"It's all so big! So incredible! We'll never understand it! Never...."
"Relax, Sophia. Arkalion said--"
"I know what Arkalion said, but we haven't learned anything yet."
Hours before, Arkalion had landed them on the space station, a
gleaming, five-mile in diameter globe, and had quickly departed. Soon
after that they had found themselves in a veritable labyrinth of
tunnels, passageways, vaults. Occasionally they passed a great glowing
screen, and always the view of space was the same. Like a magnificent,
elongated shield, sparkling with a million million points of light,
pale gold, burnished copper, blue of glacial ice and silver white, the
Andromeda Galaxy spanned space from upper right to lower left. Off at
the lower right hand corner they could see their space station;
apparently the viewer itself stood far removed in space, projecting
its images here at the globe.
Awed the first time they had seen one of the screens, Temple said,
"All the poets who ever wrote a line would have given half their lives
to see this as we see it now."
"And all the writers, musicians, artists...."
"Anyone, who ever thought creatively, Sophia. How can you say it's
breathtaking or anything like that when words weren't ever spoken
which can...."
"Let's not go poetic just yet," Sophia admonished him with a smile.
"We'd better get squared away here, as the expression goes, before
it's too late."
"Yes.... Hello, what's this?" A door irised open for them in a solid
wall of metal. Irised was the only word Temple could think of, for a
tiny round hole appeared in the wall spreading evenly in all
directions with a slow, uniform, almost liquid motion. When it was
large enough to walk through, they entered a completely bare room and
Temple whirled in time to see the entrance irising shut.
"Something smells," said Sophia, sniffing at the air.
Sweet and cloying, the odor grew stronger. Temple may have heard a
faint hissing sound. "I'm getting sleepy," he said.
Nodding, Sophia ran, banged on the wall where the door had opened so
suddenly, then closed. No response. "Is it a trap?"
"By whom? For what?" Temple found it difficult to keep his eyes from
closing. "Fight it if you want, Sophia. I'm going to sleep." And he
squatted in the center of the floor, staring vacantly at the bare
wall.
Just as Temple was drifting off into a dream about complex machinery
he did not yet understand but realized he soon would, Sophia joined
him the hard way, collapsing alongside of him, unconscious and
sprawling gracelessly on the floor.
Temple slept.
* * * * *
"Sleepy-head, get up." Sophia stirred as he spoke and shook her. She
yawned, stretched, smiled up at him lazily. "How do you feel now?"
"Hungry, Kit."
"That's a point. It's all right now, though. I know exactly where the
food concentrates are kept. Three levels below us, second segment of
the wall. You can make those queer doors iris by pressing the wall
twice, with about a one second interval."
They found the food compartment, discovered row on row of cans, boxes,
jars. Temple opened one of the cans, gazed in disappointment on a
sorry looking thing the size of his thumb. Brown, shriveled, dry and
almost flaky, it might have been a bird.
Sophia turned up her nose. "If that's the best this place has to
offer, I'm not so hungry anymore."
Suddenly, she gaped. So did Temple. A savory odor attracted their
attention, steam rising from the small can added to their interest.
Amazing things happened to the withered scrap of food on exposure to
the air. Temple barely had time to extract it from the can, burning
his fingers in the process, when it became twice the can's size. It
grew and by the time it finished, it was as savory looking a five
pound fowl as Temple had ever seen. Roasted, steaming hot, ready to
eat.
They tore into it with savage gusto.
"Stephanie should see me now," Temple found himself saying and
regretted it.
"Stephanie? Who's that?"
"A girl."
"Your girl?"
"What's the difference? She's a million light years and fifty
centuries away."
"Answer me."
"Yes," said Temple, wishing he could change the subject. "My girl." He
hadn't thought of Stephanie in a long time, perhaps because it was
meaningless to think of someone dead fifty centuries. Now that the
thoughts had been stirred within him, though, he found them poignantly
pleasant.
"Your girl ... and you would marry her if you could?"
He had grown attached to Sophia, not in reality, but in the second of
their dream worlds. He wished the memory of the dream had not lingered
for it disturbed him. In it he had loved Sophia as much as he now
loved Stephanie although the one was obtainable and the other was a
five-thousand year pinch of dust. And how much of the dream lingered
with him, in his head and his heart?
"Let's forget about it," Temple suggested.
"No. If she were here today and if everything were normal, would you
marry her?"
"Why talk about what can't be?"
"I want to know, that's why."
"All right. Yes, I would. I would marry Stephanie."
"Oh," said Sophia. "Then what happened in the dream meant ...
nothing."
