He didn't have to think at all, but he felt like crying. It was Norma.
"I thought you'd tell me when you went!"
"I tried to, honest. But you weren't on Mimas, Smitty. So I took off.
But don't worry. I've already been through the bright ring. Pretty nice
setup, Smitty."
"I'm glad you like it. But you're heading in the wrong direction now."
Ahead of them was the darkness which obscured part of Saturn's huge
bulk--the darkness of the uncharted and mysterious crepe ring.
"What do you mean? Isn't this the way to the dark ring?"
"That's just it. Mimas is the other way."
"Oh, pooh. You go back to Mimas with your ship if you want. I'd rather
see the inside of that dark ring. I'll say hello tonight, Smitty. Have
a good trip back with Mrs. Entwhistle--I checked the tourist log."
Socrates called "Wait" into his radio at least a dozen times, but there
was no answer.
Mrs. Entwhistle said, "Why is that crazy woman going into the crepe
ring?"
Socrates sighed. If Norma got hurt now, his entire venture out here
would be ruined. Farquhart would see to that. Besides, quite suddenly,
he did not want Norma to get hurt. Not at all. Not ever. Maybe he was
crazy--but he liked the girl.
"What," he demanded of Mrs. Entwhistle, "is wrong with the crepe ring?"
"Now, that's a silly question. You told me yourself it was dangerous.
No one can see anything or some such thing--"
"Ha, ha, ha. I was joking. Good joke--but it's the best part of the
trip. In fact, the trip is incomplete without it. I've saved it for
last."
"So why are you trembling, Mr. Smith?"
"Nothing. It's nothing at all. Just get back into your helmet and I'll
show you what the inside of the crepe ring is like. Go ahead, Mrs.
Entwhistle. It isn't everyone who gets a chance to see the inside of
the crepe ring...."
* * * * *
The darkness of space was pleasant by comparison. Here there were vague
flitting shadows, the half-seen images of huge masses of rock and metal
hurtling through space in their eternal revolution around Saturn. One
would be more than enough to crush their little ship--and Norma's....
Socrates hardly had time to think of it, hardly had time to hear Mrs.
Entwhistle whimpering with each sudden burst of acceleration. On and
off overhead the red and the green lights winked, and Socrates played
on the firing pedals like an organist, trying to blast their way clear
of the unseen rocks all about them. Once a yellow light winked and he
knew that one of the meteoric pebbles had streaked through their ship:
it now was an airless place, and only their flimsy spacesuits stood
between them and the cold, beckoning void of space.
Someone was shouting, and at first he thought it was Mrs. Entwhistle....
Norma!
"Hey, Smitty!"
"Yes. Yes, Norma."
"I can see you back there. See me?"
"Ahead a bit? Yeah, I see you." Her ship flashed once and then was
gone in the obscuring darkness, but it flashed again, and this time he
probed out with a beam of radar and he held it.
"I'm glad you see me, Smitty, because I think you'll have to come and
get me. I'm scared. My ship's a mess, gutted with holes. This place
is--awful."
Socrates muttered to himself and pushed the aft pedals to the floor.
Mrs. Entwhistle was slammed back in her seat and Socrates could see
that she was trying to scream, only she couldn't quite make it.
Only the green light flashed now, because the red-warning signal
remained bright: it lit the way to Norma. A score of miles, but their
zigzag course would make it more like several hundred--if they got
there. Socrates' insides began to hurt from the acceleration. His feet
were numb from working the pedals. Green light, step down, right, left,
again, green, aft pedal, aft pedal!... Socrates soon realized that he
was talking to himself.
* * * * *
Joining air locks in space was at best a ticklish business, but with
the added hazard of the meteors, Socrates did not know if it could be
done. He only knew one thing. It _had_ to be done. Norma's ship could
have been a derelict for all the activity it showed, and while it had
been pelted thus far only with smaller stones, one big rock would be
more than enough to prove fatal.
They crept forward slowly, it seemed, inches at a time--and three times
he had almost locked the two ships together, but at the last moment
he had to swing away. The action would force the other ship back as
well, and a massive chunk of cosmic debris would zoom through the void
between them. Close....
He locked them together finally, and then, vaguely, he remembered
running for the airlock. He found it, pulled the catch and opened
Norma's lock from the outside. He stood for a moment within her ship.
She was slumped over the pilot chair in her spacesuit. He ran to her
and lifted her across his shoulder, heading back for the lock. Then
he was through it and Norma sat on the floor, partly conscious, in
his own ship. He ran forward to the controls, pushing aside Mrs.
Entwhistle--who had fallen across both chairs, breaking her strap in
the process.
He fired all the aft rockets at once, blasting straight up towards the
top of the ring.
In seconds they were clear, but not before he had seen a huge, almost
spherical meteor grind into and through Norma's ship....
* * * * *
Both women were conscious when they reached the spaceport. Socrates
smiled at Mrs. Entwhistle.
"Yes sir, you're a lucky young lady."
"Lucky? I feel almost dead."
"Ridiculous! You were the only tourist ever taken through that ring,
the crepe ring. You'll be famous. Wait until you tell all your friends.
I only took you because you seemed so obviously brave...."
"Go ahead," Norma chided, "pile it on, pile it on--"
Socrates told her, in his severest tones, that he'd get to her later.
After that, he was busy bringing the little ship down on Mimas' one
spacefield.
Mr. Entwhistle and Farquhart met them when they landed. The smaller,
thinner man seemed worried, but now he took his wife's hand and asked
her, "How did you like it?"
Socrates waited breathlessly. If Farquhart found out....
"I loved it!" Mrs. Entwhistle fairly shrieked. "Wait until you hear,
Arnold--and wait until we get back to Earth. We'll leave at once, on
tomorrow's liner. After I tell Aunt Sophie--"
"See?" Socrates turned to Farquhart.
"Um, I must admit it looks good this time, Smith. What about you, Miss?"