Collected Short Fiction, page 37
Only about ten Earthmen were still in the center of the room, out of the original ninety-nine. They continued to weave through their patterns, but more and more slowly. One dancer finally pulled himself free and ran to the most distant corner. Another followed. Then another.
FINALLY, there were just three left in the center, revolving slowly around each other. Their movements grew more and more tortured, and they writhed as if their feet were glued to the floor. Slowly they sank to the cold floor and stayed there, their bodies still wriggling. They stretched out flat on the ground, moving now a finger now a toe, but seemingly unable to rise. One by one they stopped moving completely, until the last one let his head drop.
That was the signal for a wild demonstration by all the dancers. They began shouting and singing, and the three in the middle leaped up and joined them. The dance was over.
Norb and Jannes sat transfixed. “That’s our last art form,” said McNeil. “What did you think of it?”
“It’s wonderful,” Norb said, suddenly jarred back to reality. “But I didn’t quite catch the symbolism at the end. Why didn’t the last three run off to join the others on the other planets?”
“I thought it would be obvious,” McNeil said: “but perhaps it’s just that I’ve seen the dance so many times. Look: they would have left but they couldn’t; the planet wouldn’t let them.”
“What’s that?” said Jannes in surprise.
“Earth is a very lonely world, Vegans. She’s not getting much heat from her sun any more, and she knows she’s dying. And she doesn’t want to die alone. Just about all of her people have left her, but she’s clinging with all her might to her last hundred-and-two. It’s been centuries since any Earthman’s been allowed to get off-planet. Earth doesn’t want us to leave, and she’s holding us in a tight grip.”
“Don’t give us that, McNeil,” said Jannes angrily. “I know you think that we regard you as savages, but that doesn’t mean you have to play along. There’s some other reason why you don’t want to leave. Don’t start spouting mythology at me. We know—”
JANNES suddenly spilled to the floor. The ground gave a convulsive shudder, “Earthquake,” McNeil said calmly. “It’s pretty common now, every time the Earth gets angry—and I suppose you made her angry. I think you’d better get back to your ship before there’s worse trouble. Kalvin, you’d better guide them, to their ship.”
“Wait. Before you let us go, we want to speak to our commander and find out what he thinks.”
“What he thinks can’t possibly concern us,” McNeil said; “but go ahead if it’ll please you.”
Jannes began to set up the radio equipment. It was fairly simple work for an experienced pilot like Jannes; but for some reason, his hands shook and it took longer than usual. He dialed in the Haughtsmith, and Mukennik’s familiar voice crackled down to them.
“How’s it going?” the commander asked. “We watched you go into that hole with the Earthman; what’s been happening?”
“You’d better do the talking.” Jannes whispered to Norb. Norb replaced him at the controls of the set.
“Trouble, chief,” Norb said. “We found the Earthmen all right—a hundred and two of them—and they say they’re the whole population of the planet.”
“Healthy?”
“Healthier than we are. It’s about five below down here and I guess that keeps them in shape.”
“Are they savages?”
NORB LOOKED around.
A knot of curious Earthmen had gathered around the transmitter and were watching closely. “No, Mukennik. But they’re—well, not quite civilized either.” Norb heard a snort of protest from McNeil.
“What do you mean? Have you asked them to leave Earth?”
“Yes,” Norb said. “I told them all about Vega, but they’re not going to come.”
“Not coming? Why?”
“We spoke to the king here, and he tells us there’s an Earth-spirit which is lonely and dying, and won’t let them leave. He seems to say they’d like to get to a warmer planet, but they’re stuck here for good.”
“Oh,” Mukennik said. He was obviously disappointed “So they won’t come at all.”
“No.”
There was silence from the Haughtsmith for a moment. “Well, don’t try to force them,” Mukennik said, finally. “It doesn’t pay to meddle with tribal customs. Might as well give it up as a bad job and come back; we’ll do up a report on it and let it go at that. At least we’ve found the legendary Earthmen.”
