I found it increasingly hard to think of
betraying Valcyr and her offspring to the crew. Because that was
the feeling which I finally identified—that a disclosure of their
presence would be a betrayal. And I who had never felt any strong
emotion for an animal knew one now. I questioned myself, trying to
discover why, and found no answer. But the fact remained that I
could not call anyone, no more than if I were chained to the bunk,
silenced by a gag.
The small creature stirred at last, raising its narrow head and
turning it back and forth as if seeking something. But it did so
blindly, for its eye slits were closed. Valcyr, purring, put out a
foreleg and fondly drew it closer. But that head had swung around
to face me, and I thought that, though the thing was so young,
blind, and helpless, yet somehow it was aware of me, not in fear,
but for a purpose. I tried to laugh at that.
Disturbed, I got up from the bunk and went to sit on a wall
seat, my back half turned to those two. I strove to concentrate on
my own difficulties. Since I could not hope now for an early
release from the Vestris, or even be sure on which planet I would
land, I must be prepared for a dubious future. Once more I ran my
hand along my safe-belt, fingering each of the pitifully few bulges
left in it. The last one of all—the space ring—
Hywel Jern had been killed for it; of that I was as certain as
if I had witnessed the act. But—had our disaster on Tanth also
stemmed from its possession? Why Vonder and not me, if that were
true? Or was it necessary to make sure of us both, so that no
awkward questions could later be raised by a survivor?
Why—who—?
My father had had close ties with the Thieves’ Guild, in
spite of his retirement from their company. Any man in those ranks
could and did make powerful enemies. But, I believed, his services
had continued in part even after his settlement on Angkor.
I continued to rub the ring’s shape through the stuff of
the belt and my thoughts went round and round, presenting me with
no solution. I do not know when it was that I had begun to notice
an unusual degree of heat in the cabin. I had opened the sealing of
my coverall, and felt the trickle of sweat drops down my cheek and
chin. Now I raised my hand to swab those away and my eyes lit upon
the skin across the back and fingers. Rising on that once-smooth
surface were purplish blotches, swelling as might waterfilled
blisters.
I tried to rise, only to discover that my body was no longer
under my control. And I was shivering. The extreme heat of moments
earlier was now an inner cold. I knew a tearing nausea, but I could
not vomit. I clawed open my clothing and saw that the blisters were
thick also across my chest and upper arms.
“Help—” Had I croaked that, or only thought I had?
Somehow I lurched up and pushed around the wall of the cabin, using
its support to make my way to the small com on the wall. There I
shook and wavered as I tried to press the alert button.
It was getting hard to see—in fact a thick fog curled up about
me as if I were back in that world of geysers and steam. Had I been
able to press the button? I leaned my forehead against the wall so
that my lips were not too far from the com as I croaked my
plea:
“Help—sick—”
I could no longer stay on my feet. Aiming myself at the bunk, I
tottered forward, completely forgetting Valcyr. But as I crashed
down I encountered no furry bodies. The bunk was empty and I lay on
it shuddering.
Now I was back in the dank steam of the deserted planet, and
that wreathed in scalding curls about me, so that I cried out in
torment. Across seamed and stinking mud I ran, unable to sight my
pursuers but knowing I was hunted. Once the mists parted and I saw
them for an instant. They came laser in hand and all wore the same
face, that of the medico Velos. But still I kept my stumbling feet
and fled.
“They will kill—kill—kill—” The words rang across
this evil world in a vast thundering. “They will kill you—
you—you!”
I was lying once more on my bunk, shivering again. But the mist
had disappeared and my sight was clear. And not only my sight but
my mind. There was a whistling whisper—it came from the wall—out of the wall. Once before I had heard words out of a wall or the
air. But that had been on Tanth in the sanctuary. And I was not
there—but in a cabin on a Free Trader. In me was a vast urgency,
a need to hear more of that whispering.
As I pulled myself up my covering slipped away. I was no longer
clothed and my body was covered with purple blotches which were
dried in scabs. Hideous! I was lightheaded when I moved, but
somehow I got to the wall and the com set there. The light below it
was on—it was open—and somewhere in the ship people were
talking, close enough to the mike so that some of their speech was
broadcast, though slurred. I tried to hear
“—danger—seal up—cannot even space him—seal door—set down on moon—burn out the cabin—”
“—deliver him to—”
“No chance.” The first speaker must have moved
closer, for I heard him more clearly. “He is dead, or near
enough not to matter. We are lucky so far, and we can take no
chance of the infection spreading. Get rid of the plague evidence
before we planet on any port. Do you want to be proclaimed a plague
ship?”
