Ahead, the belt began to take form on the visiscreen--a patternless,
ever-shifting array of hundreds of asteroids of every size and shape,
all gleaming bright against the black-velvet backdrop of the void as
they wheeled slowly through their far-flung orbits.
The vastness of it brought a sense of awe to Clark Dane.
Awe, mixed with despondency and depression.
What chance did one man stand, trying to pick up the thin, tenuous
thread of his destiny in this trackless chasm that was outer space?
How could he hope to find identity, in a gulf so boundless that whole
worlds were forever lost?
He'd been mad even to think--to dream--of choosing such a course.
Yet had he really chosen it? Was it truly his own will that had brought
him to this moment?
Bleakly, he wondered; and as he did so, the old, infuriating sense of
being a pawn in all he did ... driven by another, larger will ...
swept over him once more.
Was he really a slave, thrall to the hairless man, the
Being-Without-A-Name? Was it some darkly subtle conditioning, rather
than his own impulses, that drove him?
Again--always; forever--Dane wondered....
But now, abruptly, the ship's com-box came to life to interrupt him:
"Cargo Vessel 214XB7! Cargo Vessel 214XB7!"
It brought Dane back to the here-and-now--the cramped,
instrument-banked, astrogation chamber of the spaceship. Gripping the
yat-stick package tighter than ever, he tore his eyes from the wonders
spread on the visiscreen and once again looked on horse-faced Captain
Helstrom and pale, silent, tight-lipped Nelva Guthrie.
The com-box blared again: "Cargo Vessel 214XB7! Acknowledge, Cargo
Vessel 214XB7!"
"That's us," the grey-haired captain grunted. He started to reach for
the switch to the ship's own communicator unit.
Dane caught his arm. "No."
"What--?" The captain's protruding eyes fixed on Dane uneasily. "You
can't just ignore that call, mister. That's a Security blockade
station. Stall 'em and they'll throw their brain-drain on you!"
Dane laughed harshly. "They'll do it anyhow, won't they, when they
find we're heading through the Belt?"
The captain's Adam's apple bobbed. His narrow horse-face drew longer
than ever. "Well ... yes, I guess so."
"Get ready for it, then. Set your guides."
"On Callisto...?"
"On Callisto."
A shudder ran through the captain. "You ever been brain-drained,
mister?"
"No."
"Well, I have, and it ain't fun. You're out of control. Completely."
A tiny chill touched the nape of Dane's neck. Out of the corner of his
eye he could see Nelva watching him--the first hint she'd given that
she knew he existed since they'd reached the astrogation chamber.
Once more, the com-box: "What the devil's the matter with you, 214?
This is Security talking! We want an acknowledgment right now! You're
already into blockade area. Wheel around fast, back away from the Belt,
or we'll slap a drain on you!"
Another voice--this one from the amplifier of the ship's own
communications network: "Captain Helstrom! Security's trying to get
you! They say you're headed into the Belt! Is something wrong? Your
door's locked. We can't get in to you...."
Dane ran his tongue along his lips. He could feel his companions' eyes
upon him. The tension in the astrogation chamber was soaring higher
every second.
"Cargo Vessel 214XB7, this is a last warning! Acknowledge this call and
turn back at once! Failure to comply within thirty seconds will result
in disabling dynamoencephalolytic action! Repeat, failure to comply
within thirty seconds will result in disabling dynamoencephalolytic
action...."
The captain and Nelva Guthrie, staring ... gleaming pinpoints on a
darkened visiscreen ... a silver shaft and a hairless ghoul who laughed
and laughed....
Dane sucked in air. "Are your guides set, Captain?"
"Computer guides set." Resignation and despair mixed in the greying
officer's voice.
"For Callisto?"
"For Callisto."
Seconds, ticking by. Dane counted them as they passed.
Fifteen to go. Ten. Five. Four. Three. Two. One....
Nothing happened. Frowning, Dane started to turn to Helstrom.
* * * * *
It hit him, then--a sudden blazing bolt of power that surged and
seethed through his brain. Dimly, as from afar, he was aware that the
yat-stick package had slipped from his grasp and fallen to the floor,
the truth as to its contents revealed as the plastic covering fell
away. For his own part, a strange paralysis seemed to grip him. He
stood upright, erect as before; yet it was beyond his power to move a
single muscle. Sight and hearing--he still had them, but with vastly
limited acuity. And while his brain still functioned, it seemed to work
slowly, painfully, as if laboring under almost more of a burden than it
could bear.
The captain and Nelva remained within the far periphery of his vision.
Like him, both stayed motionless, frozen in the stance in which the
brain-drain had trapped them.
Now Dane focussed on the visiscreen. Moment by moment, it gave him the
record of the course the robot-directed spaceship followed. Asteroids
loomed, big and small; then disappeared once more.
