The Raciv handed Michel Drawers an elongated prism of crystal, through
which played curious designs of ever-changing color.
"Please accept this as a sign of your position," Garanjor asked.
Drawers received the colorful prism, then quickly stated, "As Raciv, I
do not feel capable of performing the duties required of me in this new
capacity. For that reason I hereby return the great honor entrusted to
me to its original possessor."
Quickly he handed the prism back to Garanjor.
There was a murmur of thought. Apparently the golden people were deeply
moved by this noble gesture.
Michel Drawers gave them no time to reconsider. He emptied his pockets
of all the iron and steel objects he carried. There was the meter, a
steel measuring rule, and several handy implements he happened to have
with him.
While divesting himself of these objects he took opportunity to examine
the golden people more carefully.
The men were attired only in what seemed to be a glorified pair of
trunks--although a few of them wore a crepe-like cloak. Their entire
bodies were of a deep golden hue as was their hair. The pronounced aura
about each of them, he decided, must be due to the peculiar, unknown
gas in the atmosphere. In some way it must affect the radiations thrown
off by the body and make them visible to the naked eye.
The women were beautiful, that's all there was to it. They had all
the same characteristics of the men. Their dress was a satiny,
tight-fitting garment that reminded one, more than anything else, of
a bathing suit done over for evening wear. Their hair was arranged in
such a manner as to give the impression of additional height.
Both men and women were approximately the same height--about five
feet--but built entirely in proportion.
Further observations were interrupted. The people about him suddenly
assumed masks of great concern. One little man left the party. Through
one of the windows he could be seen dashing off in the direction of the
great wall. Drawers stood puzzled.
Persum turned to him.
"Some of our people have just sent a message of distress. They have
been accosted by several Griffs and are in serious danger. We don't
know what we can do, though," he ended hopelessly.
"Where is all this taking place?" Drawers inquired with an unsuccessful
attempt to appear calm.
Persum gestured for him to follow.
Back to the gate they swiftly retraced their steps. The gates were
slightly ajar. A hundred yards over to the right Drawers could see two
of the golden people--one a woman, perched precariously in the branches
of a gigantic fern.
At the base of the fern were two tremendous beasts. Each must have been
at least eight feet long. They stood on four bony legs--their bodies
big and broad and shaggy as a grizzly bear, which animal they resembled
more than anything else, excepting for their incongruously thin legs
and grotesquely large mouths. Mouths almost two thirds the size of an
alligator and fiercely reinforced by large, yellow fangs.
The beasts were tearing away at the foot of the fern. It began to shake
and shiver and lean heavily to one side. It was obvious that inevitably
they would weaken the trunk so that it would give way and drop the two
little people to a hideous death below.
Drawers thought fast. Who was he anyway? Virtually an outcast from
Earth. Unwanted and unnecessary. Here, for the first time in his life,
someone had treated him as though he were a leader. They pretended, at
least, that he was an honored guest. His bulkiness, his crudeness had
been discreetly overlooked. Possibly, if he tried, he could distract
the attention of those man-eating beasts long enough for the golden
people to run to safety behind the walls of the city. He would try. It
would be his token of thanks for all their kindness.
Without a word of his intentions he swiftly pushed himself through the
opening in the gate. His earthly muscles covered prodigious distances
at each stride across the terrain of this lighter planet. He shouted
once, a sort of half-hearted battle cry. The beasts wheeled about at
the sound and snarled viciously.
Drawers slowed up. He was within ten yards of them now. For an instant
he sparred for position. Then he flung himself forward at the nearest
of the two creatures with all of his earthly speed and bulk. He crashed
head on, and surprisingly enough, the animal fell back on its haunches
with a sort of dazed expression.
Drawers' powerful arms arched about the creature's neck. His tremendous
biceps bulged. Slowly, terribly, he tightened his grip. Applied more
and more pressure.
The second Griff had been running around and around in circles. It
seemed undecided, whether to attack or await the outcome of this
struggle.
The Griff beneath him panted in agony. Madly it thrashed about,
flinging him from side to side, but he held on like grim death. Bending
its neck back, back. And suddenly, when it seemed that his strength was
ebbing and that this creature would never give in, he was rewarded by a
loud snap, and the beast's head hung grotesquely from his hands.
