Rocket from Infinity

by Lester Del Rey

  “Of course not. The atmosphere in the Belt is too thin to sustain life, but it would be enough to rust that seal tight in, say a hundred years.”

  Jane was a little disappointed at having the point of her observation snatched away. “Aren’t we smart, though,” she said. Then, before Pete could think of an answer, the inner seal opened and the bowels of the strange and frightening ship were open to them.

  The light was a little brighter inside and a metal stairway led downward.

  “She’s got a magnetic field of her own,” Pete said.

  Jane didn’t comment on the observation. Pete had stated the obvious. Even with their boots turned off, they could move by their own weight. The strength of the field was proven by the fact that the ship sat horizontal. The magnetic drift of her asteroid captor was not enough to turn her from an even keel.

  Pete went down the stairs. Jane followed. Twenty feet down, a narrow companion way leveled off, leading them forward. “We’re walking on the keel plate,” Pete said. “There are no escapeways from stern to prow.”

  “Not necessarily strange,” Jane replied. “We agreed that this ship wasn’t designed in the System.”

  “At least not in the Inner System. It could have come from Jupiter.”

  His observation was based on a point of history. It was accepted as fact that space explorers from Jupiter and perhaps beyond had penetrated the Inner System. Why they had never followed through was a mystery couched in many theories. The most universally accepted one was that a deterioration in Outer System civilization had destroyed the technology that made space travel possible.

  But neither Jane nor Pete were greatly interested in history at the moment. The long, brooding companionway held greater fascination. As they approached the forward end, Jane stopped suddenly and grasped Pete’s arm. There was a rapt look on her face.

  “Can’t you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “I don’t know. A presence. An intelligence. I can’t explain it.”

  If she expected a cynical rebuff from Pete, he certainly must have surprised her with his reply.

  “I think you’re very lucky.”

  “Please don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m not laughing. A first-year psychology student in this day and age knows the value of a highly developed sixth sense. It has many names. Extra-sensory perception—high-vibratory sensitivity—electro-intelligence affinity. But it adds up to the same thing—conscious receptivity at levels above the human norm.”

  Jane blinked. She was on the verge of a defensively cynical reply herself, but then she simply said, “Are you sure archeology is your field?”

  He ignored the question. “You certainly know what’s happening to you, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re mentally picking up the synthetic thought patterns that are coming out of the memory of the cybernetic brain controlling this ship.”

  Jane stared blankly and Pete shot a quick question. “Where is the unit?”

  Jane replied instantly, without thought. She pointed upward and forward. “It’s in the control room just behind the nose of the ship.”

  “Why wasn’t it smashed when the ship hit the asteroid?”

  “Because it’s fifty feet back—behind a three-foot crash wall of…”

  “Of what?”

  Jane shook her head and then passed a hand across her brow. “I don’t know! I…”

  “But almost knew—you almost read the name of the material out of the brain’s thought patterns. The brain knows—it was told.”

  Jane’s eyes showed disbelief but she did not contradict Pete. She pulled her head piece down. “You don’t have to wear that thing. There’s plenty of air in here.”

  Pete grinned. “Which proves something else.”

  “What?”

  “That this ship came from an oxygen breathing world.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Then it can’t be Jupiterian. It had to come from so far out—”

  “From so far out that it couldn’t have possibly reached our system.”

  “But it’s here.”

  “It’s here,” Pete said grimly. “Let’s take a look at the brain.”

  Jane led the way, moving forward as confidently as though this were the bowels of the Snapdragon. She climbed the stairs at the end of the companionway and went through a doorway that led to a higher one running in the same direction. There, she turned forward and opened another door.

  “It’s in there.”

  The cabin was singularly bare. Some twenty feet square, its walls were of a bright metal and there was a control panel on the forward wall.

  In the center of the cabin, surrounded by a waist-railing, a slim pedestal reared out of the floor supporting a bright metal globe with a ten-foot diameter.

  “That’s it,” Jane said. “Can you hear the hum?”

  “No.”

  “I can. It’s very faint. Not even like a sound.”

  “Your receptions are fine enough to record it.”

  “What is it?”

  “The synthetic thought stuff coming from the memory banks of the thing. I read a book of experiments on cybernetics at school. If you’re highly sensitive, you should translate what comes to you as a mood.”

  “I think it’s sick,” Jane said.

  Pete regarded her in silence. He was struck by the change in her. The subtle forces she was encountering had temporarily submerged and blanketed her extrovert personality pattern.

  What she’d just said dawned on her and she looked frightened. “Pete! That’s crazy. What’s wrong with me? Calling a machine sick!”

  “There’s nothing crazy about that. The unit is out of order. It’s the same thing.”

  “You mean it’s talking to me?”

  “Of course not. You’re merely interpreting emotionally because it’s the only way you can express what’s coming to you. Let’s forget the brain for a while and do a little checking.”

  Jane followed Pete forward where they studied the control panel. “There are a few things to be learned here,” he said grimly.

