World of Chance

Chapter VIII

Leon cartwright was eating breakfast with Rita O'Neill and Peter Wakeman when the ipvic relay operator notified him of a closed-circuit transmission from Groves.

"Sorry," Groves said, as the two of them faced each other across billions of miles of space. "I see it's morning there. You're still wearing your dressing-gown."

The image was bad; extreme distance made it waver and fade. Grove's features had a ghostly cast, as if the transmission was coming from a grave.

"We're forty astronomical units out," Groves began. Cartwright's haggard appearance was a shock to him, but he was not certain how much was due to the distortions of a long-distance relay transmission. "We'll start moving into uncharted space soon. I've already switched from the official navigation charts to Preston's material."

The ship had gone perhaps half-way. Flame Disc held an orbit of twice the radius vector of Pluto. The orbit of the ninth planet marked the limit of charting and explora­tion; beyond it lay an infinite waste about which little was known though much had been conjectured. In a short while the ship would pass the final signal buoys and leave the finite, familiar universe behind.

"How have things been going?" Cartwright asked.

"I had to kill Ralf Butler. And a lot of us are recovering in the infirmary. The ship will go on, now. We squashed that. But a number really want to go back. They know we're already leaving the known system. This is their last chance to jump ship; if they don't do it now they're stuck all the way to the end, whatever it may be."

"How many would jump ship if they could?"

"Perhaps ten."

"Can you go on without those ten?"

"Some would have been useful in setting up the actual colony." Grove's dark face showed the unhurried working of his mind. "I think we could manage."

Cartwright's hands twitched. "Where would they go? Back to Pluto? There's a Hill base on Pluto; they might tip off Verrick."

"We're billions of miles from Pluto. And the lifeboat has almost no thrust; they'd have to beat back our velocity to zero before they could even start moving. It'd take them weeks to cover the distance to the nearest possible patrol station."

Cartwright licked his dry lips. "How about the emer­gency ipvic in the boat?"

"It's been out of commission since we purchased it."

"Go ahead, then, if it won't jeopardize the ship."

Groves was worried, but not about the ship. "When we talked before, I didn't have a chance to congratulate you. I wish I could shake your hand, Leon." Groves held his hand to the ipvic screen; Cartwright did the same, and their fingers appeared to touch separated though they were by millions of miles of dust and heatless waste. Groves kept his worry from showing and with an effort managed to smile. "You people on Earth are used to your status by this time. But here we still look upon it as a miracle."

A muscle in Cartwright's cheek jerked spasmodically. "It still seems almost—dreamlike. A kind of nightmare I can't wake up from."

"Nightmare! You mean the assassin?"

"I'm sitting here waiting for him."

"Do you know any more about him?"

"My telepaths say the name of Keith Pellig has been in the minds of Verrick and his staff for months, but what it means..."

Groves went on: "If news comes that you're dead we'll drop out of sight. We'll cut our transmission to Batavia, perhaps even demolish the transmitter."

"I hope," Cartwright replied, "that when I'm killed you'll be in sight of the Disc." He moved away from the screen. "If you'll excuse me, Wakeman is briefing me on the Corps's strategy."

"Good luck," Groves said as he broke the transmission connection.

He called Konklin into the control bubble and un­emotionally briefed him in a few words. "Cartwright agrees to let them jump ship. That takes care of them; it's the rest of us I'm worried about. I suppose you know the reactors are eating up fuel faster than we had expected? Efficiency is down almost to nil; if we have to spend a lot of time looking for the Disc..."

He had intended to continue: '... then we may never be able to get back to the known system.'

"I know what you're thinking," Konklin said. "It may be hard to find because it may not be there."

Inside Groves was a gnawing fear. They had come a long way; the area of charted space was far behind them. Suppose, after all this, there was really no tenth planet? "It's too late to change our minds now," he said aloud.

"Well," Konklin said, "we could all take off in the lifeboat... just an empty ship heading out..."

"At dinner I'll announce that anybody can jump who wants to."

Groves opened one of Preston's metal-bound log-books. "Do you know Preston's article on the origin of Flame Disc?" He summarized Preston's ancient words. "The Disc probably wasn't always one of Sol's. It may have come in only a few centuries ago, perhaps in Preston's lifetime."

"Then you're not going to suggest there may be no Disc?"

Groves scowled. "Of course there's a Disc! We wouldn't have come this far otherwise."

But his fear remained.

For dinner a case of frozen pork was opened. It should have been the first meal on Flame Disc, the landing cele- bration. Watching the faces of the forty-odd men, women and children, Groves knew it had been a good idea to get non-protine food on the table.

"How long has it been since you ate real meat?" Konklin asked Mary Uzich.

"I've never had any real meat before," Mary said simply.

Groves sipped at a tin cup of brandy, his meal almost untouched. The others gradually finished and pushed their dishes away. The thick metallic dust in the air became darkened by the smoke of cigarettes.

"Is it true we've passed the final marker buoys?" Larry Thompson asked Groves.

"A few hours ago."

