UNABLE TO SEE the burper's crew, the defenders had only the
narrowest and most impossible mark to shoot at—the gun's muzzle.
Perhaps that action was only to occupy their minds: by
concentrating on that menace, by seeing or thinking of nothing
else, they could, each and every one, forget for a space that the
ship they fought for could only take a numbered few—that when it
blasted off, some of the Cleft would still be here.
Dessie! Dard twisted in the hole he had hollowed with his body.
Surely Dessie would be aboard. There were so few children—so few
women—Dessie would be an asset!
He tried to think only of a shadow he thought he saw move then.
Or a shadow he wanted to believe had moved as he snapped a shot at
it. When this battle had begun, or rather when he had come on the
scene—it had been mid-morning. Once during the day he had choked
down some dry food which had been passed along, taking sips from a
shared canteen. Now the dusk of evening lengthened the patches of
gloom. Under the cover of the dark the burper would rumble up to
them, to gnaw away at this second barrier. And the defenders would
withdraw—to delay and delay.
But maybe the end of that battle would not wait upon nightfall
after all. The familiar sound of blades beating the air was a
warning which reached them before they saw the 'copter skimming up,
its undercarriage scraping the top of their first wall.
Dard watched it resignedly, too apathetic to duck when its
occupants hurled grenades. He crouched unmoving as the machine
climbed for altitude. The explosion caught him in his hollow a
second later. There was the sense of being torn out of hiding, of
being flung free. Then he was on his hands and knees, creeping
through a strangely silent world of rolling stones and sliding
earth.
Some feet away a man struggled to free his legs from a mound of
earth. He clawed at his covering with a single hand, the other,
welling red, lay at a queer twisted angle. Dard crept over and the
man stared at him wildly, mouthing words Dard could not hear
through the buzzing which filled his head. He dug with torn fingers
into the mass which held the other prisoner.
Another figure loomed over them and Dard was shoved aside. The
huge Santee knelt, scooping away soil and rock, until together they
were able to pull the injured man free. Dard, his shaking head
still ringing with noise of its own, helped to lift the limp body
and carry it back into the inner valley of the starship. Santee
stumbled and brought all three of them down. Dard got to his knees
and turned his head carefully to blink at what he saw behind
him.
Those in the 'copter had not ripped apart the barrier as they
had planned. The grenades had jarred some hidden fault bringing
down more tons of soil and rocks. Anyone viewing that spot now
would never believe that there had once been an opening there.
Of the defenders who had held that barricade only the three of
them remained—he, Santee, and the wounded man they had dragged
with them.
Dard wondered if he had been deafened by the explosion. The
roaring in his head, which affected his balance when he tried to
walk, had no connection with normal sound and he could hear nothing
Santee was saying. He ran his hands aimlessly across his bruised
and aching ribs, content to remain where he was.
But the enemy was not satisfied to leave them alone. Spurts of
dust stung up from the rock wall. Dard stared at them a second or
two before Santee's heavy fist sent him sprawling, and he realized
that the three of them were cut off in a pocket while snipers in
the 'copter tried to pick them off. This was the end—but to think
that brought him no sensation of fear. It was enough to just lie
still and wait.
He brought his hands up to support his buzzing head. Then
someone tugged roughly at his belt, rolling him over. Dard opened
his eyes to see Santee taking the stun gun from him. Out of that
thick mat of black hair which masked most of the man's face his
teeth showed in a white snarl of rage.
But there were only two charges in the stun gun. Maybe he was
able to say that aloud, for Santee glanced at him and then examined
the clip. Two shots from a stun gun wasn't going to bring down a
'copter. The humor of that pricked him and he laughed quietly to
himself. A stun gun against a 'copter!
Santee was up on his knees behind the rock he had chosen for
protection, his head straining back on his thick neck as he watched
the movements of the 'copter.
What happened next might have astonished Dard earlier, but now
he was past all amazement. The 'copter, making a wide turn, smashed
into some invisible barrier in the air. Through the twilight they
saw it literally bounce back, as if some giant hand had slapped at
an annoying insect. Then, broken as the insect would have been, it
came tumbling down. Two of its passengers jumped and floated
gracefully through the air, supported by some means Dard could not
identify. Santee scrambled to his feet and took careful aim with
the stun gun.
He picked off the nearer. But a second shot missed the other.
