02 - Crystal Circe by Henry Kuttner

In a world where dreamers and reality rarely coexist, Steve Arnsen cant shake the feeling that his friend Douglas OBrien might be the exception. As Douglas becomes increasingly obsessed with tracing the origins of a mysterious meteorite he discovered, Steve resolves to keep his friend grounded. However, Douglas‚As determination may lead them both into the most extraordinary dream of all. Will their friendship survive the journey? - Summary by EVKesserich

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Section two of The Crystal Circe by Henry Cutner. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. The Crystal Circe by Henry Cutner, Chapter two,

(00:23):
Lure of the Crystal. There was a change in the
boy after that. The dream in his eyes did not fade,
but he worked now with an intensity of purpose that
had never existed before. Previously, the two had held routine
jobs in a huge commercial organization. Without warning, O'Brien quit.

(00:47):
Arnson followed suit, feeling the necessity for staying close to
the younger man. Yet in the days to come he
amounted to little more than excess baggage O'Brien had planned.
He borrowed money, scraped together enough to equip a small laboratory,
and there he worked long hours. Arnson helped when he could,

(01:11):
though that was not often. He seldom knew exactly what
the boy was trying to accomplish. Once O'Brien said a
queer thing. They were in the laboratory awaiting the result
of an experiment, and Arnson was pacing back and forth nervously.
I wish I knew what was up, Doug, he said,

(01:32):
almost with anger. We've been at this for months. What
do you expect anyway? You've had no more than an
ordinary training in physics. The jewel helps, O'Brien said. He
took the gem from its swayed bag and stared into
the cloudy depths. I catch thoughts from it. Arnson stopped short,

(01:58):
staring his face changed. You kidding, he demanded. O'Brien flushed. Okay,
try it, he said, thrusting the stone at Arnson, who
took it rather reluctantly. Shut your eyes and let your
mind go blank. That does it? Sometimes? I all right?

(02:26):
Arnson squeezed his eyes closed and thought of nothing. Instantly,
a sick, horrible feeling swept through him, a terrible yearning
such as he had never known before. So might the
assassins feel deprived of the magic drug that took them
to Paradise. An assassin exiled cast into outer darkness, A

(02:50):
face swam into view, lovely and strange, beyond imagination, only
a glimpse he had blooded out by rainbow horuscating light
that darted and flashed like elfin fireflies. Then darkness once more,
and the frightful longing for what he let go of

(03:12):
the gem O'Brien caught it as it fell. The boy
smiled wryly. I wondered if you'd get it too. Did
you see her? I saw nothing, Arnson snarled, whirling toward
the door. I felt nothing. Yet you're afraid why I

(03:36):
don't fear her or the stone? The more fool you,
Arnson cast over his shoulder. As he went out. He
felt sick and weak, as though unnameable vistas had opened
before him. There was no explanation for what he had felt,
no sane explanation at least, And yet there might be,

(04:01):
he thought, as he paced about the yard, smoking an
endless chain of cigarettes. Telepathy, thought transference. He had simply
caught what was in O'Brien's mind, But it was horrible
to know that Douglas was feeling that soul, sick, craving
for the goddess girl who could not exist. O'Brien came

(04:23):
out of the laboratory, eyes aglow. It's done, he said,
trying to repress his triumph. We've got the alloy at last.
The last treatment did the trick. Arnson felt vague apprehension.
He tried to congratulate O'Brien, but his tone rang false

(04:44):
in his own ears. The boy smiled understandingly. It's been
good of you to string along, Steve. The thing will
pay off now only I'll need a lot of money.
You'll have a lot. Plenty companies will be bidding for
the process. O'Brien said, I want enough to buy a

(05:07):
space ship. Arnson whistled. That's a lot, even for a
small boat. His eyes narrowed, Why do you want it?
I'm going to find Deirdre, the other said. Simply, she's
out there somewhere. He tilted his head back, and I'll

(05:30):
find her. Space is pretty big. I've a guide. O'Brien
took out the gray Gem. It wants to go to her, too.
It wants to go back. It isn't really alive here
on earth, you know. And I'm not just dreaming, Steve.

(05:51):
How do you suppose I managed to make this alloy
the perfect plastic, Tougher than beryllium steel, lighter than aluminum,
a conductor or non conductor of electricity, depending on the mix.
You know, I couldn't have done it alone. You did it,
O'Brien touched the jewel. I found out how to do it.