“—held responsible—”
“Return their fee. Show them the picture tape from the
cabin; one look at that ought to convince them that he was of no
use. As for searching him—do you want the plague?”
“—not people to be easily satisfied—”
“Show them the tapes!” It was the medico talking, I
was sure now. “Do not even open that cabin again until we can
burn it out, and we go suited when we do that. On a dead moon where
the infection cannot spread. Then we keep our mouths shut, and
tightly. No one but those will be asking for him. As far as the
rest, he is still back on Tanth, or dead there. And there will be
no questions asked for some time anyway—if ever. Those will see
that his trail is muddled. We cannot deliver him now—we have a
body and a sealed cabin—plague—”
That they were discussing me I had no doubts. Now that I was on
my feet, the first giddiness had gone and I could think. Velos
termed me dead, or near so, but at the moment I felt very much
alive. And I had no mind to fall victim to the fate the speakers
had in mind for me. If Velos had his way my cabin door would be
welded closed from the outside, not to be opened again for fear of
contagion. They would shut off the ventilation, all outlets, to
confine the disease, and I would have a hard and lingering death.
On the other hand it would appear that I had not engineered my own
escape from Tanth. Why had I not been suspicious at how easily it
had worked? I had been taken to be delivered elsewhere. And I
nursed no doubts as to the nature of those to whom I would have
been presented as if I were a piece of cargo.
What escape was left me?
“Outside—”
I turned my head too quickly and had to clutch at the frame of
the bunk as my vertigo returned. There was a small dark patch there
and it moved. I stared stupidly for a moment, until I could focus
on it.
The creature I had last seen curled by Valcyr hunched beside my
pillow. Now it seemed twice the size it had been at birth. Its eyes
were well open and it looked at me intently. Seeing me stare in
return, it reared its head, its long neck moving with reptilian
sinuosity.
“Outside.” Again that word formed in my mind, and I
could only connect it with the animal. Somehow in my weak state of
health such communication did not make me wonder.
“Outside, where?” I asked in a whisper, and then
squeezed around to shut off the com. I had no desire to reveal my
partial recovery to any possible listener.
“That—was—well—done. Outside—the—ship—” returned the
thing backed against my rumpled pillow.
“That is open space—” I continued to carry on the
conversation, convinced now that it was part of my fever. Perhaps
the other words I had heard over the mike were also fever
dreams
“Not—so. You heard—they will kill—you. Smell their fear—it
is a bad smell—all through this ship—” The narrow head raised
higher and higher and I saw the nostrils expand as if the creature
were indeed scenting the unusual in the flat air. “Go
outside—quick—before they seal—the door. Take a suit—”
Wear a space suit—through the lock? I might live then as long as
the air in the suit lasted. But that would only prolong life for a
short time.
“They will search—not find—then come back—hide—”
persisted my strange cabin mate.
A very wild plan with practically no chance of succeeding. But
such is our clinging to life that I was ready to consider it. My
cabin was not too far from the space lock, and the cubby storing
the suits. On the other hand, the opening of that compartment would
be instantly signaled to the bridge—and suppose we were in
hyper—?
“Not so,” cut in my companion.
“Feel—”
It was right. The hum of a ship in hyper was absent. Rather I
felt the vibration of a ship cruising in normal space.
“They seek—moon—dead world—to hide plague—or perhaps to
meet others.”
I pulled open a storage compartment. A coverall hung inside and
I jerked it out, put it on. Wherever the fabric touched my scaling
blotches they itched, but that was a minor discomfort when I had so
much else to worry about. As I sealed the front opening, the
creature on the bunk hunched together, quivered, leaped—landing
on a small railed shelf level with my shoulder. I flinched and
blinked.
Now that it was closer I could see it in detail. And it was
indeed a weird mixture. Its fur was still the wiry black fuzz. The
paws were naked skin. They were gray, white on the undersurfaces,
and the fore ones were very like tiny hands. The head was
reminiscent of a feline’s, as was the body, except the limbs
were too short in comparison with the length of the frame. Stiff
whiskers bristled from the upper lip, but the ears were smaller
than a cat’s. The eyes were also out of proportion, being
large and showing no pupils at all, only dark, slightly protruding
orbs.
The whiplike tail was furred for its length in a ridge along the
upper surface, but the tip and underparts were bare. Strange as it
looked, it was not in any way repulsive, only different.
It stepped from the shelf to my body, settling itself around my
neck, its hand-paws clinging to my right shoulder, so that its head
was not far from my ear, its hind claws driven into the fabric over
my upper left arm.
“Go—they come.”
