“Maybe that’s just what it was,” said Mitch. “Perhaps there’s a storm blowing up.”
“There’s not a cloud in the sky,” Jet pointed out.
“Tell us exactly what you thought you saw, Lemmy,” I told him.
“Well, I was sitting in the cabin and. . .”
He got no farther. At that precise moment a brilliant flash of light penetrated the pilot’s canopy and shone full into our faces. Mitch and I instinctively leapt back into the cabin, falling over in our haste. Jet, who was seated in the pilot’s chair, wasn’t as quick as us and when he did make it he tripped over Mitch who was lying on the floor.
“Get down, quick,” said Jet, “all of you.”
I made my way to the table and groped along the panelling until I found the pilot’s door control. I pressed it, there was a whirr, and the door closed.
“The main door, Doc,” Jet called. “Can you find the switch?” A few more moments’ groping, and the main door closed, too.
None of us could see. The powerful light had blinded us. This was the last straw. To be stranded, as we were, and to be blind as well was more than I could take. I felt like beating on the control table with my fists. And then, much to my surprise and relief, I began to see things again, dimly illuminated by the single bulb which supplied our cabin with light. Slowly my sight returned.
“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” I said, trying to reassure the others; “it was a bright light and our eyes had got used to the darkness. It was bound to blind us temporarily.”
“It was like looking directly into the Sun,” said Lemmy. “All I can see are bright green patches.”
“I’m beginning to see better now,” said Jet, “and there’s certainly no pain.”
“What kind of light was it?” I asked.
“Maybe some kind of super searchlight,” volunteered Mitch.
“That’s what you think,” said Lemmy. “What’s your idea then?”
“A death ray.”
“What?”
“You’ve heard of them, haven’t you?”
“Of course we’ve heard of them,” said Mitch, “been hearing about them for years, but no one has ever got round to perfecting one yet.”
“Not in our time,” said Lemmy, “back in 1965. But we’re not back in 1965. There could be a death ray now.”
“Then why aren’t we dead?” Jet remarked flatly.
“Oh,” said Lemmy, “that’s a point, isn’t it?”
“Whatever it was,” Jet went on, “it doesn’t seem to have done us any harm.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t,” said Lemmy pessimistically. ‘“What’s that thing doing out there?”
“Well, none of us is going out to look, that’s certain,” said Jet. “We’ll remain in here until it’s gone.”
“And when do you think that will be?” asked Mitch. “How do we know it’s still out there anyway?”
“We don’t. We’ll wait a couple of hours. If nothing has happened in that time, we’ll open up the pilot’s cabin and risk another look.”
“How about the televiewer?” I suggested. We had not used the televiewer since we landed but on the last inspection it had been in working order. But it was not working now and it was half an hour before Lemmy managed to bring the screen to life. When, at last, the camera was rotated, there was nothing unusual to be seen outside.
“They must have gone away,” said Jet. He sounded almost disappointed.
After an hour of rotating the camera at ten-minute intervals, Jet decided to open up the pilot’s cabin door and take a look through the window. This we did, but, even with the wider range of vision this gave us, we could still see no sign of anything unusual.
“Well,” I said at last, “there’s only one way to be sure now and that is to go out there and look.”
“Very well, Doc,” Jet said. “Get a flashlight and we’ll go.”
When we reached the main door, Jet turned on the flashlight and slowly threw the beam round a considerable area. Then he almost dropped the torch in surprise for it illuminated three deep furrows which completely encircled the ship. They were about three feet in diameter, just as deep, and the distance between each furrow was about six feet. They appeared to have been made by heavy spheres. We could only conclude they were made by the ‘wheels’ of the tank that Lemmy had seen.
“It seems to have gone round us once and then made off again,” I said to Jet.
“Yes,” he said as he flashed the light over a wider area. Then I heard him draw his breath.
“Doc,” he said abruptly, “I’m going out there.”
“No, Jet,” I remonstrated. “Not now, wait until daylight.”
But he ignored my protest and ordered Lemmy to let down the ladder. I watched with apprehension as he made his way over to the remains of the fire on which we had cooked our last meal. Then he stooped, picked something up from the ground and returned to the ship.
“All right, Doc,” he said, as he climbed into the airlock. “Now let’s get back.”
Once in the cabin, Jet went straight to the control table and threw on it the object he had found outside. We all gathered round and gazed at it curiously.
“What’s that?” asked Mitch.
“Take a look at it,” said Jet. “You tell me.”
Mitch picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “Just a fancy piece of stone,” he said, without much interest.
“Doesn’t its shape tell you anything?”
“It’s a peculiar shape all right, but. . .”
“Take hold of it,” Jet broke in, “feel the weight and balance of it in your hand. I’d say it was some kind of a weapon.”
“Let me see it,” I asked Mitch, and took the stone from him.
“Somebody made that thing and dropped it near the ship some time after we came in,” Jet went on.
“How do you know?” asked Lemmy.
