if one layer of the atmosphere had
dropped away to be replaced by another.

There it was again, a definite movement in the air. Somehow I got the
impression I was looking around that space rather than through it. And
simultaneously Ezra Karn uttered a howl of pain. An instant later the
old prospector was rolling over and over, threshing his arms wildly.

An invisible sledge hammer descended on my shoulder. The blow was
followed by another and another. Heavy unseen hands held me down.
Opposite me Grannie Annie and the Venusians were suffering similar
punishment, the latter screaming in pain and bewilderment.

"It's the Varsoom!" Ezra Karn yelled. "We've got to make 'em laugh. Our
only escape is to make 'em laugh!"

He struggled to his feet and began leaping wildly around the camp fire.
Abruptly his foot caught on a log protruding from the fire; he tripped
and fell headlong into a mass of hot coals and ashes. Like a jumping
jack he was on his feet again, clawing dirt and soot from his eyes.

Out of the empty space about us there came a sudden hush. The unseen
blows ceased in mid-career. And then the silence was rent by wild
laughter. Peal after peal of mirthful yells pounded against our ears.
For many moments it continued; then it died away, and everything was
peaceful once more.

Grannie Annie picked herself up slowly. "That was close," she said. "I
wouldn't want to go through that again."

Ezra Karn nursed an ugly welt under one eye. "Those Varsoom got a funny
sense of humor," he growled.

       *       *       *       *       *

Inside the freighter's narrow corridor Grannie faced me with eyes
filled with excitement.

"Billy-boy," she said, "we've got two problems now. We've got to stop
Doctor Universe, and we've got to find a way of getting out of here.
Right now we're nicely bottled up."

As if in answer to her words the visi set revealed the face of the quiz
master on the screen. He was saying:

"_Remember tomorrow at this same hour I will have a message of
unparalleled importance for the people of the nine planets. Tomorrow
night I urge you, I command you, to tune in._"

With a whistling intake of breath the old woman turned to one of the
Venusians.

"Bring all our equipment in here," she ordered. "Hurry!"

She untied the ribbon under her chin and took off her cap. She rolled
up her sleeves, and as the Venusians came marching into the space ship
with bundles of equipment, she fell to work.

Silently Ezra Karn and I watched her. First she completely dismantled
the visi set, put it together again with an entirely altered hookup.
Next she unrolled a coil of flexible copper mesh which we had brought
along as a protective electrical screening against the marsh insects.
She fastened rubberite suction cups to this mesh at intervals of every
twelve inches or more, carried it down to the freighter's hold and
fastened it securely against the stepto glass wall.

Trailing a three-ply conduit up from the hold to the corridor she
selected an induction coil, several Micro-Wellman tubes and a quantity
of wire from a box of spare parts. Dexterously her fingers moved in and
out, fashioning a complicated and curious piece of apparatus.

At length she finished.

"It's pretty hay-wire," she said, "but I think it will work. Now I'll
tell you what I'm going to do. When Doctor Universe broadcasts tomorrow
night, he's going to announce that he has set himself up as supreme
dictator. He'll have the Green Flame radiations coming from this ship
under full power. I'm going to insert into his broadcast--the laughing
of the Varsoom!"

"You're going to what?"

"Broadcast the mass laughter from those invisible creatures out there.
Visualize it, Billy-boy! At the dramatic moment when Doctor Universe
makes his plea for System-wide power, he will be accompanied by wild
peals of laughter. The whole broadcast will be turned into a burlesque."

"How you going to make 'em laugh?" interrupted Karn.

"We must think of a way," Grannie replied soberly.

I, for one, am glad that no representative of the Interstellar
Psychiatry Society witnessed our antics during the early hours of that
morning and on into the long reaches of the afternoon, as we vainly
tried to provoke the laughter of the Varsoom. All to no avail. Utter
silence greeted our efforts. And the time was growing close to the
scheduled Doctor Universe program.

Ezra Karn wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. "Maybe we've got
to attract their attention first," he suggested. "Miss Flowers, why
don't you go up on the roof and read to 'em? Read 'em something from
one of your books, if you've got one along. That ought to make 'em sit
up and take notice."

For a moment the old woman gazed at him in silence. Then she got to her
feet quickly.

"I'll do it," she said. "I'll read them the attack scene from _Murder
On A Space Liner_."

       *       *       *       *       *

It didn't make sense, of course. But nothing made sense in this mad
venture. Grannie Annie opened her duffel bag and drew out a copy of
her most popular book. With the volume under her arm, she mounted the
ladder to the top of the envelope. Ezra Karn rigged up a radite search
lamp, and a moment later the old woman stood in the center of a circle
of white radiance.

Karn gripped my arm. "This is it," he said tensely. "If this fails ..."

His voice clipped off as Grannie began to read. She read slowly
at first, then intoned the words and sentences faster and more
dramatically.

And out in the swamp a vast hush fell as if unseen ears were listening.

"... _the space liner was over on her beam ends now as another shot
from the raider's vessel crashed into the stern hold. In the control
cabin Cuthbert Strong twisted vainly at his bonds as he sought to free
himself. Opposite him, lashed by strong Martian vinta ropes to the
gravascope, Louise Belmont sobbed softly, wringing her hands in mute
appeal._"

A restless rustling sounded out in the marsh, as if hundreds of bodies
were surging closer. Karn nodded in awe.

"She's got 'em!" he whispered. "Listen. They're eatin' up every word."

I heard it then, and I thought I must be dreaming. From somewhere out
in the swamp a sound rose into the thick air. A high-pitched chuckle,
it was. The chuckle came again. Now it was followed by another and
another. An instant later a wave of low subdued laughter rose into the
air.

Ezra Karn gulped. "Gripes!" he said. "They're laughing already.
_They're laughing at her book!_ And look, the old lady's gettin' sore."

Up on the roof of the envelope Grannie Annie halted her reading to
glare savagely out into the darkness.

The laughter was a roar now. It rose louder and louder, peal after peal
of mirthful yells and hysterical shouts. And for the first time in my
life, I saw Annabella C. Flowers mad. She stamped her foot; she shook
her fist at the unseen hordes out before her.

"Ignorant slap-happy fools!" she screamed. "You don't know good science
fiction when you hear it."

I turned to Karn and said quietly, "Turn on the visi set. Doctor
Universe should be broadcasting now. Tune your microphone to pull in
as much of that laughter as you can."

       *       *       *       *       *

It took three weeks to make the return trip to Swamp City. The Varsoom
followed us far beyond the frontier of their country like an unseen
army in the throes of laughing gas. Not until we reached Level Five did
the last chuckle fade into the distance.

All during that trek back, Grannie sat in the dugout, staring silently
out before her.

But when we reached Swamp City, the news was flung at us from all
sides. One newspaper headline accurately told the story: DOCTOR
UNIVERSE BID FOR SYSTEM DICTATORSHIP SQUELCHED BY RIDICULE OF UNSEEN
AUDIENCE. QUIZ MASTER NOW IN HANDS OF I.P. COUP FAILURE.

"Grannie," I said that night as we sat again in a rear booth of THE
JET, "what are you going to do now? Give up writing science fiction?"

She looked at me soberly, then broke into a smile.

"Just because some silly form of life that can't even be seen doesn't
appreciate it? I should say not. Right now I've got an idea for a swell
yarn about Mars. Want to come along while I dig up some background
material?"

I shook my head. "Not me," I said.

But I knew I would.