"Then we're actually beyond the known system."

"This is outside," Groves said, "because nobody expects to find anything here but wastes and monsters." He finished his brandy and pushed the cup away. "Gardner says the lifeboat is in good shape. It's loaded with supplies and signal equipment."

"What about navigation?" Louise Tyler asked. "You're the only one who knows navigation and you're not coming."

"The lifeboat is essentially an automatic guided missile. Once it's lined up with Neptune it'll find its way there."

"What happens after we get to Neptune?" Flood demanded.

"Supply ships reach the inner planets every ten days," Groves answered.

"What if one of the Hills patrols grabbed us on the supply ship?" McLean asked. "They might force us into work-camps."

"Maybe you're safer here," Konklin said. "Maybe going back isn't such a hot idea after all."

"I'm going back," Thompson said firmly. He forced himself not to look at Louise Tyler.

Groves made a note on a tablet beside his arm. "That's Thompson."

"Let me explain," Thompson pleaded. "Louise and

I are going to marry. We want our kids to grow up to be human beings, not freaks. We want them to grow up on Earth."

Groves turned to Louise. "You're going back then?"

Louise nodded.

"I'm sticking," Jereti said.

Mary Uzich was astonished. "You're staying?"

"I can't stand Earth any more. Dirty people crowded together in slums; noise and filth..." He tapped his dish. "This meal has made me remember what I'm miss­ing; I can't go back to protine."

"I'm staying," Janet Sibley whispered in an almost in­audible voice. Her eyes were fixed avidly on Captain Groves.

"I'm staying," Mary Uzich said, with a glance at Konklin.

Nat Gardner stirred restlessly. "I'm staying," he announced, and then flushed scarlet. "I have to make up for that." He gestured in embarrassment. "That son of a gun McLean. I want to make up, for having been a fool."

"I don't have to ask if you're going," Groves said to Paul Flood. "I'm not giving you any choice."

Flood grinned. Things were satisfactory. The ipvic-tap was in place, concealed within the transmitting antenna. Half the Society was turning back. The ship was short of fuel—and, most important, for a brief time he had been President. The score had been settled. He had shown Cartwright up for what he was.

Groves addressed the people round him. "Those who are leaving must collect their personal possessions and valuables."

Gardner slammed the hull-locks of the lifeboat and stood for a moment inspecting the jet flanges. A blur of pale, terrified faces gleamed from the window of the boat, and then Gardner signalled Captain Groves. The boat was dropped into the sphincter of the ship. It held for a short while as the atmosphere-envelope carefully sealed itself behind, and then all at once it fell like a stone into the empty void. Its jets came on with a furious splutter. Groves, in the control bubble of the ship, followed its course on his instrument board. The lifeboat hesitated, then very slowly began to fall behind as its sighting mechanism focused on the distant orb of Neptune.

Konklin lingered at the entrance of the bubble, not wanting to go into the deserted cargo hold. "The only people left are you, me, and the Japanese optical workers."

"It's not as bad as that," Groves said; he had opened his writing tablet and was studying a list. "We can use that old carpenter. I don't think the Sibley woman will be much use. It's good that Gardner stayed. The optical workers will come in handy when..."

Mary appeared at the entrance, white-faced and breath­less. "They've left three children in the forward cabins! And there's all that stuff everybody left. We'll have plenty of protine when we land!"

After a moment Groves answered: "Plenty of food, clothing, raw plastics, machine tools, construction materials, wiring, pipe, boring equipment, medical supplies—every­thing but fuel."

"We won't need fuel," Mary said, surprised. "We won't leave again, will we?"

"We may have to search before we locate it," Groves admitted reluctantly.

"Is it true that the Hills have data about the Disc?" Konklin asked. "Good photographs that were never publicly released?"

"One hears that. The Hills are interested in not finding the Disc."

"The expedition of 'eighty-nine found nothing," Konklin pointed out. "And they had all Preston's data."

"Maybe what Preston saw was an extra large space serpent," Mary suggested wanly. "Maybe it'll devour us, like in the stories."

Groves eyed her stonily. "You two turn in and get some sleep."

Mary shivered. "It's like a tomb; down there in the cargo hold."

Mary threw herself wearily down on a bed and slipped off her sandals. "It's peaceful, here," she said to Konklin.

Konklin wandered moodily about. "I keep thinking of what's outside. The no-man's-land of space: it's all around us, out there. Coldness, silence, death... if not worse. It seemed a good idea, a tenth planet for everybody to migrate to, but now we're beginning to face the fact that it may not be true."

Konklin threw himself down on the cot beside her. "I never told you why I came, or why I joined the Society. You want to know?"

"If you want to tell me."

Konklin licked his lips. "I'm wanted by the Directorate police. I skipped out of a work-camp on Europa three years ago. The penalty for that is death. With four others I beat up a guard, stole a patrol ship and took off for Earth. We were shot down over North America. I was the only one who got out. I've been on the run since then."

"Does Groves know all this?"

"Both he and Cartwright know."

