We did not sight the vehicle the next night; it had seemingly passed
beyond range of my instrument. With the myrdoscope we hoped to catch
it, but could not. The night following was overcast with clouds. But
we remained awake; Dr. Gryce seemed to feel that his sons might be
returning. It was pathetic to me, observing him quietly slipping away
from us at intervals to wander among the wreckage of his garden, gazing
anxiously upward.
A week and still they had not come. What Dr. Gryce said to my Director
I do not know; but he told me the Director was satisfied to have me
remain away until my present business was finished. I had determined as
much for myself. Not all the Directors in the Service could have taken
me away from here, with Brett and Martt unheard from.
Like a beacon day and night we made sure that our aural ray was
flashing its beam. But would Brett see it?
Another week. Still no sign. Doubts, fears, terrors assailed us.
Were we watching, waiting futilely for what would never come? The
thought was in my mind--and I knew it was in the minds of Dr. Gryce and
Frannie--but never once did we voice it. Had Brett and Martt, perhaps,
returned to our Past? With mechanism impaired, had they landed here in
what we now called the Past--landed to find a wilderness of roaming
savages? Or to find this little Space we now called a house and garden,
a barren icy waste with men no more than beasts upon it? Or landed
here in our Future? Ourselves dead, gone and forgotten? A great city
here on this spot, perchance, with strange people and strange ways and
nothing remaining of the loved ones they sought? Or were they lost and
wandering in Space? Out there among myriad starry Universes hopeless to
find our infinitesimal Solar System? Or lost perhaps in Time, wandering
through the eons searching for the little centuries, years, days that
identified their goal?
Or, again, perhaps they had safely reached that outer realm? Perhaps,
once there, something had happened to prevent their return? In what
we now called the Present, perhaps they were out there, transfixed,
just as to our vision that strange girl and her strange assailants
were transfixed--stricken of motion, with a passing of Time to us
insensible. Transfixed out there now, to take no more than a few
breaths, to move a hand, no more, during all the span of our own tiny
lives?