VIII
Frank Nelsen missed the first shambles at Pallastown, of course, sinceeven at high speed, the rescue unit with which he came did not arriveuntil days after the catastrophe.
There had been hardly any warning, since the first attack had sprungfrom the sub-levels of the city itself.
A huge tank of liquid oxygen, and another tank of inflammable synthetichydrocarbons to be used in the manufacture of plastics, had beensimultaneously ruptured by charges of explosive, together with theheavy, safety partition between them. The resulting blast and fountainof fire had jolted even the millions of tons of Pallas' mass severalmiles from its usual orbit.
The sack of the town had begun at once, from within, even before chunksof asteroid material, man-accelerated and--aimed, had begun to splatterblossoms of incandescence into the confusion of deflating domes anddying inhabitants. Other vandal bands had soon landed from space.
The first hours of trying to regain any sort of order, during theassault and after it was finally beaten off, must have been heroiceffort almost beyond conception. Local disaster units, helped by hoppersand citizens, had done their best. Then many had turned to pursuit andrevenge.
After Nelsen's arrival, his memory of the interval of acute emergencycould have been broken down into a series of pictures, in which he wasoften active.
First, the wreckage, which he helped to pick up, like any of the others.Pallastown had been like froth on a stone, a castle on a floating,golden crag. It had been a flimsy, hastily-built mushroom city, with abeautiful, tawdry splendor that had seemed out of place, a targetshining for thousands of miles.
Haw, haw...! Nelsen could almost hear the coarse laughter of the JollyLads, as they broke it up, robbed it, raped it--because they bothsneered at its effeteness, and missed what it represented to them...Nelsen remembered very well how a man's attitudes could be warped whilehe struggled for mere survival in an Archer drifting in space.
Yet even as he worked with the others, to put up temporary domes and togather the bloated dead, the hatred arose in him, and was strengthenedby the fury and grief in the grim, strong faces around him. To existwhere it was, Pallastown could not be as soft as it seemed. And to thehoppers--the rugged, level-headed ones who deserved the name--it hadmeant much, though they had visited it for only a few days of fun, nowand then.
The Jolly Lads had been routed. Some must have fled chuckling andcursing almost sheepishly, like infants the magnitude of whose mischiefhas surpassed their intention, and has awed and frightened them, atlast. They had been followed, even before the various late-coming spaceforces could get into action.
Nelsen overheard words that helped complete the pictures:
"I'll get them... They had my wife..."
"This was planned--you know where..."
It was planned, all right. But if Ceres, the Tovie colony, had actuallybeen the instigator, there was evidence that the scheme had gotten outof hand. The excitement of destruction had spread. Stories came backthat Ceres had been attacked, too.
"I killed a man, Frank--with this pre-Asteroidal knife. He was afterHelen and my son..."
This was timid David Lester talking, awed at himself, proud, butcuriously ashamed. This made another picture. By luck the Lesters livedin the small above-the-surface portion of Pallastown that had not beenseriously damaged.
Frank Nelsen also killed, during a trip to Post One of the KRNHEnterprises, to get more stellene and other materials to expand thetemporary encampments for the survivors. He killed two fleeing mencoldly and at a distance, because they did not answer his hail. Theshreds of their bodies and the loot they had been carrying werescattered to drift in the vacuum, adding another picture of retributionto thousands like it.
Belt Parnay was the name of the leader whom everybody really wanted toget. Belt Parnay--another Fessler, another Fanshaw. That was a curiousthing. There was another name and face; but as far as could be told, thepersonality was very similar. It was as if, out of the darker side ofhuman nature, a kind of reincarnation would always take place.
They didn't get Parnay. Inevitably, considering the enormity of space,many of the despoilers of Pallastown escaped. The shrewdest, the mostexperienced, the most willing to shout and lead and let others do thedangerous work, had the advantage. For they also knew how to run andhide and be prudently quiet. Parnay was one of these.