  “The symbols on the dials. What kind of a language is that?”

  “The closest thing I’ve seen to them are the ancient Earth languages. Egyptian—Sanskrit—maybe even ancient Chinese. It would take real scholars to make them out. But there’s something else of interest here.”

  “What, Pete?”

  “A couple of things, so we’ll take them one at a time. When we were outside, did you see any ports on this ship?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess you haven’t noticed—we can see out.”

  “Pete! You’re crazy!”

  “Am I? Face the bulkhead squarely and look straight ahead of you. What do you see?”

  Jane obeyed. Her eyes widened in amazement. After staring for a few moments, she turned her gaze on Pete. “I can see the rocks out in the Belt—out in the Badlands!”

  “You’re looking out through a round port.”

  “But it’s impossible.”

  “It’s some kind of strange refraction. I noticed it when we walked forward. As you move along the bulkhead, the window goes with you. At right angles to the eye the plates of this ship are transparent. Shift the angle about ten degrees in any direction and the visibility ceases.”

  Phenomena following after each other so rapidly had dazed Jane. “There’s one thing I noticed all by myself,” she said. “That soft, muddy sensation when you walk—it’s not on the inside. Everything is solid here. Even the inner sides of the plates.”

  “You’re right! I’ve been so busy looking at other things I hadn’t noticed. Then the characteristics of the metal that produce that effect are only on the outside.”

  “What do you suppose it means?”

/>   “I don’t know—the characteristics were brought out through know-how we’re unfamiliar with. I’m sure the outer softness is a phenomenon involved in the greater durability of the metal. At least that makes sense.”

  Again Jane seized Pete’s arm. She moved close to him and looked into his face and when she spoke it was in a whisper. “Pete. It turned! The brain! I’m scared.”

  Pete looked blankly at the big metal globe. “What do you mean it turned?”

  “It can turn on that pedestal. And it did turn—as though it’s listening to us.”

  “But you’re facing away from it and there was no sound…how…?”

  “I don’t care where I’m facing. The darn thing knows we’re here and I want to get out.”

  Pete shrugged. “That’s not so strange. It knows when an asteroid comes too close, so why shouldn’t it know when we’re standing right next to it?”

  Jane stood close, needing the comfort of feeling Pete near her. “I don’t like it here. Let’s go someplace else.”

  “All right,” he said cheerfully. “We’ll explore. But don’t start letting that cybernetic unit scare you. You’re going to have to help it get well.”

  “Pete! Stop being silly.”

  “I’m not being silly. There has to be a self-repairing component in a unit that brought this ship from far outer space. It knows what’s wrong with it.”

  “Why does there have to be? The technicians and the crew would make repairs.”

  “Maybe,” Pete said cryptically. “Let’s see what’s aft at this level.”

  They went back into the companionway and chose the first of two doors that were offered. It opened on a cabin about half the size of the one that housed the brain. It was of the same shining metal and was filled with black rectangular boxes piled row on row in neat stacks.

  “The memory banks,” Pete said.

  Jane gasped. “All those? The brain must be able to remember things back to the dawn of time!”

  “No, it was given just enough to go where it was supposed to and find its way back.”

  Jane clung to his arms as she stared at the cabin’s contents. “I don’t like it here. Let’s get out.”

  “Are the thought emanations hostile?”

  “No…no…” Jane’s nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed. “It has to sound idiotic but I get a feeling that it’s crying.”

  “Not idiotic at all. That could be the emotional translation of its own synthetic thought reactions to its breakdown. Let’s see what’s in the next cabin.”

  It was a vast enclosure going up to the apex of the hull plates.

  “Storage,” Pete said. “All those boxes. They must contain food and supplies for the trip.”

  “But none of them have been used. This hold is jammed full.”

  “Maybe there are other supply holds.”

  There were. Hold after hold reaching back to the stern of the ship—six in all—three filled to capacity and three completely empty.

  The farther they went from the cybernetic brain up front, the brighter Jane’s mood became. When they reached the tail, her eyes were bright and her face glowed.

  “Pete! We’re rich! Do you realize that? This ship is priceless! And it’s all ours—for salvage.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What do you mean? It is ours.”

  “We haven’t filed our salvage plan yet. Maybe—”

  He stopped as he caught the expression on Jane’s face. She was staring out through the hull plate. She pointed. “A monocar!”

  “Homer Deeds!” Pete said automatically.

  “No. It’s Mother and the girls!”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Pete snapped. “You’re seeing things!”

  He searched the wall of the pocket outside as Jane snapped the switch on her head piece radio unit.

  “Mother! What are you doing out there? Why aren’t you home in the Snapdragon?”

  Then Pete saw them—jammed together in the crippled car he’d towed home after rescuing Jane. He snapped on his own unit and heard Rachel Barry’s cheerful voice.

  “We were worried about you. So we got a fix and came hunting. Are you all right, dear?”

  “How did you get here in that car without killing yourself?” Pete demanded.

