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  The SPHERE of SLEEP

  By CHESTER S. GEIER

  [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  [Sidenote: Brad Nelson had a perfect way to kill Big Tim without anydanger of being accused. Then his foot slipped and he was hurled into anunknown world.]

  "I've got to kill you, Big Tim. I've just got to kill you! I wantLaura--and you're standing in my way...."

  The thought beat urgently and continuously in Brad Nellon's mind. He wasabsorbed in it to the extent that the terrible Titanian gale whichroared beyond the shelter of his thermalloy suit was forgotten.

  Beside him, the object of his deadly thoughts strode unknowing. Hislarge, brown face crinkled in a grin of boyish enjoyment, Tim Austin wasfighting his way through the fierce drive of wind and snow. That grinwas always there. It was as much a part of him as his thick, tow hair,his gentle brown eyes and giant's frame. He was big and carefree, andlife ran rich and full in his veins.

  On Brad Nellon's face there was no enjoyment in the battle against thestorm. There was not even his usual resentment of the bitter cold andthe thick, white snow. His grey eyes were covered with a heavy film ofthought. He walked in a world where there was no storm save that of hisemotions, no reality outside of the imagery constructed by his brain.His stocky, powerful form plodded along mechanically.

  They moved in a world of snow and ice and screaming wind. Greatpinnacles and ridges, worn into fantastic shapes by the gale, towered onevery side. The curtain of snow occasionally lifted to reveal whitehills marching upon white hills, huge, glittering ice sheets, yawningchasms. And sometimes, farther in the distance, there would be awesomealien vistas.

  The dark thread of Brad Nellon's thoughts was broken abruptly by thesudden hum of his helmet earphones. He looked up with guilty quickness.Awareness of his companion, of the frigid hell of his Titaniansurroundings, rushed back in a flood.

  "On the watch, guy," the voice of Big Tim Austin cautioned. "We'realmost near Tower Point."

  Nellon moved his head in a jerky nod of understanding. His eyes probedmomentarily into those of the other, then dropped quickly back to thesnow. His earphones hummed again.

  "Say, Brad, anything wrong?"

  Nellon's face tautened in sudden panic. Again his eyes flashed toAustin. But he did not find in them the suspicion which he expected.There was only solicitous wonder.

  "I'm all right," Nellon answered. "Just a bit tired, that's all." Herealized that his voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. With masked gaze,he tried to learn its effect upon Austin.

  * * * * *

  But it was the content of his voice, not its tone which had registeredupon Big Tim. Nellon was startled by the unexpected flood of vehemencewhich poured in through his earphones.

  "That's the result of short rations, damn it! I knew it would get ussooner or later. We should've been on our way home long ago. The wholeexpedition has been a mess from beginning to end.

  "You shouldn't have come with me, Brad, when I volunteered to go afterold Ryska's stuff. But I thought it would be all right, because we'rethe only real he men among all those runty scientists. They're good fornothing but theory-spinning. They've thrown the expedition off schedulewith their mental butterfly chasing, and got the rest of us down onshort rations. And now, just as we're ready to leave at last, one ofthem has to remember that he left a pile of valuable equipment lyingaround somewhere in the snow."

  Austin was silent a while. When he spoke again, the old laughter-lightswere back twinkling in his eyes.

  "Oh, hell, Brad. I guess I'm just sore because I'm being kept away fromLaura every second the brain-gang holds us back. I can't wait to see heragain."

  "Yes, I know how it is," Nellon muttered.

  "Swell kid, isn't she?"

  "Yes." Nellon forced out the answer with difficulty.

  "Well, keep your eyes peeled for Tower Point up there. As soon as we'vegot old Ryska's junk, we'll all be heading for home."

  Nellon felt a weary sort of satisfaction. No, Big Tim didn't suspect.Big Tim didn't know that he was never going home again. Nellon hadaccompanied him on this final little trip to make sure of that.

