The staff of the station became quite indignant when it became obvious
that they were not going to get any information from the crew.
"You might try making love to one of them," Craig said, in
exasperation, to Mary.
"I might at that," she answered. "They all look kind of cute to me."
"Then try making love to all of them," Craig said bitterly. "They'd
probably like it. It's been twenty years since they saw a woman. You'd
have the time of your life."
"Kindly restrict your allusions," Mary snapped, coloring.
Craig grinned. "You're a bio-physicist. None of the facts of life are
supposed to be allusions to a bio-physicist."
"I'll think it over," Mary said, darkly.
"Where's old Adam March?" Craig said suddenly. "Have you seen him?"
"Not since the ship landed," Mary answered. "He was up in the front
line cheering himself hoarse. Why?"
"For years he has been asking about the _Andromeda_. From the interest
he took in the ship you would think he owned it. Now the ship has
arrived, but he's not here taking part in the celebration." Mild
concern rose in him as he sensed something wrong in the old man's
absence. "I'm going to find him."
Asking questions, he discovered no one had seen Adam March. He went
directly to the old man's quarters. The door was closed. He rapped.
There was no answer. He tried the knob.
The door was locked.
"Who is it?" a voice quavered from inside.
"Craig Randall. Open up."
There was a moment's hesitation, then the door opened a crack. March
peered through the opening. It seemed to Craig that the old man had
aged years in hours. He had a heavy monkey wrench in one hand. "What's
wrong?" Craig said. "The _Andromeda_ is in?"
The old man opened the door. "Come in," he said. "Yes, the _Andromeda_
is in. That's what's wrong."
"What?"
March gestured in the direction of the hangar. "There's something wrong
in that ship."
"Why do you say that?"
"I have my reasons."
"But what makes you think so? What proof? If you know what you are
talking about--"
March recoiled at the words. "I knew you would think I did not know
what I was talking about."
"I'm sorry, Adam, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But you've got
to have some proof." He hesitated, as a sudden thought struck him.
"Or ... maybe you ought to drop in on one of the station doctors in the
morning. Maybe you've got a touch of space sickness. You've been here
on Pluto pretty long."
The old man recoiled even more. He clutched the wrench. "Leave me
alone, Craig," he said harshly. "Go away from me. I don't want to talk
to you."
Craig had no choice except to leave. The lock clicked in the door. He
hunted up Mary. "I'm going to take a look at the _Andromeda_. Want to
come along?"
The expression on his face must have revealed what he was thinking. Her
answer was quick. "Of course. But what's wrong?"
"I don't know. Adam thinks something is wrong but he won't talk." He
explained what the old man had said.
Her face fell. "I'm afraid you're right. It does sound an awful lot
like space sickness. I'm so sorry. He's such a nice old man."
"Maybe I'm wrong. We'll go check."
* * * * *
In the dimly lighted hangar the ship dwarfed them, made them pygmies
in comparison to its huge bulk. No guard over the ship had been
established by the station. No guard was ever established over the
ships that landed here. None was needed. They went slowly around the
ship. The stout metal of the hull showed the pitting of meteoric dust
that had gotten through the screens. On the bow, pitted and faded but
still easily readable, was the word--_Andromeda_.
"Were you questioning that this is actually the _Andromeda_?" Mary
asked.
"Not questioning, just checking." He moved to the slanting ramp that
led upward to the lock from which the crew had emerged, stared at it.
"It's odd that the lock should be closed."
Usually ships in the hangar opened all locks, exchanging their
many-times-used air for the cleaner air of the station. They went up
the ramp. "If they left a guard, maybe he will open up for us," Craig
said. There was no opening in the lock but he knew that an observer
inside could detect their presence there.
"Open up," he said.
"What for?" a voice answered.
Craig jumped. The voice seemed to speak from the empty air beside him.
"Don't be startled," the voice said. "This is a simple communication
mechanism for transmitting voice tones. All space ships have them."
"All--" Craig caught himself. He had started to say that no space ship
had such a device, that he had never heard of a method of transmitting
a voice through a steel hull.
"What do you want?" the voice said.