Some captives were recovered. Others were found, murdered. Fortunately,Pallastown was still largely a man's city. But pursuit and revenge stillwent on...
Post One was intact. Art Kuzak had surrounded it with a cordon of toughand angry asteroid-hoppers. It was the same with the other posts, exceptFive and Nine, which were wiped out.
"Back at last, eh, Nelsen?" Art roared angrily, as soon as Frank hadentered his office.
"A fact we should accept, not discuss," Nelsen responded dryly. "Youknow the things we need."
"Um-hmm--Nelsen. To rescue and restore Pallastown--when it's purenonsense, only inviting another assault! When we know that dispersal isthe only answer. The way things are, everywhere, the whole damned humanrace needs to be dispersed--if some of it is to survive!"
It made another picture--Art Kuzak, the old friend, gone somewhat toobig for his oversized britches, perhaps... No doubt Art had had to putaside some grandiose visions, considering the turn that events hadtaken: Whole asteroids moved across the distance, and put into orbitaround the Earth, so that their mineral wealth could be extracted moreconveniently. Space resorts established for tourists; new sports madepossible by zero-gravity, invented and advertised. Art Kuzak had thegift of both big dreaming and of practice. He'd talked of such things,before.
Nelsen's smirk was wry. "Dispersal for survival. I agree," he said."When they tried to settle Mars, it was being mentioned. Also, longbefore that. Your wisdom is not new, Art. It wasn't followed perhapsbecause people are herding animals by instinct. Anyhow, our side has tohold what it has _really_ got--one-fourth of Pallastown above thesurface, and considerably more underground, including shops,installations, and seventy per cent of its skilled inhabitants,determined to stay in the Belt after the others were killed or wounded,or ran away. Unless you've quit claiming to be a practical man, Art,you'll have to go along with helping them. You know what kind ofmaterials and equipment are needed, and how much we can supply, betterthan I do. Or do I have to withdraw my fraction of the company ingoods? We'll take up the dispersal problem as soon as possible."
Art Kuzak could only sigh heavily, grin a lopsided grin, and produce.Soon a great caravan of stuff was on the move.
There was another picture: Eileen Sands, the old Queen of Serene in anot-yet-forgotten song, sitting on a lump of yellow alloy splashed upfrom the surface of Pallas, where a chunk of mixed metal and stone hadstruck at a speed of several miles per second, fusing the native alloyand destroying her splendid _Second Stop_ utterly in a flash ofincandescence. Back in Archer, she looked almost as she used to look atHendricks'. Her smile was rueful.
"Shucks, I'm all right, Frank," she said. "Even if Insurance, with somany disaster-claims, can't pay me--which they probably still can. Theboys'll keep needing entertainment, if it's only in a stellene spacetent. They won't let me just sit... For two bits, though, I'd move intoa nice, safe orbit, out of the Belt and on the other side of the sunfrom the Earth, and build myself a retreat and retire. I'd become aspacewoman, like I wanted to, in the first place."
"I'll bet," Nelsen joshed. "Otherwise, what have you heard and seen?There's a certain fella..."
Right away, she thought he meant Ramos. "The damfool--why ask me,Frank?" she sniffed, her expression sour and sad. "How long has he beengone again, now? As usual he was proposing--for the first few days afterhe set out. After that, there were a few chirps of messages. Thenpractically nothing. Anyway, how long does it take to get way out toPluto and back, even if a whole man can have the luck to make it. And isthere much more than half of him left...? For two bits I'd--ah--skipit!"
Nelsen smiled with half of his mouth. "I
wanted to know about Ramos,too, Eileen. Thanks. But I was talking about Tiflin."
"Umhmm--you're right. He and Pal Igor were both around at my place aboutan hour before we were hit. I called him something worse than a badomen. He was edgy--almost like he used to be. He said that, one of thesedays--be cavalier--I was going to get mine. He and Igor eeled awaybefore my customers could break their necks."