[Illustration: _The beast reared violently, but Michel clung to its
back. Only one idea obsessed him--to bend, break--_]
He let go and the entire body slumped limply to the ground.
Again he sparred with the other animal, but this one beat him to the
attack, catapulting itself straight through the air at him. Drawers
side-stepped the charge, and then his right fist descended with
crushing force alongside of the Griff's ribs. There was a cracking
noise as its ribs stove in like papier-mache.
It was squealing terrifiedly, and now Drawers knew his own power and
illimitable strength. These Griffs, big and brutal, were hardly a match
for him. Born to resist a gravity of more than twice that of his planet
his bones were heavier, more compact. His muscles harder, his speed
dazzling.
Again and again he came to grips with the Griff. Once its bestial fangs
closed upon his shoulders and he just about tore away, his skin ripped
and bleeding. His own breath was coming in great choking gasps, and
his legs seemed to sag from the effort, but around and around the Griff
he danced, his fists smashing a crescendo pitch of hate and power and
destruction. And at every blow he could feel something give. Could
hear the wind go whistling out of the weakening Griff. Could sense its
great, untamed strength dissipating ounce by ounce.
Then he closed in for the kill. In a fever of fury he crashed his two
big fists in bludgeoning hate to the Griff's head. It tottered to
the ground--dazed. He leaped upon its back and grabbed for its head.
Instinctively it eluded him and almost threw him from his perch.
He grabbed a fistful of fur and retained his position. In a fit of
inspiration, he began pounding sledge-hammer blows on the thing's back.
His arms worked in a sort of savage rhythm, descending and rising in
a blur of speed and power. And as he pounded away it seemed that this
thing would never die; things were growing hazy ... he was tired, oh,
so tired ... he was barely conscious of striking and from far, far in
the distance his blows echoed back a tirade of destruction.
"What are you beating at, friend?" came a distant voice.
Drawers stopped suddenly.
"There is nothing but a mass of bleeding pulp beneath you."
Drawers started to get off the Griff's back. He staggered erratically.
The world began to turn around and round, around and round.
Someone was leading him. He followed blindly. The next he knew he
was lying back amid a mass of billowy perfumed cushions. Someone was
forcing a sweet, golden liquid between his lips. He drank greedily,
some of the liquid spilling down his shirt. He wiped his lips with his
hand and settled back, relaxed.
Through half-closed eyelids he peered out at the small golden people.
Then, in a tired, happy sort of a voice, rumbled, "I guess those two
weren't hurt."
Persum, good old Persum, was standing there. Two radiant beings stood
beside him.
"They are very grateful," stated Persum by proxy. "They wish to thank
you personally."
"Aw, 'twas nothing."
"Nothing!" came an excited thought wave. "Nothing to kill single-handed
and weaponless two of the most terrifying beasts this planet has ever
known? Nothing to risk your life to save two alien people whom you did
not even know? You are a hero! A great hero! And we are deeply grateful
to you."
Now the woman came timidly toward him. Drawers breathed heavily with
appreciation. A thing of exquisite, unutterable delight. A living poem
of brilliance and charm. The most adorable, fascinating, of all the
golden people he had met so far.
She barely topped the five foot mark. She was dressed in a little
bathing-suit-like affair that had two bright stripes running up the
front, and two small points extending down from the hips. Her eyes were
flaked with tiny gold motes of color and seemed filled to overflowing
with tender compassion.
Michel Drawers couldn't help noticing the feminine, unassumed grace
of her movements, the smooth, round contours of her face, her soft,
perfectly proportioned curves. The glory-sheen of her hair that was
arched up a few inches at the brow, and then allowed to fall in
glistening strands down and around her shoulders.
Here were beauty and goodness incarnate.
Without further consideration Drawers knew he was falling hopelessly in
love. Knew it in the maddening fashion that only a man who yearns for
the admittedly impossible can know.
"Thank you," she was thinking. And then, "Oh, how _can_ I ever thank
you enough? You were so brave, so fine, so strong, so daring."
"Ah--it was nothing. I mean--" Drawers knew he was speaking tripe.
Common everyday, ordinary tripe, but he couldn't think in the presence
of this dazzling little creature. All his senses, except his pounding
heartbeat, seemed locked in a state of suspended animation.
Then he was tired--more tired than he thought anyone could ever be. He
tried to sustain himself, but his words lisped off, and nature demanded
that he rest. He fell back upon the radiant pillows, asleep before his
head had indented its form upon their softness.
