THE FALL OF MERCURY (3)
By:
September 21, 2025
Leslie F. Stone was one of the first women science fiction pulp writers; her stories — including “The Fall of Mercury” (Amazing Stories, Dec. 1935), in which a Black hero uses super-science to destroy a white race bent on conquering the solar system — often featured female or Black protagonists. We are pleased to serialize this story for HILOBROW’s readers.
ALL INSTALLMENTS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12.
CHAPTER THREE
INTO THE CLIFF!
The crash I expected never came — simply because there was nothing into which to crash! The cliff was still there, a high forbidding menace in that livid white world, but its face was no longer blank. It was a yawning cavern, and the cracked expanse that was evidently a door was gone. I did not know if it had slid upwards, downwards, or to the side. Later we learned about that.
Now the Victory, as if expertly guided, was gliding smoothly into the exposed cavern, through its opening on a smooth surface. Then it came to a full halt on the black floor. Bereft of thought I could only stare out of the turret ports. A backward glance revealed the fact that the doorway through which we had come was closed again. Nor was there anything to show it was a door. It was merely a rough, cracked continuation of the wall of which it was a part. We were in a great subterranean chamber with a sloping floor. No wonder the cliff had stood unique against the plane since it was no less than a ponderous doorway into the inner world of Mercury, a man-made entrance, time-worn and weather-beaten; but still serviceable. Yet was it man-made? That was still to be discovered.
A soft gray light tinged with yellow from what source I could not determine diffused itself evenly upon everything, on the smooth black walls, the floor, the flyer and on a dozen strangely familiar shapes some distance from the Victory. Space-ships! I recognized a Martian Patrol with its fantastic figurehead representing the three demons that are the triad of Martian worship. There was a diminutive flyer from diminutive Ceres, a small though efficient cargo boat, such as those that ply between Venus and Tellus, and a pleasure yacht from Venus. The other ships lay beyond these first, so that I could not make out their design. But the pleasure boat. I knew it. I had made a trip on it no less than four months ago! It was the pleasure yacht of Tica Burno, a wealthy noble of Venus. And a month since the yacht had been reported missing; believed to be a victim of the Whirlpool! Yet here it was on Mercury. We also had been caught by the Whirlpool and here we were safe on Mercury. Safe?
Ah, yes, that blue flask. Had Tica Burno gone to explore the cliff even as I had? Had he, too, been startled to see his ship lunging for the bleak side of the black cliff? Where had he gone? Was I to find him alive? Somewhere in the “innards’ of Mercury?
With a suddenness that almost startled me out of myself a voice barked at my back. It was the waking tones of Morton Forrest, who had so calmly been sleeping through this awful ordeal. “Oh ho!” he was yawning, “I’ve never slept better in my life. My vote for Mercury as the best place for a thoroughly successful night’s sleep!”
“Well,” I observed in an attempt to be jocose in the face of everything, “I hope a night’s sleep is the worst Mercury has to offer us. I feel as if I…” My voice broke; I was unable to go on.
Forrest was up. “Why, Bruce, old man, you sound melancholy. Don’t tell me this place strikes one so. Well, a day’s exploration’ll fix you up; then we’ll be heading for home. What a laugh we’ll get…”
“I’m afraid the laugh’s on us, Mort. Come here…” I said weakly.
He was aroused at last. Padding over the floor in his bare feet he came to the turret. Wordless he stared at the strange chamber enfolding us, looking to me for explanation, then back to the scene around us. In as few words as possible I told him all that had taken place. As I talked a new brightness came into his round blue eyes; slowly a smile spread over his face. He smote me heavily on the shoulder.
“Bruce Warren! You’ve done it. The discovery of the century. Life on Mercury. A new race. You’ve… why…”
I shook my head. “Rather looks as if they’ve discovered us, Mort. That force that brought us out of the Spot is the same force that dragged the Victory into this cave; and I don’t like it, not at all!”
“Bosh! You need some sleep. Next you’ll be saying ‘They mean us no good’. Why, man, they’re waiting for our coming. They’re killing the fatted calf right now I’ll wager!”
“Yeah? Well, suppose we’re not the first? What then? Evidently you’ve not looked at those things over there!” And I pointed at the ships huddled together a hundred yards from us, their empty portholes staring at us like the eyes of a dead fish.
Forrest was really startled for the first time. His first glance about had not taken into account those mute, deserted ships. A frown etched itself across his serene brow. “I’ll get dressed and into my air-suit. Better look about a bit,” he agreed dryly.
I had not removed my outer air-suit, had merely shut off the air-purifiers and opened the front of my helmet on entering the Victory. Forrest dressed quicker than ever before. But for some reason I was not over-anxious to leave the Victory. Perhaps it was merely another hunch, still I dared not show myself the coward in front of my phlegmatic, fat friend. We were into this thing up to the hilt, whatever it was, and I, afraid already!
I followed Forrest from the lock slowly, stopping to close the door behind me carefully, more to delay our inspection than to make sure of the ship’s safety. Forrest was ahead of me a pace or two, headed for Tica Burno’s yacht; but we never reached our destination. Something came to halt us in our tracks. The same giant hand that had drawn us from the Spot, had dragged the Victory into the cavern. It was invisible, but its bonds were as convincing as ropes, more so, as suddenly we found ourselves gripped solidly, incapable of movement either backwards or forwards; not so much as a finger! Only our eyes and respiratory organs were alive. We were prisoners.