It was as sharp as an order and I found myself obeying. But
before I left the cabin I received one more instruction.
“The air duct—feel inside.”
The screen across it gave way easily to my first tug. I was so
bemused now I followed instructions without question. Inside I
found my safe-belt, which had been laid in the center of that tube,
concealed from without. Automatically I searched its pockets by
touch. My small resources were still mine.
“Quick!” That was reinforced with a sharp pinch from
the hind claws.
I inched open the cabin door. The faint glow of the passage
showed me it was empty. But I could hear the ring of boot plates on
a ladder not too far away. I lurched for the suit locker. Suddenly
it seemed my very thin chance was better than no chance at all!
The dreamlike quality of my actions continued to hold. I no
longer, even with a small part of my brain, questioned the need to
flee the interior of the ship, or whether any of this wild plan was
feasible.
I regained a measure of strength and the more I walked the
steadier I became. There was a fleeting satisfaction in
disappointing Velos, who claimed I was dead or close to it.
The latch of the suit locker yielded to my tug and I slipped
inside, pulling the door shut behind me. In one way I was favored,
I saw as I glanced around that dim interior. The Vestris followed
the general pattern of an exploring vessel—which was only
logical, since a Free Trader often did discover new worlds.
There was another opening at the end of this space, giving
entrance directly to the lock, saving time when one must suit or
unsuit in leaving or entering the ship. I ran my hand along the
rack of suits, striving to find one enough my size to be, if not
comfortable, usable. Free Traders are now of a general physical
type, slight of build. Had I not myself been thin and under height,
I could not have squeezed into their protective covering. As it
was, I was going to have a tight fit—a very tight one—so much
so that I could not even buckle the safe-belt about my middle.
Well, perhaps it could go over, if not under, the suit.
When we entered the locker my small companion swung down from
its perch on my shoulders, and seemed almost to flow across the
floor. It stopped before a clear-sided box and sat up on its
haunches, using those hand-paws to feel along one edge in a way
which argued intelligent purpose. Then the front of the box sprang
open and it flashed in, to curl up. Mystified, I watched.
“Close this!” The imperative command ringing in my
head brought me down on one knee, the suit making me clumsy.
I was not quite sure what the box was. Its clear front, metal
sides and back were both protective and designed to give one
visibility of the contents. There were hooks at the back, as if it
were meant to hang from a support. I guessed that it had been
fashioned to bring back specimens from a new-found world.
“Close it—hurry—they come! You will take me—so!”
The bright eyes turned up to mine, willing me. Yes, I could feel
the force of the will. Again I obeyed.
My safe-belt could not be hooked over the suit. I hurriedly
unsealed its pockets and shoveled their contents into a belt pouch—all save the space ring. That wide band of metal had once fitted
over a space glove; perhaps it could again. And it did—snugly.
I strapped on the rest of the equipment, dimly aware of the
suicidal folly of my plan. But the fact remained that were I to
appear now anywhere in the ship I would probably be burned down
without mercy. There is no fear quite like that of plague. With the
carrying case containing my self-appointed company under my arm, I
opened the door into the lock. My issuing out of the ship would
activate alarms. But would they immediately believe that their
quarry was seeking such a way out? Velos had reported me comatose.
And I hoped they would cling to that thought.
The door of the hatch rolled back into place and I dogged it
shut. Why not stay just where I was? Because there were inner
controls and that door could still be opened from the corridor.
They need only open it and beam a hole in my protective suit, then
thrust me into space. A clean death as far as they were concerned,
with little chance of my contaminating my slayers.
Even as I thought all this my hands were busy thumbing the
release of the outer hatch, almost as if they worked independently
of my orders. Then the warn light flashed and there was a rushing
of air. I edged through, planting the magnetic plates of my boots
on the surface skin of the ship.
I had traveled spacers for years. However, my acquaintance with
such had been limited to the activities of a passenger. But now I
had sense enough to keep my eyes on the ship under my feet,
resolutely away from the void it sailed. I had fastened the box by
a safety cord to my harness and that swung out, tugging at me, but
not with force enough to break my magnetic hold on the ship.
Shuffling, not daring to break contact with the surface, I moved
away from the hatch. I thought it would not be long before I was
followed and the folly of what I had done struck me like a blow,
breaking that dream state which had held me since the creature had
first thrown its thoughts at my receptive mind.
If that was all real and not some fever dream, I had received
telepathically those suggestions and orders. No man can laugh at
the idea of esper powers, as the so-called enlightened once did. It
has been established that they exist, but do so rarely, and
erratically. However, I had never had any contact with such before,
and was certain I had no “wild talent.”