So he couldn't have seen, as Persum did, the soft, lingering caress
that the golden girl bestowed upon his brow before she hastily retired
from the room.
The ensuing days were happy ones for Michel Drawers. He was entertained
royally by the elite of the golden people. The dazzling little woman
he had rescued, along with Persum, were always at his side, acting as
a sort of self-appointed escort service. They showed him their great
city, strangely devoid of any mechanical devices or any utilization of
natural laws.
He was introduced to the nation's leading thinkers who expounded
learnedly upon almost incomprehensible theories. He was shown the
ideal, simple, quiet life led by most of the populace and noted without
being told the general tone of happiness, good will, and the utter lack
of crime of any sort.
The complete and utter lack of sensible equipment convinced him more
than ever that he should and could repay in some ways the unusual
kindness bestowed upon him.
It was heart warming to watch the jubilation upon the faces of the
workers as he arranged a simple pulley for them, and showed them how
their lifting could be done with comparative ease. He shuddered to
think of the work that must have gone into building some of those
high, glistening towers, with the utilization of only crude man-power.
He watched the eyes of the scientific men pop with incredulity as he
showed them the principle of the wheel. They were chagrined that they
could have overlooked so simple a principle, but Drawers knew that the
discovery of the wheel on Earth had been nothing but a lucky accident.
If man had not discovered it by accident, it might never have been
known at all. Then, too, he began to understand the utter lack of
mechanical equipment. The wheel was one of the fundamental and most
vital of parts in all moving machinery. Without the wheel, it would be
difficult to construct a usable pulley, or a feasible vehicle.
There was another thing he accomplished. He constructed the first wagon
these people had ever seen. They viewed it with insatiable curiosity.
But the sight of the golden men happily pulling their loads through
the streets on wagons irked him. These people were not made for hard
physical tabor. It took a heavy toll. He questioned Persum as to the
absence of beasts of burden.
Persum thought a moment and then said, "There has never been anything
but very small animals on our planet as far as we know. Nothing we
might use for beasts of burden. Anyway," he concluded, "why should the
animals perform our tasks for us? Why place any poor beast in bondage?"
"And why not?" asked Drawers. "It would be poetic justice to place the
Griffs in bondage and force them to pull your wagons for you."
"The Griffs!" thought Persum with a note of astonishment. "Surely you
are joking. Who could subdue those savage beasts so that they would
labor peaceably? And even then, who would care to drive them and tend
to them? It would be sheer suicide."
Drawers ignored the last statement. "Have you some strong rope that
I might use?" he asked. "Some tough vegetable fiber--perhaps the
material you use for pulling those blocks through the street."
"Why certainly," Persum replied. "You are welcome to all you need."
"Thank you," said Drawers. "I have a crazy sort of an idea."
That evening Michel paced back and forth in the small, luxuriously
furnished apartment the little people had provided for him. It had
three square sides and one open. There were apertures for light, but no
glass or any other material in them. Neither was there anything other
than a drape to serve as a door.
The temperature on this world was ideal. It stayed perpetually between
seventy and eighty-five, hardly ever varying above or below these
figures as rated on the Fahrenheit scale. Therefore there was no
necessity of window panes to keep out the cold. Even without a door
there was infinitely more privacy in these apartments than any man
had ever known on Earth. The golden men never entered without first
telepathizing their intentions in advance. Nor did anyone ever gaze
into another's apartment or home. These people strictly maintained the
ideal that a man's home is his castle.
His mind was surging with many thoughts. These Griffs, if he remembered
correctly, though fiercely armed, had showed definite evidences of
cowardice. He remembered the way they squealed when hurt. Their furious
attempts to escape when soundly beaten. There was a possibility they
could be trained. By force, if need be, but surely it would not hurt to
try.
Then, too, those strange blossoms that acted as an anesthetic upon the
golden people--perhaps they might act similarly upon the Griffs? It was
a theory worth investigating.
The next morning he left the city, a long coil of hemplike rope around
his arm. He found a group of the flowers he was looking for after a
brief search, and quickly snapped a number of the largest blossoms
at the stems. Their odor lent charm to the beauty of the scenery he
passed. It struck him that these flowers were the very personification
of the adage "one man's meat is another man's poison."