Nelsen showed his teeth. "Thanks again. I wondered," he said.
He stayed in Pallastown until, however patched it looked, it wasfunctioning as the center of the free if rough-and-tumble part of theBelt once more--though he didn't know for how long this would be true.Order of one kind had been fairly restored. But out of the disaster, andsomething very similar on Ceres, the thing that had always been mostfeared had sprung. It was the fact of opposed organized might in closeproximity in the region between Pallas and Ceres. Again there wasblaming and counter-blaming, about incidents the exact sources of whichnever became clear. What each of the space forces, patrolling oppositeeach other, had in the way of weapons, was of course no public matter,either; but how do you rate two inconceivables? Nor did the threat stayout in the vastness between the planets.
From Earth came the news of a gigantic, incandescent bubble, rising fromthe floor of the Pacific Ocean, and spreading in almostradioactivity-free waves and ripples, disrupting penned-in areas offood-producing sea, and lapping at last at far shores. Both sidesdisclaimed responsibility for the blast.
Everybody insisted hopefully that this latest danger would die down,too. Statesmen would talk, official tempers would be calmed, some newworking arrangements would be made. But meanwhile, the old Sword ofDamocles hung by a thinner hair than ever before. One trigger-happyindividual might snap it for good. If not now, the next time, or thenext. A matter of hours, days, or years. The mathematics ofprobabilities denied that luck could last forever. In this thought therewas a sense of helplessness, and the ghost of a second Asteroid Belt.
Frank Nelsen might have continued to make himself useful in Pallastown,or he might have rejoined the Kuzaks, who had moved their mobile postsback into a safer zone on the other side of Pallas. But his instincts,now, all pointed along another course of action--the only course thatseemed to make any sense just then.
He approached Art Kuzak at Post One. "About deployment," he began. "I'vemade up some sketches, showing what I'd like the factories to turn out.The ideas aren't new--now they'll spring up all around like thoughts offood in a famine. If anything will approach answering all problems, theywill. And KRNH is as well able to put them into effect as anybody...So--unless you've got some better suggestions?"
Art Kuzak looked the sketches over shrewdly for half an hour.
"All right, Frank," he said after some further conversation. "It looksgood enough. I'll chip in. Whether they're sucker bait or not, thesethings will sell. Only--could it be you're running away?"
"Perhaps," Nelsen answered. "Or following my nose--by a kind of naturalcompulsion which others will display, too. Two hundred of these tostart. The men going with me will pay for theirs. I'll cover the rest ofthis batch: You'll be better than I am at figuring out prices and termsfor later batches. Just on a hunch, I'll always want a considerableoversupply. Post One's shops can turn them out fast. All they are,mostly, is just stellene, arranged in a somewhat new way. Thefittings--whatever can't be supplied now, can follow."
Fifty asteroid-hoppers, ten of them accompanied by wives, went withNelsen as he started out with a loaded caravan toward an empty regionhalfway between the orbits of Earth and Mars. Everyone in the group wasconvinced by yearnings of his own.
Thinking of Nance Codiss, Nelsen planned to keep within beam range ofthe Red Planet. He had called Nance quite often. She was still workingin the Survey Station hospital, which was swamped with injured fromPallastown.
Nelsen could tag all of the fierce drives in him with single words.
Home was the first. After all his years away from Earth, the meaning ofthe word would have been emphatic in him, even without the recurrentspasms of hot-cold weakness, which, though fading, still legally deniedhim the relief of going back to old familiar things. Besides, Earthseemed insecure. So he could only try to make home possible in space.Remembering his first trip, long ago, from the Moon to Mars, he knew howgentle the Big Vacuum could sometimes seem, with just a skin of stellenebetween it and himself. Home was a plain longing, too, in the hard,level eyes around him.
Love. Well, wasn't that part of the first item he had tagged?