“Move!” That order rang as sharply in my head as the
first communication had done. “Move—toward the
nose—”
For the first time since our association had begun, I balked. In
fact I could not have moved in any direction at that moment. I was
frozen in such wild terror as I had never believed a man could
experience and not go mad. For I had lost all prudence and looked
away from the ship under me, out and up.
Words hammered in my mind, but I did not understand them. I knew
nothing, saw nothing but that emptiness. Something jerked and tore
at my harness. The creature was plunging about in its box. I could
see its mouth open and close, its eyes no longer shining beads but
fiery and bright. But I watched it with detachment, the terror of
space holding me fast.
But it was while I watched the creature’s frenzied
movements inside that box that I also saw the closing of the hatch
I had left open. And I think I screamed inside my helmet, the
shrilling of my own voice deafening me. I was locked out here now,
alone with nothingness!
Did I go a little mad? I am sure now that I did. I must get to
the door, I must—I have no true recollection—did I hurl myself?
What happened in those seconds of raw, mind-shattering panic? I
have never known. But I was no longer rooted—the ship was there,
and I was turning over and over, away from it, without any hope of
aid—floating out into the eternal dark.
I think I fainted then—because there are blank spaces in my
memory. True consciousness only returned with the sensation of
being pulled, drawn. I had a moment or two of heartfelt relief.
They had roped me, I was going back to the Vestris. Even if that
meant I was going to certain death, I did not care. Quick death was
an end to be sought in preference to this spinning in the void
forever.
My shoulder, my arm, pain—a pulling pain which grew stronger.
My right arm was stretched straight ahead of my body as if I
pointed to some unseen goal. And on the glove blazed light, a light
which fluctuated as if it were fed by energy which came in spurts.
I followed that outstretched arm as a diver’s body follows
his upheld, water-cutting arms, and there was the strong,
sinew-tormenting pull, as if my aim had become a rope drawing me to
an anchorage.
Nor could I move my arm, or even my legs. I was frozen into this
position—a human arrow aimed for a target which I could not
guess. That I was aimed I did not doubt. There was no rope on me—no, I was swinging through the void following that light on my
glove. My glove? No! The space ring on my finger!
That once-clouded stone was the beacon of light pulling me on
and on. I could turn my head a little and see in the reflected
glory of that light that I still towed the box with its furry
occupant. But the creature was curled in a tight ball which rolled
helplessly and I thought it was probably dead.
Where the Vestris might be I had no idea. There was a sense of
speed about my present passage. And I could not turn my head very
far to see what lay behind, above, or below.
Time ceased to have any meaning. I wavered back and forth
between consciousness and black non-being. Only gradually did I
become aware of approaching something. At last I could make out the
outline of what once might have been a ship; at least the inner
portion of that drifting mass might have been a ship. About it,
like tiny satellites about a planet, were crowding bits of debris,
grinding now and then against the hull, swinging out, but not to
break away. And the ring was pulling me straight into that
grinding! Caught by even a small fragment of that and I would be as
dead as if a laser had cut me down.
Yet try to fight the pull as I did, I had no chance against the
force drawing me on. My arm was numb, the joints seemingly locked
in that position. I had ceased to be a man; I was only a means for
the ring to reach whatever target it must find.
Inside the suit, my helpless body, that which was the thinking,
feeling part of me, cowered and whimpered. I shut my eyes, unable
to look upon what lay before me, and then was forced to open them
again because hope refused to die. We were very close to the outer
circle of debris, and I thought I could see a hole in the side of
the derelict ship—either an open hatch or some other break.
It was, as far as I could guess, since my sight of it was
limited by the mass of stuff about it, larger than the Vestris,
perhaps closer to passenger liner. And its lines were not those of
any ship I knew. Then—we were in the first wave of debris—
I waited for the crushing of those bits of jagged metal—until
I saw that the floating stuff was parting before the beam of the
stone, as if that had the power to cut a clear path. Hardly daring
to believe that such would be the case, I watched. But it was true,
a great lump dipped and bobbed and moved reluctantly away.
So we came to that dark doorway. I was sure it was a hatch,
though there remained no evidence of any door. But the opening was
too regular to be a mere hole. Into and through that dark arch the
ring continued to pull me, lighting up dim walls. And then my
beacon hand struck painfully against a solid surface, and continued
to beat through no desire of mine, hammering upon the inner hatch
of this long-dead ship as if demanding entrance. Finally my gloved
flesh came to rest on that resisting surface as if it were welded
there, while I struggled until my magnetized boots struck the floor
and I could stand, my right hand pinned to the door, my feet
anchored once again.