As though they knew he was searching for them, the Griffs seemed to
elude him. The day wore on and the sun began to set and still he had
found no Griffs. He began to wonder if the people of the golden city
would be worried as to his whereabouts.
But as the long fingers of evening began to stretch gray paths across
the sky, he was startled out of his thoughts by a fierce squealing. He
turned rapidly, and there, emerging from an almost unnoticed cavelike
formation was a red-eyed Griff, its teeth gnashing angrily.
Quickly Drawers formed the rope into a lasso. He gave it a few quick
turns around his head and let fly at the Griff. The noose settled
around the charging animal's neck. With a flick of his wrist Drawers
tightened the noose, then, utilizing all of his strength, pulled
the rope with a jerk to the right. The Griff choked and stumbled
momentarily. In a twinkling of an eye Drawers was drowning the beast
with the blossoms from the flowers he was carrying. The animal began
to cough. It made an attempt to rise, and then settled back. It was
panting now. Now its eyelids were closing and its breathing becoming
harder and harder.
Drawers kicked the creature in the ribs. It did not respond.
Drawers removed the blossoms from the animal's nostrils. Then he took
his rope and securely tied up its great jaws. With the happy whistle of
a boy released from school, he made his way back to the city of Saeve,
dragging the great beast behind him.
He almost laughed aloud as he saw the perplexity of the guards at the
gate of the wall. They seemed uncertain whether to run as fast as they
could or maintain their posts in shivering fright. At all costs they
refused to allow Drawers to drag the beast into the city.
After some persuasion Drawers got them to contact Persum and arrange to
have a wagon delivered outside the city.
During the interim the Griff began to revive. Finally it staggered
weakly to its feet, a sick look in its eyes. At the sight of Drawers it
bristled menacingly.
Drawers nonchalantly gave the animal a powerful kick in the ribs that
sent it crashing to the ground.
It gained its feet again, and fumed with rage at its inability to use
its well-tied jaws.
But Drawers did not let this bit of temperament deter him. He whacked
the creature across the back with his fist. It sank to the ground
again. A look of fear began to enter its eyes.
Within the next fifteen minutes Michel Drawers gave the animal the
beating of his life. When he was through he untied the fastenings from
around the creature's jaws, and waited, his fist held menacingly. The
golden guards watching from the gate were stricken by the tenseness
of the situation. For a moment the Griff looked at Drawers--_then it
cringed before him!_
During the next week, thousands crammed the streets to watch a
fierce-looking Griff, generation-old enemy of their race, proceeding
docilely along the streets of the city, pulling enormous quantities of
stone and other supplies with no sign of rebellion. Its once terrible
teeth had been blunted and replaced by flat-headed golden caps. A
little golden man sat unafraid upon its back directing it with deft
prods of his feet. Man had again displayed his superiority over other
forms of life.
Everywhere Michel Drawers went he was hailed with enthusiasm by the
golden people. They gave elaborate balls in his honor--and watched with
fascination as he disposed of helping after helping of the multiple
types of tasty vegetables and exotic-flavored fruits which formed the
bulk of their diet.
But in all truth Michel Drawers paid much more attention to the
fascinating little golden woman who seemed perpetually at his side.
"Trajores," she said was her name. And he escorted her proudly to the
numerous balls and dinners; performed her every whim with celerity.
He remembered the look of joy on her face when he presented her with a
simple bracelet, inset with colorful crystals that he had shaped for
her with his own hands out of the malleable gold that could be found in
such abundance.
He remembered, too, how all the other women crowded about her,
examining the new creation, the first of its type in the city of Saeve,
and how the next day, hammers rang merrily as self-appointed goldsmiths
catered to the whims of the eternal feminine and its desire to emulate
any new style or fashion.
Thus, unwittingly, Drawers had made Trajores the first stylist in the
world of the golden people. And it pleased him to watch her thrill with
pride as she watched the other women, and even some of the men, imitate
the first necklace he had made for her, out of a few colored crystals
and a wirelike string of gold.
He took advantage of every opportunity to be near her, accompanying
her on long walks through the forest when the sun was high in the sky;
satisfying her curiosity as to the manners and ways of life on Earth.
He enjoyed those hours in her presence and was thankful for the
opportunity--but his long unfamiliarity with women often caused him to
ask Persum to accompany him, and the three would stride merrily through
the forest, exchanging views on various subjects.
