Rocket to Limbo

“They’re fools! They could be wiped out like—”

“But nothing’s wiping them out. They just aren’t moving ahead any more.”

The men had turned back, moving more easily. They turned again down the valley, starting at a run, and again their footsteps slowed. Through the glasses Lars saw Fox bend down, examine the ground minutely. Then the Commander moved forward alone, struggling to drag his feet, until he came to a complete halt, panting. He stood stock-still, facing the city for a long moment; then he turned back, rejoined Lambert, and they trudged back up the slope to the party.

They were still panting when they reached the waiting group. “Can’t do it,” Fox said. “There’s some sort of energy field; it’s like slogging through waist-deep mud.”

“Could you see anything?” Lorry asked.

“No sign that they’ve spotted us.”

“Maybe I should try,” said Lorry.

“Listen,” Lambert said quietly.

There was silence as they blinked at him.

“Didn’t you hear it?”

“I—I heard something,” said Lars suddenly. “Not a sound, but something—almost in my head.”

“Yes, yes!” Lambert nodded. “I heard it down there, clearly —something I couldn’t understand.”

“ ‘Let the boy come forth,’ ” Walter Fox said slowly.

“That was it! I’m sure of it.”

“I heard it too,” said Fox. “I can hear it now. ‘Let the boy come forth.’ ”

“What boy?” Lorry asked. Then his eyes rested on Lars.

Lars felt it now, deep within him, a frightening sensation, as if something were calling him, drawing him. “They want me,” he said. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but they want me.”

“This is impossible,” Fox snapped. “There’s no sound.”

“I’d better go,” Lars said. “Somebody’s got to contact them. If they want me, I’ll go.”

He shifted his pack from his shoulders, straightened up to his full height. He was frightened, but the thing in his mind that was calling him was not threatening. It was urgent, and powerful, and yet curiously gentle. He didn’t even look at the men. He started down the path.

“Lars!” Walter Fox ran after him, gripped his arm. “Do you know what you’re doing, son?”

Lars blinked down at the Commander’s weary face. Fox’s voice was hoarse, his gray eyes pleading. It seemed to Lars that he had never really seen Walter Fox before. The iron-and-steel facade had melted away, and a small and humble man stood there, gripping his arm, begging him to listen.

“I’ve wanted this all my life,” Fox was saying. “I knew we’d find it sometime, I’ve wanted so badly to find it—”

“Find it?” Lars shook his head in confusion.

“Other life, other creatures than men, intelligent creatures,” Fox cried. “Men couldn’t be alone in all this endless universe. Can you see that? There had to be other creatures, good creatures.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“If you find them, down there, don’t spoil it for us. If they are good, trust them. Make them know that we are good, too. Offer them friendship. This is not the time for hate or fear or mistrust.”

Lars nodded. “I know,” he said. “I’ll try not to spoil it.”

He started down the slope, leaving Fox and the others watching. His eyes were fixed on the city as the towering buildings grew larger. He reached the valley floor, and stopped, as the urging deep in his mind increased. They were watching him, waiting for him, eagerly. He stepped out again as a cold edge of fear gnawed at his stomach. He clenched his fists at his side as he moved closer.

At first he thought that the buildings were growing larger, but then he saw that the city was dropping down to meet him. Gently, like a feather, it settled to the ground, and he could see bridges and buildings lined with tiny figures watching him. Ahead was a gate, high and luminous, shimmering as he drew nearer, until he was standing before it.

The gate opened before him, noiselessly, and the “sounds” in his mind seemed to swell, excitedly, as he walked through, like the babble of a thousand voices.

And then, inside, he heard a voice in his ear, a real voice so familiar that he whirled with a cry when he heard it, and stopped face to face with Peter Brigham.

Chapter Eleven The Alien Land

For Lars the shock of seeing Peter was almost overwhelming.

Lars was hungry, and dirty, and bone-weary; he could still feel the hot afterglow of his fever; his feet were sore, and it had seemed as he approached the city that every step was the last he could force his aching legs to carry him. But it was more than that. Too much had happened too fast. Too much that had happened was utterly unbelievable, and yet demanded belief because his eyes and senses said it was so. Since the group had started up the mountain days before, it had been like a nightmare that would not end, full of impossible occurrences and half-suggested horrors.