(06:13):
There's life in here, Steve, not earthly life, but intelligent.
I could understand a little, not much enough to work
out the alloy. I had to do that first, so
I could get money enough to buy spaceship. You don't
know how to pilot in space. We'll hire a pilot

(06:35):
we he grinned. I'm going to prove my point. You
don't believe in Deirdre, but you'll see her, Steve, the
jewel will guide us. It wants to go home, so
we'll take it there. Arenson scowled and turned away, his
big shoulders tense with unreasoning anger. He found himself hate

(07:00):
the imaginary being O'Brien had created Deirdre. His fists clenched.
She did not exist. The major planets and satellites had
been explored. The inhabited ones held nothing remotely human. Martians

(07:21):
were huge headed, spindle legged horrors. Venusians were scaled amphibians,
living in a state of feudalism and constant warfare. The
other planets, the Avian, hollow boned Collistons, were closest to humanity,
but by no stretch of the imagination could they be
called beautiful. And Deirdre was beautiful, imaginary or not, she

(07:46):
was lovely as a goddess, damn her, but it did
no good. O'Brien was not to be turned from his purpose.
With relentless swift intensity, he patented the alloy process, sold
it to the highest bidder, and purchased a light space cruiser.

(08:07):
He found a pilot, a leather skinned, tough tobacco chewing
man named Tex Hastings, who could be depended on to
do what he was told and keep his mouth shut.
O'Brien chafed with impatience till the cruiser jetted off from
the spaceport. The closer he came to achieving his goal,

(08:27):
the more nervous he grew, the jewel he kept clenched
in one hand most of the time. Arnson noticed that
a dim brilliance was beginning to glow within it. As
the ship plunged further out toward the void. Hastings cast
quizzical glances at O'Brien, but did what he was told.

(08:48):
He confided in Arnson, we haven't even bothered with charts.
It's screwy, but I'm not kicking. Only this isn't piloting.
Your friend points to a star sector and says, go there, funny,
He scratched his leathery cheek, faded eyes intent on Arnson's face.

(09:12):
The big Man nodded, I know, but it isn't up
to me, Hastings, I'm super cargo. Yeah. Well, if you
want any help, you can count on me. I've seen
space madness before, Arnson snorted space madness. Hastings eyes were steady.

(09:38):
I may be wrong, sure, but anything can happen out here.
We're not on Earth, mister Arnson. Earth laws don't apply.
Neither does logic. We're on the edge of the unknown.
I never thought you were superstitious. I'm not only I've

(09:59):
been around and seen a lot that crystal. Mister O'Brien
lugs around with him. I never saw anything like that before.
He waited, But Arnsen didn't speak. All right, then, I've
known things to drift in from outside, funny things damned funny.

(10:21):
The solar systems, like a sargasso, catches flotsam from other systems,
even other universes. For all. I know one rule I've learned.
When you can't guess the answer, it's a good idea
to stay clear. Chapter three, The Singing Crystals. They found

(10:44):
it at last, a jagged, slowly revolving ball that looked
incredibly desolate slag from some solar furnace. The telescope showed
no life. The ball had hardened as it whirled, and
the moulten had frozen instantly in frigid space into spiky
giant crags and stalagmites. No atmosphere, no water, no sign

(11:10):
of life in any form. The crystal O'Brien held had changed.
A pale light streamed from it. O'Brien's face was tensely eager.
This is it. Set the ship down, Hastings. The pilot
made a grimace, but bent toward the controls. It was

(11:34):
a ticklish task at best, for he had to match
the ship's speed to the speed of the asteroid's revolution
and circle in describing a narrowing spiral. Rocket ships are
not built from maneuverability. They blast their way to ground
and up again through sheer, roaring power. She settled bumpily

(11:56):
on the iron hard surface of the asteroid, and Arnson
looked through through the thick visyglass at desolation that struck
a chill to his heart. Life had never existed here.
It was a world damned in the making, a tiny planetoid,
forever condemned to unbearable night and silence. It was one

(12:17):
with the darkness. The sun glare in the absence of atmosphere,
made sharp contrasts between light and jet shadow. The fingers
of rock reached up hungrily, as though searching for warmth.
There was nothing menacing about the picture. It was horrible
in its lifelessness. That was all. It was not intended

(12:42):
for life. Arnson felt himself an intruder. O'Brien met his glance.
The boy was smiling rather wryly. I know, he said.
It doesn't look very promising, does it. But this is
the place maybe a million years ago, Arnson said, skeptically,

(13:10):
there's nothing here now. Silently, O'Brien put the crystal in
the giant's hand. From it, a pulse of triumph burst
out exultation. The psychic wave shook Arnson with its intensity,
wiped doubt from his face. Invisibly and intangibly. The jewel

(13:34):
shouted its delight, the glow within it waxed brighter. Hastings
said abruptly, time to eat. Metabolism's high in space. We
can't afford to miss a meal. I'm going out, O'Brien said,

(13:56):
but Arnson seconded. The pilot. We're here now. You can
afford to wait an hour or so, and I'm hungry.
They opened thermaicns in the galley and gulped the hawk
food standing the ship had suddenly become a prison. Even

