“It makes sense,” said Clonar. “But I can’t stop. I can’t forget that there are only five days left. I can’t give up one of them.”
“Half a day, then. Look, we’ll come out tomorrow and clean up this mess and maybe run through the check on the set. Then we’ll get the gang who’ve been wanting to meet you and have a swim at the lake and a party half the night.”
Ron called Anne early and told her of his plan for a day’s outing with the gang.
“Maybe I shouldn’t drag Clonar away from the lab like this, but the guy’s knocking himself out, and there isn’t much I can do about it up there.”
“It’s what we should have done a long time ago,” said Anne. “It would be horrible if it kept him from meeting his deadline—you’ll have to be the judge of that—but if we can help him meet it by increasing his efficiency, we ought to do it.”
“I think that’s what it’ll do. I’m willing to gamble on it.
“Who shall we get together?”
“Everybody. The usual crowd, at least those who can understand Clonar. Don’t bring any fuzzy heads. Use your own judgment.”
“We’ll meet at the lake at two for swimming. O.K.?”
Clonar was already up, sleepy-eyed and groggy as he headed for the shower.
“You need another six hours’ sleep,” said Ron. “Why don’t you take it?”
“No. A good shower will finish up what the sleep didn’t do. If we don’t get enough done on the transmitter this morning, I don’t think I’ll go swimming with you.”
Maybe he should have made it a private affair between the two of them and Anne, but the three of them together would talk of nothing but their immediate problem. He wanted the rest of the gang to meet Clonar—and Clonar to meet them, so that he might know for sure that Earthmen could be trusted and made friends, before he left them forever. There was no other chance but this one.
Replacing the tubes in the transmitter and correcting the relays that had failed to protect it took far more time than they expected. They got the set on with power, but it failed utterly to handle the strange wave form of Clonar’s generator in the manner he required.
He was almost trembling with the shock of defeat when they finally shut down the transmitter.
“I’ll never make it in time, Ron I I can’t even think, any more.”
“We’ll fix that. Come on. Anne will be waiting with the lunch now.”
Clonar agreed apathetically. They picked up Anne at three, an hour late. She greeted them cheerily as if she had expected nothing else.
As she squeezed into the narrow seat, she lifted the lid of the lunch hamper.
“Smell, Clonar! Fried chicken. Does that look good to you?”
Her shining eyes seemed to bring him up out of the gloom that covered him. “I could ask for a worse fate than staying here and eating your fried chicken the rest of my life.”
It took a half hour to reach the lake resort west of Longview. Clonar drove. Handling the car was one pleasure to which he always responded. The place was crowded as always on summer afternoons. Ron watched carefully for any signs of uneasiness in Clonar, but he saw none as they parked and carried their lunch to the reserved tables Anne had arranged for under the arbor.
“See you on the beach,” Anne said as she separated from them in the direction of the bathhouses.
As they changed to swimming trunks, Ron scanned the figure of his friend to reassure himself that he was not leaving Clonar open to ridicule for his strangeness. There was nothing that would mark Clonar as being any different from the average well-developed sixteen-year-old boy. Only the head of hair which required a closer look than anybody was going to take today—and the six-fingered hands, which could not be hidden anywhere.
Suddenly Ron laughed aloud. “I forgot to ask you even, if you swim on your world. But surely you must.”
They were approaching the water, and Clonar examined the motions of the swimmers splashing about. “We swim, of course, but we use a considerably different motion than any of those I see here.”
“Well, come on and show me. I’d like to know what other kinds there are. I thought we had discovered them all.”
He felt good inside. Clonar’s face was alight with the pleasure of the sun and air on his skin, and the carefree sounds of the bathers filling the air. This was no mistake, he thought. Clonar would go back to the base and knock off the rest of the job in nothing flat.
Suddenly Ron spotted Anne, and was startled to see her in a new swim suit he had never seen before. He whistled long and loudly as he ran toward her.
She scowled disapprovingly. “For that I should have worn a potato sack!”
“I’m sorry,” Ron laughed. “It really is the nicest suit on the nicest girl on the beach. Am I forgiven?”
“Provided you never do that again, bub.”
“I promise. Come on over to the water. Clonar is going to show us some new strokes.”
They waded out until they stood waist-deep in the clear water. “This is as good as any place,” said Ron.
Abruptly, Clonar leveled out and then shot forward. For a moment he sped under water, and Ron had to strain his eyes to find exactly where he was. Then his head appeared and he continued moving forward.
Other bathers near Ron and Anne were staring, too. “The guy must have a jet motor hidden in his belt,” said one of them. “Look at that boy go!”
Yards away, Clonar whirled in the water and waved to them. Then he returned swimming at the same phenomenal pace. The onlookers were increasing in numbers.
Clonar broke the water near them and stood up, breathing faster, but relaxed as if he could have gone for hours at that pace.
“What kind of stroke was that?” someone asked. “Show us how you do that!”
And suddenly Ron saw that Clonar was caught up in the warmth of their appreciation and companionship.
“Me first!” said Anne. “Teach me how to do that, Clonar.”