And the big man ducked only just in time to escape the return fire
of the enemy. Making contact with the ground the Peaceman dodged
behind the crumpled fuselage of the 'copter. Why didn't he just
walk across and finish them off, Dard speculated fretfully? Why
draw out the process? It was getting darker—darker. He pawed at
his eyes, was his sight as well as his hearing going to fail
him?
But, no, he could still see Santee who had gone down on his
belly and was now wriggling around the rocks, proceeding
worm-fashion along a finger of the slide toward the 'copter. Though
how he expected to attack the man hidden there—with his bare hands
and an empty stun gun—against a rifle!
Dard's detachment persisted. He watched the action in which he
was not involved critically. Wanting to see how it would end he
pulled himself up to follow Santee's slow progress. When the
crawler disappeared from his range of vision Dard was irritated.
Suppose the man waiting over there was to believe that they were
trying to escape down valley—wouldn't all his attention be for
that direction— not at Santee?
Dard felt about him in the gloom, hunting stones of a suitable
size, weighing and discarding until he held one larger than both
his fists. Two more he lined up before him. With all the strength
he could muster he sent the first and largest hurtling down the
valley. A flash of fire answered its landing.
The second and third rock followed at intervals. Each time he
saw the mark of answering shots. His hearing was coming back—he
caught the faint echo of the last one. New stones were found and
sent after the others—to keep up the illusion of escape. But now
there was no shot to reply. Had Santee reached that sniper?
The boy sprawled back against the wall of the cleft and waited,
for what he did not altogether know. Santee's return? Or the starship's blast off? Had they brought time enough for the frenzied
workers back there? Was tonight going to see Kimber setting that
course they had won from the Voice, piloting the ship out into
space before he, too, went under the influence of Lars' drug and
began the sleep from which there might be no awakening? But if the
voyagers did awaken! Dard drew a deep breath and for a moment he
forgot everything—his own aching, punished body, the rocky trap
which enclosed him, the lack of future—he forgot all these in a
dream of what might lie beyond the sky which he now searched for
the first wink of starlight. Another world—another sun—a fresh
start!
He started as a shape loomed out of the dark to cut off the
sight of that star he had just discovered. Fingers clawed painfully
into his shoulders bringing him up to his feet. Then, mainly by
Santee's brute force of body and will, they picked up the rescued
man and started in a drunken stagger back into the valley. Dard
forgot his dream, he needed all his strength to keep his feet, to
go as Santee drove him.
They made a half-turn to avoid a boulder and came to a stop as
lights blinded them. The ship was surrounded by a circle of blazing
flares. The fury of industry which had boiled about it during the
loading had stemmed to a mere trickle. Dard could see no women at
all and most of the men were gone also. The few who remained in
sight were passing boxes up a ramp. Soon that would be done, and
then those down there would enter that silvery shape. The hatch
would close, the ship would rise on fire.
Muted by the pain in his head he heard the booming shout of a
deep voice. Below, the loaders stopped work. Grouped together they
faced the survivors of the barrier battle. Santee called again, and
that group broke apart as the men ran up to them.
Dard sat down beside the injured man, his legs giving way under
him. With detachment he watched the coming of that other party. One
man had his shirt badly torn across the shoulder—would he land on
another world across the void of space with that tatter still
fluttering? The problem had some interest.
Now a circle of legs walled the boy in, boots spurted snow in
his face. He was brought to his feet, arms about his shoulders, led
along to the ship. But that wasn't right, he thought mistily.
Kimber had said not room enough—he was one of the
expendables—
But he could find no words to argue with those who helped him
along, not even when he was pushed up that ramp into the ship.
Kordov stood in the hatch door waving them ahead with an imperious
arm. Then Dard found himself in a tiny room and a cup of milky
liquid was thrust against his lips and held there until he docilely
swallowed its contents to the last tasteless drop. When that was in
him he was lowered onto a folding seat pulled down from the starkly
bare metal wall and left to hold his spinning head in his
hands.
"Yeah—the force field's still holdin'— "
"Won't be able to plow through that last slide, eh?"
"Not with anything they've got now."
Words, a lot of words, passing back and forth across him.
Sometimes for a second or two they made good sense, then meaning
faded again.
"Can pretty well take your own time now—" Was that rumble from
Santee?
And that quick, crisp voice cutting in, "What about the
kid?"
