World of Chance

Chapter XV

Rita o'neill was on her feet when the two of them entered the infirmary. "I'm all right," she said huskily. "What happened?"

"Verrick's dead," Benteley said.

"Yes, we're all finished," Cartwright added. He went up to his niece and kissed the bandage that covered her face. "You've lost some of your hair."

"It'll grow again," Rita said as she sat down shakily. "You killed him and came out with your own life?"

"I came out with everything but my power-card," Cartwright said. He explained what had happened. "Now there's no Quizmaster. There will have to be a fresh selection."

"It's hard to believe," Rita said. "It seems as if there's always been a Reese Verrick."

Cartwright searched his pockets and brought out a notebook. He made a tick and then closed the book. "Every­thing but Herb Moore. We still have that to worry about. The ship hasn't yet landed, and the Pellig body is some­where within a few hundred thousand miles of Flame Disc." He hesitated, then continued: "As a matter of fact, the ipvic monitor says Moore reached Preston's ship and entered it."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Could he destroy our ship?" Rita asked.

"Easily," Benteley said, "and a good part of the Disc at the same time."

"Maybe John Preston will do something to him," Rita suggested hopefully, but there was no conviction in her voice.

"Much depends on the next Quizmaster," Benteley pointed out. "Some kind of a work-crew should go out to round up Moore. The body will be deteriorating; we might be able to destroy him."

"Not after he reaches Preston," Cartwright said gloomily.

"I think we should consult the next Quizmaster," Benteley persisted. "Moore will be a menace to the system. You think the next Quizmaster would agree?"

"I think so," Cartwright said, "since you're the next Quizmaster. That is, assuming you've still got the power-card I gave you."

Benteley had the card; he got it out and examined it. "You expect me to believe this?"

"No, not for another twenty-four hours."

Benteley turned the card over and again studied it. The power-card looked like any other; the same shape, colour and texture. "You've been carrying this about?"

"I've been carrying a whole packet of them," Cartwright answered.

"Give me time to adjust my thoughts." Benteley managed to get the power-card in his pocket. "Is this all really on the level? Or have you worked out a system of prediction?"

"No," Cartwright answered. "I can't predict selection results any better than the next person."

"But you had this card! You know what's coming up!"

"What I did," Cartwright admitted, "was tamper with the selection machinery. During my lifetime I've had access to Geneva a thousand times. I set up the numbers of the power-cards I had been able to acquire, in such a way that they constitute the next nine selections."

"Was that ethical?" Benteley demurred.

"I played the game for years," Cartwright said. "Then I began to realize that the rules were all against me. Who wants to play that kind of game?"

Benteley agreed: "No, there's no point in playing a rigged game. But what's the answer?"

"I joined the Preston Society."

"Why?"

"Because Preston saw through the rules, too. He wanted what I wanted, a game in which everybody stood a chance. Not that I expect everybody to carry off the same size pot at the end of the game. But I think everybody ought to have a chance of winning something."

"What are you going to do now?" Benteley asked. "You can't hold power again."

"I'm going to spend the rest of my days sunning myself, sleeping, contemplating."

Rita spoke. "Twenty-four hours, Ted, then you're Quizmaster. You're where my uncle was, a few days ago. You'll be waiting for them to come and notify you."

"Shaeffer knows," Cartwright said. "He and I worked it out before I gave you the card."

"Then the Corps will respect the arrangement?"

"The Corps will respect you" Cartwright answered quietly. "It's going to be a big job. Things are happening; stars are opening up like roses; the Disc is out there... a half way point. The whole system will be changing."

"You think you can handle it?" Rita asked Benteley.

Benteley replied thoughtfully: "I wanted to get where I could make changes; here I am." Suddenly he laughed. "I'm probably the first person who was ever under oath to himself. I'm both protector and serf at the same time. I have the power of life and death over myself."

"It sounds like a good kind of oath, to me," Cartwright said. "You take the full responsibility for protection and for carrying out the work. You have nobody to answer to but your own conscience."

Major Shaeffer hurried into the room. "The ipvic monitor's in with a final report on Moore."

Cartwright responded: "Final?"

"The ipvic people followed the synthetic body to the point when it entered Preston's ship; you knew that. The body began investigating the machinery that maintains Preston. At that point the image cut off."

"Why?"

"According to the repair technicians, the synthetic body detonated itself. Moore, the ship, John Preston and his machinery, were blown to ash. A direct visual image has already been picked up by innerplan astronomers."

"Did some kind of electrical influence set of the bomb?" Benteley asked.

