The Black Star Passes by John W. Campbell (read e book .txt) 📕

the molten silver of its surface seemed swiftly clouding, it turned grey; then they saw its true appearance, a vast field of rolling, billowing clouds!

The Solarite was shooting around the planet now at ten miles a second, far more than enough to carry them away from the planet again, out into space once more if their speed was not checked.

“Hold on everybody,” Arcot called. “We’re going to turn toward the planet now!” He depressed a small lever⁠—there was a sudden shock, and all the space about them seemed to burst into huge, deep-red atomic hydrogen flames.

The Solarite reeled under the sudden pressure, but the heavy gyroscopic stabilizers caught it, held it, and the ship remained on an even keel. Then suddenly there came to the ears of the men a long drawn whine, faint⁠—almost inaudible⁠—and the ship began slowing down. The Solarite had entered the atmosphere of Venus⁠—the first man-made machine to thus penetrate the air of another world!

Quickly Arcot snapped open the control that had kept the rockets flaming, turning the ship to the planet⁠—driving it into the atmosphere. Now they could get their power from the air that each instant grew more dense about them.

“Wade⁠—in the power room⁠—emergency control post⁠—Morey⁠—control board there⁠—hang on, for we’ll have to use some husky accelerations.”

Instantly the two men sprang for their posts⁠—literally diving, for they were still almost weightless.

Arcot pulled another lever⁠—there was a dull snap as a relay in the power room responded⁠—the lights wavered⁠—dimmed⁠—then the generator was once more humming smoothly⁠—working on the atmosphere of Venus! In a moment the power units were again operating, and now as they sucked a plentitude of power from the surrounding air, they produced a force that made the men cling to their holds with almost frantic force. Around them the rapidly increasing density of the air made the whine grow to a roar; the temperature within the ship rose slowly, warmed by friction with the air, despite the extreme cold at this altitude, more than seventy-five miles above the surface of the planet.

They began dropping rapidly now⁠—their radio-speedometer had fallen from ten to nine⁠—then slowly, but faster and faster as more heat could be extracted from the air, it had fallen 8⁠—7⁠—6⁠—5⁠—4. Now they were well below orbital speed, falling under the influence of the planet. The struggle was over⁠—the men relaxed. The ship ran quietly now, the smooth hum of the air rushing over the great power units coming softly through the speaker to their ears, a humming melody⁠—the song of a new world.

IV

Suddenly the blazing sun was gone and they were floating in a vast world of rolling mists⁠—mists that brushed the car with tiny clicks, which, with the millions of particles that struck simultaneously, merged into a steady roar.

“Ice⁠—ice clouds!” Morey exclaimed.

Arcot nodded. “We’ll drop below the clouds; they’re probably miles deep. Look, already they’re changing⁠—snow now⁠—in a moment it will be water⁠—then it’ll clear away and we’ll actually see Venus!”

For ten miles⁠—an endless distance it seemed⁠—they dropped through clouds utterly impenetrable to the eye. Then gradually the clouds thinned; there appeared brief clear spots, spots into which they could see short distances⁠—then here and there they caught glimpses of green below. Was it water⁠—or land?

With a suddenness that startled them, they were out of the clouds, shooting smoothly and swiftly above a broad plain. It seemed to stretch for endless miles across the globe, to be lost in the far distance to east and west; but to the north they saw a low range of hills that rose blue and misty in the distance.

“Venus! We made it!” Morey cried jubilantly. “The first men ever to leave Earth⁠—I’m going to start the old sender and radio back home! Man⁠—look at that stretch of plain!” He jumped to his feet and started across the control room. “Lord⁠—I feel like a ton of lead now⁠—I sure am out of condition for walking after all that time just floating!”

Arcot raised a restraining hand. “Whoa⁠—wait a minute there, Morey⁠—you won’t get anything through to them now. The Earth is on the other side of Venus⁠—it’s on the night side, remember⁠—and we’re on the day side. In about twelve hours we’ll be able to send a message. In the meantime, take the controls while I make a test of the air here, will you?”

Relieved of the controls, Arcot rose and walked down the corridor to the power room where the chemical laboratory had been set up. Wade had already collected a dozen samples of air, and was working on them.

“How is it⁠—what have you tested for so far?” asked Arcot.

“Oxygen and CO2. The oxygen is about twenty-two percent, or considering the slightly lower air pressure here, we will have just about the right amount of oxygen. The CO2 is about one-tenth of one percent. The atmosphere is OK for terrestrial life apparently; that mouse there is living quite happily. Whatever the other seventy-five percent or so of diluting gas is, I don’t know, but it isn’t nitrogen.”

Briefly Arcot and Wade discussed the unusual atmosphere, finally deciding that the inert gas was argon.

“No great amount of nitrogen,” Arcot concluded. “That means that life will have a sweet time extracting it from the air⁠—but wherever there is life, it finds a way to do the impossible. Test it more accurately, will you⁠—you try for nitrogen and I’ll try the component inert gasses.”

They ran the analyses rapidly, and in a very short time⁠—less than an hour⁠—their results stood at 23 percent oxygen, .1 percent carbon dioxide, 68 percent argon, 6 percent nitrogen, 2 percent helium, 5 percent neon, .05 percent hydrogen, and the rest krypton and xenon apparently. The analyses of these inert gasses had to be done rather roughly in this short time, but it was sufficient to balance fairly accurately.

The two chemists reported back to the control cabin.

“Well, we’ll be able to breathe the atmosphere of Venus with ease. I believe we can go on now. I