COSMIC TRAGEDY

                         By THOMAS S. GARDINER

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                            Comet March 41.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The big man with the iron grey hair stared morosely out the quartz
window and across the roofs of Greater New York. Far down the canyon
streets a few motor cars still ran and over the swinging aerial bridges
scattered pedestrians carefully wended their way. Their grotesque
figures with the heavy metal helmets that reminded the watching man
of the half-mythical sea monsters of the past or divers that used to
explore wrecks were far different from the jostling crowds that had
crowded the ways only a few short days ago. But that was before the
plague--the plague of the whispering death.

John Cortland, United Utilities Power magnate, sighed as he turned
from the quiet streets below. Somberly he regarded a tiny light beam
that came from the mirror of a galvanometer that trembled and danced
continually. He mused over the events of the past few days and wondered
at their meaning. Like a caged tiger he paced the metal lined room
waiting for the word that would spell success or disaster. Five days
before it had first appeared. A whispering, a singing and vibrating had
manifested itself. It was not local but appeared simultaneously all
over the earth. This whispering, as of elfish voices, was not annoying
at first; but it changed and alternated from a shrill whine back to the
eery murmuring that was first noticed. Young Cavendish at the Black
Laboratories had first tracked down the cause of the strange sounds--as
to its ultimate origin, that was still veiled in mystery.

At the end of the first day people had become nervous, at the end
of the second many were on the point of breaking, and then mankind
began to go insane. It was too much for their nervous systems and the
vibration seemed to affect the inner ear. Suddenly a well ordered
planet became a center of bedlam and chaos. Order could not be restored
because there was no one to handle affairs. If Dr. Hankins had not
discovered that iron would shield a wearer from the vibrations, mankind
would have been doomed. As it was only a few of the earth's heavy
population had been able to get the protecting helmets, and some had
lived in metal lined rooms. This discovery of the shielding effect of
iron led to the discovery that an electro-magnetic radiation between
infra-red and the short radio waves was acting on the ozone molecules
to set them into vibration. To cap it all the ionized Heavyside Layer
that protected the earth from the ultra-violet rays from the sun
was decomposing also. Thus to the plague of the Whispering Death was
added the threat of sun burn--a horrible burn that killed the skin and
ultimately the patient.

Savagely John Cortland kicked at his chair as he paced across the
room. There was one slender hope, a tiny thread that might save them
at last. Europe was prostrated, Asia in turmoil, and America in chaos.
All depended on the theory that the origin of the destructive vibration
that had set their ozone molecules into their dance of death had
intelligence back of it. The source of the radiation could not be found
at this time, but that was not needed. If they could use the incoming
radiation field as a carrier and heterodyne on it a super-imposed
vibration perhaps the source could be destroyed. Japan had furnished
the formula for the opposing field, and United Utilities Power the
energy. All the great power stations on the planet had been connected
up into a unit, all the tremendous kilowatts of energy had been flowing
for hours into those great reservoirs of bound energy, the artificial
space field invented by Minski of Stalingrad; and the great glass
globes at Schenectady had taken this power and had built up a voltage
unthinkable. The earth was going to hurl the thunderbolts of Jove.

For hours now he had restlessly awaited the signal to release this
energy in answer to the Whispering Death. For hours the stunned planet
had awaited the moment of decision. When he would release all this pent
up energy that Niagara, Victoria, and countless other water falls and
many great steam power plants that had been harnessed for man's use,
the carefully pre-calculated voltage would hurl an electron stream
at a target, the desired wave length would be omitted by the target,
and would automatically heterodyne itself on the invading field. This
frightful stream of energy would blast its generators into atoms, but
it must suffice. It was earth's dying stroke.

A bell tinkled and eagerly John Cortland rushed to answer. A quiet
voice said.

"We are ready. The potential has reached maximum."

The zero hour had arrived. Nervously John Cortland looked around the
room, at the familiar articles, and once out the window at the sunlight
and then back in.