To his astonishment, Michel Drawers awoke one day to find that a
faint but undeniable glow came from his body. The strange gas in the
atmosphere was beginning to affect the radiations of his body, too!
Other unusual incidents lately had been the sudden regrowth of teeth
long since pulled, the disappearance of several warts from his fingers.
The gas, whatever it was, had beneficial effects.
But he did not comprehend the full effect of his change until one day
while walking with Persum and Trajores he sensed Trajores thinking.
"Were there any other girls that you left on Earth before you came
here?"
"No," he replied. "I'm afraid that I never was very popular with the
ladies."
A look of amazement crossed Trajores' features.
"_You read my thoughts!_" she accused. "I had not directed the question
mentally toward you!"
Then she turned and ran back toward the city.
Michel Drawers gazed after her in perplexity, then turned with a
puzzled frown to Persum.
Persum shook his head in the manner of a man who thinks, "Well, here's
something else that's got to be attended to."
"It is against our custom to attempt to read the thoughts of another
person," he explained. "If we did, no one would have any privacy. But
I will explain to Trajores your ignorance of our laws and extend an
apology by proxy. I'm sure she will forgive you. She was momentarily
embarrassed. Her thoughts were of a somewhat personal nature."
But Michel Drawers hardly listened. It was incredible but true that
in some manner the golden emanations that now radiated from his body
enabled his mind to read thoughts!
As the days progressed, Michel Drawers became more and more impressed
by the utopian way in which this society of golden people was
maintained. No man was assigned any work. It was up to the individual
to make himself as useful as he possibly could whenever his services
were required. His leisure time was left to himself.
Drawers had seen how these golden people had volunteered for heavy
physical labor even before his introduction of the labor-saving pulley
wheel, wagon and beast of burden, and the manner in which they had
performed, without complaining, this toilsome labor. He had seen how
other men were willing to spend hours over hot forges shaping trinkets
for the gratification of any women who happened to ask for them.
These people seemed to sense when their services were required and were
always willing to do what was desired.
The women seemed willing to perform almost any of the regular household
duties of cooking, sweeping, remodeling and washing at any time. It
seemed to make little difference if they had to assume the extra burden
of cooking and washing and cleaning for any of the golden men who
were still unmarried or were so unfortunate as to have suffered the
loss of their mates. They performed these tasks cheerfully, as their
contribution to the welfare of the community.
All essentials were provided free, as were available luxuries. All
worked under an eminently successful cooperative plan that did away
with all of the ills of complicated economic systems.
The Raciv was really nothing more than a coordinator of the various
scientists and constructors, helping to lay out the plans for the
proper performance of their experiments and buildings, coping with any
problem that might arise.
This race had many bewildering aspects. Drawers had listened, only
half comprehending, to their learned men outline a gigantic theory of
the universe and its reason for being, a theory that seemed flawlessly
logical to his untrained mind. He had watched the golden men take
over the manufacture of wheels, wagons, pulleys and trinkets he had
introduced and improve upon them at a great rate. He had seen daring
members of this delicate golden race emulate his action in capturing
a Griff with astounding preciseness. Their adaptability, their gift
of learning and improving upon new ideas seemed infinite. But their
inability to grasp and utilize the simplest ideas on their own
initiative was confounding. There was some quality lacking in their
make-up that seemed to prohibit this. Why this was so he did not know.
Perhaps it was the result of thousands of centuries of living easily
in the forests, working and creating in the mind alone, that, through
the ages had made the creative urge in them dormant. It was the only
logical explanation to be found.
But once set upon the proper path that long dead ability might, by
degrees, begin to restore itself, and then there would be no limit to
the greatness this simple civilization might attain.
He had gotten probably his greatest kick in introducing amusements for
the children. For two weeks he had labored, with several of the golden
men assigned to him, in one of the larger working rooms in the city. By
the end of that time he had constructed the very first Merry-Go-Round
this world had ever known!
It was crude compared to what the amusement parks now had on Earth, but
to these people it was an object of fabulous wonder.
He had simply constructed a large wheel, attached a few hand supports
to it and mounted it on one of the wagons. The Merry-Go-Round was
turned by a crude but effective crank, and this unique, whirling,
breathless motion proved a source of infinite delight to the children
of the city. The Merry-Go-Round was constantly on the go, and dozens of
golden men crowded about, examining its manufacture, and returning home
and plotting their own.