"We were two different people," Temple said coolly, then wished he
hadn't for it was only half-true. He remembered everything about the
dream-which-was-more-than-a-dream vividly. He had been far more
intimate with Sophia, and over a longer period of time, than he had
ever been with Stephanie. And even if Stephanie appeared impossibly on
the spot and he spent the rest of his life as her husband, still he
would never forget his dream-life with Sophia. In time he could let
himself tell her that. But not now; now the best thing he could do
would be to change the subject.
"I see," Sophia answered him coldly.
"No, you don't. Maybe some day you will."
"There's nothing but what you told me. I see."
"No ... forget it," he told her wearily.
"Of course. It was only a dream anyway. The dream before that I almost
killed you out of hatred anyway. Love and hate, I guess they
neutralize. We're just a couple of people who have to do a job
together, that's all."
"For gosh sakes, Sophia! That isn't true. I loved Stephanie. I still
would, were Stephanie alive. But she's--she's about as accessible as
the Queen of Sheba."
"So? There's an American expression--you're carrying a torch."
Probably, Temple realized, it was true. But what did all of that have
to do with Sophia? If he and Sophia ... if they ... would it be fair
to Sophia? It would be exactly as if a widower remarried, with the
memory of his first wife set aside in his heart ... no, different, for
he had never wed Stephanie, and always in him would be the desire for
what had never been.
"Let's talk about it some other time," Temple almost pleaded, wanting
the respite for himself as much as for Sophia.
"No. We don't have to talk about it ever. I won't be second best, Kit.
Let's forget all about it and do our job. I--I'm sorry I brought the
whole thing up."
Temple felt like an unspeakable heel. And, anyway, the whole thing
wasn't resolved in his mind. But they couldn't just let it go at that,
not in case something happened when the ships came and one or both of
them perished. Awkwardly, for now he felt self-conscious about
everything, he got his arms about Sophia, drew her to him, placed his
lips to hers.
That was as far as he got. She wrenched free, shoved clear of him. "If
you try that again, you will have another dislocated jaw."
Temple shrugged wearily. If anything were to be resolved between them,
it would be later.
When the ships came moments afterwards--seven, not the five Arkalion
predicted--they were completely unprepared.
* * * * *
Temple spotted them first on one of the viewing screens, half way
between the receiver and the space station itself, silhouetted against
the elongated shield of Andromeda. They soared out of the picture,
appeared again minutes later, zooming in from the other direction in
two flights of four ships and three.
"Come on!" Sophia cried over her shoulder, irising the door and
plunging from the room. Temple followed at her heels but her Jupiter
trained muscles pushed her lithe legs in long, powerful strides and
soon she outdistanced him. By the time he reached the armaments vault,
breathless, she was seated at the single gun-emplacement, her fingers
on the controls.
"Watch the viewing screen and tell me how we're doing," Sophia told
him, not taking her eyes from the dials and levers.
Temple watched, fascinated, saw a thin pencil of radiant energy leap
out into space, missing one of the ships by what looked like a scant
few miles. He called the corrective azimuth to her, hardly surprised
by the way his mind had absorbed and now could use its new-found
knowledge.
Temple understood and yet did not understand. For example, he knew the
station had but one gun and Sophia sat at it now, yet in certain ways
it didn't make sense. Could it cover all sectors of space? His mind
supplied the answer although he had not been aware of the knowledge an
instant before: yes. The space station did not merely rotate. Its
surface was a spherical projection of a moving Moebius strip and
although he tried to envision the concept, he failed. The weapon could
be fired at any given point in space at twenty second intervals,
covering every other conceivable point in the ensuing time.
Sophia was firing again and Temple watched the thin beam leap across
space. "Hit!" he roared. "Hit!"
Something flashed at the front end of the lead ship. The light blinded
him, but when he could see again only six ships remained in
space--casting perfect shadows on the Andromeda Galaxy! The source of
light, Temple realized triumphantly, was out of range, but he could
picture it--a glowing derelict of a ship, spewing heat, light and
radioactivity into the void.
"One down," Sophia called. "Six to go. I like your American
expressions. Like sitting ducks--"
She did not finish. Abruptly, light flared all around them. Something
shrieked in Temple's ears. The vault shuddered, shook. Girders
clattered to the floor, stove it in, revealing black rock. Sophia was
thrown back from the single gun, crashing against the wall, flipping
in air and landing on her stomach.
Temple ran to her, turned her over. Blood smeared her face, trickled
from her lips. Although she did not move, she wasn't dead. Temple half
dragged, half carried her from the vault into an adjoining room. He
stretched her out comfortably as he could on the floor, ran back into
the vault.
Molten metal had collected in one corner of the room, crept sluggishly
toward him across the floor, heating it white-hot. He skirted it,
climbed over a twisted girder, pushed his way past other debris, found
himself at the gun emplacement.
"How dumb can I get?" Temple said aloud. "Sophia ran to the gun, must
have assumed I set up the shields." Again, it was an item of
information stored in his mind by the wisdom of the space station.
