Rocket to Limbo

by Alan Edward Nourse

  Chapter Eleven

  The Alien Land

  For Lars the shock of seeing Peter was almost overwhelming.

  Lars was hungry, and dirty, and bone-weary; he could still feel the hot afterglow of his fever; his feet were sore, and it had seemed as he approached the city that every step was the last he could force his aching legs to carry him. But it was more than that. Too much had happened too fast. Too much that had happened was utterly unbelievable, and yet demanded belief because his eyes and senses said it was so. Since the group had started up the mountain days before, it had been like a nightmare that would not end, full of impossible occurrences and half-suggested horrors.

  And now, like an island appearing in a sea of chaos, Peter. Lars didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was Peter, beyond doubt. The gates had fallen open, and he had walked into a high-roofed, brilliantly lighted entranceway, with the strange city shifting and glowing before his eyes through a nearby^ archway, and there was Peter, very much alive, very much here on Wolf IV, utterly unexplainable.

  Lars had cried out in pure relief to see a familiar face, but now a flood of memories swept through his mind, confused, jumbled, only half-real, but memories just the same. The despair he had felt when the deserters had bolted camp, marooning the rest of them on this alien land; the bitter struggle up the mountainside to the wreck they had been sure was the Planetfall, and the almost unspeakable disappointment that had met them when they reached it—he remembered.

  Peter had deserted them. He had run out on them with Salter and Leeds and the rest.

  “What are you doing here?” Lars blurted. “What did you do with the ship? The others, where are they?” He stared at Peter, his eyes blazing.

  “Never mind, it doesn’t matter right now,” Peter said quickly. He glanced behind him at the great entranceway. You’ve got to—”

  “Doesn’t matter! We’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for Fox, after you and your pals ran out on us. What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

  “We may all be dead if you don’t listen,” Peter snapped. “Or as good as dead.” There was urgency in Peter’s voice, wide open warning in his eyes. “I know what you think, but I didn’t run out on you. There isn’t time to explain it now. Later, if we’re lucky. They’ll be here any minute, so listen. Close your mind to everything you can. Make it a blank, don’t think of anything if you can help it when they come, or they’ll be picking your brain like a walnut. But don’t be surprised at anything, and don’t do anything to alarm them.”

  Lars nodded once and fell silent. He didn’t understand what Peter was saying, but he heard the urgency and dread in his voice. Whatever had happened before could be settled in good time; there was an immediate menace here, overriding everything else.

  His eyes took in all the detail of the huge entranceway. The walls were smooth, curving up into a high, vaulted ceiling. There was a light which seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, softly pink, shimmering. Through the archway he could see the buildings, piled in a fantastic jumble about each other. At first there had been no sign of life; now there was a growing buzz of excitement which seemed to come from all sides of him, though he could hear nothing. It was as though he was feeling the hum and excitement of the city deep in his mind.

  And then there was a lull, as though thousands of people had suddenly taken a deep breath. The archway was breaking open, dissolving in brilliantly glowing particles as three figures moved down a ramp and came toward them. Lars had not seen them approach; suddenly they were there, as if they materialized out of thin air. They reached Peter and Lars in a moment, staring at Lars with unabashed curiosity as they came nearer.

  They looked like human beings. They were tall and slender, two men and a woman, moving with an easy grace that seemed very odd, until Lars noticed that their feet were hardly touching the ground. The woman creature had light hair; the men were dark, their faces guarded.

  They showed no hostility, but their actions were as strange as their uncanny similarity to Earthmen in appearance. They reached out to touch Lars’ clothes, to peer into his eyes questioningly, to rub a finger across his unshaven chin. Occasionally they paused in their inspection to look at one another and nod, then resumed their examination.

  Exactly like children examining a new toy, a toy they are a little afraid of, Lars thought. He glanced at Peter, but Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  Finally Lars could stand the silent inspection no longer. Tm an Earthman,” he said in a voice that was too loud for the silence. “My name is Heldrigsson. I’m one of the crew of a Star Ship that came from a planet called—”

  He broke off sharply. The three City-people were paying no attention to his words. Peter shook his head again. “It won’t do any good to talk to them. They have no spoken

  language.”

  “But how do they—” Lars groped for the right word— “talk?”

  “They’ve got a lot slicker means of communicating than we have,” said Peter heavily. “How did you know they wanted you to come down here? It was you they wanted, you know, none of the rest. But how did you know that?”

  Lars had no answer that made any sense. I fust knew it, he thought. My ears didn’t hear anything, but I heard just the same. How could he describe the eerie—feeling—that had struck him out there in the valley? As he tried to think of the right words, he felt the same feeling stirring again in his mind. Weary as he was, he felt himself growing tense. There was an abrupt, ridiculous mental picture of someone gently but firmly prying the lid off a coffee can, and then, suddenly, he knew they were in his mind, probing with soft, feathery fingers. He felt their questions, although there was no sound, and they seemed to pick up his answers from his mind before they reached his tongue.

  No wonder they don’t talk! he thought wildly. They don’t need to talk!

  The woman looked at him in surprise. Talk? What is ‘talk’? It came clearly, a direct question. All three City-people were looking at him in puzzlement.