“Yes,” Norb said. “At least we’ve found them. Well we’re going to head for our ship now; get the airlock ready to receive us.”
THE TREK across the snow to where the gleaming two-man ship stood upright was a long and slow one. Kalvin accompanied them—the old man was seemingly tireless—and stared with apparent amazement at the ship.
Norb and Jannes began to climb the catwalk to the entrance of the cruiser. Kalvin stood below, watching.
“So long, old man,” Norb said.
“So long,” Jannes echoed; “we’ll remember you on Vega. It’s nice and warm there, you know. An old chap like you could live forever in that warm climate.”
“I know,” boomed Kalvin. “But I belong here. Farewell Longnose. Farewell, Squarehead.”
“Farewell, Kalvin,” Norb said, a little miffed at the nickname.
“Don’t rush about blasting off,” said Kalvin. “I want to be clear of the ship before you do . . . If you do, that is.” The old man emitted a series of deep chuckles from the back of his throat and wandered off in the snow, heading toward his people.
Norb watched him retreat. “Well, that’s that. They’re funny people, these Earthmen; the cold has made them strong and—and sort of noble.”
“You’re still sentimental,” Jannes said. “Take a last look before we blast off.”
Norb stared out the port at the flickering red sun which so soon would be dark. Jannes reached for the firing stud.
“Hey!”
NORB TURNED and saw Jannes straining to touch the firing stud; his arm was not fully unbent at the elbow. “Something’s wrong; I can’t straighten my arm. You better come over here and push the stud for me.”
Norb hurried over to the control board. “I’m not too sure how it works.”
“Nothing to it,” said Jannes, grimacing from the sharp pain in his arm. “Just reach out and push the stud.”
Norb extended his arm. It did not reach the stud. “I can’t do it.”
He looked at Jannes with growing horror. “I can’t touch the stud.”
“Go ahead,” Jannes urged. “Just push it.” The pilot continued to rub his bent arm. trying to straighten it out.
Beads of perspiration broke out on Norb’s forehead. He tried to push his hand forward to meet the stud. “It’s as if there’s a wall around it,” Norb said. “I can get to it.” He tried again and then sat down in a rage of frustration.
Jannes reached out with his good arm. “I can’t do it either.” He looked at Norb Norb looked at him.
“You know what I think?” Jannes demanded, quietly.
Norb nodded. “I think so too.” He made another attempt to push the stud, and failed.
Norb stared out at the reflection of the red sun along the snow. Jannes watched him silently.
“But it’s crazy,” he finally burst out. “You don’t believe that story about the Earthspirit, do you?”
“I’m the sentimental one, remember, Jannes?”
“This is no time for bickering. Why can’t we touch that stud?”
NORB SAID slowly “They believe in the Earthspirit. Maybe the Earthfolk hypnotised us during that dance, and left a post-hypnotic command not to go near the firing stud. There’s no physical reason why we can’t touch it.”
“Can we un-hypnotise ourselves?” Jannes joined Norb at the port and looked out over the snow.
“I’m just guessing that that’s what they did. That whatever happened, they did it. But for all I know, it’s the Earth herself that won’t let us go.
“But that’s crazy!” Jannes shouted. He leaped to the board and tried to press the stud. He made no contact. “It must be hypnotism,” he said. “I can put my arm out, but when I reach the stud I draw back; I just can’t bring myself to touch it.”
“Maybe if you keep your hand there, and I back up into you, and accidently nudge your hand into the stud—”
“It’s worth a try,” Jannes said. He put his finger as close to the gleaming stud as he could, and waited. Norb casually sauntered up behind him, whistling, and suddenly pushed.
Jannes screamed and held up his finger. “It’s no use; there might just as well be a wall around that stud.”
Norb frowned. “Look out the port,” he said pointing. “Under that tree.”
Kalvin was sitting crosslegged in the snow, about a hundred meters from the ship, watching and waiting.
“They know exactly what’s going on in here,” Jannes said. “I’ll bet he’s roaring with laughter.”