“I’ll show you the kick.” He floated in the water, hands grasping the guard line. His legs began to flutter with a swift motion almost too rapid to follow.
Someone giggled. “It’s like a fish!”
And someone gave a gasp. In a faint whisper Ron heard the words, “The fingers—look at his hands.”
Like a flame, realization burst through the crowd. “It’s the guy from Mars or wherever it was—the one that crashed in the flying saucer.”
Ron felt a cold antagonism driving through him. Why couldn’t they shut up and let him be one of them? But it had to be met now.
As Clonar stood up after the demonstration, Ron said, “Some of you have recognized us. I may as well introduce us to the rest of you. I’m Ron Barron, and this is Clonar. You’ve seen his story in the papers. Maybe some of you heard me tell it on the radio.
“You know he’s had a bum deal so far. I hope this afternoon you’ll let him know there are people on Earth who know how to treat a stranger. How about it, folks?”
There was a moment of awed silence. The crowd shifted uneasily and curiously, those in back coming closer as they would in the presence of a circus freak.
Then Ron’s words sank in. Someone started a spontaneous handclap. It spread. And with it spread good feeling and the kind of welcome that Ron had hoped for in Clonar’s behalf.
Ron breathed easier. “O.K., Clonar. How about doing it at slow speed and showing Anne how to begin to do such a stroke?”
Clonar gave him a look of thanks and understanding as if he fully comprehended the thing that Ron had just done. Then he lowered Anne to a floating position and moved her legs slowly in the intricate pattern of the kick stroke he had demonstrated.
She tried to follow his instructions, but there was something wrong with it, Ron thought. It almost looked like something that no one else but Clonar could do. And then with another cold burst Ron realized that was right.
Earthmen couldn’t do it. They didn’t have the muscles for it. Clonar’s structure was that
much different. He could perform those incredibly swift, fishlike motions with his legs, but Earthmen could never duplicate them.
Ron moved away from the crowd. The others would try and become irritated because they could not do it. That’s the way it always was in the face of superior accomplishments. In a few minutes it would begin to sink in that Clonar could do something that none of the rest could. Their friendliness would weaken, and they would set him farther apart from them because of it.
Ron was thankful when Stan and a dozen others of the gang burst upon them from another section of the beach and began disorganizing things generally with their horseplay. One by one they were introduced to Clonar and treated him as one of their own.
It went smoother than Ron had hoped for after that. Clonar was enjoying himself. He splashed and played with a vigor that outdid them all in the hours of water volley that followed.
Ron told Anne about the swim stroke. She refused to believe it and doggedly practiced most of the time she was in the water.
At sundown they dressed, and ate under the arbor. For an hour or two afterwards, they rode the roller coaster and spent their change in the penny arcade and the shooting gallery.
When the orchestra in the dance pavilion began its first melody they began congregating slowly around the dance floor. Anne had not paired off the party. There were stags and extra girls as well as dated couples and the few who were considered steadies. But as they became aware of each other about the dance floor the realization seemed to strike the mind of everyone that Clonar was alone.
They were aware of him standing a little to one side of Ron and Anne. His figure struck a sudden thread of poignancy in each of them that seemed so unbearable that it could hardly be expressed.
Ron felt it. It was something about the music and the soft lights and the moving couples on the floor. There was something here that he could never offer Clonar.
Anne broke the unbearable pressure by turning to Clonar.
“Is this like any custom you have on your world?” she said.
“Something—we have something much like this.” There seemed to be a hoarseness in his voice as if he, too, found it difficult to speak, as if he were reminded here of something of which he did not want to speak.
“You gave me a swimming lesson,” said Anne. “Perhaps you would let me show you this.”
His face changed as if this were beyond any kindness that he might have expected. “Thanks, Anne—thanks very much.” He moved toward her.
Ron was not surprised to observe that Clonar’s grasp of dance steps was just as quick as his learning to speak English or to drive a car. After three or four rounds of the floor he had lost almost all his awkwardness.
He brought Anne back to Ron as the music ended, his face glowing with a strange wistfulness that almost frightened Ron.
“That was very nice, Anne,” he said. “I think your dancing is a beautiful custom.”
“How about me for the next one?” said Ron. “Then Anne can show you another dance or two and you II be able to ask some of the other girls.”
As they moved away, Ron whispered in Anne’s ear. “That was nice of you to do that. Something seemed to come over the guy when everyone started dancing. I
couldn’t figure out what it was. It almost made me afraid to watch him.”
Anne looked up at him. “Don’t you know what it was? This is something he can never have—even if he does live here the rest of his life. He felt it, and all the girls felt it. I felt so sorry for him I almost wanted to cry.
“What are you talking about?” said Ron. But he knew, he thought. The music and the fights and the moving couples told him the same thing that was in the minds of everyone.
“He can’t be like us,” said Anne. “Not like you and me. He’s too different. He could never marry an Earth
girl.”
Chapter 18 Attack!