(14:17):
Hastings was touched with the thirst to know what awaited
them outside. We circled the asteroid, he said at last,
his voice argumentative, there's nothing here, mister O'Brien. We saw that,
but O'Brien was hurrying back to the control cabin. The

(14:41):
suits were cumbersome, even in the slight gravity. Hastings tested
the oxygen tanks strapped on the backs and checked the
equipment with stringent care. A leak would be fatal on
this airless world. So they went out through the airlock,
and Arnson for one, felt his middle tightening with the

(15:03):
expectation of the unknown. His breathing sounded loud and harsh
within the helmet. The tripolarized face plates of the helmet
were proof against sun glare, but they could not minimize
the horrible desolation of the scene, a world untouched, more lifeless,
more terrible than frigid Yontenheim, where the frost giants dwelt.

(15:29):
Arnson's heavy leaded boots thumped solidly on the slag. There
was no dust here, no sign of erosion, for there
was no air. In O'Brien's hand, the crystal flamed with
milky pallor. The boy's face was thin and haggard with desire.

(15:50):
Arnson watching, felt hot fury against the incubus that had
worked its dark spell on the other. He could do nothing,
only follow and wait. His hand crept the weighted blackjack
in his belt. He saw the hope slowly fade from

(16:10):
O'Brien's eyes. Against his will, he said, we're only on
the surface, dug underground. That's right. Maybe there's an entrance somewhere,
but I don't know. We may be a thousand years
too late. Steve his gaze clung to the crystal. It

(16:34):
pulsed triumphantly. Pale flame lanced joyously from it. Alive it was,
Arnson had no doubt of that, Now alive and exulting
to be home once more. Years too late, there was
not the slightest trace of any artifact on this airless planetoid.

(16:56):
The bleakness of outer space itself cast a veil over
the names world. The three men plodded on in the end,
they went back to the ship. The quick night of
the tiny world had fallen, The flaming corona of the
sun had vanished. Stars leaped into hard jeweled brilliance against

(17:19):
utter blackness. The sky blazed with cold fires, lifeless, alien, strange.
It was the edge of the unknown. They slept at last.
Metabolism was high and they needed to restore their tissues.

(17:40):
Hours later, Arnting came to half wakefulness in his bunk.
He rose on one elbow, wondering what had roused him.
His mind felt dulled. He could scarcely tell whether or
not he was dreaming. Across the ship, a man's head
and shoal were silhouetted against a port grotesquely large and distorted.

(18:05):
Beyond the stars blazed. They moved, They swirled in a
witch dance of goblin lanterns, dancing, whirling, spiraling, blue yellow,
amethyst and milky pearl. Streaks of light golden as the
eye of a lioness, and nameless colors not earthly made

(18:26):
a pattern to aborresque as they danced their elfin saraband.
There in the airless dark, the dark swallowed Arnson. Slumber
took him slowly, slowly, Exhaustedly, he came back to consciousness,
His head ached, his tongue was thick. For a moment,

(18:52):
he lay quietly, trying to remember dream. Arnson cursed, threw
his blankets aside, and sprang from the bunk. O'Brien was gone,
Tex Hastings was gone. Two spacesuits had vanished from their racks.

(19:13):
Arnson's face twisted into a savage mask. He knew now
what had been so wrong about his vision of the night.
The man he had glimpsed against the port had been
outside the ship, Dug or Hastings. It did not matter.
Both men were gone. He was alone on the mystery world.

(19:40):
Arnson set his jaw, gulped caffeine tablets to clear his head,
and wrenched a spacesuit from its hooks. He donned it,
realizing that sunlight once more was pouring down from the
distant sun. Soon he was ready. He went out of
the ship, climbed atop it, and stared around nothing. The

(20:03):
bleak light and shadow pattern of the asteroid stretched to
the sharply curving horizon all around. There was nothing else,
nor were there tracks in the Ironhard's lag. He would
have to search at random by pure guesswork in the
low gravity, his leap to the ground scarcely jarred him.

(20:27):
He gripped the billy at his left hand and moved
forward toward a high pinnacle in the distance. He found nothing.
Worst of all, perhaps, was the horrible loneliness that oppressed him.
He was too close to outside. Now he was the
only living thing in a place never meant for human life.

(20:50):
The ghastly blackness of the asteroids sank like knife blades
into his mind, searing it coldly. There was no relief
when he looked up. The distant sun with its corona,
was infinitely far away. The rest of the sky held
stars remote, not twinkling as on Earth, but shining with

(21:11):
a cold intensity of pale fury, relentless and eternal in
the light. The heat seared him through his armor. In
the shadows, he shivered with cold. He went on, sick
with hate, seeking the unknown thing that had taken Doug.