"Him? He's some scrapper. Got a head on him, too. Just shaken up
a lot when that last blowup hit us, but he's still in one
piece."
Kimber! That had been Kimber asking about him. But Dard hadn't
strength left to raise his head and look for the pilot.
"We'll patch up Tremont first and send him under. You two will
have to wait a while. Give them the soup and that first powder,
Lui—"
Again Dard was given a drink—this time of hot steamy stuff
which carried the flavor of rich meat. After it there was a capsule
to be swallowed.
Bruises and aches—when he moved his body he was just one huge
ache. But he straightened up and tried to take an interest in his
surroundings. Santee, his shirt a few rags about his thick hairy
shoulders and arms, squatted on another pull-down seat directly
across from Dard. Along the passage outside there was a constant
coming and going. Scraps of conversation reached them, most of
which he did not understand.
"Feelin' better, kid?" the big man asked.
Dard answered that muffled question with a nod and then wished
that he hadn't moved his head. "Are we going along?" he shaped the
words with difficulty Santee's beard wagged as he roared with
laughter. "Like to see 'em throw us off ship now! What made you
think we weren't, kid?"
"No room—Kimber said."
Laughter faded from the eyes of the man opposite him.
"Might not have been, kid. Only a lot of good men died back
there puttin' such a plug in the valley that these buggers aren't
goin' to git in 'til too late. Since the warp's still workin',
flyin' won't bring 'em neither. So we ain't needed out there no
more. An' maybe some good fightin' men will be needed where this
old girl's headed. So in we come, an' they're gonna pack us away
with the rest of the cargo. Ain't that so, Doc?" he ended by
demanding of the tall young man who had just entered.
The newcomer's parrot crest of blond hair stood up from his
scalp in a twist like the stem of a pear and his wide eyes glowed
with enthusiasm.
"You're young Nordis, aren't you?" he demanded of Dard, ignoring
Santee. "I wish I could have known your brother! He—what he did—!
I wouldn't have believed such results possible if I hadn't seen the
formula! Hibernation and freezing—his formula combined with Tas's
biological experiments! Why, we've even put three of Hammond's
calves under—what grass they'll graze on before they die! And it's
all due to Lars Nordis!"
Dard was too tired to show much interest in that. He wanted to
go to sleep to forget everything and everybody.
"To sleep, perchance to dream"—the old words shaped patterns
for him. Only—not to dream would be better now. Did one dream in
space—and what queer dreams haunted men lying in slumber between
worlds? Dard mentally shook himself—there was something
important—something he had to ask before he dared let sleep
come.
"Where's Dessie?"
"Nordis' little girl? She's with my daughter—and my
wife—they're already under."
"Under what?"
"In cold sleep. Most of the gang are now. Just a few of us still
loading. Then Kimber, Kordov and I. We'll ride out until Kimber is
sure of the course before we stow away. All the rest of you—"
"Will be packed away before the take-off. Saves wear and tear on
bodies and nerves under acceleration," cut in Kimber from the
doorway. He nodded over the medico's shoulder at Dard. "Glad to
have you aboard, kid. Promise you— no forced landings on this
voyage. You're to be sealed up in crew's quarters—so you'll wake
early to see the new world!" And with that he was gone again.
Maybe it was the capsule acting now, maybe it was just that last
reassurance from a man he had come to trust wholeheartedly, but
Dard was warm and relaxed. To wake and see a new world!
Santee went away with Lui Skort, and Dard was alone. The noise
in the corridor died away. At last he heard a warning bell. And a
moment later the pound of heavy feet in a hurry roused him. The
haste of that spoke of trouble, and with the support of the wall he
got up to look out. Kimber was coming down a spiral stairway, the
center core of the ship. In his hand was one of the snubnosed ray
guns Sach had had. He passed Dard without a word.
Bracing his hands against the wall of the corridor, Dard
shuffled along in his wake. Then he was peering out of an airlock
to see the pilot squatting on the ramp. It was black night out—most
of the flares had gone out.
Dard listened. He could hear at intervals the blast of the
burper. The Peacemen were still doggedly attacking the cleft
barrier. But what had Kimber come to guard and why? Had some
important possessions been left in the caverns? Dard slumped
against the lock and watched lights spark to life in the mouth of
the tunnel. A man came out running, covering the ground to the foot
of the ship's ramp in ground-eating leaps. He dashed by Kimber, and
Dard had just time enough to get back as Santee burst in.
