Rocket to Limbo

by Alan E Nourse

  “Neither does anything else around this place to us. But obviously it adds up to the City-people, or they wouldn’t make a distinction like this. What other difference can you suggest?” Lars rose from the meal and walked over to the window, stared out across the city. The sky was dark now, but the bright lights of the buildings made it seem like daylight outside. “The way I see it, we’ve been tripping over everything in sight, and losing track of the one thing that we’ve just got to remember: that there are answers to this whole business. There must be answers, simple answers. We can’t see how, but somehow the pieces must fit together.”

  “I wonder,” said Peter sourly.

  “Look, we’ll think of something. Can you brief me on these lessons a little bit?”

  “Why not ask your tutors?” Peter said. “Here they are now.”

  The woman and one of the men who had met Lars at the gate had suddenly appeared at the door to their quarters. It was the first Lars had seen of them since he had arrived, but now he felt a much different kind of apprehension than he had then. At least, he thought, I’m rested and fresh now. They won’t catch me off guard.

  They picked it up, and glanced gravely at each other. The woman shook her head. We are glad you are rested but you must not fight us. There is much you must learn.

  What must I learn? Lars shot at them.

  We must teach you what the Masters taught us, of course. She shook her head again, cutting off the question rising to his lips. Come. We will work out here.

  It was the strangest kind of lesson Lars had ever had in his life. They placed him before one of the gray viewscreens, but they did not activate it at first. Almost at once he felt their probing thought-fingers in his mind. First you must understand that there is no harm, no pain. We will not hurt you. It was the woman, who seemed to have taken charge, with the man merely observing.

  Lars felt his muscles grow tense. What are you going to do?

  There is nothing we can do but enter your mind and guide you. It is you who must do the work. She was gentle, but Lars could sense the unyielding firmness behind the gentleness.

  What work? What do you want me to do?

  The City-people looked at each other helplessly. Lars caught a drift of thought from the woman: He doesn’t understand. How can we —

  There must be a way, somehow.

  When the thoughts were not directed at him, Lars received only a drift; but when they addressed him directly he understood them faultlessly. He realized with a start that he was almost getting used to this silent communication. It was like conversing with a deaf-mute boy he had known years before. The lad could read lips, but could not hear a sound. It had not taken Lars long to learn to speak to him soundlessly, forming his words carefully with his lips only. And now, similarly, he was forming his words in thoughts only.

  The City-people had turned to him once again, and this time he felt a shock as they probed deeply, searching the farthest reaches of his mind. He had an eerie feeling, almost like nausea, for a moment; it was like the first downward lurch of an elevator, or the initial shock of free-fall in space, not exactly unpleasant, yet unsettling. But now, suddenly he noticed that the viewscreen was glowing faintly! The City-people glanced at each other excitedly, urging him on, but his mind rebelled. He felt himself jerk up like a tightly-reined horse.

  No, no! It was the woman, urgent, appealing. Let yourself go.

  He relaxed for a moment, felt himself breaking free of control again, but this time he was prepared and reined himself in sharply, fighting down the weird sensation.

  No, no, please. You must help us, not fight us.

  But I don’t like it. I can’t let myself go. Lars felt the half-nausea again, and it seemed as though his whole body was drained of strength. I don’t like it.

  But there is no harm.

  I still don’t like it. Lars felt trapped, helpless against the power of these two minds. What are you trying to do? What is the purpose of this?

  Amazement from the woman, as though he had suddenly slapped her face. To teach you, of course. We don’t want to frighten you.

  Teach me what?

  It was full circle again. The woman and man exchanged grim glances. The same as with the other one. Blocking, fighting, trying his best to avoid —

  It frightens him. This from the woman. Can it be that they don’t know?

  They must know. They couldn’t help but know.

  Once again Lars caught the impression of “the Masters” strong in the minds of the City-people. The impression of a very real entity, yet it took no recognizable shape in Lars’ mind. He groped, trying to catch the impression, but the woman shook her head. You are tired. That is enough for today. Tomorrow we will try again.

  Wait! Lars jumped to his feet. There’s something I want to know.

  The woman paused, questioningly.

  The others. Where are the others who came with me?

  A wave of fear, faint but unmistakable. Something became guarded in the woman’s eyes. They are safe. They are sleeping.

  Then wake them up.

  Never! Sharp fear flared in her eyes. No, no, they must remain asleep.

  I don’t believe you. I don’t think they’re here. Lars watched their faces closely, groped with his mind to catch their response. I think you’ve killed them.

  No, no! We could never have done that. The Masters would be angry.

  Then take me to them. Show me. Prove that they’re still alive.

  There was a sound in the door, and Lars saw Peter standing there, watching, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

  “I told diem we want to see the others,” Lars snapped. He turned back to the woman. Take both of us. Both of us want to see.

  The City-people stood transfixed, fear strong in both their minds. Then Lars sensed the shadow of a sigh, a breath of resignation, as the man made a weary gesture with his hands. All right. We will show you. Come.