“Because of where I found it. It was right in the very place where I was sitting earlier, near the fire. If it had been there then, I’d have noticed it, wouldn’t I?”
“You could hardly have helped yourself, could you?” Lemmy said.
I examined the object. It was almost a foot long and shaped rather like an aspidistra leaf. The handle was flat and narrow. The leaf-shaped blade was about half an inch thick and tapered off at the edges and to a point at its tip. One edge was certainly sharp, the other blunt. It had been roughly chipped into shape and then, apparently, rubbed down until it was almost smooth. When held in the hand, it had a nice balance and could be used either as a dagger or some kind of chopper. I handed it back to Jet. “It’s some kind of knife all right,” I told him, “and, for what it is, very craftily made. It’s been used recently, too.”
“How do you know?” said Lemmy.
“Look,” I pointed at the knife, “you see those dark patches there? Blood.”
“Eh? Whose?”
“How should I know? Maybe whoever dropped it used it for hunting or something.”
“Let me have another look, Jet,” said Mitch.
“Sure,” said Jet, and he handed the object to the engineer.
Mitch admitted, a little grudgingly I thought, that it might have been a knife. “But I’ve never seen one like this before,” he added.
“Except in history books,” said Jet.
“How do you mean?”
“For thousands of years Man was making just this kind of weapon, certainly in Europe and the Mediterranean regions. Even the ancient Egyptians used them until they discovered the use of metal.”
“You mean this is a relic from the Stone Age?” Mitch queried. “But it’s in such darned good condition, and Doc says it’s been used only recently.”
“Precisely.”
“But that would suggest that out there, outside this ship,” Mitch carried on, “there are men or some kind of animals who use stone knives, who belong to a stone age.”
“Why not? We might have landed anyw
here--in Time.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” argued Mitch. “That presupposes two entirely different civilisations existing at once. One extremely advanced, with machines and space ships, the other as primitive as pre-history itself.”
“Could be,” I suggested. “Railroads were spanning the American continent at the same time as Red Indians were still living in a primitive state, still in a stone age.”
“I don’t know what to make of it,” said Jet. “I only know this knife was outside.”
“Did whoever dropped it leave any footprints behind?” I asked him.
“Not that I noticed, but the grass round that fire has been trampled flat by us anyway.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe we’ll get to the bottom of it someday.”
‘‘Meanwhile,” said Jet, “we’d better get back to sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us.”
We had planned to do a little exploring and next morning, in spite of the events of the previous night, we decided to go ahead with the project. We intended to cover an area about a mile in radius with the ship as its centre. Only Jet and Mitch were to go and they were to keep in constant touch with Lemmy and me with the aid of their personal radios.
“I only hope the batteries can stand up to it,” said Lemmy. “There can’t be much juice left in them now. And what if you meet up with any of those ape men with the stone knives?”
“I’m almost hoping we will,” said Mitch. “It might clear up a few things.”
“And what if that machine comes back?” said Lemmy. He was in a pessimistic mood this morning.
“We can’t stay locked up in here forever,” said Mitch. “We’ve got to know what lies beyond the horizon.”
Two minutes later Mitch and Jet were outside the ship, checking the radios. They still seemed quite healthy.
“Hearing you loud and clear,” came Jet’s voice.
“Me, too,” said Mitch.
“Then I think we’ll get started,” said Jet, “and I. . .” He broke off.
“I don’t think you’d better,” said Lemmy urgently. “You’d better come back into the ship, and quick.” “Too right we will,” said Mitch.
There was good reason for the new panic--the space music was back again. I ran over to the main door control and closed it behind Jet and Mitch as they entered the airlock. By the time they had reached the cabin, the noise was at its greatest.
“Well,” shouted Lemmy above the racket, “that’s put paid to a nice morning’s stroll.”
“It must be those ships again,” I exclaimed, “and they must be very close.”
Mitch was all for looking out of the pilot’s window but Jet refused to allow it in case the ‘ray’, or whatever it was, might be projected at us again. He ordered me to close the door and, by the time I had, the music had stopped.
“The televiewer, Lemmy,” said Jet; “see if it’s working.”
“Shouldn’t think so,” said Lemmy helpfully, but switched on just the same. Within a few moments the screen was glowing and a picture of the country towards the river was clearly visible.
“Rotate the camera,” ordered Jet. Lemmy did, and there outside, not a hundred yards away, was another space ship identical with the one which had landed in the crater on the Moon.
It was the same episode all over. Once more the strange music was heard and the opening in the dome of the craft revealed itself, only this time the ladder which Mitch had found on the opposite side of the craft was facing us.
“Looks like they’re inviting us to go out there and get in,” said Mitch.
“Well, if they are,” said Jet positively, “we’re not accepting.”
“Maybe,” I suggested, “this time somebody will come out.”
“Don’t, Doc,” said Lemmy.
“Well, why not?” I asked him.
“Then whoever it is must have two legs.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Who else could use a ladder?”
“A cat can climb a ladder,” I reminded him.
Lemmy didn’t reply. And nothing came out. Thirty minutes later a constant watch had revealed no further development in the situation.