I found it increasingly hard to think of
betraying Valcyr and her offspring to the crew. Because that was
the feeling which I finally identified—that a disclosure of their
presence would be a betrayal. And I who had never felt any strong
emotion for an animal knew one now. I questioned myself, trying to
discover why, and found no answer. But the fact remained that I
could not call anyone, no more than if I were chained to the bunk,
silenced by a gag.
The small creature stirred at last, raising its narrow head and
turning it back and forth as if seeking something. But it did so
blindly, for its eye slits were closed. Valcyr, purring, put out a
foreleg and fondly drew it closer. But that head had swung around
to face me, and I thought that, though the thing was so young,
blind, and helpless, yet somehow it was aware of me, not in fear,
but for a purpose. I tried to laugh at that.
Disturbed, I got up from the bunk and went to sit on a wall
seat, my back half turned to those two. I strove to concentrate on
my own difficulties. Since I could not hope now for an early
release from the Vestris, or even be sure on which planet I would
land, I must be prepared for a dubious future. Once more I ran my
hand along my safe-belt, fingering each of the pitifully few bulges
left in it. The last one of all—the space ring—
Hywel Jern had been killed for it; of that I was as certain as
if I had witnessed the act. But—had our disaster on Tanth also
stemmed from its possession? Why Vonder and not me, if that were
true? Or was it necessary to make sure of us both, so that no
awkward questions could later be raised by a survivor?
Why—who—?
My father had had close ties with the Thieves’ Guild, in
spite of his retirement from their company. Any man in those ranks
could and did make powerful enemies. But, I believed, his services
had continued in part even after his settlement on Angkor.
I continued to rub the ring’s shape through the stuff of
the belt and my thoughts went round and round, presenting me with
no solution. I do not know when it was that I had begun to notice
an unusual degree of heat in the cabin. I had opened the sealing of
my coverall, and felt the trickle of sweat drops down my cheek and
chin. Now I raised my hand to swab those away and my eyes lit upon
the skin across the back and fingers. Rising on that once-smooth
surface were purplish blotches, swelling as might waterfilled
blisters.
I tried to rise, only to discover that my body was no longer
under my control. And I was shivering. The extreme heat of moments
earlier was now an inner cold. I knew a tearing nausea, but I could
not vomit. I clawed open my clothing and saw that the blisters were
thick also across my chest and upper arms.
“Help—” Had I croaked that, or only thought I had?
Somehow I lurched up and pushed around the wall of the cabin, using
its support to make my way to the small com on the wall. There I
shook and wavered as I tried to press the alert button.
It was getting hard to see—in fact a thick fog curled up about
me as if I were back in that world of geysers and steam. Had I been
able to press the button? I leaned my forehead against the wall so
that my lips were not too far from the com as I croaked my
plea:
“Help—sick—”
I could no longer stay on my feet. Aiming myself at the bunk, I
tottered forward, completely forgetting Valcyr. But as I crashed
down I encountered no furry bodies. The bunk was empty and I lay on
it shuddering.
Now I was back in the dank steam of the deserted planet, and
that wreathed in scalding curls about me, so that I cried out in
torment. Across seamed and stinking mud I ran, unable to sight my
pursuers but knowing I was hunted. Once the mists parted and I saw
them for an instant. They came laser in hand and all wore the same
face, that of the medico Velos. But still I kept my stumbling feet
and fled.
“They will kill—kill—kill—” The words rang across
this evil world in a vast thundering. “They will kill you—
you—you!”
I was lying once more on my bunk, shivering again. But the mist
had disappeared and my sight was clear. And not only my sight but
my mind. There was a whistling whisper—it came from the wall—out of the wall. Once before I had heard words out of a wall or the
air. But that had been on Tanth in the sanctuary. And I was not
there—but in a cabin on a Free Trader. In me was a vast urgency,
a need to hear more of that whispering.
As I pulled myself up my covering slipped away. I was no longer
clothed and my body was covered with purple blotches which were
dried in scabs. Hideous! I was lightheaded when I moved, but
somehow I got to the wall and the com set there. The light below it
was on—it was open—and somewhere in the ship people were
talking, close enough to the mike so that some of their speech was
broadcast, though slurred. I tried to hear
“—danger—seal up—cannot even space him—seal door—set down on moon—burn out the cabin—”
“—deliver him to—”
“No chance.” The first speaker must have moved
closer, for I heard him more clearly. “He is dead, or near
enough not to matter. We are lucky so far, and we can take no
chance of the infection spreading. Get rid of the plague evidence
before we planet on any port. Do you want to be proclaimed a plague
ship?”