"Get going!" The big man bore him along to the corridor and
Kimber joined them. He touched some control and the hatch-lock was
sealed.
Santee, panting, grinned. "Nice neat job, if I do say so
myself," he reported. "The space warp's off an' the final charge is
set for forty minutes from now. We'll blast before that?"
"Yes. Better get along both of you. Lui's waiting and we don't
want to scrape a couple of acceleration cases off the floor later,"
returned Kimber.
With the aid of the other two Dard pulled his tired body up the
stair, past various landing stages where sealed doors fronted them.
Kordov's broad face appeared at last, surveying them anxiously, and
it was he who lifted Dard up the last three steps. Kimber left
them, climbing on through an opening above into the control chamber.
He did not glance back or say any goodbyes.
"In here—" Kordov thrust them ahead of him.
Dard, brought face to face with what that cabin contained, knew
a sudden repulsion. Those boxes, shelved in a metal rack they too
closely resembled coffins! And the rack was full except for the
bottommost box which awaited open on the floor.
Kordov pointed to it. "That's for you, Santee—built for a big
boy. You're lighter, Dard. We'll fit you in on top over on the
other side."
A second rack stood against the farther wall with four more of
the coffins ready and waiting. Dard shivered, but it was not only
imagination-disturbed nerves which roughened his skin, there was a
chill in the air—coming from the open boxes.
Kordov explained. "You go to sleep and then you freeze."
Santee chuckled. "Just so you thaw us out again, Tas. I ain't
aimin' to spend the rest of my life an icicle so you brainy boys
can prove somethin' or other. Now what do we do—climb in?"
"Strip first," ordered the First Scientist. "And then you get a
couple of shots."
He pulled along a small rolling tray-table on which were laid a
series of hypodermics. Carefully he selected two, one filled with a
red brown liquid, the other with a colorless substance.
As Dard fumbled at the fastenings of the torn uniform he still
wore, Santee asked a question for them both.
"An' how do we wake up when the right time comes? Got any alarms set in these contraptions?"
"Those three—" Kordov indicated the three lower coffins on the
far rack, "are especially fitted. Arranged to waken those inside,
Kimber, Lui, and me, when the ship signals that it has reached the
end of the course set, which will be when the instruments raise a
sun enough like Sol to nourish earth-type planets. We feed that
into her robot controls once we are free in space. During the
voyage she may vary the pattern—to make evasion of meteors or for
other reasons. But she will always come back on the set course, If
we are close to a solar system when we are awakened, and Kimber has
done everything possible to assure that, then we shall arouse any
others needed to bring the ship down. Most of you won't be awakened
until after we land—there isn't enough room."
"How long?"
Kordov shrugged, "Who knows? No man has yet pioneered into the
galaxy. It may be for generations."
Santee rolled his discarded clothing into a ball and waited
stoically for Kordov to give him the shots. Then with a wave of one
big fist he climbed into the coffin and lay down. Kordov made
adjustments at either end. Icy air welled up in a freezing puff.
Santee's eyes closed as the First Scientist moved the lid into
place before setting the three dials on the side Their pointers
swung until the needles came to rest at the far end. Kordov pushed
the box back onto the rack.
"Now for you," he turned to Dard.
The top box lowered itself on two long arms from the top of the
other rack. Dard discarded his last piece of clothing with a vast
reluctance. Sure, he could understand the theory of this—what his
brother had worked out for them. But the reality—to be frozen
within a box—to go sightlessly, helplessly into the void—perhaps
never to awake! With his teeth set hard he fought back the panic
those thoughts churned up in him. And he was fighting so hard that
the prick of the first injection came as a shock. He started, only
to have Kordov's hand close as a vise upon his upper arm and hold
him steady for the second.
"That's all—in with you now, son. See you in another world."
Kordov was laughing, but Dard's weak answering smile as he
settled himself in the coffin had no humor in it. Because Kordov
could be so very right. The cover was going on, he had an insane
desire to scream out that he wasn't going to be shut in this
way—that he wanted out, not only of the box, but of the whole
crazy venture. But the lid was on now. It was cold—so
cold—dark—cold. This was space as man had always believed it
would be—cold and dark— eternal cold and dark—without end.