  Talk. Making sounds that mean what you are thinking— They snatched the answer before it came from his lips, and they looked at each other, still puzzled, and then laughed. They didn’t really understand what he meant at all.

  The woman pointed a finger at him. Who are you?

  An Earthman. I’m called Heldrigsson. Lars Heldrigsson.

  Again the puzzlement and confusion. Earthman? Heldrigsson? Lars? Many thoughts in your mind, all mean you—

  I’m like him. Lars pointed to Peter.

  They understood that, and it seemed to fill them with sudden eagerness and excitement. The men’s impassive faces broke into smiles as they nodded to each other, and Lars caught the stream of thought as it passed between them: —we were Tight, the two are indeed the same, then! It is good, good! Just as the Masters promised, sometime—

  Lars blinked. “The Masters” had not been a word, but a thought, a mental picture of greatness and inaccessibility and reverence. It was almost as though the City-people had hushed their thought-voices as they mentioned the name, and bowed their heads gently. Yes, it is just as the Masters promised.

  And then the woman was looking at him sharply. Like the others, she was dressed in a formless gray cloak of feathery soft material, and her hair seemed to shimmer in the light from the walls. She was very beautiful, her face childlike and yet gentle, her eyes gray and wide spaced. Then you come like all the others, from— She seemed to grapple for a picture that was beyond her capabilities.

  From another star, Lars thought. From a planet called Earth, third from the sun—

  Sun?

  Our star. We call it Sol. Far away—

  Away? What is that?

  From another land, not this world at all.

  But you must be weary, coming so far.

  Lars stared. She was picturing him walking. We came in a Star Ship, the Ganymede.

  Confusion again. Why did you do that?

  To find another Star Ship that was lost here.

/>   But why do you use these—Star Ships?

  Now it was Lars’ turn to be puzzled. He turned to Peter.

  “I think I’m missing something somehow.”

  Peter nodded. “I’ve been on the same treadmill for days. They just can’t conceive of any other world but this planet. They don’t know what you mean about ‘another world’ and ‘across space’ and things like that. They can’t seem to grasp what a Star Ship is used for, or why anyone would need to use one.”

  Once again Lars tried to convey the idea of crossing depths of space enclosed and propelled and protected by a shell of metal and plastic, but it was useless. He was so weary he could hardly keep his own thoughts straight, and this incredible means of conversation was quickly wearing away his last vestige of control “Look, can’t they get me something to eat, or let me wash up and get some sleep or something?” he burst out to Peter.

  “Go ahead and ask them,” said Peter. “Give them a good sharp mental picture of what you want, and how lousy you feel, and what you’d like right now.”

  Lars tried it. He conjured up an image of weariness and hunger that would have torn the heart out of a statue, and visualized a steaming hot shower and a clean warm bed. To his amazement the three City-people caught the images perfectly. A rush of sympathy and apology poured from their minds. We are tiring you and you need rest. Come, we will make you comfortable. Later we will—talk.

  “But what about the others?” Lars said aloud. “They have no food. Kennedy and Marstom are sick. And there are two more down on the other side of the mountain.”

  “They’re here,” Petter said quickly. “The others will be brought in, don’t worry. Just come along now.”

  Lars needed no further urging. He followed the strange people into the city.

  It was not until then that Lars got a good look at the city. Tired as he was, he watched the jumbled panorama spread before him with eyes wide with amazement. It was like a city built with brightly colored children’s blocks of every imaginable size and shape. There were gaudy arches and glistening spires. Sweeping walkways moved between the buildings that hung individually in the air, some high, some low, some large and square, some low and discoid, some round and transparent as bubbles, spinning slowly through the air. There seemed to be no planning of the city; it hung there willy-nilly, yet in its very disorganization there was a wild incredible sort of beauty. Nothing here was ugly. There was no dirt, no grayness. The City-people were everywhere, thronging the walkways and arches, moving up over the sweeping curves of bridges, and everywhere the buzz of activity and life washed over Lars like a wave. There were ancient City-people with long beards and white hair; many were young with the same peculiar young-old appearance that the woman who was leading them had shown. An occasional woman passed with a pink baby in her arms, and a string of youngsters fell in behind them, watching with great curiosity as they moved through the city.

  Their method of travel was also confusing. They started off walking, or so it seemed to Lars, yet they seemed to move great distances with very little effort, and in very little time. One instant they were moving up on an arching bridge; the next moment the bridge was behind them. Lars shook his head sharply and looked at Peter in confusion.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Peter said. “They’re only ‘walking’ in deference to us.”

  “How do they usually get around?”

  “I’m not sure what you’d call it. You know the tricks some of the teleps back home use—putting a ball in a box, and then making it pop through without opening the box? It seems to be pretty much the same. They want to go somewhere, and zip there they are! They took me out that way once, and I was sick all over everything. Since then they’ve slowed down to a fast run for me.”