“—held responsible—”
“Return their fee. Show them the picture tape from the
cabin; one look at that ought to convince them that he was of no
use. As for searching him—do you want the plague?”
“—not people to be easily satisfied—”
“Show them the tapes!” It was the medico talking, I
was sure now. “Do not even open that cabin again until we can
burn it out, and we go suited when we do that. On a dead moon where
the infection cannot spread. Then we keep our mouths shut, and
tightly. No one but those will be asking for him. As far as the
rest, he is still back on Tanth, or dead there. And there will be
no questions asked for some time anyway—if ever. Those will see
that his trail is muddled. We cannot deliver him now—we have a
body and a sealed cabin—plague—”
That they were discussing me I had no doubts. Now that I was on
my feet, the first giddiness had gone and I could think. Velos
termed me dead, or near so, but at the moment I felt very much
alive. And I had no mind to fall victim to the fate the speakers
had in mind for me. If Velos had his way my cabin door would be
welded closed from the outside, not to be opened again for fear of
contagion. They would shut off the ventilation, all outlets, to
confine the disease, and I would have a hard and lingering death.
On the other hand it would appear that I had not engineered my own
escape from Tanth. Why had I not been suspicious at how easily it
had worked? I had been taken to be delivered elsewhere. And I
nursed no doubts as to the nature of those to whom I would have
been presented as if I were a piece of cargo.
What escape was left me?
“Outside—”
I turned my head too quickly and had to clutch at the frame of
the bunk as my vertigo returned. There was a small dark patch there
and it moved. I stared stupidly for a moment, until I could focus
on it.
The creature I had last seen curled by Valcyr hunched beside my
pillow. Now it seemed twice the size it had been at birth. Its eyes
were well open and it looked at me intently. Seeing me stare in
return, it reared its head, its long neck moving with reptilian
sinuosity.
“Outside.” Again that word formed in my mind, and I
could only connect it with the animal. Somehow in my weak state of
health such communication did not make me wonder.
“Outside, where?” I asked in a whisper, and then
squeezed around to shut off the com. I had no desire to reveal my
partial recovery to any possible listener.
“That—was—well—done. Outside—the—ship—” returned the
thing backed against my rumpled pillow.
“That is open space—” I continued to carry on the
conversation, convinced now that it was part of my fever. Perhaps
the other words I had heard over the mike were also fever
dreams
“Not—so. You heard—they will kill—you. Smell their fear—it
is a bad smell—all through this ship—” The narrow head raised
higher and higher and I saw the nostrils expand as if the creature
were indeed scenting the unusual in the flat air. “Go
outside—quick—before they seal—the door. Take a suit—”
Wear a space suit—through the lock? I might live then as long as
the air in the suit lasted. But that would only prolong life for a
short time.
“They will search—not find—then come back—hide—”
persisted my strange cabin mate.
A very wild plan with practically no chance of succeeding. But
such is our clinging to life that I was ready to consider it. My
cabin was not too far from the space lock, and the cubby storing
the suits. On the other hand, the opening of that compartment would
be instantly signaled to the bridge—and suppose we were in
hyper—?
“Not so,” cut in my companion.
“Feel—”
It was right. The hum of a ship in hyper was absent. Rather I
felt the vibration of a ship cruising in normal space.
“They seek—moon—dead world—to hide plague—or perhaps to
meet others.”
I pulled open a storage compartment. A coverall hung inside and
I jerked it out, put it on. Wherever the fabric touched my scaling
blotches they itched, but that was a minor discomfort when I had so
much else to worry about. As I sealed the front opening, the
creature on the bunk hunched together, quivered, leaped—landing
on a small railed shelf level with my shoulder. I flinched and
blinked.
Now that it was closer I could see it in detail. And it was
indeed a weird mixture. Its fur was still the wiry black fuzz. The
paws were naked skin. They were gray, white on the undersurfaces,
and the fore ones were very like tiny hands. The head was
reminiscent of a feline’s, as was the body, except the limbs
were too short in comparison with the length of the frame. Stiff
whiskers bristled from the upper lip, but the ears were smaller
than a cat’s. The eyes were also out of proportion, being
large and showing no pupils at all, only dark, slightly protruding
orbs.
The whiplike tail was furred for its length in a ridge along the
upper surface, but the tip and underparts were bare. Strange as it
looked, it was not in any way repulsive, only different.
It stepped from the shelf to my body, settling itself around my
neck, its hand-paws clinging to my right shoulder, so that its head
was not far from my ear, its hind claws driven into the fabric over
my upper left arm.
“Go—they come.”