  “Oh, it works all right. You just have to keep righting it and pulling it back on course.”

  “It goes end-over-end all the time,” Colleen wailed.

  “What are you doing in that funny-looking ship?” Ellen asked.

  The car came looping out into the open area. Jane brought a quick hand to her mouth. “Mother! Go back! Go back in among the rocks and wait there. This ship will smash you to pieces!”

  “The ship will smash us? What kind of nonsense are you talking, dear? Open the hatch and let us in.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PIRATES!

  The next fifteen minutes was frantic. First, Pete and Jane watched in horror as Rachel Barry urged the balky monocar out into the area the space ship was keeping clear.

  “Mother! Go back! Go back!” Jane screamed.

  Rachel Barry was puzzled. “What’s wrong with you, child? Why shouldn’t we come aboard?”

  “The ship will slug you!” Pete yelled.

  “Why, I never heard of such nonsense!”

  “Go back!”

  It was too late even if the stubborn mother of the Barry brood had chosen to listen. The spaceship had already taken aim with its tail and was swinging murderously.

  As they watched through the windows and saw the outer world streak by, Jane and Pete looked at each other in consternation. But they had no time to comment on what had astounded them, because Rachel’s voice came in a moment later.

  “This pesky car! It does what it pleases.”

  “They weren’t hit!” Jane marveled.

  Another moment and the monocar came back into view and Pete realized what had happened. “The car did a back flip over the ship and went back where it came from! The ship missed it!”

  “Mother! Stay where you are!” Jane shouted. We’ll come out and get you.”

  “Well, all right. I can’t seem to get the grapples down on the hull.”

  “I’ll go,” Pete said. “I’ve got a hand jet in my car.”

  “Pete’s coming to guide you in,” Jane said.

  Pete hurried away and a few minutes later, Jane saw him through the transparent plate, pushing his way toward the crippled car. Once there, he grasped the landing grid bar in one hand, pointed the activated hand jet rearward, and pulled the car slowly along the wall of the cluster toward the fused prow of the ship.

  As he moved beyond range of her vision, Jane went to the companionway and ran back to the air lock, where she was waiting when her family entered.

  Colleen’s eyes were round with wonder. “This is going to be fun!” she announced.

  The elder of the two Barrys, Ellen, was somewhat more reserved. “When we walked along the hull it was like wading in rock dust,” she said.

  “Yes,” Rachel agreed. “What sort of a ship is this, Jane?”

  “We don’t know, Mother, but it’s a salvage price that will make us all rich—that’s for sure.”

  “How did you ever find it, child?”

  Jane looked suddenly tired, and Pete knew the incident with Homer Deeds and his two friends had come to mind; that and the realization that she would have to tell her mother the truth about the man they had treated as one of the family.

  “It’s a long story, Mother. Right now Pete and I have to figure out how to get this ship to Parma to claim salvage.”

  “Where is the crew? What happened?”

  “We’ll find that out later. Why don’t you and the girls—”

  A sudden, unheralded shriek from Colleen split the air, cau
sing Pete to jump almost out of his skin. “What’s the matter?” Jane cried.

  “Omaha! We forgot Omaha. He’s still in the car.”

  “Then it’s too late,” Pete said. “The bubble is open.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference. We put his space suit on when we got here.”

  Pete stared. “A space suit for a cat?”

  “Of course,” Colleen said. “Cats have to breathe too, don’t they?”

  “I’ll go get him,” Pete said.

  A space suit for a cat! Still not believing it, Pete went outside again and back to the asteroid where the two cars were grappled down. He peered into the one the Barrys had miraculously escaped death in and, sure enough, from a narrow space behind the seat, a pair of hostile eyes blazed out at him.

  “Come on, you stupid feline,” Pete invited.

  Omaha declined. Pete looked closer and saw that the cat actually was wearing a specially built space unit! It consisted of a blanket through which Omaha’s ears, legs, and tail protruded. The cat’s eyes blazed out balefully at Pete over a headpiece that covered its nose.

  “Come on, I said. Do you want to sit there and freeze to death?”

  This seemed to make sense to Omaha. He lifted his flattened ears and deigned to jump up on the seat. Pete lifted him out of the car and, as he crossed the fused area, he found that there were tiny magnets attached to the cat’s feet.

  So when Omaha began to squirm, Pete set him down on the hull and pointed rearward. “Your family is back there,” he muttered.

  Then Pete was treated to one of the most hilarious spectacles he’d ever seen. The moment Omaha’s feet touched the hull plate, he began to flounder. Pete realized instantly what was happening. The cat was also a victim of the sinking-in sensation. He looked up at Pete in consternation, and when he found no help in that direction, he began wallowing and floundering along the smooth surface of the hull.

  Pete grinned. “It’s like he was drunk,” he chuckled.

  Omaha finally achieved a kind of balance and began walking rearward, lifting his feet high in the air at each step as he marched along. A couple of times he looked back at Pete disdainfully as though he had personally arranged this ridiculous situation.