The Radiant Shell

The Radiant Shell, by Paul Ernst

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Title: The Radiant Shell
Author: Paul Ernst
Release Date: July 30, 2007 [EBook #22171]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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The Radiant Shell
By Paul Ernst
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from "Astounding
Stories" January 1932. Extensive research did not uncover any

evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Illustration: The man on the metal plate was vanishing.]
"And that, gentlemen," said the Secretary of War, "is the situation.
Arvania has stolen the Ziegler plans and formulae. With their
acquisition it becomes the most powerful nation on earth. The Ziegler
plans are at present in the Arvanian Embassy, but they will be
smuggled out of the country soon. Within a month of their landing in
Arvania, war will be declared against us. That means"--he glanced at
the tense faces around the conference table--"that we have about three
months to live as a nation--unless we can get those plans!"
There was a hushed, appalled silence, broken at last by General
Forsyte.
"Nonsense! How can a postage-stamp country like Arvania really
threaten us?"
"The day has passed, General," said the Secretary, "when a nation's
power is reckoned by its size. The Ziegler heat ray is the deadliest
weapon yet invented. A thousand men with a dozen of the
ray-projectors can reduce us to smoking ruins while remaining far
outside the range of our guns. No! I tell you that declaration of war by
Arvania will be followed by the downfall of the United States inside of
three months!"
Again the hushed, strained silence descended over the conference table,
while one white-faced man gazed at another and all speculated on the
incredible possibility of a world in which there was no United States of
America.
"We must get the plans," nodded Forsyte, convinced at last. "But how?
March openly on the Arvanian Embassy?"
"No, that would be declaration of war on our part. The World Court,
which knows nothing of the Ziegler plans, would set the League at our
throats."

"Send volunteers unofficially to raid the place?"
"Impossible. There is a heavy guard in the Arvanian Embassy; and I
more than suspect the place bristles with machine guns."
"What are we to do?" demanded Forsyte.
The Secretary seemed to have been waiting for that final question.
"I have had an odd and desperate plan submitted me from an outside
source. I could not pass it without your approval. I will let you hear it
from the lips of the planner."
He pressed a buzzer. "Bring Mr. Winter in," he told his secretary.
* * * * *
The man who presently appeared in the doorway was an arresting
figure. A man of thirty-odd with the body of an athlete, belied
somewhat by the pallor of an indoor worker, with acid stained, delicate
hands offset by forearms that might have belonged to a blacksmith,
with coal black hair and gray eyes so light as to look like ice-gray holes
in the deep caverns of his eye-sockets. This was Thorn Winter.
"Gentlemen, the scientist, Mr. Winter," announced the Secretary. "He
thinks he can get the Ziegler plans."
Thorn Winter cleared his throat. "My scheme is simple enough," he
said tersely. "I believe I can walk right into the Embassy, get the
plans--and then walk right out again. It sounds kind of impossible, but I
think I can work it by making myself invisible."
"Invisible?" echoed Forsyte. "Invisible!"
"Precisely," said Thorn in a matter-of-fact tone. "I have just turned out
a camouflage which is the most perfect yet discovered. It was designed
for application to guns and equipment only. I'd never thought of trying
to cover a human body with it, but I am sure it can be done."

"But ... invisible ..." muttered Forsyte, glancing askance at Winter.
"There's no time for argument," said the Secretary crisply. "The
question is, shall we give this man permission to try the apparently
impossible?"
All heads nodded, though in all eyes was doubt. The Secretary turned
to the scientist.
"You are aware of the risk you run? You realize that if you are caught,
we cannot recognize you--that we must disclaim official knowledge of
your work, and leave you to your fate?"
Thorn nodded.
"Then," said the Secretary, his voice vibrant, "yours is the mission. And
on your