"The ipvic image showed Moore deliberately opening the synthetic's chest and shorting the bomb-leads." Shaeffer shrugged. "I think we'd better send out a crew to investigate."

Cartwright got out his notebook. With a look of bewil­derment on his seamed, aged face he ticked off the last item and restored the book in his pocket. "Well, that takes care of that." He examined his heavy pocket watch. "The ship should be landing soon. If nothing has gone wrong, Groves will be setting down on Flame Disc at any moment."

The Disc was big. Brake-jets screamed shrilly against the rising tug of gravity. Bits of metal paint flaked down around Groves; an indicator smashed; somewhere within the hull a feed-line snapped.

"We're about to collapse," Konklin grated.

Groves switched off the overhead light. The control bubble was plunged into darkness.

"What the hell... ?" Konklin began. And then he saw it.

From the viewscreen a soft light radiated, a pale, cold fire that glittered in a moist sheen over the figures of Groves and Konklin and the control. No stars, no black emptiness of space, were visible: the immense face of the planet had silently expanded until it filled everything. Flame Disc lay directly below. The long flight was over.

"It's eerie," Konklin muttered.

"That's what Preston saw."

"What is it?"

"Probably radioactive minerals."

"Where is Preston? I thought his ship was going to guide us all the way."

Groves hesitated, then answered reluctantly. "My meters picked up a thermonuclear explosion about three hours ago. Distance from us, perhaps ten thousand miles. Since the explosion Preston's ship hasn't registered on my gravity indicators. Of course, with the Disc so close a tiny mass like that might not——"

Jereti came hurrying into the control bubble. He saw the screen and halted. "So that's it!"

"That's our new home," Konklin said.

"What makes that funny light? It's like a seance in here."

Konklin left the bubble. The green glow seemed to follow him as he descended a ramp and came out on the main level. At the door of his cabin he halted and stood for a moment listening.

Down in the cargo hold pots and pans, bedding, food, clothing, were being gathered up. A murmur of excited, subdued voices came up over the din of the brake-jets. Gardner was starting to issue pressure suits and helmets.

Konklin pushed open the cabin door and entered.

Mary looked up. "Are we there?"

"Not quite. All ready to step out onto our new world?"

Mary indicated their heap of possessions. "I'm packing."

Konklin laughed. "You and everybody else. Put that stuff back; we're going to live here until we get the sub­surface domes set up."

Abashed, Mary began carrying things back to drawers and lockers. "Aren't we going to set up some sort of colony?"

Konklin slapped the bulkhead above his shoulder. "This is it."

Mary lingered with an armload of clothes. "Bill, it'll be hard at first but later it won't be so bad. We'll be living mostly underground, the way they do on Uranus and Neptune. That's pretty nice, isn't it?"

"We'll manage." Konklin gently took the clothes from her. "Let's get down to the cargo hold and find ourselves pressure suits."

Janet Sibley greeted them, nervous and fluttering with excitement. "I can't get into mine," she gasped. "It's too small!"

Konklin helped her to zip the heavy material. "Remem- ber, when you're outside be careful not to trip. These are old type suits. You can puncture them on sharp rocks and be dead in a second."

"Who will land first?" Mary asked, as she slowly zipped up her bulky suit. "Captain Groves?"

"Whoever's closest to the hatch."

Jereti came into the hold and grabbed a suit. "Maybe I'll be the first human to set foot on Flame Disc."

They were still fastening their suits and talking together in small groups when the landing sirens shrieked. "Grab hold!" Konklin shouted above the din. "Hang on to some­thing and get your suits going!"

The ship struck with a crash that tossed them about like dry leaves. Supplies and possessions pitched everywhere as the hull jerked violently. The brake-jets moaned and fought to slow the rocking ship as it ploughed into the ice-hard surface of the planet. Lights flickered and faded, and in the blackness the thunder of the jets and ear-splitting squeal of metal against rock deafened the scattered passengers into paralysis.

Konklin was thrown against a heap of bedding. In the gloom he fought his way about until his fingers closed upon a hull support. "Mary!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

"I'm here," she answered faintly. "I think my helmet's cracked; it's leaking air."

Konklin caught hold of her. "You're all right." The ship was still moving, an inferno of sound and protesting metal that gradually slowed to a reluctant halt. The lights flickered, came on for a moment, then blinked out. Some­where moisture dripped slowly and steadily. A fire crackled among heaps of supplies that had tumbled from a locker.

"Get that fire out," Gardner ordered.

With an extinguisher Jereti made his way unsteadily into the corridor. "I guess we're there," he said shakily, as he covered the fire.

Somebody switched on a torch. "The hull must have stood up," Konklin said. "I can't detect any important leaks."

