20 Million Miles to Earth
Page 13
Signore Contino waved his arm frantically at the tank commander behind him.
The tank turret began to revolve, aiming the long nose of the cannon towards the awesome head. The shell exploded out of its mouth, heading dead-aim for the creature on the Colosseum wall.
The creature was hit.
It staggered backwards, scraped its talons on the stone to hold its position, and managed to prevent a fall.
Inside the arena, Colonel Calder raised his bazooka once more.
The shot caught the creature squarely. It screamed in anguish and in dreadful realization, just as the tank outside fired its second shell. The ancient wall of the Colosseum crumpled under the bombardment, and debris and creature tumbled into the arena.
Calder looked at the dead beast, and the rigidity of his features suddenly disappeared. His mouth drooped in weariness and relief, and his shoulders slumped.
Then he turned and walked to the entrance, not looking back.
His friends were waiting for him. The General, Signore Contino, Dr. Leonardo, Marisa. But Calder walked on without seeing them, away from the scene of death.
Dr. Uhl looked after him, not saying anything. Then he followed the others into the arena, to gaze at the dead creature lying in the rubble of ancient stone.
He looked at the beast, and his voice was sad.
“Why is it always—always so costly—for man to move from the present to the future?”
No one answered him.
Marisa turned her eyes away from the sight, and scanned the departing crowd.
Then she broke into a run. She caught up with the Colonel and slowed her pace, walking silently beside him. He stopped to look at her, and his arm went around her waist. They walked back to the staff car together.
The cafe was dark, but the candle on the table shed a gentle light on Marisa’s face, revealing her look of contentment.
Colonel Calder hitched his chair closer to the table and put one of her hands in his. He held it wordlessly for a moment, and then said:
“It took a long time to get here, Marisa. But does this fit all the specifications? I certainly hope so.”
She looked around archly. “Perfectly. Only one more thing required, Colonel. The wine.”
“Naturally.”
He beckoned to the waiter, and the short, grinning man with the clean white apron came over. But just as he lifted out his order pad, the cafe manager was hurrying to their table.
“Please, Signore, excuse me,” he said nervously. “You are perhaps Colonel Calder, of the American Air Force?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Calder looked at him in puzzlement. “What’s up?”
“Beg your pardon, Signora.” He looked apologetically at Marisa. “But a telephone call, a few minutes ago, from the American Embassy—”
“I knew I shouldn’t have told ’em where I was,” Calder said bitterly.
The manager shrugged. “I was informed that if a Colonel Calder came in, I was to give him immediately this message from the General Mac—” He gave up on the name, and shrugged again. “It is urgent, Signore.”
Calder grimaced and scraped his chair back.
“This is one date that really gets postponed,” he said. “I wonder what’s up?”
“Maybe they found another egg—”
“Don’t say such things. Listen, maybe the' General won’t need me for too long. Why not wait here a while? If I’m going to be detained more than half an hour, I’ll ring here and let you know. All right ?”
“Fine,” Marisa said cheerfully. Then she bent over and blew out the candle. “We might as well save this . . .”
It was a short walk to the American Embassy from the cafe, and Colonel Calder covered the distance in less than five minutes. The surrounding street was dark, but lights were burning brightly on the second floor of the Embassy building.
Calder knocked on the door of the office assigned to General McIntosh.
“Come in!”
McIntosh was at the window when Calder entered. He said: “Sorry to spoil your fun, Bob. But I thought you’d want to hear this news just as quickly as it arrived.”
“What news, sir?”
McIntosh walked over to the desk and picked up a long white envelope, its wax seal freshly broken.
“This arrived by special courier from Washington, about two hours ago. It’s signed by the Secretary of Defense, and its contents are naturally classified. Frankly, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by telling you about it. But I will tell you— because you’re the one man in this world who really deserves to know.”
“What is it, General?”
“It’s official notification. It says we’re beginning arrangements for the second Venusian expedition. The work starts immediately. The new breathing equipment has been ordered for manufacture. The new XY-22 will be built within the next eighteen months. The appropriation has been voted, and Senator Banyon or anyone else will have to overrule the White House itself to get it changed.”
The Colonel just stared at him.
“And pending another round of examinations,” McIntosh said, “to make certain that these past months haven’t affected our candidate’s health, the pilot and commander of the next expedition has already been named.”
The General put out his hand.
Colonel Calder shook it.
“Well,” Marisa said. "That didn’t take you long.”
“No,” Calder said. “Please —let me do this.” He lit the candle on the table.
They sat talking by its soft glow for almost two hours, until the flame was gutted by melting wax. Before it finally flickered out, Colonel Calder said:
“Will you marry me, Marisa?”
“What? Marry a man who’ll disappear for months into the void? Who’ll never be sure that he can come home? Who’ll spend half his years in a spaceship or on some terrible alien planet? Who loves space better than his own life? Yes,” Marisa said.