  They were nearing the lower end of a long ravine. Here, the invisibletrail which they followed rose steeply and entered a narrow cleftbetween two huge slabs of ice. Then it dipped around the base of a greatpinnacle, which thrust like an undaunted finger into the rage of thestorm. This was the unique landmark which the expedition members hadchristened Tower Point.

  Tower Point served as a great, white warning signal. For the trailskirting it gave way abruptly from powdery snow to ice of mirrorslickness and slanted down sharply to a frozen lake which, unshelteredfrom the terrible wind, was polished constantly. One end of the lake hadonce been a falls, for here it ended, dropping down as sheerly as aprecipice for hundreds of feet.

  The way around Tower Point was one of the chief dangers, for there wasno telling where the snow ended and the ice began. A sudden slip meant aswift slide down and onto the frozen surface of the lake. There, wherethe wind swept in all its unbroken force, one would be blown helplesslyover the icy edge of the falls and dashed to death on the jagged iceteeth far below. Dick Fulsom, metallurgist, had already lost his lifethat way.

  And that was the way Nellon had planned Big Tim Austin would die. TowerPoint would mark the scene of another tragedy. Just the merest of shoveson that deadly borderline between ice and snow, and Big Tim would goflashing down to the lake and over the falls.

  * * * * *

  It was as simple as that. Nellon knew that nothing could ever be provedagainst him. Nor would the faintest thought of suspicion ever enter theminds of the others. For to them he and Big Tim had always been pals inthe truest, deepest sense of the word.

  No, he had nothing to fear. The only reckoning would be with hisconscience, but he did not allow that to trouble him now, for all hewanted to think of was Laura. Laura would be his. He knew that with agrim, satisfying certainty.

  Now they were starting up the difficult rise which led to Tower Point.Nellon slipped gradually behind, until he walked in Austin's rear. Hiseyes settled and fixed to the metal back of the other's suit.

  Very soon, now, it would be over. And then he would be on his way backhome to Earth. Laura would be there on Earth, waiting. Laura.

  Laura had silky chestnut hair that glinted with deep, red lights andfell in thick curls to her shoulders. Her eyes were very brown and leveland filled with dancing motes of laughter. Her nose was short and pert,and he remembered the tiny mole which lay like a speck of soot just nearthe left nostril. Her lips were a little too wide, but they were firmand full and could quirk up in a smile that was rich and warming. Herbody was small and sweet in the gentle swelling of its curves.

  But it was her smile which Nellon thought of now. A bitter pain shotthrough him as he recalled it. Though in his thoughts it was all forhim, he knew that its actual warmth was shed upon Tim Austin. Big Tim,who was so large and happy and tousled that he looked like an overgrownboy.

  It was together that they had met Laura. And it was together that theyhad dated her. But as the three-sided friendship deepened, theinevitable change had occurred.

  Strangely enough, it had been Nellon himself who brought it about. Ithad happened the evening he had had Laura with him alone for the firsttime. The spell of her charm had been concentrated upon him alone, andhe had lost his head to such an extent that he proposed.r />
  Laura had said no, and things had never been the same between themagain. Though Big Tim may have wondered at times, he hadn't beensensitive enough to realize the change. Nellon had, in fact, concealedhis pain and desire so effectively that Big Tim had never awakened tothe truth.

  * * * * *

  Nellon remembered almost the exact words Laura used that evening. Evennow the tones of her voice rang in his ears, gentle and sad.

  "I'm sorry, Brad," she had said. "Please try to understand. I really dolike you--an awful lot. You're like a rock, solid and strong, somethingto cling to. But Tim is like a big, clumsy playful dog--so terriblylovable. I can't help it. Really, Brad, if it wasn't for Tim, I'd neverhesitate to marry you."

  For two and a half years her words had drummed in his mind. "If itwasn't for Tim--"

  At first he had tried to ignore the early thoughts of murder which hadcrept insidiously into his brain. But they persisted, grew stronger, andbefore long he had been making actual plans. Several times the cold handof death had reached for Tim Austin, but each time Nellon's instinctshad revolted and the thing had remained undone.