I was caught in a ludicrous position with one foot slightly raised, knee bent, about to take a forward step, and in that posture I remained albeit I tried to fight the thing binding me. Unable to move a muscle I sought to break the will that held me, reasoning it was a strong mind that had me in thrall. It was far stronger than I. I was powerless to do anything but use my eyes. My vision was reduced to that which lay directly before me. I could just manage to see Forrest held in the same powerful grip. Then I saw the floor at our feet opening…
The floor was smooth, of stone or perhaps some sort of time-resisting metal. There was no crack in its whole expanse, as if it had been laid in a single piece; yet a pit opened to us, a circular hole dropping into depths far below. As for the portion of the floor where the pit was now it was gone; dissolved into nothingness…
Something odd happened as we stared wonderingly at this phenomenon. It was the light about us — it was flowing toward the pit, illuminating it!
We waited, expecting to see our hosts appear from the hole, but in that we were disappointed. Instead, the force that held us bound was gently propelling us, nay carrying us forward. We were to be dashed to the bottom of that seemingly bottomless pit! Not even given the comfort of being able to scream, we were shoved closer to the brink of the chasm — which seemed to grow deeper as we neared it!
Now our feet were close to the pit, on its very edge, and still we continued moving forward. Now we were over it, dangling, expecting the end, wondering that it did not come. But we were not to die — yet. The pit was coming up to meet us, engulfing us, gently, slowly. It was as if we were cushioned on a pillow of air wafting us softly to a haven somewhere below. And with us went the light, flowing from the chamber above, making the curved, black walls of the well visible about us; flowing like water, lighting the darkness as it came to meet us. There was just enough clearance on either side for our shoulders. Had we been free we could have touched both walls by moving them but a few inches.
I was first, but knew that Forrest was above me. His feet dangled within line of my eyes. The fall seemed endless. In a point of time it scarcely took more than three minutes in all, but it was the longest three minutes I have ever known. Still everything has an end, even space, they say. The shaft suddenly widened, was no more. Instead we were in a room into which the light had flowed ahead of us. We came to a halt on a second black floor. The room was a square, bare cell, well-lighted but bare of furnishings, bare of everything, even of an entrance; for as soon as our feet came in contact with the floor the shaft overhead closed as quietly as it had opened to us in the chamber far above. Nor was there the finest seam line to tell where it had been!
With the closing of the shaft the paralysis that had gripped us was removed; we were free to inspect our cell, meager as it was. Silence was upon us, a silence that aggravated. Forrest broke it. “Nice reception, this. Lord, I thought we’d fall and break our necks in that shaft. I’m getting too old for such shenanigans, Bruce. I hope your friends don’t have many more surprises like that for us! Wonder what sort of creatures they are…?
“Creatures of super-intelligence, Bruce,” he went on without giving me time to answer. “Do you know what the opening of the shaft means? Nothing less than fourth-dimensional translation. It couldn’t be anything else. They simply switch matter ahead in Time, materialize it, or else just wait for Time to catch up with it. And that descent — better than an elevator, eh? I realize you were right after all, old man. It was they who saved us from the maelstrom. You didn’t imagine it as I thought you had.”
“Well, all I can say is I hope They will show up soon. I don’t like this suspense of waiting, and I don’t feel that we’re alone. Someone — or thing is spying on us!” I had the feeling of eyes at my back, and though I persisted in turning about several times I was not surprised to find the room unoccupied except for ourselves.
“Hum-huh — I feel that, too,” commented Forrest. “I suppose They have some way of examining us here, ticketing us for future reference. But think of it, man. What a world this must be with gravity controlled, a complete supremacy over the physical and inorganic. It’s… why it’s too big for words.”
“Leave out the words, but speaking of the physical, Mort, I could eat a cow right now. Wonder what food is in their language? Hello, there, HELLO! How ’bout some service.” I knew I was acting the fool, but I needed an outlet for my emotions. I wasn’t like Forrest. I couldn’t sum up the mysterious and get scientific equations for answers. My only answer now was the reverberation of my voice against the walls of our cell.
Forrest grinned at me. “Don’t be so dynamic, Bruce. Everything in its place. Be patient, fellow. All things come to him who waits.”
“Bah!” I cried, but I was as curious and as excited as Forrest, only I’m a man of action, and the mystery of the unknown sets my nerves on edge.
Whatever the reason for our detention, our patience was at last rewarded. Before us on one wall, where there had been no doorway before, there now opened to our eyes a circular opening. A corridor dropped away before us, inclining downward. We hesitated a moment before entering, and to hasten us came a slight push of indeterminable source at our backs that impelled us into the corridor. With us flowed the light that had been our companion, again lighting our way. Three hundred yards ahead the corridor ended abruptly, and we found ourselves on the edge of a vast chamber wherein we discovered our first Mercurians.
RADIUM AGE PROTO-SF: “Radium Age” is Josh Glenn’s name for the nascent sf genre’s c. 1900–1935 era, a period which saw the discovery of radioactivity, i.e., the revelation that matter itself is constantly in movement — a fitting metaphor for the first decades of the 20th century, during which old scientific, religious, political, and social certainties were shattered. More info here.
SERIALIZED BY HILOBOOKS: James Parker’s Cocky the Fox | Annalee Newitz’s “The Great Oxygen Race” | Matthew Battles’s “Imago” | & many more original and reissued novels and stories.