How long that phase went on, Dane never knew. His sense of time was far
too warped to allow for even a reasonably intelligent estimate.
But finally, the last of the asteroids fell away. Slowly, almost
imperceptibly at first, the great globe of giant Jupiter moved in from
the lower left corner of the screen.
Numbly, Dane watched and wondered. What, if anything, would he find at
Sandoz? Or would the city even be there? No one could say for sure, for
no human had set foot on Callisto in the thirty years since it had been
abandoned to the Kalquoi.
Only then, before he could even glimpse any of the satellites that
swept around Jupiter, a new object flashed onto the visiscreen.
It was close, this one--so close that if he'd had the power, Dane would
have covered his eyes out of sheer panic. Ball-round, the thing at
first looked for all the world like a wandering asteroid or, perhaps, a
giant meteor.
Yet there was a strange sheen about it; a too-perfect symmetry.
For a long moment, it hovered so close that it occupied almost half of
the visiscreen. Then, suddenly, a light blazed from a point close to
its perimeter: a tight cone of blinding radiance that turned the whole
viewing plate white.
The next instant, the visiscreen went dead.
The lights died, too--all save the self-contained, dimly-luminous
emergency radiation lamps. The rhythmic throbbing of the ventilating
system halted also. So did the force drive's heavier beat. A sudden,
incredible feeling of lightness came over Dane. Then his angle of
view changed, and he realized that--unaware--he'd drifted clear of the
floor; was now floating in mid-air. So the artificial gravity was off
too.
A numb horror crept through him in the same instant. In his mind he
cursed himself for a blind, imperceptive fool.
The thing he'd seen on the now-blank screen was no asteroid or meteor,
but a globe-ship, a Kalquoi globe-ship! And the light was some sort
of energy-diverting ray that had the power to incapacitate spaceship
equipment.
So this was the end of his mad venture: not at Sandoz, not on Callisto,
but here, aboard this crippled craft, destined perhaps to drift forever
in blackness on the void-tides between the Asteroid Belt and the Outer
Worlds.
Dane would have killed himself in that moment, if he could.
But he couldn't even do that. No; he could only hang here in the
dimness, paralyzed, somewhere between floor and ceiling, waiting ...
waiting ... waiting....
But now light crept through the gloom--a pale, purplish radiance Dane
found somehow vaguely familiar.
Then a slight movement of the ship changed his position. His eyes,
searching, found the source of light.
It came from the unforked end of the Kalquoi yat-stick Dane had wrapped
in plastic to simulate a proton bomb. While he watched, it grew
brighter ... brighter ... as if the metal bar were oozing energy the
way a fresh-cut spring twig oozes sap.
Now the radiance grew to an eddying, pulsing ball, so intense it
lighted up the entire astrogation chamber.
* * * * *
The next instant there was a sort of soundless snap. Before Dane's
eyes, the radiance transformed itself into a glowing crystal that rose
and floated in mid-air.
_A Kalquoi--!_
There seemed to be no pattern nor rhyme nor reason to the alien's
actions. Now it hovered; now it darted. One moment it drifted close to
the floor; the next, explored the ceiling.
And all the time it radiated changing shapes and colors: a glistening
silver corkscrew ... the dull grey of a microreel case ... pale blue
ovals that resembled nothing Dane had ever seen.
Then sound came--the muffled clang of heavy hatch-lids. At once, the
Kalquoi moved to the astrogation chamber's door and poised there,
apparently waiting.
A moment later the door swung open. Two other aliens joined the first.
The three pulsed and glowed together briefly. Then one detached itself
from its fellows and moved in close to Dane.
Immediately, he felt himself permeated by a strange, slightly prickling
sensation, as if a slight electric current were being sent through him.
Warmth enveloped him. The idea of sleep took on unique appeal.
Now the alien moved towards the door once more; and to Dane's intense
surprise, he found himself following, drawn along bodily through
the gravitationless ship like a towed target. In a sort of roseate
haze--for fear, as of the moment, seemed to have lost its meaning for
him--he wondered what would happen when he was transferred to the
Kalquoi globe-craft. So far as he knew, the aliens themselves had no
necessity for breathing, so the odds were against there being any air
supply adequate to enable a human to survive.
But instead of moving him to the globe, the alien took him to the
carrier in which he'd escaped from Mars; loaded him into it.
A moment later the second Kalquoi appeared, Nelva in tow. In seconds,
she was installed in the carrier alongside Dane. Then, as if by magic,
the hatch swung shut, and they were left alone.
Minutes dragged by, a dreary procession.
Then, so abruptly the shock rocked Dane, the paralysis that gripped him
vanished. Feeling, the power of movement, flooded back into his body.
His brain clicked into high gear, no longer dim nor foggy.
A moment later the carrier's gravity unit came to coughing life. Dane
found that once again he had weight and could move about at will.