SAVAGELY he grabbed a length of pipe from the tool-cabinet and brought it down on the firing stud.
The ship stayed on the ground.
The stud broke off.
“Now you’ve done it,” Norb said. “How do you plan to get up now? Do you know anything about repairing the starting mechanism?”
“Not much, but we don’t have to bother; I’m going to call Mukennik and have them come down and pick us up.”
“Suppose they get stuck here, too?”
“At least we’re no worse off, and we’ll have company.”
“That’s not a very good attitude, Harl; but I suppose I’m being sentimental again.”
“Shut up.” Jannes was dialing in the Haughtsmith.
“I thought you were coming back up,” said Mukennik immediately. “We’re waiting for you.”
“We’re stuck. We can’t get the ship up.”
“What’s the trouble? Mechanical difficulties?” Mukennik sighed. “Or won’t the Earth-spirit let you go?”
“We’ve broken the firing-stud.”
“Use the auxiliary; it’s under the rear cover.”
They looked. It was. They failed to make contact.
“We can’t touch it,” Norb said. “I think the Earthmen left us with a posthypnotic command against blasting off.”
Jannes. looked out the port. “Kalvin’s still there. Why don’t we get him in here and get him to push the stud for us?”
“That’s out,” said Mukennik; “we’d only have to return him afterward.”
“What do we do?” Jannes demanded.
“Hold on a while. I’m going to send down the other ship to get you out of this you idiots.”
IN A SHORT while, the second cruiser stood on its tail in the snow not far from the first. Norb saw that Kalvin was watching with evident interest as the rescue-cruiser came down.
Two well-clad spacemen came dashing down the cat-walk and toward Norb and Jannes. “Hurry up,” one of them said. “Mukennik doesn’t want to waste any more time than necessary. Kinnear’s going to take you two up in our ship, and I’ll bring yours in alone.”
Norb and Jannes headed back to the second ship with Kinnear. Kalvin stood up under his tree and yawned loudly.
Kinnear tried to push the stud; he failed.
“Are we all crazy?” he demanded.
“It looks as if it’s contagious,” Norb said. He glanced through the port. “Doesn’t seem as if Bartle’s gotten very far with our ship.”
Kalvin was wandering in slow circles in the snow.
“Is there any way out of this?” Kinnear asked. “Let’s call Mukennik and ask him to bring the Haughtsmith down for us.”
“You don’t think he’s going to risk getting stranded here himself, do you?”
“He can’t leave four men here.”
“You don’t know Mukennik, then.” Norb waved to Kalvin, who was still outside.
The old man approached and stood outside the ship.
“WHAT’S the trouble spacemen? I thought you’d be gone long before.”
“We can’t blast off,” Norb said.
“Oh? Motor trouble?”
“No. You know what it is?” Kalvin smiled. “We’ll welcome you at our little village; it isn’t often that we get new blood.”
“Isn’t there any way out?”
“The earth is a lonely planet,” Kalvin said. “It wants all the company it can get.” Norb looked back toward the control room. Jannes was talking into the transmitter and Mukennik’s voice crackled faintly through the air. “What’s happening?”
“They won’t come,” Jannes said. “He’s awarding us all medals and leaving us behind.”
“Leaving us behind? Why?”
“He wants to get out of the atmosphere fast. He’s afraid this Earth-spirit will get him to bring the Haughtsmith down here, and that would never do. You know how Mukennik hates cold weather.”
Norb felt an icy chill growing inside him.
“THAT’S TOO bad,” Kalvin said. “It would have been nice to have the big ship down here, too. We all could have lived in that instead of our cave.”
“Yeah, too bad. I’m really sorry for you,” Jannes said.
Bartle came trotting over from the other ship. They explained what had happened.
They looked up. The giant silvery form of the Haughtsmith was still circling in its orbit around the Earth. Norb turned and went back into the ship.
“They’re starting to move,” Jannes called from outside.