(21:32):
The boy was a poet, a dreamer, a fool, easy
victim for the terror that haunted the asteroid. Exhausted, he
turned back. His air supply was running low, and there
was no sign of either Doug or Hastings. He headed
for the ship. It was further than he had thought.

(21:55):
He sighted it at last, beneath a towering stalagmite that
thrust up into the heart sunlight, and his steps quickened.
Why hadn't he thought to bring extra cylinders of oxygen?
The lock stuck under his gloved, awkward fingers. He wrenched
at it savagely. At last, the great valve swung open.

(22:18):
He went through the airlock and opened his visiplate and
took great breaths of the fresh air. Oxygen cylinders were
racked near by. He swung several into position on his
back and clamped them into place. He gulped more caffeine tablets.
Some instinct made him turn and look back through the port.

(22:41):
Over the uneven ground, A space suited figure was staggering
quarter of a mile distant. Arnson's heart jumped in one
swift motion. He clamped shut his visiplate and leaped for
the airlock. It seemed an eternity before he was outside, leaping, racing,

(23:02):
straining toward the man who had fallen helpless. A motionless
shadowing amid the glare dug hastings. It was O'Brien, his
young face gray with exhaustion and flushed with oxygen thirst.
For a moment, Arnson thought the boy was dead. He

(23:24):
thrust one arm under O'Brien's back, lifting him, and with
the other hand he fumbled at an auxiliary air hose,
thrusting it into the valve on O'Brien's chin plate. As
he ripped away the useless hose, oxygen flowed into the
boy's suit. His nostrils distended as he drank in the
precious air. Arnson watched, teeth bared in a mirthless grin.

(23:51):
Good color came back to O'Brien's cheeks, a healthy flush
under the deep tan. His eyes opened and looked in
to Arnson's. Couldn't find her, he whispered, his voice hollow
through the audiophone. Deirdre, I couldn't find her, Steve Arnson said,

(24:16):
what happened? Doug O'Brien took a deep breath and shook
his head. I woke up. Something warned me this. He
unclasped his gloved hand and showed the milky crystal. It
knew she was close. I felt it. I woke up

(24:39):
and went to the port and saw the the lights.
Hastings was out there. She'd called him. I guess he
was running after the lights. I had sense enough to
put on my suit. Then I followed, but Hastings was
too fast for me. I followed till I lost him

(25:00):
miles hours. Then I saw my oxygen was low. I
tried to get back to the ship. He tried to smile.
Why did she call Hastings, Steve? Why not me? Arnson
felt cold. We're getting off this asteroid right away, leaving Hastings.

(25:26):
We all look for him myself. There's life here, malignant,
life plenty, dangerous, not evil, no beyond evil, beyond good.
I'm not going, Steve. You're going if I have to
hogtie you. O'Brien's gloved hand tightened on the milky crystal Deirtre,

(25:54):
he said, and in the emptiness above them, a glow brightened.
There was no other warning. Arnson tilted his head back
to see the incredible Deirdre, he thought, Then, unbidden, another

(26:17):
name leaped into his mind. Circe, Circe of Clochus, Goddess
of Ayr Circe, daughter of the day who changed men
to swine. Circe more than human, for this was no

(26:38):
human figure that hovered above them. It seemed to be
a girl unclad, reclining in nothingness, her floating hair tinted
like rays of a dying sun. Her body swept in
lines of pure beauty, long limbed and gracious. Her eyes
were veiled. Long lashes hid them. There was tenderness in

(27:01):
her face and aloofness alienage. There was beauty there, not
entirely human beauty. Rainbow crystals garmented her, Some large, some small,
multifaceted gems danced and shimmered against the blackness of the
sky and the whiteness of Circe's body. Moon yellow, amber, gold,

(27:26):
blue as the sea off Capri, green as the pine
clad hills of Earth, angry scarlet, and lambent dragon green.
With some distantly sane corner of his mind, Anson realized
that it was impossible for any living being to exist
without protection in the frigid, airless surface of the asteroid.

(27:48):
Then he knew that both air and warmth surrounded the girl.
The crystals protected her. He knew that somehow O'Brien listed
in his arms. He saw the girl tried to spring free,
Arnson gripped him. The boy swung a jolting blow that

(28:10):
jarred the giant's helmet. His mailed gloves smashed against the
metal plate. Dazed and giddy, Arnson fell back, clawing at O'Brien.
His fingers slipped along the other's arm. He felt something
drop into his hand and clutched it. Then O'Brien was free.

(28:32):
He wrenched an oxygen tank from Arnson's shoulders, whirled and
took a step toward the girl. She was further away now.
Arnson staggered up. His head was throbbing furiously. Too late,
he realized that in the scuffle his air valve had fouled.

(28:54):
He fumbled at it with clumsy fingers and fell. His
helmet thudded solidly against hard slag. Blackness took him. End
of Section two.