  • • •

  They were afraid. They tried to shield their fear, but Lars could feel it, like an ugly gray blanket, wrapping their thoughts as they led the way down into the vault. They were afraid with an overwhelming, uncontrollable fear. Lars and Peter followed, white-faced, feeling an almost unbearable apprehension themselves as they moved through corridors and down darkened stairways.

  “Can you feel it?” Lars whispered as they walked.

  “It’s about to knock me over,” Peter whispered back. “They’re practically paralyzed with fear.”

  “But why should they be? If they have nothing to hide, I mean.”

  “I don’t think that’s the thing at all.”

  Something caught in Lars’ mind, and he looked sharply at Peter. “How did you know what I was doing when I asked to come down here? I didn’t make a sound.”

  “I know. I — felt it. I couldn’t tell what, exactly, but I knew you’d hit them with something.”

  They finally reached a long, darkened room, far down in the depths of the city. Along both walls of the vault were pallets, floating off the floor. On each pallet was a sleeping man. Lars stared at the figures. Suddenly he felt very cold. They were breathing slowly; some were muttering in their sleep. Occasionally one moved an arm or a leg. Down the right hand side he could see John Lambert, snoring gently. Commander Fox slept beside him. On the far side was Jeff Salter.

  You see? All sleeping. All safe. Lars caught the woman’s thought, but he also felt the wave of fear emanating from her mind, twisting into his thoughts like an icy finger. Then she turned sharply, almost out of control, and led them upstairs into the cool, pleasant corridor above.

  Lars was not sorry to leave the darkened vault. It had been a ghastly sight, but the men were there, alive, sleeping. Why have you done this? Lars thought sharply. Why are you so afraid of them?

  But don’t you see? They would destroy us. The Masters warned us.

  Who are these Masters?

  The woman blinked at him, not comprehending. The Masters are the Mas
ters. Who else?

  Are they here? In the city?

  Oh, no. They left long ago. They have never returned. But when the time is right —

  Lars caught the flush of excitement in Peter’s eyes. But the Masters left you orders you have to obey. Is that right?

  Orders? Obey? The Masters knew what was right. Why should we need orders to obey? The woman’s confusion was growing. Surely you understand, it was the Masters who fed us and taught us. We only do as they wish.

  And then Lars saw the question that had to be answered. He looked straight at the woman and put all his power into the query: What were you before the Masters came?

  For the barest instant Lars felt her fear, the shadow of doubt flitting through her mind, as though he had torn open a door that had long been closed, arousing some timeless, shapeless fear. But then the door closed again, leaving only puzzlement and confusion. You must go back. You must not come here again.

  Why not? What were you before the Masters came?

  Later, he saw what he couldn’t just then. “She couldn’t answer the question because she didn’t understand it,” he told Peter, back in their room. “Whatever the Masters were, they obviously blocked out whole chunks of these people’s minds.”

  “But why?” said Peter.

  “We may learn that when we learn what the Masters were. But I don’t think the City-people are going to tell us. I don’t think they know themselves!”

  • • •

  It was Peter who finally broke the deadlock, though in quite a different way than he imagined.

  Day had followed day among the City-people of Wolf IV with no appreciable change. Every day both Lars and Peter had two and even three sessions with their tutors, and still they seemed to come no closer to the answers they sought than before. If anything the City-people and their reasons for singling out the two youngest crewmen for attention became more imponderable than ever as the boys saw more of the workings of the city.

  They did learn bits and snatches. They learned that death was all but unknown in the city. There were people of all ages there, old and young, but when a death did occur it was a source of city-wide mourning.

  Furthermore, Lars was able to confirm his conclusion that he and Peter were allowed to remain awake, of all the crewmen, because of their age. But try as he would he could not discover why their age was considered so important. Even direct questions brought only confused replies. Why are you keeping us here? he asked the woman who was working with him, flashing the thought at her without warning. Why didn’t you put us to sleep, too?

  She stared at him for a moment in amazement. Then: But we could not do that! The Masters would never allow it. You are like us, not like the others.

  Lars had recounted the matter to Peter that evening as they lay in the darkness of their room. ‘These Masters!” Peter burst out. “Every time we get them in a corner, they bring in the Masters to settle the question as though they were the last possible authority. Have you noticed that? Every time!”

  “I know. It’s a brick wall. We keep slamming head-on into it. We can’t seem to get over it and we can’t get under it.” Lars stared glumly at the ceiling. “I think they’re getting uneasy, too. My ‘lesson’ today didn’t go well. I still don’t know what they expect me to do, but I wasn’t doing it. The man was ready to walk out mad.”

  “So you’ve noticed that too,” said Peter. “I don’t like it. You know what worries me? Suppose they decide that we can’t be taught whatever they’re trying to teach us? What then? Do we get put to sleep too?”

  Lars shivered. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  Peter sat up on the edge of his bed. “I’ve thought of it plenty. I’ve also been thinking that there’s more than one way to get through a brick wall. If you can’t climb it, or dig under it, you can try smashing a hole in it.” He jumped up, rubbing his hands together, sat down again for a moment, then stood up and went to the window. “I tell you, we’ve got to do something besides sit here! I don’t care what, take a knife to one of them, or something, just to do something.”

  “You’d never get away with it. They’d spot you in a minute.”

