Tantalus lay far out on a spiral arm, well away from the main stream of
traffic that flowed through the galaxy. It was a fair planet boasting an
equable climate, at least in the tropic zone. But as yet the population
was small, consisting mostly of administrative officials who served
their alloted time and thankfully returned to their home planets closer
to the center of population.
Tee entered the towering building and after consulting a wall directory
stepped into the antigrav chute and was whisked high up into the heart
of the building. He stepped out before a plain door and as he advanced
the center panel fluoresced briefly with the printed legend--GALACTIC
PRISON AUTHORITY, Ary Mefford, Administrator for Tantalus.
He hesitated for a moment, then squaring his shoulders stepped forward,
and as he crossed the beam the door swung open before him. The
gray-haired man sitting at the desk studying a paper, looked up and
smiled politely. He indicated a chair with a nod then bent his head
again. After a moment he shoved the paper aside and looked questioningly
at Tee.
"I want to give myself up," blurted Tee.
"I'm the administrator for Hades," said the man calmly. "I think you
want the _local_ authorities."
"You don't understand. I escaped from Hades."
"No one escapes from Hades," replied the administrator.
"_I_ escaped!" insisted Tee. "Ten years ago. You can check. I'm tired of
running. I want to go back."
"This is most unusual," said the administrator in a disturbed voice. He
looked unbelievingly at Tee. "_Ten years_ ago you say?"
"_Yes! Yes!_ And I'm ready to go back, before it's too late. Can't you
understand?"
The administrator shook his head pityingly. "It's already too late. I'm
sorry." He bent his head guiltily and began to fumble with the papers on
his desk.
Tee started to say something, but the administrator raised his head and
said slowly, "It was too late the day you left Hades. Nothing I can
do." He looked down again. Tee turned and slowly walked out the door.
The administrator didn't look up.
As Tee walked aimlessly down the deserted corridor, his footsteps echoed
hollowly like a dirge. A line from an old poem sprang to his mind: "We
are the dead, row on row we lie--" He was the dead, but still he chased
the chimera of hope, yet knowing in his heart it was hopeless.
* * * * *