DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Lethe, whole no. 5, January 1947

Transcribe
Translate

Lethe, whole no. 5, January 1947

Page 7

"There it is, Bret," said the short powerful man, indicating the stairwell. His dark eyes flashed with excitement.

The blonde young man crinkled his eyes and murmured assent. They started across the hall. The slow easy strides of the spacepilot matched by the effortless choppy steps of the world renowned physicist brought them to the entrance.

"This should be a cinch, now that we know what to look for, Howard" rumbled Bret Rand.

Sharp said nothing. Together they clumped down the stairs. Past dried, cracked walls, ornate with faded murals and still sharply defined placques. Through rooms clustered with mouldering furniture. Down further. Past shattered laboratories. Further still. Where cold lite still faintly illuminated arched hallways and descending ramps. Past dust-free work rooms and more laboratories, still preserved through thousands of years now.

"Here it is," Dr. Howard Sharp's voice trembled with eagerness. Nervously he ran his hand over his chin and stopped. The astrogator calmly lit a cigarette as the older man pressed his palm to a raised oval on the surface of the wall. An instant and then the heavy timeworn door slid upwards into the ceiling. Light splashed into the hall flooding the two men; casting strange shadows on the opposite wall.

Rand surveyed the room and crossed to a large cabinet whose smashed lock indicated his previous presence. Shortly he was deeply immersed in star charts and astronomical notations centuries old. 

Sharp examined again the room and its several machines. His eyes unconsciously tracing the leads. He studied the controls to the huge screen above him. He hadn't quite reconciled himself to the thought of an observatory a mile below surface.

"There must be diagrams of the complete hook-up here," he muttered scratching his chin meditatively. He opened another cabinet and fell to the task of locating a print showing the complete system of telescope, image transporter and viewing screen.

A deep, shadowy silence pervaded the tunnels. For what seemed an eternity the two men so unlike and yet of the same intellectual kinship delved into the mysteries of ancient Mars. They stumbled with the newly deciphered language and puzzled over strange formulae. Over all the living silence of the tomb hung like a black pall. Silence echoing down ancient corridors that had not heard a noise in countless centuries. Or had they?

Softly it stole up the long hall, slipping through the cloying stillness and entering the room like a vagrant breeze. There it hung, sentient, invisible, circling the walls and oozing slowly into the consciousnesses of Bret Rand and Howard Sharp.

page seven

Saving...

"There it is, Bret," said the short powerful man, indicating the stairwell. His dark eyes flashed with excitement. The blonde young man crinkled his eyes and murmured assent. They started across the hall. The slow easy strides of the spacepilot matched by the effortless choppy steps of the world renowned physicist brought them to the entrance. "This should be a cinch, now that we know what to look for, Howard" rumbled Bret Rand. Sharp said nothing. Together they clumped down the stairs. Past dried, cracked walls, ornate with faded murals and still sharply defined placques. Through rooms clustered with mouldering furniture. Down further. Past shattered laboratories. Further still. Where cold lite still faintly illuminated arched hallways and descending ramps. Past dust-free work rooms and more laboratories, still preserved through thousands of years now. "Here it is," Dr. Howard Sharp's voice trembled with eagerness. Nervously he ran his hand over his chin and stopped. The astrogator calmly lit a cigarette as the older man pressed his palm to a raised oval on the surface of the wall. An instant and then the heavy timeworn door slid upwards into the ceiling. Light splashed into the hall flooding the two men; casting strange shadows on the opposite wall. Rand surveyed the room and crossed to a large cabinet whose smashed lock indicated his previous presence. Shortly he was deeply immersed in star charts and astronomical notations centuries old. Sharp examined again the room and its several machines. His eyes unconsciously tracing the leads. He studied the controls to the huge screen above him. He hadn't quite reconciled himself to the thought of an observatory a mile below surface. "There must be diagrams of the complete hook-up here," he muttered scratching his chin meditatively. He opened another cabinet and fell to the task of locating a print showing the complete system of telescope, image transporter and viewing screen. A deep, shadowy silence pervaded the tunnels. For what seemed an eternity the two men so unlike and yet of the same intellectual kinship delved into the mysteries of ancient Mars. They stumbled with the newly deciphered language and puzzled over strange formulae. Over all the living silence of the tomb hung like a black pall. Silence echoing down ancient corridors that had not heard a noise in countless centuries. Or had they? Softly it stole up the long hall, slipping through the cloying stillness and entering the room like a vagrant breeze. There it hung, sentient, invisible, circling the walls and oozing slowly into the consciousnesses of Bret Rand and Howard Sharp. page seven