  They had been moving toward a long, low building of pale blue color, floating high above the majority of the buildings. This one had a crystal spire that rose a hundred feet in the air and sparkled like an icicle in the sunlight. Now, even as Lars watched, they were suddenly inside the building in a long sloping corridor. It seemed to be a library or lounge. Along one side curving sheets of plastic material stood near the wall, with a bank of control buttons at the side. A closer,look revealed them to be viewing plates, for one of them was glowing a dull blue, but there was no image, that Lars could see, on the screen. Quite abruptly the blue screen flickered and blinked out, becoming dull gray like the rest.

  “Our ‘study’,” Peter said softly. “We have living quarters at the end there.”

  They approched the end of the corridor, where a tall thin door-like slab lay against the pale green wall. Its fluted edges were visible, clinging to the wall, and there was no knob. The three City-people stopped, looking around at Lars. Once again he felt the feathery flutter of their thought-fingers in his mind. For you. Your quarters. You will find food and sleeping clothes inside.

  He nodded, and waited for them to open the door, but nothing happened. The three were watching him closely. “They want you to open the door,” Peter whispered.

  “But there’s no knob.”

  They only waited a moment as Lars stared helplessly at the door. Then he felt, rather than heard, a tiny sigh from the City-people. The woman touched the door with her finger, and it dissolved into mist, then vanished, revealing a large comfortable room beyond. He stepped in, still feeling the wave of disappointment in the City-peoples’ minds, and the fragments of thought: He is like the other. But perhaps with lessons he too—

  And then Lars and Peter were in the room, and the door had reappeared, leaving them alone. To one side was a bath, with hot water running and sending up heart-warming clouds of steam; there were two beds, soft and inviting, though they were really only pallets floating three feet off the ground; and near the beds two trays of food that made Lars’ mouth water.

  They were in their quarters. Prisoners? It would seem so, and yet the three City-people had no hostility in their minds. On the contrary, there had been a haunting aura of deference as they had probed his mind, as though he were not a prisoner so much as an honored and somehow very important guest. There had been a sense of eagerness as they had examined him, of watchfulness and hopefulness.

  And that strong last impression, rising again to Lars’ mind: Perhaps with lessons—

  He saw the hot water, the beds, the food, but there was something even more important first. He turned to Peter. This city and the people here were like a fantastic dream, but Peter was no dream. Peter Brigham was Peter Brigham, human flesh and blood. A rested, warm, well-fed Peter Brigham who, for all his urgent warning, did not seem too much afraid of these City-people. Indeed, he seemed to accept them very calmly. If there was something hazy and unreal about these aliens of Wolf IV, there was nothing hazy about Peter, nor about the things that Lars knew were true:

  That there had been a Star Ship named Ganymede which had brought them there, him and Peter and twenty other Earthmen.

  That Peter had joined the deserters to seize the ship, and had somehow managed to spirit it from its landing-site.

  That a Star Ship the size of the Ganymede does not just vanish into thin air, on Wolf IV or any other place.

  That sometime, many months before, another Star Ship named Planetfall had made a landing on this planet, and had also vanished.

  Lars turned to Peter. “All right. The food will wait. I want some answers, and I want them right now.”

  “They’ll make more sense when you’re rested up,” Peter said.

  “I think they’d better make sense right now,” Lars said. “Where are those ships? Where are the men?”

  With a sigh, Peter walked across the room. As he approached the far wall, it began to fade away, just as the door had, revealing a wide panorama of the city below them. “Come here,” said Peter. “I can answer one of your questions without any trouble at all.”

  Lars approached the window. The bright lights of the city caught his eyes like a display of fireworks.

  “You’re right,” Pet
er said slowly. “The Ganymede didn’t vanish into space and nobody lifted it off the planet, either.” He pointed. “Down there, on the ramp.”

  It was a more substantial structure than the others in the city, heavy and solid, forming two long narrow cradles. And in the cradles were two long Star Ships, almost twins, lying side by side.

  Lars would have recognized the Ganymede anywhere. He had never seen the other ship before, but he knew without question that it was the Star Ship Planetfall.

  This, then, had been the end of her journey.

  Chapter Twelve

  Who Are They?

  Peter was gone when Lars finally awoke. He did not know how long he had slept. When he had crawled into the bed he had been too weary even to check his chronometer. The hot bath had been wonderful; there were no robot scrubbers like you found in Earth shower stalls, and the water had come from all sides like a fountain, but he got clean and warm, and found some of the feathery gray clothing ready for him when he finished. He had eaten like a starved man, and was asleep two minutes after he closed his eyes.

  Now he looked about the room, concern shocking him into wakefulness. There was no sign of Peter, but the table was again set with food. It didn’t look like any food he had ever seen, but the piquant texture and taste removed any lingering suspicions of its quality. Nothing could taste so good, and not be nourishing. There was a plate of meaty-tasting stuff, some spicy soup, and what he took to be vegetables, in spite of their pale blue color. The plates refilled automatically as he ate, although no one entered the room; when he was finally filled, the food, table and all, vanished, leaving only a faint pleasant odor in the air.

  This off-again-on-again business was startling, to say the least; Lars felt a little queasy as he walked about the room, inspecting the smooth material of the walls, watching the large window grow transparent as he moved near it. The two ships still lay in their racks below, as though they had been there for years, but the sight of them perked Lars back to the thousand unanswered questions in his mind.