UNABLE TO SEE the burper's crew, the defenders had only the
narrowest and most impossible mark to shoot at—the gun's muzzle.
Perhaps that action was only to occupy their minds: by
concentrating on that menace, by seeing or thinking of nothing
else, they could, each and every one, forget for a space that the
ship they fought for could only take a numbered few—that when it
blasted off, some of the Cleft would still be here.
Dessie! Dard twisted in the hole he had hollowed with his body.
Surely Dessie would be aboard. There were so few children—so few
women—Dessie would be an asset!
He tried to think only of a shadow he thought he saw move then.
Or a shadow he wanted to believe had moved as he snapped a shot at
it. When this battle had begun, or rather when he had come on the
scene—it had been mid-morning. Once during the day he had choked
down some dry food which had been passed along, taking sips from a
shared canteen. Now the dusk of evening lengthened the patches of
gloom. Under the cover of the dark the burper would rumble up to
them, to gnaw away at this second barrier. And the defenders would
withdraw—to delay and delay.
But maybe the end of that battle would not wait upon nightfall
after all. The familiar sound of blades beating the air was a
warning which reached them before they saw the 'copter skimming up,
its undercarriage scraping the top of their first wall.
Dard watched it resignedly, too apathetic to duck when its
occupants hurled grenades. He crouched unmoving as the machine
climbed for altitude. The explosion caught him in his hollow a
second later. There was the sense of being torn out of hiding, of
being flung free. Then he was on his hands and knees, creeping
through a strangely silent world of rolling stones and sliding
earth.
Some feet away a man struggled to free his legs from a mound of
earth. He clawed at his covering with a single hand, the other,
welling red, lay at a queer twisted angle. Dard crept over and the
man stared at him wildly, mouthing words Dard could not hear
through the buzzing which filled his head. He dug with torn fingers
into the mass which held the other prisoner.
Another figure loomed over them and Dard was shoved aside. The
huge Santee knelt, scooping away soil and rock, until together they
were able to pull the injured man free. Dard, his shaking head
still ringing with noise of its own, helped to lift the limp body
and carry it back into the inner valley of the starship. Santee
stumbled and brought all three of them down. Dard got to his knees
and turned his head carefully to blink at what he saw behind
him.
Those in the 'copter had not ripped apart the barrier as they
had planned. The grenades had jarred some hidden fault bringing
down more tons of soil and rocks. Anyone viewing that spot now
would never believe that there had once been an opening there.
Of the defenders who had held that barricade only the three of
them remained—he, Santee, and the wounded man they had dragged
with them.
Dard wondered if he had been deafened by the explosion. The
roaring in his head, which affected his balance when he tried to
walk, had no connection with normal sound and he could hear nothing
Santee was saying. He ran his hands aimlessly across his bruised
and aching ribs, content to remain where he was.
But the enemy was not satisfied to leave them alone. Spurts of
dust stung up from the rock wall. Dard stared at them a second or
two before Santee's heavy fist sent him sprawling, and he realized
that the three of them were cut off in a pocket while snipers in
the 'copter tried to pick them off. This was the end—but to think
that brought him no sensation of fear. It was enough to just lie
still and wait.
He brought his hands up to support his buzzing head. Then
someone tugged roughly at his belt, rolling him over. Dard opened
his eyes to see Santee taking the stun gun from him. Out of that
thick mat of black hair which masked most of the man's face his
teeth showed in a white snarl of rage.
But there were only two charges in the stun gun. Maybe he was
able to say that aloud, for Santee glanced at him and then examined
the clip. Two shots from a stun gun wasn't going to bring down a
'copter. The humor of that pricked him and he laughed quietly to
himself. A stun gun against a 'copter!
Santee was up on his knees behind the rock he had chosen for
protection, his head straining back on his thick neck as he watched
the movements of the 'copter.
What happened next might have astonished Dard earlier, but now
he was past all amazement. The 'copter, making a wide turn, smashed
into some invisible barrier in the air. Through the twilight they
saw it literally bounce back, as if some giant hand had slapped at
an annoying insect. Then, broken as the insect would have been, it
came tumbling down. Two of its passengers jumped and floated
gracefully through the air, supported by some means Dard could not
identify. Santee scrambled to his feet and took careful aim with
the stun gun.
He picked off the nearer. But a second shot missed the other.