It was as sharp as an order and I found myself obeying. But
before I left the cabin I received one more instruction.
“The air duct—feel inside.”
The screen across it gave way easily to my first tug. I was so
bemused now I followed instructions without question. Inside I
found my safe-belt, which had been laid in the center of that tube,
concealed from without. Automatically I searched its pockets by
touch. My small resources were still mine.
“Quick!” That was reinforced with a sharp pinch from
the hind claws.
I inched open the cabin door. The faint glow of the passage
showed me it was empty. But I could hear the ring of boot plates on
a ladder not too far away. I lurched for the suit locker. Suddenly
it seemed my very thin chance was better than no chance at all!
The dreamlike quality of my actions continued to hold. I no
longer, even with a small part of my brain, questioned the need to
flee the interior of the ship, or whether any of this wild plan was
feasible.
I regained a measure of strength and the more I walked the
steadier I became. There was a fleeting satisfaction in
disappointing Velos, who claimed I was dead or close to it.
The latch of the suit locker yielded to my tug and I slipped
inside, pulling the door shut behind me. In one way I was favored,
I saw as I glanced around that dim interior. The Vestris followed
the general pattern of an exploring vessel—which was only
logical, since a Free Trader often did discover new worlds.
There was another opening at the end of this space, giving
entrance directly to the lock, saving time when one must suit or
unsuit in leaving or entering the ship. I ran my hand along the
rack of suits, striving to find one enough my size to be, if not
comfortable, usable. Free Traders are now of a general physical
type, slight of build. Had I not myself been thin and under height,
I could not have squeezed into their protective covering. As it
was, I was going to have a tight fit—a very tight one—so much
so that I could not even buckle the safe-belt about my middle.
Well, perhaps it could go over, if not under, the suit.
When we entered the locker my small companion swung down from
its perch on my shoulders, and seemed almost to flow across the
floor. It stopped before a clear-sided box and sat up on its
haunches, using those hand-paws to feel along one edge in a way
which argued intelligent purpose. Then the front of the box sprang
open and it flashed in, to curl up. Mystified, I watched.
“Close this!” The imperative command ringing in my
head brought me down on one knee, the suit making me clumsy.
I was not quite sure what the box was. Its clear front, metal
sides and back were both protective and designed to give one
visibility of the contents. There were hooks at the back, as if it
were meant to hang from a support. I guessed that it had been
fashioned to bring back specimens from a new-found world.
“Close it—hurry—they come! You will take me—so!”
The bright eyes turned up to mine, willing me. Yes, I could feel
the force of the will. Again I obeyed.
My safe-belt could not be hooked over the suit. I hurriedly
unsealed its pockets and shoveled their contents into a belt pouch—all save the space ring. That wide band of metal had once fitted
over a space glove; perhaps it could again. And it did—snugly.
I strapped on the rest of the equipment, dimly aware of the
suicidal folly of my plan. But the fact remained that were I to
appear now anywhere in the ship I would probably be burned down
without mercy. There is no fear quite like that of plague. With the
carrying case containing my self-appointed company under my arm, I
opened the door into the lock. My issuing out of the ship would
activate alarms. But would they immediately believe that their
quarry was seeking such a way out? Velos had reported me comatose.
And I hoped they would cling to that thought.
The door of the hatch rolled back into place and I dogged it
shut. Why not stay just where I was? Because there were inner
controls and that door could still be opened from the corridor.
They need only open it and beam a hole in my protective suit, then
thrust me into space. A clean death as far as they were concerned,
with little chance of my contaminating my slayers.
Even as I thought all this my hands were busy thumbing the
release of the outer hatch, almost as if they worked independently
of my orders. Then the warn light flashed and there was a rushing
of air. I edged through, planting the magnetic plates of my boots
on the surface skin of the ship.
I had traveled spacers for years. However, my acquaintance with
such had been limited to the activities of a passenger. But now I
had sense enough to keep my eyes on the ship under my feet,
resolutely away from the void it sailed. I had fastened the box by
a safety cord to my harness and that swung out, tugging at me, but
not with force enough to break my magnetic hold on the ship.
Shuffling, not daring to break contact with the surface, I moved
away from the hatch. I thought it would not be long before I was
followed and the folly of what I had done struck me like a blow,
breaking that dream state which had held me since the creature had
first thrown its thoughts at my receptive mind.
If that was all real and not some fever dream, I had received
telepathically those suggestions and orders. No man can laugh at
the idea of esper powers, as the so-called enlightened once did. It
has been established that they exist, but do so rarely, and
erratically. However, I had never had any contact with such before,
and was certain I had no “wild talent.”
