(5/15) The Golden Age of Science Fiction Volume V: An Anthology of 50 Short Stories

by Various

  Joshua got obediently to his feet and placed himself as directed.

  "And your hat," Gorman added. "You'd better hold that. You might forget it when you leave."

  "Of course, Lee."

  It was a ludicrous, pitiful sight but, withal, a grim note ran through the scene. Joshua supporting the case against his thigh, got out a sheaf of papers. "These are the progress reports to date. These, the projected plans."

  "And when these plans are carried out you expect success?"

  "Yes. Great foresight has been used. They will carry us through."

  "And you expect me to loan you money on the strength of this--this day-dreaming on paper?"

  "It's far more than that, Lee. You'll find the plans sound."

  Lee Gorman didn't give a tinker's hoot for the plans. He was only enjoying an interview--a vengeance--he was loath to terminate. "You haven't even begun to show me what I'd need before I even considered loaning you a dime."

  "I'll bring you anything you want."

  "Even if I promise to turn you down after I've gone over it."

  "You're calling the dance, Lee."

  "All right--I'll call it. Bring me your payroll records; your cost sheets; the background reports on the key men in your organization."

  "As soon as I can get them. I need some money immediately to meet my payroll."

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  "I'll be back this afternoon." Joshua was halfway out the door when Lee Gorman called. "And bring the deeds to your plant--the bills of sale to your machinery and equipment."

  "Certainly."

  Joshua left and Lee Gorman sat motionless staring at the surface of his desk. There was a Mona Lisa smile on his rugged face.

  * * * * *

  "It's not worth it, Joshua," Myra said, hotly. "You won't be able to take his brow-beating and badgering day after day. And that's his intention. That's what he's giving you the money for--for the pleasure of humiliating you day after day."

  "Of course, my dear. I'm fortunate that Lee is that kind of a man. He wants his revenge and he's willing to pay for it. I was hoping it would be that way--praying for it. It was my last weapon. The last weapon I had with which to beat the Moon."

  A man and his dream....

  "I want you to sign these papers, Joshua." Lee Gorman held out a pen and pushed the papers across the desk.

  "Certainly, Lee."

  "Four copies."

  Joshua pushed the papers back, looked at them and smiled.

  "Do you know what you signed?"

  "A power of attorney, I believe. And I've signed the plant over to you. There is a large mortgage against it, however."

  Lee Gorman sat back, narrowed his eyes as he looked at the wizened little man with the giant obsession. "Joshua, I think you've worked beyond your time. You've slipped your gears completely. Do you realize that with these papers I can put you in the street? That all I have to do is raise my hand and you're done?"

  "I realize that, Lee."

  "Then why on earth did you sign them?"

  "I had no alternative."

  "But what kind of an alternative is this? Giving away everything you've got?"

  Joshua sighed. "You haven't raised your hand yet, Lee. I can surmount my difficulties only as I come to them. I'll think about that one when it gets here."

  "Well--I've got news for you. The time to think about it is--" Gorman stopped in mid-sentence. He studied Joshua Lake for a long minute. Then he took a checkbook from his desk and wrote rapidly. "There's money to meet your payroll. The exact amount. Take it to the bank. Then, I want you in this office every day at four-thirty with a complete report of what's gone on. Don't overlook a thing. And bring any bills with you that want paying, together with material orders and projected costs. Is that clear?"

  "I understand, Lee." At the door, Joshua Lake turned for a moment. "And--thank you--thank you very much."

  After Joshua had left, Lee Gorman pondered one of those last words. If they contained any bitterness, it was well hidden. "A strange man," Gorman muttered. "A very strange man."

  If that constituted a weak moment on the part of Lee Gorman, his dikes were repaired well in time to present a hostile front....

  "This twelve thousand to American Chemical--what are you doing--running an experimental laboratory on the side. I won't pay it."

  "I've never questioned Coving's judgment in these matters, Lee. He's done brilliant work for us. The man has to have materials to work with."