And the big man ducked only just in time to escape the return fire
of the enemy. Making contact with the ground the Peaceman dodged
behind the crumpled fuselage of the 'copter. Why didn't he just
walk across and finish them off, Dard speculated fretfully? Why
draw out the process? It was getting darker—darker. He pawed at
his eyes, was his sight as well as his hearing going to fail
him?
But, no, he could still see Santee who had gone down on his
belly and was now wriggling around the rocks, proceeding
worm-fashion along a finger of the slide toward the 'copter. Though
how he expected to attack the man hidden there—with his bare hands
and an empty stun gun—against a rifle!
Dard's detachment persisted. He watched the action in which he
was not involved critically. Wanting to see how it would end he
pulled himself up to follow Santee's slow progress. When the
crawler disappeared from his range of vision Dard was irritated.
Suppose the man waiting over there was to believe that they were
trying to escape down valley—wouldn't all his attention be for
that direction— not at Santee?
Dard felt about him in the gloom, hunting stones of a suitable
size, weighing and discarding until he held one larger than both
his fists. Two more he lined up before him. With all the strength
he could muster he sent the first and largest hurtling down the
valley. A flash of fire answered its landing.
The second and third rock followed at intervals. Each time he
saw the mark of answering shots. His hearing was coming back—he
caught the faint echo of the last one. New stones were found and
sent after the others—to keep up the illusion of escape. But now
there was no shot to reply. Had Santee reached that sniper?
The boy sprawled back against the wall of the cleft and waited,
for what he did not altogether know. Santee's return? Or the starship's blast off? Had they brought time enough for the frenzied
workers back there? Was tonight going to see Kimber setting that
course they had won from the Voice, piloting the ship out into
space before he, too, went under the influence of Lars' drug and
began the sleep from which there might be no awakening? But if the
voyagers did awaken! Dard drew a deep breath and for a moment he
forgot everything—his own aching, punished body, the rocky trap
which enclosed him, the lack of future—he forgot all these in a
dream of what might lie beyond the sky which he now searched for
the first wink of starlight. Another world—another sun—a fresh
start!
He started as a shape loomed out of the dark to cut off the
sight of that star he had just discovered. Fingers clawed painfully
into his shoulders bringing him up to his feet. Then, mainly by
Santee's brute force of body and will, they picked up the rescued
man and started in a drunken stagger back into the valley. Dard
forgot his dream, he needed all his strength to keep his feet, to
go as Santee drove him.
They made a half-turn to avoid a boulder and came to a stop as
lights blinded them. The ship was surrounded by a circle of blazing
flares. The fury of industry which had boiled about it during the
loading had stemmed to a mere trickle. Dard could see no women at
all and most of the men were gone also. The few who remained in
sight were passing boxes up a ramp. Soon that would be done, and
then those down there would enter that silvery shape. The hatch
would close, the ship would rise on fire.
Muted by the pain in his head he heard the booming shout of a
deep voice. Below, the loaders stopped work. Grouped together they
faced the survivors of the barrier battle. Santee called again, and
that group broke apart as the men ran up to them.
Dard sat down beside the injured man, his legs giving way under
him. With detachment he watched the coming of that other party. One
man had his shirt badly torn across the shoulder—would he land on
another world across the void of space with that tatter still
fluttering? The problem had some interest.
Now a circle of legs walled the boy in, boots spurted snow in
his face. He was brought to his feet, arms about his shoulders, led
along to the ship. But that wasn't right, he thought mistily.
Kimber had said not room enough—he was one of the
expendables—
But he could find no words to argue with those who helped him
along, not even when he was pushed up that ramp into the ship.
Kordov stood in the hatch door waving them ahead with an imperious
arm. Then Dard found himself in a tiny room and a cup of milky
liquid was thrust against his lips and held there until he docilely
swallowed its contents to the last tasteless drop. When that was in
him he was lowered onto a folding seat pulled down from the starkly
bare metal wall and left to hold his spinning head in his
hands.
"Yeah—the force field's still holdin'— "
"Won't be able to plow through that last slide, eh?"
"Not with anything they've got now."
Words, a lot of words, passing back and forth across him.
Sometimes for a second or two they made good sense, then meaning
faded again.
"Can pretty well take your own time now—" Was that rumble from
Santee?
And that quick, crisp voice cutting in, "What about the
kid?"