The most unusual aspect of this innovation was that the older people
took to it as well as did the youngsters. The Merry-Go-Round and later
the swing became a regular household addition.
These simple pleasure devices became the national amusements. It was
becoming a common thing to have an open square one day, and the next
find it clogged with a vast array of swings and Merry-Go-Rounds, with
the golden people, young and old, partaking wholeheartedly in this new
pleasure.
If it had been left to the children to judge, these new amusements were
the finest things he had introduced so far; and Michel Drawers could
not help realizing how limited these people's pleasures had been in the
past.
It was a great day, too, when he escorted the Raciv and several of the
more important men of state back to the "Star-Struck." They entered the
ship and the lock closed behind them. Then with a blast of rockets the
ship had rifled its way through the clouds.
The Raciv and his officials had gazed in wonder through the ports as
the ship rose thousands of feet into the air. Strangely enough they
displayed no visible signs of fear (possibly the fact that there
was little danger in falling on this world obviated that fear) but
nevertheless the novelty of the experience did not escape them.
One of the little men directed his course. They were riding a wave of
telepathic radiations, as spaceships follow a radio beam into port.
And the occasion was destined to be a memorable one--one of great
consequence. _For the first time in centuries the peoples of two cities
were to meet one another!_
Contact between the cities had always been maintained thanks to the
development of long range telepathy. Thus they were similar in culture,
development and habits, but inter-city relations had been impossible
due to the long distance between cities and the dread danger of being
devoured by Griffs en route.
It was soul-inspiring to witness the embraces, the thoughts of tearful
thankfulness, as the golden people saw their first opportunity in
hundreds of years to be reunited in fact as well as spirit.
The second city's greatest sculptor, the finest the city of Malopa
had ever known, fashioned a golden image of Michel Drawers, which was
placed in one of the largest squares. The ensuing weeks were ones of
great celebration.
Drawers would never forget the looks on the faces of the returning
party as they rocketed back to Saeve. He knew they would never forget
what he had done for them; that they envisaged a greater world of
tomorrow, where the seven cities were united in a common bond of
understanding and continued progress.
Even the original object of his voyage, the obtaining of Roxite, was
consummated. One morning, accompanied by many of the nation's leading
scientists, he strode to his star-ship, patted it affectionately and
then withdrew the great atom blaster. A few minutes of calculating with
the Roxitometer and he located the exact position of the deposit of
Roxite.
The little people watched in awe as he held the powerful blast firmly
in his two capable hands and guided its probings down into the bowels
of the planet. After many hours of prodigious labor he had drawn enough
Roxite from the cavity to sustain him comfortably for the rest of his
natural life back on Earth.
He thought often of Earth now. For though this planet was very
beautiful, a peculiar sort of a homesickness plagued him, and he longed
more and more to return and view again the world of his birth.
He was strolling through one of the gorgeous forest paths with Trajores
one day when the urge to confide in her finally beat down his barrier
of timidity. He stopped her with a touch of his hand and told her.
"I have been very happy here with your people."
"I am so glad," she replied mentally.
That made what he wanted to say extremely difficult. His throat
suddenly congested, though he knew that it was only a nervous muscular
reaction.
"Trajores," he said, gruffly, sadly, "I've been thinking of returning
to my own planet, Earth. I have enough Roxite to insure a reasonable
status of existence. I wish I might stay longer...."
Trajores stood immobile. She seemed to be thinking. Strangely enough
a queer battle of emotions mirrored itself in her delicate features.
Drawers felt vaguely uncomfortable alone with her. He wondered where
Persum had wandered to. He had started out, as usual, with them, but
somehow had drifted away, leaving him alone with Trajores.
"Michel Drawers," came an urgent thought.
Drawers riveted his attention upon the radiant woman.
"I wish you would stay here with me always. I know you would be very
happy. I, I," two great golden tears rolled down her well-molded
cheeks, and impulsively she flung herself into his big arms, and for
the first time since his arrival he heard one of these little people
give vent to a sound. It was a sob--and it came from Trajores.
Drawers stood puzzled. Instinctively he scratched his rough skull.
"Why. Why?" seemed all he could say.
"Why, you fool," came a probing voice, "don't you realize she loves
you!"
Persum was standing a few feet away, his features rigid in stern
sincerity.