"We want to talk."
"Talk to Captain Martin."
"This is hardly a matter for the captain. There's a party inside. We
thought perhaps you would like to join it. Your friends are having
themselves a whale of a time. We came to take over the duties of anyone
who remained in the ship so you can join them," Craig said, hastily
improvising.
"And while you are on duty, you would explore the ship! Is that your
plan?"
"What?" Craig gasped. His first dazed thought was that his mind was
being read.
"Well, of all things!" Mary said, her voice hot. "Is there something to
hide inside the ship?"
"Of course not!" For an instant, the voice sounded startled. Then it
quickly became the voice of a book salesman, suavely peddling holy
literature. "Your commanding officer will have an opportunity to
examine the ship, if he wishes!"
"Then why did you say we would explore the ship?" Mary continued. "If
there is nothing to hide, what difference does it make whether or not
we explore it?"
"Captain Martin would have my head if I let you take my place without
orders. Sorry. I can be relieved only on orders from him." The voice
lost its suavity and became stiff and hard.
"Okay," Craig said. "Come on, Mary. Let's go back and join the party."
Her face indicated she was inclined to continue this discussion but she
followed him down the ramp. At the bottom, she spoke quickly, "Craig,
you're scared. What's wrong?"
"Nothing that I can put my finger on. It's mostly Adam March. He saw
something that he didn't like but he wouldn't talk about it. Now, we
run into a closed lock, and a guard with a gimmick that he can use to
talk through the wall of the ship. Space ships never post a guard here,
they never keep the locks closed. Why is the _Andromeda_ doing it?"
"I don't know," Mary answered, hesitantly. "I don't like it either. I
keep getting a feeling that something is wrong but I don't know what."
"_Walk back up the ramp!_" the voice spoke from the air.
Both jumped. "What kind of a pick-up system are you using that can
detect our voices at this distance?" Craig demanded.
"A very efficient one. Walk up the ramp. And don't try running! You'll
run straight into a dead man if you do."
"Where's a dead man?" Craig gasped.
"You'll be the dead man!" the voice answered. "Walk up the ramp!"
They walked up the inclined runway. Ahead of them, the lock opened.
They entered. It swung shut behind them. Ahead, the inner door opened.
For the first time, they saw the source of the voice that had spoken
to them. Craig felt every muscle in his body contract. Mary uttered a
scream that was pure panic.
* * * * *
In Nuoy's quarters Captain Martin was finishing with his story of what
they had found on Star Goal. General Stanley was almost falling out of
his chair as he leaned forward to listen. Nuoy's lips were opening and
closing and he was breathing in panting gasps. A slobbering sound was
coming from within his throat.
"There is no doubt but that the inhabitants of Star Goal are immortal,"
Captain Martin finished.
Nuoy swallowed. He swallowed again and again. A gleam came into his
eyes.
"Can you prove that statement, Martin?" he demanded.
"Of course!" the captain calmly answered.
Nuoy almost fell out of his chair at the words. He had expected
argument, hedging, perhaps compromise. In the world he knew, men told
lies to each other, then told other lies to get out of the first ones
they had told. As golden as Captain Martin's statement was, Nuoy had
thought it was a lie, that there was a catch in it somewhere. He had
expected the captain to try to lie out of it. He hardly knew what to do
when the captain did not try to lie.
"I would like to see your proof," Nuoy finally spoke.
"You're looking at some of it," Captain Martin answered.
"Eh? You? What kind of proof is that?"
"If you will check the records, you will discover that I was 32 years
old when the _Andromeda_ left the Solar System. I am now 52 years
of age. If you doubt what your own eyes tell you about my physical
condition, I suggest you have your doctors examine me."
"They have worked on you. They have made you immortal?"
"They have worked on the whole crew."
"They did?" Nuoy gasped. "How much did they charge?"
"Nothing," Captain Martin answered.
"What? No charge?" Nuoy sounded as if he did not believe his ears.
"No charge," the captain repeated.
"Uh--uh!" Nuoy opened his mouth, closed it, made up his mind, opened
his mouth again. "We'll have to change that," he said.