  "Well, you certainly should have questioned him. He's been satisfying every whim of curiosity that pops into his mind. Send the stuff back."

  "But that would be fatal to the project. The fuel must be power-charged to safely handle the weight and time quotients. Coving can't work with salt and baking soda."

  "I don't care what he works with. Cut three thousand off that bill."

  "Very well, Lee."

  A man and his dream....

  "This payroll's out of all reason. Cut fifteen men off immediately."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  "Cut fifteen men off immediately."

  "Of course."

  "Here's a check for the interest on the last note. Take it over to the bank."

  "Yes, Lee."

  Joshua Lake came and went as directed. He stood with his hat in his hand, took orders, carried them out. His shoulders drooped a little more; his face became more pinched; he retreated deeper and deeper into himself.

  But as the days went on, his eyes brightened and there was a breathlessness in his expression when he turned his face to the sky.

  Some three months after the day Joshua walked into Lee's office, the latter said, "The four men who are going with the rocket. You've selected them?"

  "Yes. They're waiting for the day. It was a long slow process, selecting the best equipped men."

  "Bring them here tomorrow afternoon."

  "I'll check with them. If they all can't make it, would a later date--?"

  "I said tomorrow. See to it they can make it."

  "Yes, Lee."

  Joshua brought the four young men to Lee Gorman's office the following day. Lee had a buffet table set up. He was the smiling, genial, expansive host. "Sit down gentlemen. I'm glad of this opportunity to meet you."

  There were five chairs in the room. Gorman had already seated himself. The young men hesitated.

  "Sit down, sit down."

  They dropped into the chairs, glancing uneasily at Joshua Lake. Joshua turned and started toward the door.

  "Don't go, Lake. I'm sure the boys would like a drink. You'll find the fixings on the buffet. Why don't you take their orders?"

  The crowning insult, Joshua wondered. The last, crude insult? Lee Gorman's wounds must have been deep indeed. Joshua served drinks, brought sandwiches. Lee Gorman's geniality kept the awkwardness of the situation from bringing it to a complete standstill. "Well, Thursday is the day, I understand. How do you feel about it? Rocketing off into space. Becoming a part of the big tomorrow." Gorman's eyes caught those of Joshua Lake as he spoke the last sentence. There was laughter behind them.

  The crew of the Moon rocket left shortly afterward. Joshua was the last to walk from the room. Just as he was going through the door, Lee Gorman whispered into his ear. "You can't be sure there'll be a rocket flight. I might stop it the last minute. I haven't made up my mind yet."

  Joshua turned and looked at his tormentor in silence. The others had gone on down the hall. Gorman laughed and said, "I suppose that's a problem you'll face when you come to it?"

  "Yes--when I come to it."

  Alone in his office, Lee Gorman strode angrily to the buffet. With a sweep of his arm, he knocked a liquor bottle across the room. The motivation of the act was hard to determine, however, from Gorman's outward appearance. It could have been bitter disappointment or a fierce joy.

  * * * * *

  Joshua Lake walked into Lee Gorman's office, removed his hat and said, "With your permission, this is t
he day."

  "What time?"

  "It translates into 4:07 and 30 seconds, Greenwich time."

  Gorman scowled. "I suppose you've arranged quite a party."

  "Nothing too spectacular. We'll leave for the blasting pits at 3:00 o'clock. I'd be honored if you'd ride with me."

  "Do you still own a car?"

  "A small one. Its value is negligible."

  "We'll go in one of mine. Be here at five minutes to three."

  "Certainly." Joshua put his hat on and walked out....

  They rode across the Nevada desert in a black Cadillac with the chauffeur sitting at attention and staring straight ahead. Joshua stared straight ahead also. He asked, "Are you going to stop the flight?"

  Beside him, leaning forward, clutching with both hands the silver knob on a black mahogany cane, Gorman replied, "I haven't made up my mind yet."