"Him? He's some scrapper. Got a head on him, too. Just shaken up
a lot when that last blowup hit us, but he's still in one
piece."
Kimber! That had been Kimber asking about him. But Dard hadn't
strength left to raise his head and look for the pilot.
"We'll patch up Tremont first and send him under. You two will
have to wait a while. Give them the soup and that first powder,
Lui—"
Again Dard was given a drink—this time of hot steamy stuff
which carried the flavor of rich meat. After it there was a capsule
to be swallowed.
Bruises and aches—when he moved his body he was just one huge
ache. But he straightened up and tried to take an interest in his
surroundings. Santee, his shirt a few rags about his thick hairy
shoulders and arms, squatted on another pull-down seat directly
across from Dard. Along the passage outside there was a constant
coming and going. Scraps of conversation reached them, most of
which he did not understand.
"Feelin' better, kid?" the big man asked.
Dard answered that muffled question with a nod and then wished
that he hadn't moved his head. "Are we going along?" he shaped the
words with difficulty Santee's beard wagged as he roared with
laughter. "Like to see 'em throw us off ship now! What made you
think we weren't, kid?"
"No room—Kimber said."
Laughter faded from the eyes of the man opposite him.
"Might not have been, kid. Only a lot of good men died back
there puttin' such a plug in the valley that these buggers aren't
goin' to git in 'til too late. Since the warp's still workin',
flyin' won't bring 'em neither. So we ain't needed out there no
more. An' maybe some good fightin' men will be needed where this
old girl's headed. So in we come, an' they're gonna pack us away
with the rest of the cargo. Ain't that so, Doc?" he ended by
demanding of the tall young man who had just entered.
The newcomer's parrot crest of blond hair stood up from his
scalp in a twist like the stem of a pear and his wide eyes glowed
with enthusiasm.
"You're young Nordis, aren't you?" he demanded of Dard, ignoring
Santee. "I wish I could have known your brother! He—what he did—!
I wouldn't have believed such results possible if I hadn't seen the
formula! Hibernation and freezing—his formula combined with Tas's
biological experiments! Why, we've even put three of Hammond's
calves under—what grass they'll graze on before they die! And it's
all due to Lars Nordis!"
Dard was too tired to show much interest in that. He wanted to
go to sleep to forget everything and everybody.
"To sleep, perchance to dream"—the old words shaped patterns
for him. Only—not to dream would be better now. Did one dream in
space—and what queer dreams haunted men lying in slumber between
worlds? Dard mentally shook himself—there was something
important—something he had to ask before he dared let sleep
come.
"Where's Dessie?"
"Nordis' little girl? She's with my daughter—and my
wife—they're already under."
"Under what?"
"In cold sleep. Most of the gang are now. Just a few of us still
loading. Then Kimber, Kordov and I. We'll ride out until Kimber is
sure of the course before we stow away. All the rest of you—"
"Will be packed away before the take-off. Saves wear and tear on
bodies and nerves under acceleration," cut in Kimber from the
doorway. He nodded over the medico's shoulder at Dard. "Glad to
have you aboard, kid. Promise you— no forced landings on this
voyage. You're to be sealed up in crew's quarters—so you'll wake
early to see the new world!" And with that he was gone again.
Maybe it was the capsule acting now, maybe it was just that last
reassurance from a man he had come to trust wholeheartedly, but
Dard was warm and relaxed. To wake and see a new world!
Santee went away with Lui Skort, and Dard was alone. The noise
in the corridor died away. At last he heard a warning bell. And a
moment later the pound of heavy feet in a hurry roused him. The
haste of that spoke of trouble, and with the support of the wall he
got up to look out. Kimber was coming down a spiral stairway, the
center core of the ship. In his hand was one of the snubnosed ray
guns Sach had had. He passed Dard without a word.
Bracing his hands against the wall of the corridor, Dard
shuffled along in his wake. Then he was peering out of an airlock
to see the pilot squatting on the ramp. It was black night out—most
of the flares had gone out.
Dard listened. He could hear at intervals the blast of the
burper. The Peacemen were still doggedly attacking the cleft
barrier. But what had Kimber come to guard and why? Had some
important possessions been left in the caverns? Dard slumped
against the lock and watched lights spark to life in the mouth of
the tunnel. A man came out running, covering the ground to the foot
of the ship's ramp in ground-eating leaps. He dashed by Kimber, and
Dard had just time enough to get back as Santee burst in.