Mary reached out shyly and took his hand. "I think you'll be a good person for the colony." She pulled him close to her. "Even if we don't get there, this will be wonderful."

"This cell?"

She gazed up at him earnestly. "This is what I wanted when I was drifting aimlessly. I have a charm I made up to bring you to me; Janet Sibley helped me with it. I wanted you to love me."

Konklin smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

Abruptly, soundlessly, the girl winked out of existence.

A sheet of white flame filled the room; there was nothing else, only the glittering fire, a shimmering incandescence.

He stumbled and fell into the sea of light. He groped futilely for something to hang on to, but there was only the expanse of dazzling phosphorescence.

And then the voice began.

The sheer force of it stunned him. He sank down, be­wildered and helpless, limp, inert. The voice thundered in this world of fire that had consumed him completely.

"Earth ship," it said, "where are you going? Why are you here?"

The sound thrilled through Konklin as he lay helplessly sprawled in the lake of foaming light.

"This is beyond your system," the voice went on. "You have gone outside. Do you understand that? This is the middle, space, the emptiness between your system and mine. Why have you come so far? What is it you are after?"

In the control bubble, Groves struggled desperately against the current of fury that swept over his body and mind. He crashed blindly against the navigation table and as instruments and charts rained down, the voice con­tinued harshly.

"Fragile Earthmen, go back to your own system. Go back to your little orderly universe, your strict civilization. Stay away from regions you do not know! Stay away from darkness and monsters!"

Groves stumbled against the hatch. Groping feebly, he managed to creep from the bubble into the corridor. The voice came again, and seemed to impale him against the battered hull of the ship.

"You seek the tenth planet of your system, the legendary Flame Disc. Why do you seek it? What do you want with it?"

Groves shrieked in terror. He knew, now, what this was. The Voices prophesied in Preston's book. The Voices that led.

"Flame Disc is our world. Carried by us across space to this system. Set in motion here, to circle your sun for eternity. You have no right to it. What is your purpose?"

Groves tried to direct his thoughts outward. In an instant of time he tried to project all his hopes, plans, all the needs of the race, mankind's vast yearnings... .

The voice answered: "We will consider and analyse your thoughts———"

Groves found the ipvic transmission room. He stumbled to the transmitter, a vague shape dancing beyond the rim of white fire. His fingers flung on the power: closed circuits locked automatically in place.

"Cartwright!" he gasped. Across the void the beamed signal speared its way to the Directorate monitor at Pluto and from there to Uranus. From planet to planet the thin signal went, relayed directly to the office at Batavia.

"Flame Disc was placed within your system for a reason," the great voice continued. It paused, as if consulting with companions. "Contact between our races might bring us to a new cultural level," it went on presently.

Groves huddled over the transmitter. He prayed feverishly that the signal was getting across, that back in Batavia Cartwright was hearing the booming voice he heard, and understanding the terrifying yet hope-giving words.

The voice continued: "We must know more about you. We do not decide quickly. As your ship is guided towards Flame Disc we will reach a decision; we will decide whether to destroy you or to lead you to safety on Flame Disc."

Reese Verrick accepted the ipvic technician's hurried call. "Come along," he snapped to Herb Moore. "We're cutting-in on Cartwright's ship. A transmission's coming across to Batavia, something important."

Seated before the vid-tap the ipvic technicians had set up for Chemie, Verrick and Moore gazed with incredulous amazement at the scene. Groves, a miniature figure lost in a rolling flame, was dwarfed to the size of an insect. From the aud speaker above the screen the booming voice, dis­torted and dimmed by millions of miles of space, thundered out:

"Our warning! If you attempt to ignore our friendly efforts to guide your ship, if you try to navigate on your own, then we cannot promise..."

"What is it?" Verrick croaked, blank-faced and dazed. "Is this really———"

"Shut up!" Moore grated. He peered hastily around. "You have a tape running on this?"

Verrick nodded, slack-jawed.

Moore examined the vid and aud tape recorders and then turned briskly to Verrick. "You think this is a super­natural manifestation?"

"It's from another civilization," Verrick quavered. "We've made contact with another race."

As soon as the transmission ceased, and the screen had faded into black silence, Moore snatched up the tapes and hurried them out of the Chemie buildings to the public Information Library.

Within an hour the analysis was in, from the main Quiz research organs in Geneva. Moore grabbed the report up and carried it to Reese Verrick.

"Look at this!" He slammed the report on Verrick's desk.

Verrick blinked. "What's it say? Is that voice——"

"That was John Preston." There was a peculiar expres­sion on Moore's face. "He once recorded part of his Unicorn; the Information Library has it all down on aud, together with vid shots for us to compare."

Verrick gaped foolishly. "I don't understand. Explain it to me."

"John Preston is out there. He's been waiting for that ship and now he's made contact with it. He'll lead it to the Disc."

"But Preston died a hundred and fifty years ago!"

Moore laughed sharply. "Get that crypt open as soon as possible and you'll understand. John Preston is still alive."