Rocket to Limbo

Lambert sighed, and took a bucket seat across from the Commander. “I don’t know. Nothing important.”

“If something’s bothering you, it’s important,” Fox said. “I know that by now. Come on, man. Out with it.”

Lambert looked at him. “Walter, are you sure this is smart? Taking so many men off the ship at once?”

“You thinking of an attack?”

“Well—vaguely.”

“If they were going to attack us, they’ve had plenty of time. We were in orbit for over a week, and nothing came up to scrap with us. We’ve been down now for twenty-four hours, and not a peep.”

“I’d still feel better with just one crew out.”

Fox chewed his lip. “You mean the talking that’s going on.”

“Partly. It isn’t in the open like it was before, but it’s there. And I don’t think that Peter Brigham has anything to do with it this time. But it’s an ugly undercurrent just the same. I’m worried that something is going to break wide open.”

Walter Fox stared out the observation port, his hands clenched behind his back as he watched the slow orange-gray light spreading across the land. The fog had lifted; he could see the river now, and the mountains very close. He turned back to Lambert, shaking his head. “You weren’t with me when we ran up against the dust-devils on Arcturus IV, were you? No, that was before your time. Ten, eleven years ago. We thought they were intelligent aliens, at first. No, they weren’t legends, they existed. And we know now that there was no intelligence, as we know it, in them; just a hungry, malignant, instinctive urge to destruction. They killed by means of the violent waves of fear they could drive through men’s minds, blind, raging fear. They would have wiped out my crew if I’d let them sit there and wait for the creatures to come. But I didn’t do that. I got them on their feet and made them march. I shouted at them, and whipped them, and drove them.”

Fox rubbed a hand across his eyes, as though the memory even now was cruel. “I made those men hate me with all the bitterness they could muster, because by hating me they could keep alive, and by giving way to fear they would have died. I killed three of them, just as surely as if I’d run knives into their throats, but I brought nineteen back safely and broke a planet that now gives homes to seven million Earthmen.”

He paused, looking down at Lambert. “You don’t finish paying a price like that for a planet very soon, John. You keep paying it over and over again. But you learn some things. I’ve learned enough to know that my men have to move into the teeth of this thing, whatever it is, that’s waiting for us. It’s here, I’m certain of it. And it’s waiting.”

Lambert still looked unhappy, and the Commander smiled. “Stop worrying,” he said. “We won’t move fast, or very far, until we see what things are like out there. It’s just a step outside to look around. But we can’t wait for—whatever it is—to move first. We’ve waited as long as we dare.”

“Well, maybe you’re right,” Lambert said finally. “I won’t mind getting out and stretching my legs a bit. I understand Lars will be with us, and Salter. Who else?”

“Leeds, Carstairs and Klein. And there may be another. If you’re going below, tell Peter Brigham I’d like to see him.”

Peter had not found his name on either landing party roster, and was somewhat startled at the Commanders early morning summons. He found Fox alone in the control room, staring gloomily out at the frozen land around the ship. A dozen protests were in Peters mind as he stepped into the room, but when he was face to face with Fox, they suddenly faded in confusion, and he felt a flush of shame.

He really didn’t have any grounds to demand very much, he reflected.

“Mr. Morehouse has given me a good report on your work in his department, Brigham,” Fox began. “An excellent report, in fact. He thinks that with time and experience you could make a top-rate navigator. That’s quite a compliment from Morehouse, I might add, and he’s not given to compliments.”

“I—I’m glad he’s satisfied,” Peter stammered.

“Yes,” said Fox. “So am I. But now we’ve got the problem of landing parties to face, and landing parties are a little different from the normal routine on a Star Ship.”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter tightly.

“I think maybe it’s time we understood each other. I understand perfectly well the part you were playing early on this trip to turn the men against me. You know that, but you may not know that I also know why.”

Peter’s face was pale. “Then you know—”