"Let's get out," Mary said intensely. "Let's see it."

Groves was already at the hatch. He stood waiting stonily until everybody had assembled and then he began forward, wide-eyed, silent. The others crowded on the ramp unsealing the heavy doors.

The hatch slid back. Air whooshed out and Groves moved after him; for a moment they stood awed and hesitant. Then they descended.

Half-way down Mary stumbled and Jereti halted to catch hold of her. It was one of the Japanese optical workers who reached the surface first. He slid agilely over the side and dropped to the hard-frozen rock, face excited and eager within his helmet. He grinned up at the others and waved them on.

Mary held back. "Look!" she cried. "Look at it glowing!"

The planet was a plain of green light; wherever they looked there was that colour. In the dim green phosphores­cence the men and women were strange shapes, in garments of metal and plastic, as they stepped awkwardly down.

"It's been here all this time," Jereti said wonderingly. He kicked at the frozen rock. "We're the first to set foot here."

"Maybe not," Groves said. "As we landed I saw something." He undipped his heavy-duty shoulder weapon. "Preston thought the Disc might be a stray from another system."

It was a building. A structure of some kind, resting on the smooth surface ahead; a sphere of some dull metal, without features or ornaments. Frozen crystals drifted and blew round them as they apprehensively approached the sphere.

"How do we get into it?" Konklin wondered.

Groves lifted his weapon. "I don't see any other way." He squeezed the trigger and moved the muzzle in a slow circle. "This thing may be man-made."

Through the sizzling rent, Konklin and Groves crawled, a dull throbbing reaching their ears as they climbed down to the floor of the globe. They were in a single chamber of whirring machinery. Air shrieked past them as they stood peering about them. Together they managed to get a patch over the leak their weapon had cut. Then they turned to examine the humming bank of mechanism and wiring.

"Welcome," a dry voice said mildly.

They spun quickly, the weapon high.

"Don't be afraid," the voice continued. "I'm only another human being like yourselves. I am John Preston."

Konklin's teeth began to chatter. "You said his ship was destroyed. Look at him; he must be a million years old." He steadied his nerves and went on: "This is your ship——"

"We represent the Preston Society," Groves said awkwardly. "We're following your work. Are you——"

"Something's wrong!" Konklin snapped fearfully. "Something's the matter with him!"

Konklin moved towards the banks of machinery. "This isn't a ship. It's similar to one but it isn't one. I think———"

"I want to tell you about Flame Disc," John Preston interrupted.

Konklin was feverishly examining the smooth inner surface of the sphere. "This has no drive jets! It can't go anywhere!" He leaped away from the machinery. "Groves, this is a buoy!"

"You must hear me," Preston was saying.

Konklin moved away, towards the rent they had cut. "It's not alive. That isn't a nourishing bath. That's some kind of volatile substance on which a vid image is being projected. Vid and aud tapes synchronized to form a replica. He's been dead a hundred and fifty years."

There was silence, except for the whispering voice. Konklin tore away the patch and scrambled out of the sphere. "Come on!" he signalled to the others. "Come in!"

"We got most of that on our phones," Jereti said, as he struggled into the sphere. "What was it all about?"

He saw the replica of John Preston and his voice stopped.

The others scrambled in after him, excited and breathless.

One by one they came to a halt as they saw the old man, and heard the faint words whispering through the thinning air of the sphere.

"Seal it up," Groves ordered, when the last of the Japanese optical workers was in.

"Is it——" Mary began doubtfully. "But why's he talking like that? Just sort of—reciting."

Konklin put his stiff pressure-glove on the girl's shoulder. "It's only an image. He left hundreds of them maybe thousands, scattered through space to attract ships and lead them to the Disc."

"Then he's dead!"

"He died a long time ago," Konklin said. "You can tell by looking at him that he died a very old man, probably a few years after he found the Disc. He knew ships would one day be coming in this direction. He wanted to bring one here, to his world."

"I guess he didn't know there would be a Society," Mary said sadly. "He didn't realize anybody would actually be looking for the Disc."

"No," Konklin agreed. "But he knew there would be ships heading out this way."

"It's sort of—disappointing."

"No," Groves corrected. "Don't feel bad about it. It's only the physical part of John Preston that's dead."

"Listen," Konklin said softly.

They all became silent.

The old man gazed at the group of people, not seeing them, not hearing them, not aware of their presence, and he seemed to speak to listeners far away. "The highest goal of man is to grow and advance, to find new things, to expand, to push aside routine and repetition, to break out of mindless monotony, and thrust forward."

THE END