When the dance ended and Ron and Anne returned to their place they found no sign of Clonar. They looked up and down the floor without seeing his tall figure. Ron turned to Mike Michaels who was stag, watching the dancers.
“Did you see Clonar leave, Mike? He was here a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, he went off toward the other side of the floor somewhere. Looked like he might have been in a hurry, but I lost sight of him when he got there.”
“Thanks.” Ron grabbed Anne’s hand and hurried her through the crowd. Clonar was nowhere in sight on the other side of the floor.
Outside the pavilion, George and Paula were sitting one out, on a bench under the trees.
“Did you see Clonar come this way?” Ron asked. George nodded his head toward the darkness. “He went that way a little while ago. I asked where he was going, but I couldn’t understand what he mumbled at me. I figured it was better to let the guy alone. Something wrong?”
“I’m afraid there is. Come along, will you? I may need your help.”
The four of them hurried along the darkened pathways, Ron leading the way toward the parking area. He stopped at the point where he had left the car.
Anne gave a surprised gasp. “It’s gone! The car’s gone!”
“I was afraid of this,” said Ron. “I guess this whole idea was a bust, after all. George, will you take us out there in your car? I’ve got to get to him quick.”
“Out where? What are you talking about? Has Clonar got your car?”
“I think so. I’ve been teaching him to drive. He drove over here, and absent-mindedly—or purposely—put the keys in his pocket when we parked. Now I’m afraid he’s gone out to the Air Base to work on the transmitter some more. How about it? Will you drive me out there? We can take the girls home, first.”
“Like heck!” said Anne. “We’ll go along. No use missing a ride like this on such a night.”
But it wasn’t a ride they were to enjoy, they soon discovered. There was the same uneasy tension in all of them as they passed through town and shot out along the highway, north.
“What do you suppose happened to Clonar?” said George. “Did the party upset him?”
“I think so. I was trying to get the guy’s mind off his work. He’s in such a shape he doesn’t know which way is up.” Ron explained the things they were doing, and the messages Clonar had heard from the ship.
“He’s got to meet that deadline, or they’ll go off and leave him. But he had worked to the point where he was muffing the job. What happens now is anybody’s guess, if he’s more upset than before—”
At last they saw Ron’s car in the brilliant moonlight. It was parked beside the radio lab a quarter of a mile away. The lights of the building shown over the adjacent field.
“I don’t suppose we could come in and take a look at things,” said George.
“I’m afraid not. We’re here only by Gillispie’s indulgence. He would throw us out on our ears for the slightest infraction of rules—and this is restricted territory. How about you, Anne? Are you going back?”
“Not me. Gillispie and me are buddies. He won’t throw me out!”
“Maybe not. Well, thanks, George, for bringing us out.” They stepped from the car as it slowed beside the lab.
As they came into the building they encountered a hesitant and puzzled corporal.
“What is this,” he demanded, “a parade? I didn’t know you were going to work at all hours of the day or night. Or is it a party this time, maybe, huh?” He glanced at Anne. “She don’t get in without a pass!”
“It’s all right,” said Ron. “I’ll vouch for her. We’re just going as far as our lab there. Please come along with us.”
He got away with it, and the corporal followed unhappily.
In the lab, they saw Clonar sitting on a high stool beside his receiver. A mike and the remote controls of the big transmitter were in front of him. Ron glanced into the other room. It was dimly lit by the tubes of the set.
Clonar looked up as they approached, a hot light burning in his eyes.
“I think I’ve got
it, Ron!” he exclaimed. “It came to me while I was back there with you. I’m sorry I ran off with your car, but I had to know if the idea would work, and it did! The transmitter is putting out my wave, and I think the fleet has got it!”
They moved back to the other side of the room and sat on stools there. Clonar bent over the mike, speaking in his own tongue the same words over and over. Even to them, the pleading in his voice was understandable, if the words were not.
He switched back and forth from the receiver, alternating his own call with the monotonously repeated signal from the fleet.
Then suddenly, that signal broke off in the middle and there was only the high hissing noise that was like the voice of the stars themselves. Clonar straightened, his whole body stiff as if under the power of an electric current.
The sound from the receiver changed sharply, and from it came the voice of someone speaking in Clonar’s own tongue, not the mechanical voice of the automatic message, but someone answering his call to space.
Ron gripped Anne’s hand hard in his own, straining to grasp some meaning out of those words, but he knew no more than a dozen or two words of Clonar’s complex vocabulary.
“I’m glad,” Anne murmured. “I’m glad for him. Now he can go home!”
Minutes passed while the conversation went on. At first Clonar’s face had been joyous with the contact that he’d scarcely believed would be made. Now it seemed to grow dark as if some curtain of unbearable disappointment had been thrown about him.
For a full half-hour Clonar carried on the voluble conversation. Then at last he stopped and his hand cut the switch.
Ron got up and moved toward him as he rested his head on his fists.
“What is it, Clonar? Did you reach your ships? Did they say they were coming?”
Clonar raised his head and looked slowly from one to the other of them. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes—yes, they’re coming. They’re coming to destroy your world!”
Son of the Stars Page 14