He threw the switch.

       *       *       *       *       *

Phor, great leader of the once powerful Murians, gazed through the
matter shield across space to the planet hanging in the heavens. A
great green disk outlined in pearly light with green continents and
bluish-green seas pointed clearly to its nearness. The artificial
satellite that housed the observatory was circling this planet with
incredible velocity. This was just what they had been looking for, an
habitable planet with intelligent beings on it to aid them in their
problems. Long ages ago they had left their planet just before their
sun had become a nova and had exploded. Only a few of their peoples
had been saved and at the thought the great goggle eyes filmed in
sorrow. The great journey through space had tried them all, generations
had been born and some had died. By necessity they had kept their
population down until they could come to a system which might support
them. They not only needed a habitable planet but an intelligent people
on this planet so that they could rebuild their civilization quickly.
They were friendly and had no wish to harm the dwellers on this planet.

He did not entirely agree with the council that they should get into
communication with these peoples before landing. Phor thought they
were wasting time to encircle this beautiful world while attempting
to communicate with them. Their atmosphere analysis had shown them
small quantities of ozone and they were bombarding the ozone with
a controlled radiation. This caused them to act as receivers and
converters so that intelligent communication could be set up. It was
just like a radio without a receiving set. The ozone molecules did
it all just before decomposing. To one side he could see the huge
transformers and generators of the tiny moonlet's driving plant and
ray generators. The actual projector hung like a huge mushroom some
distance from the generating plant. The inclined buildings, due to the
high radius of curvature of the moonlet, looked as if they were falling
down all the time. Tiny figures of Murians ceaselessly worked about the
great machines that had cared for them for ages.

For days now they had been keeping up the barrage, hoping to get a
response. Their electro-telescopes had shown them that this planet
housed a people as intelligent as their own. Their great cities,
ships, and power stations made them long to be with the planet's
peoples. Together they could do wonders and here they were waiting
in space. Why this waste of time? Of course the Council was right in
believing that the sudden appearance of unfamiliar beings might start
an interplanetary war, and they could not fight a war. Their resources
were practically exhausted, their peoples few, and they had no desire
to cause trouble. They only wanted peace and a place to live. He
shrugged his scaly shoulders and cocked his vertical eye at the meters
covering the walls. No response to their messages yet. What could be
the matter? Of course the planet had a denser atmosphere than that they
had been accustomed to, but no matter. They could adjust themselves to
it. Strange about the messages though. They had been exactly within the
audibility range of the Murians and their antennae had no difficulty in
reading them. Of course the planet's men would receive them just the
same. Still the prediction of Tum-tak that the denser atmosphere would
increase the pitch of the ozone molecules had to be considered. However
this increased pitch should not harm the inhabitants. Their antennae
received them very well tests demonstrated. They had not tested them
for an effect on an inner ear structure, for they had never possessed
them. Their sound transmission had been direct.

If they did not get a response within a few more revolutions about the
planet they would be compelled to go down into the atmosphere. Wonder
what that unusual activity about the power plants and the great crystal
globes on one of the major continents meant anyway? Perhaps they were
preparing to answer their calls. But why so much power as they seemed
to be accumulating? What a peculiar field! That was unknown to them.
Why these peoples had pumped more power into that one field than the
Murians had developed for ages. Great peoples these inhabitants of the
third planet. Well, he would take one more glance at the great crystal
globes before turning over his place to his aide. There it was now.
The crystal globes were surrounded in crimson flame, they disappeared
in blinding incandescence, and horrors, simultaneously their projector
had been surrounded by a halo of radiation that arced across to the
generators. These exploded showering molten metal on the frightened
Murians. Phor did not see the full charge arrive, blasting the moonlet
into incandescence and destroying the last of the Murians.

[Illustration: "_The generators exploded showering molten metal on the
frightened Murians._"]

A great flare came into being in space between earth and moon. The
earthlings were greatly mystified at it, but the Whispering Death had
ceased. They were satisfied.