Protective shields made it impossible for anything but a direct hit on
the emplacement to do them any harm, only Temple had never set the
shields in place. He did so now, merely by tripping a series of
levers, but glancing at a dial to his left he realized with alarm that
the damage possibly had already been done. The needle, which measured
lethal radiation, hovered half way between negative and the critical
area marked in red and, even as Temple watched it, crept closer to the
red.
* * * * *
How much time did he have? Temple could not be sure, bent grimly over
the weapon. It was completely unfamiliar to his mind, completely
unfamiliar to his fingers. He toyed with it, released a blast of
radiant energy, whirled to face the viewing screen. The beam streaked
out into the void, clearly hundreds of miles from its objective.
Cursing, Temple tried again, scoring a near miss. The ships were
trading a steady stream of fire with him now, but with the shielding
up it was harmless, striking and then bouncing back into space. Temple
scored his first hit five minutes after sitting down at the gun,
whooped triumphantly and fired again. Five ships left.
But the dial indicated an increase in radioactivity as newly created
neutrons spread their poison like a cancer. Behind Temple, the vault
was a shambles. The pool of molten metal had increased in size, almost
cutting off any possibility of escape. He could jump it now, Temple
realized, but it might grow larger. Consolidating its gains now, it
had sheared a pit in the floor, had commenced vaporizing the rock
below it, hissing and lapping with white-hot insistence.
Something boomed, grated, boomed again and Temple watched another
girder bounce off the floor, dip one end into the molten pool and
clatter out a stub. Apparently the damage was extensive; a structural
weakness threatened to make the entire ceiling go.
Temple fired again, got another ship. He could almost feel death
breathing on his shoulder, in no great hurry but sure of its prize. He
fired the weapon.
If one ship remained when they could no longer use the gun, they would
have failed. One ship might make the difference for Earth. One....
Three left. Two.
They raked the space station with blast after blast--futilely. They
spun and twisted and streaked by, offering poor targets. Temple waited
his chance ... and glanced at the dial which measured radioactivity.
He yelped, stood up. The needle had encroached upon the red area.
Death to remain where he was more than a moment or two. Not quick
death, but rather slow and lingering. He could do what he had to, then
perish hours later. His life--for Earth? If Arkalion had known all the
answers, and if he could get both ships and if there weren't another
alternative for the aliens, the parasites.... Temple stabbed out with
his pencil beam, caught the sixth ship, then saw the needle dip
completely into the red. He got up trembling, stepped back, half
tripped on the stump of a girder as his eyes strayed in fascination to
the viewing screen. The seventh ship was out of range, hovering off in
the void somewhere, awaiting its chance. If Temple left the gun the
ship would come in close enough to hit the emplacement despite its
protective shielding. Well, it was suicide to remain there--especially
when the ship wasn't even in view.
Temple leaped over the molten pool and left the vault.
* * * * *
He found Sophia stirring, sitting up.
"What hit me?" she said, and laughed. "Something seems to have gone
wrong, Kit ... what...?"
"It's all right now," he told her, lying.
"You look pale."
"You got one. I got five. One ship to go."
"What are you waiting for?" And Sophia sprang to her feet, heading for
the vault.
"Hold it!" Temple snapped. "Don't go in there."
"Why not. I'll get the last ship and--"
"_Don't go in there!_" Temple tugged at her arm, pulled her away from
the vault and its broken door which would not iris closed any more.
"What's the matter, Kit?"
"I--I want to finish the last one myself, that's all."
Sophia got herself loose, reached the circular doorway, peered inside.
"Like Dante's Inferno," she said. "You told me nothing was the matter.
Well, we can get through to the emplacement, Kit."
"No." And again he stopped her. At least he had lived in freedom all
his life and although he was still young and did not want to die,
Sophia had never known freedom until now and it wouldn't be right if
she perished without savoring its fruits. He had a love, dust fifty
centuries, he had his past and his memories. Sophia had only the
future. Clearly, if someone had to yield life, Temple would do it.
"It's worse than it looks," he told her quietly, drawing her back from
the door again. He explained what had happened, told her the
radioactivity had not quite reached critical point--which was a lie.
"So," he concluded, "we're wasting time. If I rush in there, fire, and
rush right out everything will be fine."
"Then let me. I'm quicker than you."
"No. I--I'm more familiar with the gun." Dying would not be too bad,
if he went with reasonable certainty he had saved the Earth. No man
ever died so importantly, Temple thought briefly, then felt cold fear
when he realized it would be dying just the same. He fought it down,
said: "I'll be right back."
Sophia looked at him, smiling vaguely. "Then you insist on doing it?"
When he nodded she told him, "Then,--kiss me. Kiss me now, Kit--in
case something...."
Fiercely, he swept her to him, bruising her lips with his. "Sophia,
Sophia...."