  But now the members of the expedition were preparing to return home toEarth. Nellon knew that if Big Tim reached Earth alive the Laura heremembered and wanted would be lost to him forever. If Big Tim was todie, it would have to be done before the ship left, for once sealedwithin its confines, the risks would be too overwhelmingly large.

  It had been old Sigmund Ryska who had presented Nellon with what he hadrealized was his final and only chance. Old Ryska had left severalpieces of valuable scientific equipment lying in a small hut which hehad set up for some experiments. He had remembered them at the lastmoment. Someone had to fetch them before leaving, and Big Tim Austin hadvolunteered. Nellon, because of the purpose which motivated him, hadgone along.

  He had made up his mind at last. This time he would allow no scruples tostay his hand. This time Big Tim would die.

  * * * * *

  They had reached Tower Point. Nellon's breathing had quickened, and afine perspiration had broken out upon his face. Fine lines were etchedaround his eyes and mouth.

  Nellon and Austin stood side by side a moment upon the summit which wascrowned by the great pinnacle of Tower Point. Down below glittered thesurface of the frozen lake. White and desolate, the frozen wastes ofTitan tumbled and leaped on every side. Snow swirled about them, whippedinto angry life by the gale.

  Austin turned.

  "Well, down we go. Watch it, guy." For a second his eyes locked withNellon's. A frown of perplexity and concern narrowed them.

  "Brad--anything wrong? You don't look right, somehow."

  Nellon felt himself go icy cold. Words of hoarse denial tumbled to hislips.

  "No--it's nothing. I--I'm all right."

  But Big Tim was not assured.

  "Listen, Brad, Ryska's hut isn't much further, now. You'd better waithere, and I'll go on ahead and get the stuff. It's hard and dangerousgoing, and if you aren't well--"

  "I tell you I'm all right!" Nellon blurted. He was hot now with afeverish warmth that made the perspiration which covered his body feelclammily cold. The old fear of murder was gone. Nellon knew only aburning desire to get the thing done, a wild alarm that his opportunitywould vanish before he got the chance.

  Big Tim shrugged.

  "Come on, then. But watch it, guy, and sing out if you need me." With alast troubled glance at Nellon, he turned to the downward sloping trailand began the descent. He moved slowly and carefully, testing each footof the way with a ponderous, insulated boot for the sudden slicknessthat would announce the dangerous ice.

  Nellon was swept with relief. His blood rushed through his veins in asudden fierce singing. Now, now! The broad, metal back of Big Tim's suitspread before him. Far down below the gleaming ice waited.

  Nellon took swift steps forward, his arms coming up. The rushing in hisears leaped to a high pitch. He sucked in a breath, held it. Then--

  Nellon slipped. It must have been a small patch of ice undetected byAustin. But Nellon slipped, lost balance, crashed into the other.Together they went whizzing down the trail toward the frozen lake. Itwas a long slide, but incredibly swift, and confusion and surprise madeit seem all the shorter. What happened took place too quickly forthought to follow or prevent.

  * * * * *

  They caromed onto the ice of the lake. With a gleeful, demoniac howl,the terrible wind swooped down upon them, swept them with increasedspeed toward the edge of the falls. Though still half stunned by thesudden catastrophe, they reacted with the instinct of long conditioning,tried frantically to retard their swift flight over the ice. But it wasfutile. Their gouging metal fingers could find no purchase in the glassysmoothness over which they sped. And before friction could slow themeven the merest of trifles, they were swept over the edge of the falls.

  They went over, but not down upon the jagged ice teeth bared hungrilybelow. Nellon's attempted shove had given them both an added impetus,and they had shot over the ice at an angle which landed them upon thesnow banked on the farther side of the gorge.

  In that far distant day when the heat of Saturn had been great enough tocloak its satellites in warmth, the gnawing of the falls had worn steepsides in the gorge. And though the snow upon which the two men hadfallen was thick and soft, it was not enough to hold them, and they wentrolling end over end, in great clouds of powdery white, to stop onlywhen they had reached the bottom.