  “Yes, that’s just it! Everything we do or think, they know about. All they have to do is dip into our skulls and they know everything that’s going on in there. But I think maybe their guard is down a little. They don’t watch us so much now, and I’ve noticed that nobody pays much attention to us when we move around. Nobody has done any probing for days except during the lessons.”

  Lars nodded slowly. “That’s true. So what?”

  “So suppose we move fast and quietly and try to get out of here.”

  “Where to? Over the hills? They’d have us back the minute they missed us.”

  “Not if we had a Koenig drive pushing us, they wouldn’t.”

  Lars stared. “You mean steal a ship?”

  “Better than that.” A flush of excitement rose in Peter’s cheeks. “Look. We know where the men are sleeping. Suppose we went down there and woke them up. Not all of them, just enough to man a ship. If we could somehow keep our minds blank enough so that nobody would pick us up beforehand, we might be able to make a break for the Ganymede and get her aloft before they could stop us.” He regarded Lars with a grin. “We wouldn’t have to be very far out to throw in the drive. And once home, we could come back here with an armada if necessary.”

  “Suppose we can’t wake them,” said Lars bluntly. “They must be drugged.”

  “The City-people wake them enough to feed them, so they can’t be too far under. And we know the City-people don’t know enough to have put the ships out of commission.”

  Both boys were sitting on the edges of their beds now, wide awake, as the plan developed. They talked for an hour, checking every possible angle. At last Lars shook his head. “It’s risky. If they nail us, they’ll put us to sleep so fast we won’t know what hit us.”

  “But they sleep, don’t they? There won’t be many awake at this hour, and why should they bother us if we keep our minds on some innocuous thought like going for a walk, or Mother Goose rhymes, or something? For that matter, if somebody does stop us, we can tell him that the Masters ordered us to do it! That’ll slow them up for a while at least, maybe long enough for us to get away with it!”

  Something flickered deep in Lars’ mind then, and he frowned. It was as if a tiny set of gears had suddenly meshed. “Suppose these Masters are here in the city, after all,” he said slowly. “Suppose the City-people are in contact with them all the time, conferring with them?”

  “I don’t think so. If they were, we’d have heard about it. They keep insisting that the Masters are gone.”

  “But if there were a place where the Masters could be contacted.”

  “Look, we could sit here and dream up all sorts of things, but it’s not going to get us out of here,” Peter cried. “I don’t think we’ve got much longer. I think we’re going to be sleeping like the rest of the crew, maybe forever, if we don’t so something and do it now!”

  “All right.” Lars jumped to his feet, pulled his belt tight around the gray cloak that hung from his shoulders. “They’re going to be a surprised bunch of people, I think.”

  “If we get away with it,” added Peter.

  “If we get away with it. Let’s go.”

  Like shadows they moved through the door and down the darkened corridor toward the street.

  14

  THE DOOR BETWEEN

  THE CITY was silent as a tomb. The glowing buildings had dimmed; the continual throb of mental activity that was always present in the bottom of Lars’ mind was quiet, the barest whisper to witness that people were indeed alive here.

  They moved along silent passages, carefully trying to marshal their thoughts along innocent lines, trying to keep out of their consciousness where they were going, or what they intended to do there. It was impossible to do completely but they tried, and they moved undisturbed down through level upon level
of the city toward the vault.

  They passed an old man in a corridor who looked at them with curiosity, but passed on. A group of young people were gathered at an intersection of arches, but they were so involved in their own thoughts they hardly noticed Lars and Peter as they passed quietly by.

  They paused at the head of the staircase that led down to the vault. “If there’s a guard, try to draw his attention without exciting him,” Peter said in a whisper. “Then I’ll try to jump him before he can give an alarm.”

  “Which ones are we going to waken?” Lars whispered back.

  “Fox, for one, and Morehouse. Lambert and Lorry, if we have the chance. Ready now? Let’s go.”

  They moved quickly down the stairs. In the great vault room they saw nobody except the rows of men sleeping on the pallets. And yet, as he blinked in the dim light, Lars had a fierce pang of misgiving. It was not right, doing it this way. Even if they succeeded, it meant leaving behind an alien people, the first contact with an alien race that Man had ever known. It meant leaving without understanding anything about these people, running out before the puzzle was solved. And worse, it would be the last chance to contact these strange City-people, for if Earthmen came back to Wolf IV, they would come as enemies.

  What would Walter Fox do? The thought was strong in Lars’ mind. He looked down the row of beds, saw the Commander’s face placid now in sleep, and he seemed to hear his words: Don’t spoil it for us, Lars. Trust them. Offer them friendship. This is no time for hate or fear or mistrust.

  And now, without the least doubt, Lars knew what Fox would do. There is a purpose here for the things that have come about, a reason, a solution to all the strange things that have happened since the Ganymede left Earth in search of the Planetfall. A link is missing, a key is waiting to fit the lock, if you can only find it. There is an answer.

  He hesitated, staring down at the rows of sleeping men as if he were in a dream himself.

  Find the answer while you still can!

  He turned to find Peter staring at him in alarm. “Lars! I heard that,” he whispered hoarsely.