It was dark when he woke. Oxygen was once more pouring into his suit;
he had managed to open the valve before falling. Far above, the
distant, corona-crowned sun flamed against the starry backdrop. The
ship lay beneath its crag.
But of O'Brien there was no trace whatever.
After that, something akin to madness came to Arnsen. Again the utter
loneliness of space crushed down on him, with suffocating terror. Doug
was gone, like Hastings. Where?
He searched, then, and in the days thereafter. He grew haggard and
gaunt, drugging himself with stimulants so he could drive himself
beyond his limit. Hour after hour he searched the tiny world, squinting
against sun-glare, peering into black shadow, shouting O'Brien's name,
cursing bitter, searing oaths that sounded futile to his ears. Time
dragged on into an eternity. He had been here forever. He could not
remember a time when he had not been plodding across the asteroid,
watching for a glimpse of a space-suited figure, of dancing jewels of
fire, of a slim white body....
Who was she? _What_ was she? Not human--no. And the crystals, what were
they?
He returned to the ship one day, shoulders slumping, and passed the
spot where he had seen the girl. Something on the ground caught his
eye. A pearly, shining gem.
He remembered his scuffle with O'Brien, and the thing that had dropped
into his glove.
The jewel, of course. It had lain here, unnoticed, for many revolutions
of the asteroid.
He picked it up, staring into the milky depths. A pulse tingled up his
arm, fingering into his mind. A pulse of longing--
The girl had appeared when O'Brien summoned her.
Perhaps it would work again. There was no other hope.
But he could not call her Deirdre. He gripped the hard crystal. His
thought probed out, forceful and summoning.
"_Circe!_"
Nothing. The eternal silence, the cold blaze of the stars....
"_Circe!_"
The gem in his hand leaped with eagerness. In emptiness above him a
rainbow glitter of coruscating light flamed. The crystals--and, within
them, the girl!
She had not changed. Lovely and alien, she lay among her dancing,
shining gems, and her lashes still veiled the cryptic depth of her
eyes. Arnsen stumbled forward.
"Where's O'Brien?" His voice cracked, harsh and inhuman. "Damn you!
Where is he?"
She did not look at him. Her body seemed to recede. The jewels swirled
into swift motion about her.
Arnsen lurched on. His mind felt on fire. He whipped out his elastic
billy and plunged toward the girl.
She was not there. She had drifted back amid the rainbow crystals.
Arnsen could not overtake her. It was like following a
will-o'-the-wisp, a torch of St. Elmo's fire. But he did not take his
eyes from the girl. More than once he fell. She was leading him away
from the ship, he knew. That did not matter. Not if she also led him to
Doug.
What had she done with the boy? He hated her, hated her relentless
inhumanity, her incredible beauty. Teeth bared, red-rimmed eyes
glaring, Arnsen plunged on in a nightmare race across the face of the
silent asteroid.
Hours later, it seemed, she vanished in black shadow under a thrusting
pinnacle of slag. Arnsen followed, reeling with fatigue, expecting to
cannon into a rock wall. But the darkness remained intangible. The
ground sloped down beneath his leaded boots. Suddenly light shone
through a cleft at his side.
Pale, warm, liquid light, it drifted up from a slanting corridor in
the rock. Far down the passage Arnsen could see the cloud of dancing
flames that marked the girl's crystal attendants. He stumbled on.
Down he went, and down, till at last the passage turned again in the
distance. He rounded the bend--and stopped, blinded and dazed.
* * * * *
As his vision adjusted itself, Arnsen made out a pillar of fire that
rose from floor to ceiling of the cavern before him. Yet it was not
fire. It was something beyond human knowledge. Pure energy, perhaps,
wrenched from the locked heart of the atom itself, silently thundering
and pouring up like a geyser. The pillar shook. It wavered and rocked,
coldly white, intensely brilliant, like a living thing blazing with a
power inconceivable.
Walls and floor and roof of the cavern were crusted with jewels. The
rainbow crystals clung quivering, thousands of them, some tiny, others
huge. They watched.
They were alive.
The girl stood near Arnsen. A score of the jewels pressed against her
lovingly. They caressed her. The veiled eyes did not meet Arnsen's. But
she lifted her arm.
There was a movement in Arnsen's gloved hand. The milky gem stirred; a
pulse of eagerness beat out from it.
It leaped free--raced toward Circe.
She caught it, flung it at the shaking tower of flame.
Into the pillar's blazing heart the crystal darted.
The fires sank--rose again. Spewed forth the jewel.
No longer milky--no longer dulled. It blazed with fantastic brilliance!
Vital energy streamed from it; it whirled and danced joyously with
sheer delight. It was like a sleeper suddenly awakened.
It spun toward Circe, pulsed madly with the intoxication of life.
The girl rose, featherlight, without gravity, drifting across the
cavern to a passage-mouth that gaped in the wall. The jewels clustered
around it swayed toward her. Some broke free, rushing in her train.
She vanished into the portal.
The spell that held Arnsen broke. He flung himself after her, too late.
Already she was gone. But along the corridor jewels floated, bright,
shining, alive.
And suddenly strong arms were around Arnsen. The face of O'Brien
was before him. O'Brien, no longer wearing his space-suit, haggard,
and yet aflame with a vital something that glowed in his dark eyes.
O'Brien--laughing.
"Steve!" His voice shook. "So you followed me. I'm glad. Come in
here--it's all right."
The energy went out of Arnsen, leaving him weak and exhausted. He
cast one glance up the empty corridor and followed O'Brien through a
cave-opening into a little room cut out of solid rock. He felt the
other's fingers loosening his helmet, removing the bulky space-suit.
Some remnant of caution returned.
"The oxygen--"
"There's air here. It's a place of wonders, Steve!"
There was air. Cool, sweet, and refreshing, it crept into Arnsen's
lungs. He looked around. The little cavern was empty, save for dozens
of the rainbow crystals clinging to the walls.
They watched alertly.
O'Brien pressed him back, made a quick gesture. A jewel floated
forward, hovering over Arnsen's face. He felt water trickling between
his lips, and, too exhausted for wonder, swallowed gratefully.
"You need sleep," O'Brien said. "But it's all right, Steve. It's all
right, I tell you. You'll hear all about it when you wake up. Time
enough then. You'll see Deirdre."