  Helplessly the two men hurtled down the snowy slope]

  For long moments they lay still. A thick pall of settling snow hung onthe frigid air. The wind seized portions of this and sent them whirlingand twisting in fantastic gyrations.

  The thermalloy suits were essentially compact, mobile shelters, and hadbeen designed more for protection against inimical extra-terrestrialelements rather than for comfort. Brad Nellon had been bruised andshaken until it seemed that his body was one throbbing ache. His senseswhirled giddily in a black mist shot through with flames of pulsing red.

  Of a sudden the pain leaped to intolerable heights. His battered musclesscreamed an anguished protest along his nerves. Then the pain was gone,and momentarily the blackness closed in again. But something like afresh wind sprang up, and sent the engulfing fog thinning away. Nellon'sbrain cleared. He opened his eyes.

  He looked into Big Tim's face. Big Tim was bending over him, worried andanxious. Nellon began to understand.

  Big Tim had recovered first from the plunge. He had propped Nellon up,then turned the valve which increased the flow of oxygen inside hissuit. They were alive. Nellon felt a dull wonder at it.

  "Brad--all right?" It was Big Tim, his voice strained and hoarse.

  Nellon nodded mechanically.

  "All right."

  "What happened, Brad?"

  Nellon looked away. He looked up the gorge, at the tip of Tower Point.He licked his lips.

  "I--I don't know. Didn't feel well--slipped on a patch of ice."

  Big Tim shook his head.

  "I told you to stay up there, didn't I? I knew you were in no conditionto make the descent, but you were just stubborn enough to do so. It'slucky we didn't get our necks broken." He looked down and across towhere, directly under the falls, the ice fangs jutted, cruel andgleaming.

  * * * * *

  Nellon was fully recovered now. He followed the direction of Austin'sgaze, and though his eyes saw the same thing, his mind pictured it in adifferent way.

  Those ice teeth should have meant Big Tim's death. He, Nellon, hadfailed, had narrowly escaped losing his own life because of his blunder.Intent upon the shove which was to have sent Tim Austin hurtling to hisdeath, he had forgotten the snow-concealed ice in the trail, as lethalwith hidden treachery as a patch of quick-sand.

  But he was still alive. They hadn't, as yet, even reached Ryska's hut,and Nellon knew another chance would present itself. He
considered thiswith a curious mixture of impatience and reluctance.

  "If it wasn't for Big Tim--" Nellon was hearing Laura say the wordsagain, and once again the realms of unutterable bliss he read into themstrengthened his resolve. One more chance--and this time he would notfail or waver.

  "Brad--look!"

  Vibrant with surprise and urgency, the words ripped aside the veil ofNellon's thoughts. His head jerked up.

  Big Tim was on his feet. He was pointing up at the steep bank of thegorge down which they had tumbled.

  Most of the disturbed snow had settled and the wind had carried away therest. Nellon could see quite clearly.

  There up on the bank, a small snow slide had taken place. And now,against the unbroken monotony of white, something gleamed in vividcontrast.

  Nellon squinted. Gradually he began to make out details. The strangesurface revealed by the slide seemed to have the mellow hue of bronze,but Nellon could not be sure, since it was queerly dappled and fleckedwith tones of gold and red. He thought it must be from the strain on hiseyes, and closed them momentarily. But when he looked again the colorswere as weird as he had last seen them. This time, however, he made outa detail which he had missed previously. The surface seemed to becrossed by a black line or stripe.

  "Now what in the world can that be?" Tim Austin's voice was wondering,vaguely troubled. "It's like no sample of rock or soil we've taken.Metal--that's what it is!" he exclaimed of a sudden. "It's an exposedvein of some metal. Come on, Brad, let's have a look at it."

  Nellon got to his feet, his eyes fixed upon that uncanny patch ofsomething which stood out against the surrounding whiteness like a smearof blood.

  Big Tim was already started up