fingers like animpalpable mist. Before he was fully alive to it, his dream Eden wasgone, and he was back in that formless void in which he had foundhimself. And even that was thinning.
Nellon awoke. He looked around for Laura and that idyllic dream land inwhich they had loved. But only the great, green cylinder with itsflaming globe and the vast room beyond met his gaze.
Nellon climbed to his feet. With the action, he became aware that hefelt wonderfully refreshed and stimulated. He looked around for Big Tim,then he remembered. Avoiding the open doorway through which the raysstill poured, he peered through the green wall. Big Tim was lying thereon the floor within. He was very still in his thermalloy suit.
Nellon began a chain of reasoning. As it progressed, there went with ita rising tide of exultation.
As long as Big Tim remained there under the influence of the globe, hewould remain unconscious, living, perhaps, a dream as real and vivid ashis own had been. It would be just as though Big Tim were dead. None ofthe expedition members knew of the doorway through which he and Big Timhad entered. With the almost continuous storms which raged on Titan, thedoor would soon become covered again. Ages might pass before a chanceaccident revealed it once more.
He, Nellon, could go back to the ship with a tale of how he had lost BigTim in the bitter storm. The men might search, but he knew it would befutile.
Laura would grieve, of course, when he returned and told her the news.But he would be there to comfort her, and she would get over it. And heknew that she would marry him, with Big Tim out of the way. He couldlook forward to a happiness more satisfying than that of the dream.
Nellon saw his course clear. He knew just what he had to do.
* * * * *
First he released the lever, and the door slid shut, entombing Big Timwithin the great cylinder. Then he retraced his way down to the lowerlevel and through the maze of rooms and corridors. It was not longbefore the snow of Titan once more keened against his suit.
He threw his weight against the great door. Only the impulse wasnecessary to close it, for the operating mechanism hummed into vibrantlife and it swung shut where it had not been shut before--and locked!Nor would it open again.
Even if he had wanted to re-enter, that was impossible.
Nellon started back to the ship. With the curious vigor he felt, thedangers and difficulties of the return trip hardly registered upon himat all. Gone was his sullen dislike of the ever-raging storm. He plowedthrough it with a careless smile, fighting his way over the wild andtumbled terrain. And it was with no feeling of exhaustion at all that hefinally sighted the great, toothed ice ridge which marked the site ofthe camp.
As Nellon shouldered through the narrow cleft which led into theprotected, tiny valley, he remembered to remove the smile of eagertriumph upon his face. It would not go with the story he was to tell.
But it was hardly necessary for him to make the effort. For at the sightthat met his eyes, an involuntary grimace of appalled amazement flashedover his features.
Where the ship had rested there now was nothing at all, save a smoothsurface of snow. And to his incredulously searching gaze, there was noindication that anything had ever been here. The little valley wasvirgin of any sign of human habitation. Only the bitter wind existedhere, as always it had, keening along glittering ice surfaces, sportingwith the snow.
* * * * *
Nellon felt the sudden nausea and weakness of a terrible fear. But a bitof flotsam presented itself out of the turbulence of his thoughts, andhe clutched at it with the eagerness of despair.
He must, he told himself, have accidentally encountered a site similarto the one in which the ship had lain. He had but to find the correctridge and everything would be all right.
Nursing this hope, he started on a tour of the vicinity. Soon herealized, however, that there was no other ridge, and he had to face thefact that he had originally been at the real site. The only differencewas that the ship was gone.
But Nellon felt that he had to make certain. Returning to the valleyover which the ridge rose like a sheltering wall, he searched about inthe deep snow. One of the first objects he discovered was a large, metalbox. On one side were stenciled words which burned into his brain:
_The Harton-Finston Institute._
He knew now beyond any lingering doubt that he was in the right placeand that the ship was gone, for it was the Institute which had sponsoredthe expedition. And he had seen other boxes like that piled compactly inthe holds of the ship.
Nellon was stunned, crushed. But out of his despair a slow wonder rose.How long had he been unconscious there beside the great green cylinder?The degree to which the snow had blotted out the litter of the campsuggested that it must have been many months. For a moment it seemedincredible that his momentary exposure to the emerald rays of the globecould have produced such a result. Then he remembered the beings,circular row upon circular row of them, lying beneath it, and an awesomeknowledge flooded over him.
Those beings were not dead. Exposed constantly to the rays of the globe,they were merely held in a state of slumber, dreaming dreams,undoubtedly, just as curiously real and poignant as his own had been.They were sleeping and dreaming, and the green globe brooded over themlike some vast guardian, soothing, nourishing.
And Big Tim slept with them. When they awoke, Big Tim would wake andlive again. But he, Nellon, would not live again. Suddenly his fear andhate of the storm returned in full and terrible force. Because when hisbatteries were exhausted, his suit would cool--and the storm would killhim. Slowly, inexorably, death would come to him. And death was a sleepfrom which there was no awakening....
The Sphere of Sleep Page 4