“Move!” That order rang as sharply in my head as the
first communication had done. “Move—toward the
nose—”
For the first time since our association had begun, I balked. In
fact I could not have moved in any direction at that moment. I was
frozen in such wild terror as I had never believed a man could
experience and not go mad. For I had lost all prudence and looked
away from the ship under me, out and up.
Words hammered in my mind, but I did not understand them. I knew
nothing, saw nothing but that emptiness. Something jerked and tore
at my harness. The creature was plunging about in its box. I could
see its mouth open and close, its eyes no longer shining beads but
fiery and bright. But I watched it with detachment, the terror of
space holding me fast.
But it was while I watched the creature’s frenzied
movements inside that box that I also saw the closing of the hatch
I had left open. And I think I screamed inside my helmet, the
shrilling of my own voice deafening me. I was locked out here now,
alone with nothingness!
Did I go a little mad? I am sure now that I did. I must get to
the door, I must—I have no true recollection—did I hurl myself?
What happened in those seconds of raw, mind-shattering panic? I
have never known. But I was no longer rooted—the ship was there,
and I was turning over and over, away from it, without any hope of
aid—floating out into the eternal dark.
I think I fainted then—because there are blank spaces in my
memory. True consciousness only returned with the sensation of
being pulled, drawn. I had a moment or two of heartfelt relief.
They had roped me, I was going back to the Vestris. Even if that
meant I was going to certain death, I did not care. Quick death was
an end to be sought in preference to this spinning in the void
forever.
My shoulder, my arm, pain—a pulling pain which grew stronger.
My right arm was stretched straight ahead of my body as if I
pointed to some unseen goal. And on the glove blazed light, a light
which fluctuated as if it were fed by energy which came in spurts.
I followed that outstretched arm as a diver’s body follows
his upheld, water-cutting arms, and there was the strong,
sinew-tormenting pull, as if my aim had become a rope drawing me to
an anchorage.
Nor could I move my arm, or even my legs. I was frozen into this
position—a human arrow aimed for a target which I could not
guess. That I was aimed I did not doubt. There was no rope on me—no, I was swinging through the void following that light on my
glove. My glove? No! The space ring on my finger!
That once-clouded stone was the beacon of light pulling me on
and on. I could turn my head a little and see in the reflected
glory of that light that I still towed the box with its furry
occupant. But the creature was curled in a tight ball which rolled
helplessly and I thought it was probably dead.
Where the Vestris might be I had no idea. There was a sense of
speed about my present passage. And I could not turn my head very
far to see what lay behind, above, or below.
Time ceased to have any meaning. I wavered back and forth
between consciousness and black non-being. Only gradually did I
become aware of approaching something. At last I could make out the
outline of what once might have been a ship; at least the inner
portion of that drifting mass might have been a ship. About it,
like tiny satellites about a planet, were crowding bits of debris,
grinding now and then against the hull, swinging out, but not to
break away. And the ring was pulling me straight into that
grinding! Caught by even a small fragment of that and I would be as
dead as if a laser had cut me down.
Yet try to fight the pull as I did, I had no chance against the
force drawing me on. My arm was numb, the joints seemingly locked
in that position. I had ceased to be a man; I was only a means for
the ring to reach whatever target it must find.
Inside the suit, my helpless body, that which was the thinking,
feeling part of me, cowered and whimpered. I shut my eyes, unable
to look upon what lay before me, and then was forced to open them
again because hope refused to die. We were very close to the outer
circle of debris, and I thought I could see a hole in the side of
the derelict ship—either an open hatch or some other break.
It was, as far as I could guess, since my sight of it was
limited by the mass of stuff about it, larger than the Vestris,
perhaps closer to passenger liner. And its lines were not those of
any ship I knew. Then—we were in the first wave of debris—
I waited for the crushing of those bits of jagged metal—until
I saw that the floating stuff was parting before the beam of the
stone, as if that had the power to cut a clear path. Hardly daring
to believe that such would be the case, I watched. But it was true,
a great lump dipped and bobbed and moved reluctantly away.
So we came to that dark doorway. I was sure it was a hatch,
though there remained no evidence of any door. But the opening was
too regular to be a mere hole. Into and through that dark arch the
ring continued to pull me, lighting up dim walls. And then my
beacon hand struck painfully against a solid surface, and continued
to beat through no desire of mine, hammering upon the inner hatch
of this long-dead ship as if demanding entrance. Finally my gloved
flesh came to rest on that resisting surface as if it were welded
there, while I struggled until my magnetized boots struck the floor
and I could stand, my right hand pinned to the door, my feet
anchored once again.