"Love, me? Me, Michel Drawers? Why, I am not handsome. I am ugly. I am
not beautiful like your race. I am big and rough and hairy. How can she
love a man like me? I could not even communicate by mental telepathy
before I came here. I am just a man from another civilization, away
because there was no place for me. How can she love me?"
There was mute appeal in Drawers' voice. He didn't know that he was
crying like a child. He didn't know that he had unconsciously fallen
to his knees. He didn't know anything except that Persum had said that
this beautiful, adorable, heavenly little creature loved him. Him,
Michel Drawers, a big, clumsy oaf, without even a proper knowledge of
manners or psychology.
And as from the distance--clear as a bell--lovely as the strummings of
a harpsichord it came to him.
"Michel Drawers, I love you for what you are. For your innate goodness
of soul. For your humble deserving modesty. For your mighty strength.
I love you for your bigness, for your naturalness and for something
else--some indefinable spark that has made our lives as one, that has
caused you to search me out across the inconceivable immensity of a
thousand universes. That is all I know, and one other thing. I can
never leave you. If you go, I go with you."
If you can imagine the emotions of a man unjustly sentenced and finally
released from prison after six years of hell; if you can imagine what
it would mean to have each of your faults become instead an additional
virtue. If you can imagine the joy of having all of your fondest dreams
come true--then, and only then, may you comprehend for one fleeting
instant, the pounding chaos, the indescribable joy, the interminable
relief that permeated Michel Drawers' being at that moment.
Those two hairy arms that had pounded the most savage and horrible
beasts this world had ever known into bleeding pulp slipped tenderly,
reverently about the exquisite form of Trajores. And as Persum slipped
discreetly away, lips closed upon lips in the manner of lovers
immemorial. And the gods of fate laughed at the importance two nothings
in the mighty scheme of things attached to an equally undefinable
nothing called love.
Now Michel Drawers lived in perpetual delirium. A delirium of
unreasoning delight. He readied his "Star-Struck" for a voyage into
space and a renewal of his search to find the way back--the way back
with everything worthwhile to take with him.
And he barely acknowledged the farewells of a fine people, so intense
was his desire to leave.
There was a sort of solemn rigidity in their farewell attitude. A
brooding, soft, strange sorrow, and they seemed to wonder, too, to wish
as well, thoughts they dared not express. To see their great dream for
the reuniting of the cities come crashing down; to view their momentary
gains as a hollow mockery in the years to come.
All this Michel Drawers did not notice. He waved one big arm and with
the other pulled back the starting lever. His great frame pressed back
in agony at the terrible acceleration of the takeoff. And then he was
free--free again of binding gravitation; free to search the space-ways
with the woman he loved beside him; free to return to a world that had
discarded him, to be again a respected citizen.
And then he saw Trajores, her lovely form inert, a trickle of golden
blood issuing from her mouth, and he was overcome with remorse at his
own thoughtlessness. With fear and trepidation he raised her head and
pressed a vial of revivifying liquid to her lips. She sighed softly and
mustered a feeble smile.
"It is all right," she appeared to murmur. "Go on."
Michel Drawers stepped back to the controls. There was an air of
resolute determination about him. His enormous fingers manipulated the
proper switches with unbelievable skill and speed. The petite little
"Star-Struck" swerved on her course and turned in a semicircle that
encompassed millions of miles.
Michel Drawers' mind was comprehending things he had never fully
realized before. Trajores must never be taken to Earth. She must be
returned to her own world with its kinder gravitation and its lovable
golden people. To take her to Earth would be to doom her to a life of
indescribable suffering.
And, too, what would he be on Earth? They would grant him permission
to marry, to settle down and live his life a useless cog in society,
simply because he had been fortunate enough to return with a large
supply of the precious Roxite, not because of what he, himself, was or
had been.
But with the golden people he was not simply a useless hulk of a man.
He was Michel Drawers, the man who had introduced the most startling
innovations the golden people had known in thousands of years! A man
who could hold his head high and look another person squarely in the
face. The only man who might rid the planet of the dread Griffs and
restore a beleaguered people to their rightful heritage.
Back in the golden city of Saeve no thought of his mental inferiority
was entertained. All treated him with respect. It was a world where for
the first time in his life he had found some measure of happiness, and
possibly there might also be contentment.
The shimmering world began to take form beneath them.