At last, she drew back. "Kit," she said, smiling demurely. She took
his right hand in her left, held it, squeezed it. Her own right hand
she suddenly brought up from her waist, fist clenched, driving it
against his jaw.
Temple fell, half stunned by the blow, at her feet. For the space of
a single heartbeat he watched her move slowly toward the round
doorway, then he had clambered to his feet, running after her. He got
his arms on her shoulders, yanked at her.
When she turned he saw she was crying. "I--I'm sorry, Kit. You
couldn't fool me about.... Stephanie. You can't fool me about this."
She had more leverage this time. She stepped back, bringing her small,
hard fist up from her knees. It struck Temple squarely at the point of
the jaw, with the strength of Jovian-trained muscle behind it.
Temple's feet left the floor and he landed with a thud on his back.
His last thought of Sophia--or of anything, for a while--made him
smile faintly as he lost consciousness. For a kiss she had promised
him another dislocated jaw, and she had kept her promise....
Later, how much later he did not know, something soft cushioned his
head. He opened his eyes, stared through swirling, spinning murk. He
focussed, saw Arkalion. No--_two_ Arkalions standing off at a
distance, watching him. He squirmed, knew his head was cushioned in a
woman's lap. He sighed, tried to sit up and failed. Soft hands
caressed his forehead, his cheeks. A face swam into vision, but
mistily. "Sophia," he murmured. His vision cleared.
It was Stephanie.
* * * * *
"It's over," said Arkalion. "We're on our way back to Earth, Kit."
"But the ships--"
"All destroyed. If my people want to come here in ten thousand years,
let them try. I have a hunch you of Earth will be ready for them."
"It took us five thousand to reach Nowhere," Temple mused. "It will
take us five thousand to return. We'll come barely in time to warn
Earth--"
"Wrong," said Arkalion. "I still have my ship. We're in it now, so
you'll reach Earth with almost fifty centuries to spare. Why don't you
forget about it, though? If human progress for the next five thousand
years matches what has been happening for the last five, the parasites
won't stand a chance."
"Earth--five thousand years in the future," Stephanie said dreamily.
"I wonder what it will be like.... Don't be so startled, Kit. I was a
pilot study on the Nowhere Journey. If I made it successfully, other
women would have been sent. But now there won't be any need."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," said the real Alaric Arkalion III.
"I suspect a lot of people are going to feel just like me. Why not go
out and colonize space. We can do it. Wonderful to have a frontier
again.... Why, a dozen billionaires will appear for every one like my
father. Good for the economy."
"So, if we don't like Earth," said Stephanie, "we can always go out."
"I have a strong suspicion you will like it," said Arkalion's double.
Alaric III grinned. "What about you, bud? I don't want a twin brother
hanging around all the time."
Arkalion grinned back at him. "What do you want me to do, young man?
I've forsaken my people. This is now my body. Tell you what, I promise
to be always on a different continent. Earth isn't so small that I'll
get in your hair."
Temple sat up, felt the bandages on his jaw. He smiled at Stephanie,
told her he loved her and meant it. It was exactly as if she had
returned from the grave and in his first exultation he hadn't even
thought of Sophia, who had perished all alone in the depths of space
that a world might live....
He turned to Arkalion. "Sophia?"
"We found her dead, Kit. But smiling, as if everything was worth it."
"It should have been me."
"Whoever Sophia was," said Stephanie, "she must have been a wonderful
woman, because when you got up, when you came to, her name was...."
"Forget it," said Temple. "Sophia and I have a very strange
relationship and...."
"All right, you said forget it. Forget it." Stephanie smiled down at him.
"I love you so much there isn't even room for jealousy.... Ummm....
Kit...."
"Break up that clinch," ordered Arkalion. "We're making one more stop
at Nowhere to pick up anyone who wants to return to Earth. Some of 'em
probably won't but those who do are welcome...."
"Jason will stay," Temple predicted. "He'll be a leader out among the
stars."
"Then he'll have to climb over my back," Alaric III predicted happily,
his eyes on the viewport hungrily.
Temple's jaw throbbed. He was tired and sleepy. But satisfied. Sophia
had died and for that he was sad, but there would always be a place
deep in his heart for the memory of her: delicious, somehow exotic,
not a love the way Stephanie was, not as tender, not as sure ... but a
feeling for Sophia that was completely unique. And whenever the
strangeness of the far-future Earth frightened Temple, whenever he
felt a situation might get the better of him, whenever doubt clouded
judgment, he would remember the tall lithe girl who had walked to her
death that a world might have the freedom she barely had tasted. And
together with Stephanie he would be able to do anything.
Unless, he thought dreamily as he drifted off to sleep, his head
pillowed again on Stephanie's lap, he'd wind up with a bum jaw the
rest of his life.
THE END
* * * * *