"One more thing." Kramer picked up the microphone. "Return to the moon
and land the ship at the first space field," he said into it.
"Good Lord," Winter murmured. "Why are you--"
"Be quiet." Kramer stood, listening. The turbines gasped and roared as
the ship swung full around, gaining speed. They were moving back, back
toward the moon again. The ship dipped down, heading toward the great
globe below.
"We're going a little fast," the Pilot said. "I don't see how he can
put down at this velocity."
* * * * *
The port filled up, as the globe swelled rapidly. The Pilot hurried
toward the board, reaching for the controls. All at once the ship
jerked. The nose lifted and the ship shot out into space, away from
the moon, turning at an oblique angle. The men were thrown to the
floor by the sudden change in course. They got to their feet again,
speechless, staring at each other.
The Pilot gazed down at the board. "It wasn't me! I didn't touch a
thing. I didn't even get to it."
The ship was gaining speed each moment. Kramer hesitated. "Maybe you
better switch it back to manual."
The Pilot closed the switch. He took hold of the steering controls and
moved them experimentally. "Nothing." He turned around. "Nothing. It
doesn't respond."
No one spoke.
"You can see what has happened," Kramer said calmly. "The old man
won't let go of it, now that he has it. I was afraid of this when I
saw the wiring changes. Everything in this ship is centrally
controlled, even the cooling system, the hatches, the garbage release.
We're helpless."
"Nonsense." Gross strode to the board. He took hold of the wheel and
turned it. The ship continued on its course, moving away from the
moon, leaving it behind.
"Release!" Kramer said into the microphone. "Let go of the controls!
We'll take it back. Release."
"No good," the Pilot said. "Nothing." He spun the useless wheel. "It's
dead, completely dead."
"And we're still heading out," Winter said, grinning foolishly. "We'll
be going through the first-line defense belt in a few minutes. If they
don't shoot us down--"
"We better radio back." The Pilot clicked the radio to _send_. "I'll
contact the main bases, one of the observation stations."
"Better get the defense belt, at the speed we're going. We'll be into
it in a minute."
"And after that," Kramer said, "we'll be in outer space. He's moving
us toward outspace velocity. Is this ship equipped with baths?"
"Baths?" Gross said.
"The sleep tanks. For space-drive. We may need them if we go much
faster."
"But good God, where are we going?" Gross said. "Where--where's he
taking us?"
* * * * *
The Pilot obtained contact. "This is Dwight, on ship," he said. "We're
entering the defense zone at high velocity. Don't fire on us."
"Turn back," the impersonal voice came through the speaker. "You're
not allowed in the defense zone."
"We can't. We've lost control."
"Lost control?"
"This is an experimental ship."
Gross took the radio. "This is Commander Gross, Security. We're being
carried into outer space. There's nothing we can do. Is there any way
that we can be removed from this ship?"
A hesitation. "We have some fast pursuit ships that could pick you up
if you wanted to jump. The chances are good they'd find you. Do you
have space flares?"
"We do," the Pilot said. "Let's try it."
"Abandon ship?" Kramer said. "If we leave now we'll never see it
again."
"What else can we do? We're gaining speed all the time. Do you propose
that we stay here?"
"No." Kramer shook his head. "Damn it, there ought to be a better
solution."
"Could you contact _him_?" Winter asked. "The Old Man? Try to reason
with him?"
"It's worth a chance," Gross said. "Try it."
"All right." Kramer took the microphone. He paused a moment. "Listen!
Can you hear me? This is Phil Kramer. Can you hear me, Professor. Can
you hear me? I want you to release the controls."
There was silence.
"This is Kramer, Professor. Can you hear me? Do you remember who I am?
Do you understand who this is?"
Above the control panel the wall speaker made a sound, a sputtering
static. They looked up.
"Can you hear me, Professor. This is Philip Kramer. I want you to give
the ship back to us. If you can hear me, release the controls! Let go,
Professor. Let go!"
Static. A rushing sound, like the wind. They gazed at each other.
There was silence for a moment.
"It's a waste of time," Gross said.
"No--listen!"
The sputter came again. Then, mixed with the sputter, almost lost in
it, a voice came, toneless, without inflection, a mechanical, lifeless
voice from the metal speaker in the wall, above their heads.
"... Is it you, Philip? I can't make you out. Darkness.... Who's
there? With you...."
"It's me, Kramer." His fingers tightened against the microphone
handle. "You must release the controls, Professor. We have to get back
to Terra. You must."
Silence. Then the faint, faltering voice came again, a little stronger
than before. "Kramer. Everything so strange. I was right, though.
Consciousness result of thinking. Necessary result. Cognito ergo sum.
Retain conceptual ability. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Professor--"
"I altered the wiring. Control. I was fairly certain.... I wonder if I
can do it. Try...."
Suddenly the air-conditioning snapped into operation. It snapped
abruptly off again. Down the corridor a door slammed. Something
thudded. The men stood listening. Sounds came from all sides of them,
switches shutting, opening. The lights blinked off; they were in
darkness. The lights came back on, and at the same time the heating
coils dimmed and faded.
"Good God!" Winter said.
Water poured down on them, the emergency fire-fighting system. There
was a screaming rush of air. One of the escape hatches had slid back,
and the air was roaring frantically out into space.
The hatch banged closed. The ship subsided into silence. The heating
coils glowed into life. As suddenly as it had begun the weird
exhibition ceased.
"I can do--everything," the dry, toneless voice came from the wall
speaker. "It is all controlled. Kramer, I wish to talk to you. I've
been--been thinking. I haven't seen you in many years. A lot to
discuss. You've changed, boy. We have much to discuss. Your wife--"
The Pilot grabbed Kramer's arm. "There's a ship standing off our bow.
Look."
* * * * *
They ran to the port. A slender pale craft was moving along with them,
keeping pace with them. It was signal-blinking.
"A Terran pursuit ship," the Pilot said. "Let's jump. They'll pick us
up. Suits--"
He ran to a supply cupboard and turned the handle. The door opened and
he pulled the suits out onto the floor.
"Hurry," Gross said. A panic seized them. They dressed frantically,
pulling the heavy garments over them. Winter staggered to the escape
hatch and stood by it, waiting for the others. They joined him, one by
one.
"Let's go!" Gross said. "Open the hatch."