"Get going!" The big man bore him along to the corridor and
Kimber joined them. He touched some control and the hatch-lock was
sealed.
Santee, panting, grinned. "Nice neat job, if I do say so
myself," he reported. "The space warp's off an' the final charge is
set for forty minutes from now. We'll blast before that?"
"Yes. Better get along both of you. Lui's waiting and we don't
want to scrape a couple of acceleration cases off the floor later,"
returned Kimber.
With the aid of the other two Dard pulled his tired body up the
stair, past various landing stages where sealed doors fronted them.
Kordov's broad face appeared at last, surveying them anxiously, and
it was he who lifted Dard up the last three steps. Kimber left
them, climbing on through an opening above into the control chamber.
He did not glance back or say any goodbyes.
"In here—" Kordov thrust them ahead of him.
Dard, brought face to face with what that cabin contained, knew
a sudden repulsion. Those boxes, shelved in a metal rack they too
closely resembled coffins! And the rack was full except for the
bottommost box which awaited open on the floor.
Kordov pointed to it. "That's for you, Santee—built for a big
boy. You're lighter, Dard. We'll fit you in on top over on the
other side."
A second rack stood against the farther wall with four more of
the coffins ready and waiting. Dard shivered, but it was not only
imagination-disturbed nerves which roughened his skin, there was a
chill in the air—coming from the open boxes.
Kordov explained. "You go to sleep and then you freeze."
Santee chuckled. "Just so you thaw us out again, Tas. I ain't
aimin' to spend the rest of my life an icicle so you brainy boys
can prove somethin' or other. Now what do we do—climb in?"
"Strip first," ordered the First Scientist. "And then you get a
couple of shots."
He pulled along a small rolling tray-table on which were laid a
series of hypodermics. Carefully he selected two, one filled with a
red brown liquid, the other with a colorless substance.
As Dard fumbled at the fastenings of the torn uniform he still
wore, Santee asked a question for them both.
"An' how do we wake up when the right time comes? Got any alarms set in these contraptions?"
"Those three—" Kordov indicated the three lower coffins on the
far rack, "are especially fitted. Arranged to waken those inside,
Kimber, Lui, and me, when the ship signals that it has reached the
end of the course set, which will be when the instruments raise a
sun enough like Sol to nourish earth-type planets. We feed that
into her robot controls once we are free in space. During the
voyage she may vary the pattern—to make evasion of meteors or for
other reasons. But she will always come back on the set course, If
we are close to a solar system when we are awakened, and Kimber has
done everything possible to assure that, then we shall arouse any
others needed to bring the ship down. Most of you won't be awakened
until after we land—there isn't enough room."
"How long?"
Kordov shrugged, "Who knows? No man has yet pioneered into the
galaxy. It may be for generations."
Santee rolled his discarded clothing into a ball and waited
stoically for Kordov to give him the shots. Then with a wave of one
big fist he climbed into the coffin and lay down. Kordov made
adjustments at either end. Icy air welled up in a freezing puff.
Santee's eyes closed as the First Scientist moved the lid into
place before setting the three dials on the side Their pointers
swung until the needles came to rest at the far end. Kordov pushed
the box back onto the rack.
"Now for you," he turned to Dard.
The top box lowered itself on two long arms from the top of the
other rack. Dard discarded his last piece of clothing with a vast
reluctance. Sure, he could understand the theory of this—what his
brother had worked out for them. But the reality—to be frozen
within a box—to go sightlessly, helplessly into the void—perhaps
never to awake! With his teeth set hard he fought back the panic
those thoughts churned up in him. And he was fighting so hard that
the prick of the first injection came as a shock. He started, only
to have Kordov's hand close as a vise upon his upper arm and hold
him steady for the second.
"That's all—in with you now, son. See you in another world."
Kordov was laughing, but Dard's weak answering smile as he
settled himself in the coffin had no humor in it. Because Kordov
could be so very right. The cover was going on, he had an insane
desire to scream out that he wasn't going to be shut in this
way—that he wanted out, not only of the box, but of the whole
crazy venture. But the lid was on now. It was cold—so
cold—dark—cold. This was space as man had always believed it
would be—cold and dark— eternal cold and dark—without end.