Rocket to Limbo

Lars piled the fire high, avoiding Dr. Lambert’s eyes as he worked to make order of the rifled packs. High above the clouds were gone, and stars shone like cold, unwinking eyes. It was colder now, and Lars turned up his heater control.

“Better spare that,” Lambert said quietly. “We may need it badly.”

“You don’t think they’d—”

“I don’t know what to think. They’ve run for it, that’s all. They must have been planning for weeks to grab their first chance, and this was it.”

“Peter Brigham hasn’t been in on anything like that,” Lars protested. “He couldn’t have been.”

“I’m afraid the facts don’t bear you out,” said Lambert. “I’m sorry. But I don’t see any other explanation. He must have known what was up, and yet he gave no warning.”

They sat about the fire, waiting as a half hour passed, then an hour. A gray dawn was creeping up the horizon as they peered anxiously in the direction of the ship. “You— you think they’ll blast if they get to the ship and take it?” Lars asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“But that would leave us—”

“Yes. It would leave us in trouble, bad trouble.” Lambert’s lips were a grim line. “Keep watching. We’ll see the blast from here.”

They watched, expecting momentarily to see the bright orange-red jet trail suddenly rise into the sky. But there was no sign. At last they heard noises down the trail, and Fox and Klein sat wearily down by the fire. Defeat was written in heavy lines across their faces. “You saw it, I suppose,” Fox said lifelessly.

“Saw it?” Lambert frowned.

“The blast-off. You must have seen it from up here.”

“We didn’t see any blast-off,” Lars said stolidly. “We’ve been watching.”

Fox and Klein exchanged puzzled glances. “That’s odd,” said Fox. “We followed them, and dragged ourselves across the river on the line, they’d conveniently cut loose the rafts. We followed their trail clear across the delta to the place where the ship had been. They must have been successful, taken Dorffman and the others by surprise.”

“Look,” said Lars. “That ship never blasted, with Salter and his crowd in charge of it, or anybody else.”

“It must have,” Commander Fox said grimly. “Because it’s gone. There isn’t any ship on the delta where we set her down. There’s nothing out there.” He looked intently at Lars and Lambert and Klein. “And you know what that means. That means we’re stranded here. It means we’ve got to reach that ship up there on the ridge, and reach her fast if we don’t want to starve to death.”

Chapter Nine The Thing On The Ridge

It took Lars several moments fully to realize the enormity of what Commander Fox was saying. The Ganymede was gone. They had not seen it go, nor heard it go, but it was gone nevertheless. Like the silent deserters who had rifled the packs and departed during the night, the ship had suddenly and incredibly vanished. They were alone—Fox, Jerry Klein, John Lambert, and himself. They had power for their heater-suits for another twenty-eight hours, perhaps; at best there could be only food enough for two days left in the packs. Beyond that, nothing.

“What about Lorry and his group?” Lambert was asking quietly.

“No sign of them. They may still be sleeping, for all I know.”

“Shouldn’t we try to contact them?”

“It would mean crossing the river at least once, and then crossing back,” Fox said slowly. “It would mean losing heat and using up an extra day’s food. Assuming that they’re alive, that is. No, we’re going to need that heat and food ourselves, John. We can only hope and pray that there’s more food up there—” he glanced up the black cliffs of the ridge—“where the bag we found came from. I don’t think we’d survive very long trying to live off the land.”

“At least we could give them a burst of gunfire,” Klein offered. “Then they’d know we were still alive.”

“We could try it,” Fox said cautiously. “Just a short round, though. We may need the ammunition.”

Klein lifted his machine pistol and fired a rapid volley. The sharp crack-crack-crack echoed and re-echoed down the valley, as they stood waiting, listening for a return.

Nothing. Silence, except for the rising wind.

“They’ll go the same way we’re going,” Fox said finally. “There’s only one way to go, and that’s up. We’d better get going.”

His voice was lifeless, but his eyes glinted with anger. Quickly they checked the gear that remained. Lars’ estimate of two days’ food was optimistic: there were two meals apiece for them, not counting the few cans in the Planetfall bag they had discovered. They opened the first of the cans now, and ate with a pretense of heartiness that none of them felt. Lambert found his medical pack intact, and handed around stress-caps. “Any idea how long it’ll take us to get up there?”

“Too long,” Fox growled.

“Well, these will be good protection if we don’t have to depend on them too heavily.”