“Come on back in,” Norb yelled. “One last try.” They all crowded into the little ship except Kalvin. The old Earthman stood by the side of the ship.
Norb reached for the stud and made no contact.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let’s go. Hope you like cold weather, fellow Earthmen.”
They climbed silently down the catwalk and Kalvin led them through the path in the snow toward the little village of Earthmen. There would be all the time in the world to find the answers. But right now, the air seemed warmer and softer, as if Earth was happy, now that there were a hundred and six to comfort her dying days.
Guardian of the Crystal gate
Men were vanishing through the deadly gateway of crystal, lured to their destruction by the sensuous body of a woman born for but one reason—to tempt men. Could the riddle be solved with no other clue but a handful of flashing diamonds?
IT BEGAN quietly. I walked in, sat down, and the Chief, in a quick motion, dropped a diamond in front of me on his desk.
I stared blankly at the jewel. It was healthy-sized, emerald-cut, blue-white. I looked up at him.
“So?”
“Take a close look at it, Les.” He shoved it across the desk at me with his stubby fingers. I reached out, picked up the diamond—it felt terribly cool to touch—and examined it.
Right in the heart of the gem was a thin brown area of clouding, marring the otherwise flawless diamond. I nodded. “It looks—like a burnt-out fuse,” I said, puzzled.
The Chief nodded solemnly. “Exactly.” He opened a desk drawer and reached in, and grasped what looked like a whole handful of other diamonds, “Here,” he said, “Enjoy yourself.” He sent them sprawling out on the desk; they rolled across the shiny marbled desktop. Some went skittering to the floor, others dropped into my lap, others spread out in a gleaming array in front of me. There must have been forty of them.
The Chief’s eye met mine. “Each one of those diamonds,” he said, “represents one dead man.”
I coughed. I’ve had some funny cases since joining the Bureau, but this was the fanciest hook the Chief had used yet. I started scooping up the diamonds that had fallen to the floor. They were of all sizes, all cuts—a million dollars’ worth, maybe. More, maybe.
“Don’t bother,” the Chief said. “I’ll have the charwoman pick them up when I leave. They’re not worth anything, you know.”
“Not worth anything?” I looked at the ones I had in my hand. Each was marred by the same strange brown imperfection, that fuse blowout. I closed my hand, feeling them grind together.
“Not a cent. For one thing, they’re all flawed, as you can easily see. For another, they’re all synthetics. Paste, every one of them. Remarkably convincing paste, but paste all the same.”
I leaned back in my chair, put my hands together, and said, “Okay. I’m hooked. Put the job on the line for me, will you?” I was thinking, This is the screwiest one yet. And I’ve had some corkers.
“Here’s the pitch, Les.” He drew out a long sheet of crisp onionskin paper, and handed it to me. Neatly typed on it was a list of names and addresses. I ran down the list quickly without hitting any familiar ones.
“Well? Who are they?”
“They’re missing persons, Les. They’ve all disappeared in this city between—ah—” He took the list back—“27 November, 2261, and 11 February of this year. The list totals sixty-six names. And those are just the ones we know about.”
“And the diamonds?”
“That’s where this Bureau comes in,” he said. “They only send us the screwy ones, as you’ve no doubt discovered by now. In each disappearance case listed on this sheet, one of those burnt-out diamonds was found in the room the missing man was last seen in. In every case.”
I frowned and scratched an ear reflectively. “You say there’s a tie-in with the diamonds, Chief?”
He nodded. “One burnt-out diamond in exchange for one man. It’s a recurrent pattern of correlation. Those men are going some-where, and those diamonds have something to do with it. We don’t know what.”
“And you want me to find out, eh?” I asked.
“That’s only part of it.” He moistened his lips. “Suppose I tell you where you fit into the picture, and let you decide what you want to do yourself. I can’t force you, you know.”
“I haven’t turned down a case since I’ve been with the Bureau,” I reminded him.
“Good.” He stood up. “Let’s see you keep that record intact, then. Because we’ve just found one of these diamonds that isn’t burnt out!”