  A dot on the desert expanded into a pit, a tower, and some small buildings. The car followed the ruts of the tractors that had hauled the rocket to the launching site, and came to a halt. "That small, glass-encased platform," Joshua said. "We'll view the proceedings from there."

  Gorman snorted. "I'll view them from where I please."

  They were standing beside the car, Joshua slightly behind his benefactor. "From the platform."

  Gorman scowled and half turned. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm holding a gun against your back. It is a very small gun. No one can see it and it probably wouldn't kill you. Then again, it might. We will walk to the platform and stand together to watch the blast-off."

  "You'd actually--kill, to get that ship into the air?"

  "If I committed murder, I would certainly regret it the rest of my life, but the rocket must be launched."

  They stood in the glass enclosure on the platform and no one came near them. Several people veered close and waved. Joshua waved back with his free hand and the people went on their way.

  An hour passed. There was vast activity on the field. Gorman said, "I'm tired. I want to sit down."

  "It was thoughtless of me. I should have provided chairs. It won't be long now."

  It wasn't long. Five minutes later there was a roar, an explosion of color, and a silver rocket flash up into the sky almost faster than the eye could follow.

  Gorman slammed the heel of his hand against the side of his head in order to restore hearing. "You can put that gun away."

  "Of course. And you'll want to call the police."

  Gorman growled like an annoyed bull. He jerked open the door and strode away.

  Three hours later, Joshua and Myra Lake were seated in the small patio beside their home. They were seated very close together, and Myra was stroking Joshua's hand. "It's been a long time, dear; a very long time."

  "Yes."

  "Are you happy?"

  "I'm--well, satisfied--at least partially. We've passed a big milestone. But it isn't over yet."

  "You're sure this time, though?"

  "Very sure."

  "Thank heaven we won't have much longer to wait."

  The wait was slightly less than ten minutes. Then Lee Gorman strode into the patio. Joshua sprang to his feet. "Any news?"

  "Yes."

  "Then they should have phoned me. I left word to be called."

  "No one could get up the courage. The rocket crashed in Canada."

  Joshua swayed. When he looked at Lee, his eyes were filled with a mute plea. "That is the truth?"

  "It's the truth. The first flash said it appears the tail broke off in high space."

  Joshua sank into his chair. "The crew--died?"

  "Four more men sacrificed to your--" Gorman stopped and did not use the word obsession. There was too much agony in Joshua's face. "I'm taking the plant--I'm taking everything. I've got to. I've paid for them."

  Lee Gorman walked from the patio. His steps echoed and died.

  Joshua and Myra sat for a long time in silence. Myra was holding his hand. Finally she spoke. "Well, at least it's over. Now you can rest. Successful or not--you've earned it."

  Joshua turned and looked into her face--looked at her as though she had just entered. "Oh no, my dear. You certainly don't expect me to--"

  "Joshua!"

  "Why, I'm only sixty-three. I never felt better in my life. I have a lot of good productive years ahead."

  "Joshua! What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to be the first man to send a rocket to the Moon."

  * * *

  Contents

  THE MAN FROM TIME

  By Frank Belknap Long

  Deep in the Future he found the answer to Man's age-old problem.

  Daring Moonson, he was called. It was a proud name, a brave name. But what good was a name that rang out like a summons to battle if the man who bore it could not repeat it aloud without fear?

  Moonson had tried telling himself that a man could conquer fear if he could but once summon the courage to laugh at all the sins that ever were, and do as he damned well pleased. An ancient phrase that--damned well. It went clear back to the Elizabethan Age, and Moonson had tried picturing himself as an Elizabethan man with a ruffle at his throat and a rapier in his clasp, brawling lustily in a tavern.

  In the Elizabethan Age men had thrown caution to the winds and lived with their whole bodies, not just with their minds alone. Perhaps that was why, even in the year 3689, defiant names still cropped up. Names like Independence Forest and Man, Live Forever!

  It was not easy for a man to live up to a name like Man, Live Forever! But Moonson was ready to believe that it could be done. There was something in human nature which made a man abandon caution and try to live up to the claims made for him by his parents at birth.