“Well,” said Mitch, “what are we going to do--sit here all day biting our finger nails? Supposing that thing stays out there for a week, what do we do about food?”
“I know,” said Jet suddenly, “the radio.”
“The radio?” repeated Mitch, looking very puzzled.
“Yes, don’t you remember? When you went up to that ship before and kicked it, we all heard it over the radio. And when you went inside, we heard your voice. Obviously if that ship can communicate with us at all,” concluded Jet, “it must be via the radio. Lemmy, is the transmitter still switched on?”
“Yes, Jet.”
“But the last time,” protested Mitch, “I had to be in there before you heard anything.”
“Who knows what’ll happen this time? At least it’s worth a try.”
Mitch agreed, reluctantly. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He had hardly finished speaking when over the intercom speaker we heard the space music once again, but this time it didn’t increase in volume. Quite suddenly it stopped.
“Well,” said Lemmy, “is that all we get? That’s nothing new.”
And then to our surprise and consternation, we heard something that was. It wasn’t very loud but it was sufficient to give us a violent shock. It was a voice.
“Hullo, Luna,” it said.
“Blimey!” said Lemmy. “Did you hear that?
“Quiet,” said Jet.
“But it was a voice.”
“A human voice,” I added.
“And it came over the radio,” said Mitch.
“Yes,” said Jet. “It came from there.” He pointed at the image on the televiewer screen. “There’s somebody or something in that ship.”
The voice was completely characterless. “Hello, Luna,” was delivered very precisely, rather as one used to hear on the elevators in the old London subways when a disembodied voice announced: ‘Stand clear of the doors’. It was neither friendly, antagonistic, calm nor excited; it was just a voice.
None of us said a word or moved a muscle for at least two minutes. It was Jet who broke the silence eventually and all he did was to repeat slowly what he had said a moment before: “It came from there. There’s somebody or something in that ship.”
“And whoever it is,” said Lemmy, who had recovered his tongue by now, “he speaks English.”
“Wouldn’t it be rather awkward if I didn’t?” There was no tone of interrogation in the announcement. It was only the order in which the words were put that made it a question.
“Who are you?” asked Jet. “What do you want?”
“We only want to help you,” came the dispassionate reply.
“How?”
“All we ask is for you to leave your ship and enter ours. No harm will come to you--you need not be afraid.”
“We’re not afraid,” said Jet, “just cautious.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Lemmy quietly.
“Are you anything to do with that ship we saw on the Moon?” asked Jet.
“Yes, we are.”
“Then who are you?” asked Mitch.
The Voice ignored the question. “Leave your own ship and come in here.”
“You come in here,” suggested Lemmy. “Why don’t you show yourself?”
“I cannot show myself.”
“Why not?” asked Lemmy. “Are you invisible?”
“No, but I am not in this ship.”
Jet turned to Mitch and me. “What are we going to do about this?” he said.
Lemmy left us in no doubt as to what he wanted to do about it. “Stay where we are, of course,” he said. “It would be barmy to go out there.”
“Not necessarily,” I told him. “No harm came to Mitch when he went into the ship we saw on the Moon.”
“Well,” said Mitch doubtfully, “at least I wasn’t
conscious of anything strange going on.”
“But if all of us go into that ship,” Lemmy argued, “who knows what might happen?”
“I think we should find out more about this before we even set foot outside,” said Jet. “I’ll talk to him. Hullo, whoever you are,” he called. “We would like you to answer a few questions.”
“Then go ahead.”
“Well, in the first place, have you anything to do with our being here now?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s a great help,” said Mitch.
“And how about that perishing music we keep hearing?” asked Lemmy. “Is that anything to do with you?”
“Music?”
“Yes, music.”
“What is music?” said the Voice flatly.
“You don’t know--what--music is?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s a kind of--noise,” Lemmy groped for his words, “that goes up and down--and when you hear it, well, it makes you feel good. Except your music--that makes you feel dreadful.”
“A noise, you say?”
“Yes,” said Jet, “a peculiar kind of noise.” “Like this?”
And over the radio came a short burst of the weird music we’d now heard so often. It started, as usual, with a high-pitched note, swooped down to a deep, almost inaudible bass and died away in reverberating echoes. At the end of the short interlude Jet said excitedly, “Yes, that’s it, that’s it exactly. And whenever we hear it, something always happens to us.”
“What is it?” asked Mitch. “What does it do?”
“All I did was turn on the power.”
“The power that drives your ship?” asked Mitch.
“Then it was you on the Moon, wasn’t it?” Jet gave the Voice no chance to answer Mitch’s question.
“One of our ships visited your side of the Moon.”
“Weren’t you in it?”
“No.”
“You mean those ships were remote controlled, and you sent them specially to look for us?”
“No, we didn’t. We were very surprised to find you there.”
“Not half so surprised as we were to find you,” broke in Lemmy.
“Then where are you from?” asked Jet.
“From the other side of the Universe.”
Journey Into Space Page 16
