A sudden spear of thought pierced his mind. Maybe all that was
illusion, too. Maybe he could go home right now and find her waiting for
him. Maybe--
No. That was real enough. The accident. Dr. Winters. The scene in the
icy room next to Surgery at the hospital. Dr. Martin didn't know about
that. He would have called that a fantasy, too, if Mel had tried to tell
him.
No. It was all real.
The unbelievable, alien organs of Alice.
The great, black ship.
The mindless robot searchers.
His nightmare had stemmed from all this that had happened out in space,
which had somehow been wiped from his conscious memory. The nightmare
had not existed in his boyhood, as he had thought. It was oriented in
time now.
But what had happened to Alice? There was no clue in the memory
unearthed by Dr. Martin. Was her condition merely the result of some
freak heredity or gene mutation?
The surging turmoil in his mind was greater than before. There was only
one way to quiet it--that was to carry out his original plan to go to
Mars.
He'd go out there again. He'd find out if the black ship existed or not.
* * * * *
The girl in the ticket office was kind but firm. "Our records show that
you were a vacationer to Mars very recently. The demand is so great and
the ship capacity so small that we must limit vacation trips to no more
than one in any ten-year period."
He turned away and went down the hall and out the doorway of the marble
and brass Connemorra Lines Building.
He walked through town for six blocks and the thought of old Jake Norton
came to his mind. Jake had been an old timer in the city room when Mel
was a cub. Jake had retired just a few months ago and lived in a place
in town with a lot of other old men. Mel hailed the nearest cab and
drove to Jake's place.
"Mel, it's great to see you!" Jake said. "I didn't think any of the boys
would remember an old man after he'd walked out for the last time."
"People remember real easy when they want favors."
"Sure," Jake said with a grin, "but there's not much of a favor I can do
you any more, boy. Can't even loan you a ten until next payday."
"Jake, you can help me," said Mel. "You don't expect to ever take a trip
to Mars, do you?"
"Mars! Are you crazy, Mel?"
"I went once. I've got to go again. It's about Alice. And they won't let
me. I didn't know you could go only once in ten years."
Jake remembered. Alice had called him and all the other boys after
they'd come back the other time. Mel had been sick, she said. He
wouldn't remember the trip. They were asked not to say anything about
it. Now Mel was remembering and wanted to go again. Jake didn't know
what he should do.
"What can I do to help you?" he asked.
"I'll give you the money. Buy a ticket in your name. I'll go as Jake
Norton. I think I can get away with it. I don't think they make any
closer check than that."
"Sure--if it'll do you any good," Jake said hesitantly. He was
remembering the anxiety in Alice's voice the day she called and begged
him not to say anything that would remind Mel of Mars. No one ever had,
as far as Jake knew.
He took the money and Mel waited at the old men's home. An hour later
Jake called. "Eight months is the closest reservation I can get at
normal rates, but I know of some scalpers who charge 50% more."
Mel groaned. "Buy it no matter what the cost! I've got to go at once!"
He would be broke for the next ten years.
* * * * *
It was little different from the other time. There was the same holiday
excitement in the crowd of vacationers and those who had come to see
them off. It was the same ship, even.
All that was different was the absence of Alice.
He stayed in his stateroom and didn't watch the takeoff. He felt the
faint rocking motion as the ship went down its long waterway. He felt
the shift as the artificial gravity took over. He lay on the bed and
closed his eyes as the Martian Princess sought the cold night of space.
For two days he remained in the room, emerging only for meals. The trip
itself held no interest for him. He waited only for the announcement
that the black ship had come.
But by the end of the second day it had not come. Mel spent a sleepless
night staring out at the endless horizon of stars. Dr. Martin had been
right, he thought. There was no black ship. He had merely substituted
one illusion for another. Where was reality? Did it exist anywhere in
all the world?
Yet, even if there were no black ship, his goal was still Mars.
The third day passed without the appearance of the black ship. But on
the very evening of that day the speaker announced: "All passengers will
prepare for transfer from the shuttle ship to the Mars liner. Bring hand
luggage--"
Mel sat paralyzed while he listened to the announcement. So it was true!
He felt the faint jar that rocked the Martian Princess as the two ships
coupled. From his stateroom port Mel could see the stranger, black,
ugly, and somehow deadly. He wished he could show Dr. Martin this
"illusion"!
He packed swiftly and left the room. Mel joined the surprised and
excited throng now, not hanging back, but eager to find out the secret
of the great black ship.
The transition from one ship to the other was almost imperceptible. The
structure of both corridors was the same, but Mel knew when the junction
was crossed. He sensed the entry into a strange world that was far
different from the common one he knew.
Far down the corridor the crowd was slowing, forming into lines before
stewards who were checking tickets. The passengers were shunted into
branching corridors leading to their own staterooms. So far everything
was so utterly normal that Mel felt an overwhelming despondency. It was
just as they had been told; they were transferring to the Mars liner
from the shuttle.
The steward glanced at his ticket, held it for a moment of hesitation
while he scanned Mel's face. "Mr. Norton--please come with me."
The steward moved away in a direction no other passengers were taking.
Another steward moved up to his place. "That way," the second man said
to Mel. "Follow the steward."
* * * * *
Mel's heart picked up its beat as he stepped out of the line and moved
slowly down the corridor after the retreating steward. They walked a
long way through branching silent corridors that showed no sign of life.
They stopped at last before a door that was like a score of others they
had passed. There were no markings. The steward opened the door and
stood aside. "In here please," he said. Mel entered and found himself
alone. The steward remained outside.
The room was furnished as an office. It was carpeted and paneled
luxuriously. A door leading from a room at his left opened and admitted
a tall man with graying hair. The man seemed to carry an aura of power
and strength as he moved. An aura that Mel Hastings recognized.
"James Connemorra!" Mel exclaimed.
The man bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Yes, Mr. Hastings,"
he said.
Mel was dismayed. "How do you know who I am?" he said.
James Connemorra looked through the port beside Mel and at the stars
beyond. "I have been looking for you long enough I ought to know who you
are."
Something in the man's voice chilled Mel. "I have been easy enough to
find. I'm only a news reporter. Why have you been looking for me?"
Connemorra sank into a deep chair on the opposite side of the room.
"Can't you guess?" he said.
"It has something to do with what happened--before?" Mel asked. He
backed warily against the opposite wall from Connemorra. "That time when
I escaped from the Martian Princess rather than come aboard the black
ship?"