  It must be bad, Moonson thought. It must be bad if I can't control the trembling of my hands, the pounding of the blood at my temples. I am like a child shut up alone in the dark, hearing rats scurrying in a closet thick with cobwebs and the tapping of a blind man's cane on a deserted street at midnight.

  Tap, tap, tap--nearer and nearer through the darkness. How soon would the rats be swarming out, blood-fanged and wholly vicious? How soon would the cane strike?

  He looked up quickly, his eyes searching the shadows. For almost a month now the gleaming intricacies of the machine had given him a complete sense of security. As a scholar traveling in Time he had been accepted by his fellow travelers as a man of great courage and firm determination.

  For twenty-seven days a smooth surface of shining metal had walled him in, enabling him to grapple with reality on a completely adult level. For twenty-seven days he had gone pridefully back through Time, taking creative delight in watching the heritage of the human race unroll before him like a cineramoscope under glass.

  Watching a green land in the dying golden sunlight of an age lost to human memory could restore a man's strength of purpose by its serenity alone. But even an age of war and pestilence could be observed without torment from behind the protective shields of the Time Machine. Danger, accidents, catastrophe could not touch him personally.

  To watch death and destruction as a spectator in a traveling Time Observatory was like watching a cobra poised to strike from behind a pane of crystal-bright glass in a zoological garden.

  You got a tremendous thrill in just thinking: How dreadful if the glass should not be there! How lucky I am to be alive, with a thing so deadly and monstrous within striking distance of me!

  For twenty-seven days now he had traveled without fear. Sometimes the Time Observatory would pinpoint an age and hover over it while his companions took painstaking historical notes. Sometimes it would retrace its course and circle back. A new age would come under scrutiny and more notes would be taken.

  But a horrible thing that had happened to him, had awakened in him a lonely nightmare of restlessness. Childhood fears he had thought buried forever had returned to plague him and he had developed a sudden, terrible dread of the fogginess outside the moving viewpane, the way the machine itself wheeled and
dipped when an ancient ruin came sweeping toward him. He had developed a fear of Time.

  There was no escape from that Time Fear. The instant it came upon him he lost all interest in historical research. 1069, 732, 2407, 1928--every date terrified him. The Black Plague in London, the Great Fire, the Spanish Armada in flames off the coast of a bleak little island that would soon mold the destiny of half the world--how meaningless it all seemed in the shadow of his fear!

  Had the human race really advanced so much? Time had been conquered but no man was yet wise enough to heal himself if a stark, unreasoning fear took possession of his mind and heart, giving him no peace.

  Moonson lowered his eyes, saw that Rutella was watching him in the manner of a shy woman not wishing to break in too abruptly on the thoughts of a stranger.

  Deep within him he knew that he had become a stranger to his own wife and the realization sharply increased his torment. He stared down at her head against his knee, at her beautiful back and sleek, dark hair. Violet eyes she had, not black as they seemed at first glance but a deep, lustrous violet.

  He remembered suddenly that he was still a young man, with a young man's ardor surging strong in him. He bent swiftly, kissed her lips and eyes. As he did so her arms tightened about him until he found himself wondering what he could have done to deserve such a woman.

  She had never seemed more precious to him and for an instant he could feel his fear lessening a little. But it came back and was worse than before. It was like an old pain returning at an unexpected moment to chill a man with the sickening reminder that all joy must end.

  His decision to act was made quickly.

  The first step was the most difficult but with a deliberate effort of will he accomplished it to his satisfaction. His secret thoughts he buried beneath a continuous mental preoccupation with the vain and the trivial. It was important to the success of his plan that his companions should suspect nothing.

  The second step was less difficult. The mental block remained firm and he succeeded in carrying on actual preparations for his departure in complete secrecy.

  The third step was the final one and it took him from a large compartment to a small one, from a high-arching surface of metal to a maze of intricate control mechanisms in a space so narrow that he had to crouch to work with accuracy.