It brought him a quick surge of relief from inner tension; a sense of
control over his situation.
He was glad. He had a feeling he was going to need all such he could
get.
Beside him, Nelva Guthrie whispered incredulously, "Clark--! I can
move! The brain-drain--it's off!"
"Could be," Dane nodded. He felt weak in the knees, just hearing the
girl's voice--partly out of relief to know that she'd survived the
ordeal of the brain-drain, partly because she seemed to have forgotten
or be overlooking their earlier hostilities.
"Then we must be almost to Callisto!" New excitement crept into Nelva's
voice. "That's the only way to explain it, Clark. We must be so far
beyond the blockade stations that their relays are too weak to maintain
catatonia!"
"Maybe."
"Maybe? What kind of talk is that?" Nelva's tone suddenly was tinged
with irritation. "Can you offer any better explanation?"
"Yes, I think I can," Dane answered thoughtfully. "Especially if you
stop to consider that the Kalquoi took over back while the brain-drain
still had us stiff as boards."
"Still stiff--?" Nelva broke off sharply. Her lips trembled as she drew
a quick, shallow breath. "Clark, you can't mean it!"
In spite of their plight, Dane couldn't help but smile wryly. "I can't
mean what?"
"You know!" The girl's ash-blonde hair rippled as if a chill were
passing through her. "You can't mean--that--the Kalquoi--"
"--that the Kalquoi have come up with an answer to the brain-drain?"
Dane finished to her. "As a matter of fact, that's just exactly what I
think. The way it looks to me, they've licked the thing, a hundred per
cent."
Nelva's face was white, her breathing too fast. "But--Clark--"
"What's going to happen, you mean?" Dane shook his head. "I don't
know, any more than you do. But one thing's certain: if I'm right,
as of this moment all Thorburg Jessup's Security blockade stations
on the inner-planet side of the Asteroid Belt are just so much scrap
equipment."
The girl stared at him. He couldn't read the things in her grey eyes,
and when her lips moved the words came out an incoherent whisper. She
covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with soundless,
racking sobs.
* * * * *
A wave of tenderness swept over Dane, so poignant it made his whole
throat ache. Taking the girl in his arms, he held her to him, smoothing
the soft hair, bracing her shoulders against the sobs.
The tears stopped, after a moment. Nelva raised her head; looked up at
him, trying to smile even while her lips still trembled.
Gently, Dane said, "Don't worry, Nelva. We'll make it somehow."
"Don't lie to me, Clark. I know what's going to happen, and it really
doesn't matter." The girl's lips still smiled, but a shadow lay across
the grey eyes. "Just one thing, though, Clark: I've got to tell you,
and you've got to believe me. I've never betrayed you, not ever, even
for a moment." A pause. The grey eyes, falling again. "You see,
I've--I've always loved you, ever since the first, so long ago--long
before you remember. Only I couldn't help you, didn't dare to tell you,
even a little...."
Dane stood very still. "You ... didn't dare tell me?"
"No. Because I didn't know enough--about you; your potential...."
"But _what_ didn't you dare to tell me?"
Nelva buried her face against his shoulder. Her words came muffled now.
"About the things you wanted to know--who you are, where you came from,
the hairless man."
Dane's heart pounded. Silently, savagely, he fought against letting his
voice soar with his tension; against drawing his arms too tight about
the girl's slim shoulders.
"About the silver needle, too?" he pressed gently.
"No. Not that. I never knew too much about the overall picture; only
the one part."
The tension was too great. Dane could stand it no longer.
Spasmodically, he gripped Nelva's shoulders. "Then tell me what you do
know, damn it! Who am I? How did I get on that asteroid? Why weren't my
records in your files?"
"Please, Clark!" Nelva twisted. "I'm going to tell you. I want to.
There's no need to hurt me--"
"Sorry, Nelva." Dane let go of her; turned away, ashamed. "It drives
me, Nelva. I've got to know. Everything, everything...." He drove his
clenched fist savagely into the palm of the other hand.
"I understand, Clark." The girl's hand was on his shoulder now. "You
see--"
The carrier hit something, with an impact that threw them both,
sprawling, to the floor.
Dane braced himself for further shocks. When they didn't come, he
scrambled up; helped Nelva to her feet.
Before they could more than right themselves, however, the entrance
hatch opened. An unfamiliar atmosphere rushed in, strangely scented yet
breathable.
Raw-nerved, Dane stumbled to the open door and looked out.
The carrier lay on solid ground, in the shadow of the great Kalquoi
globe-ship. An open port indicated that the smaller craft had been
dumped unceremoniously from the larger.
Arm about Nelva, Dane turned now and looked off beyond the Kalquoi
vessel.
Then, involuntarily, he stiffened. A chill of excitement ran through
him. Instantly--instinctively, almost--he recognized the scene before
him; knew the truth.
They stood upon Callisto!