Wanderlust. The adventurous distance drive--part of any wild-bloodedvagabond male. Here in his idea, this other side of a human paradoxseemed possible to answer, too. You could go anywhere. Home went withyou. Your friends could go along, if they wished.
Freedom. In the billions of cubic miles could any system ever be bigenough to pen you in, tell you what to think or do, as long as you hurtno one? Well--he thought not, but perhaps that remained to be seen.
Safety. Deployment was supposed to be the significant factor, there. Andhow could you make it any better than it was going to be now? Even ifthere were new dangers?
The future. There was no staying with the past. The Earth was becomingtoo small for its expanding population. It was a stifling, dangerouslittle world that, if the pressures were not relieved, might puff intofire and fragments at any moment during any year. And the era ofprospecting and exploration in the Asteroid Belt seemed destined soon tocome to an end, in any event.
Frank Nelsen's drives were very strong, after so much had passed aroundhim for so long a time. Thus, maybe he became too idealistic and--atmoments--almost fanatically believing, without enough of the savinggrain of doubt and humor. The hoppers with him were much likehimself--singly directed by what they had lacked for years.
The assembly operation was quickly accomplished, as soon as they werewhat they considered a safe distance from the Belt. On a greater scale,it was almost nothing more than the first task that Nelsen had everperformed in space--the jockying of a bubb from its blastoff drum,inflating it, rigging it, spinning it for centrifugal gravity, andfitting in its internal appointments.
Nelsen looked at the fifty-odd stellene rings that they had broken outof their containers--the others, still packed, were held in reserve.Those that had been freed glistened translucently in the sunlight.Nelsen had always thought that bubbs were beautiful. And these werestill bubbs, but they were bigger, safer, more complicated.
A bantam-sized hopper named Hank Janns spoke from beside Nelsen as theyfloated near each other. "Pop--sizzle--and it's yours, Chief. A prefab,a house, a dwelling. A kitchen, a terrace, a place for a garden, a placefor kids, even... With a few personal touches, you've got it made.Better than the house trailer my dad used to hook onto the jalopy when Iwas ten... My Alice likes it, too, Chief--that's the _real_ signal! Tellyour pals Kuzak that this is the Idea of the Century."
Frank Nelsen kind of thought so, too, just then. The first thing he didwas to beam the Survey Station on Mars, like he was doing twice aweek--to communicate more often would have courted the still dangerouschance of being pinpointed. For similar reasons he couldn't explain tooclearly what his project was, but he hoped that he had gotten a pictureof what it was like across to his girl.
"Come see for yourself, Nance," he said enthusiastically. "I'll arrangefor a caravan from Post One to stop by on Phobos and pick you up.Also--there's my old question... So, what'll it be, Nance? Maybe we canfeel a little surer of ourselves, now. We can work the rest out. Comeand look, hang around--see how everything shakes down, if you'd rather."
He waited for the light-minutes to pass, before he could hear her voice."Hello, Frank..." There was the same eager quaver. "Still pretty jammed,Frank... But we know about it here--from Art... Some of the Pallastownconvalescents will be migrating your way... I'll wrangle free and comealong... Maybe in about a month..."
He didn't know quite whether to take her at her word--or whether she wassomehow hedging. In the Big Vacuum, the human mind seemed har
d put,quite, to know itself. Distances and separations were too great.Emotions were too intense or too stunned. This much he had learned tounderstand. Perhaps he had lost Nance. But maybe, still--in some bleak,fatalistic way--it would be just as well in the end, for them both.
"Sure, Nance," he said gently. "I'll call again--the regular time..."
Right after that he was talking, over a much greater span, to Art Kuzak."First phase about completed, Art... Finger to thumb--in spite of thetroubles elsewhere. So let it roll...!"
Art Kuzak's reply had an undercurrent of jubilance, as if whatever heknew now was better than he had expected. "Second phase is en route. Joewill be along... Don't be surprised..."
Joe Kuzak's approach, a few hundred hours later, made a luminous clusterin the sky, like a miniature galaxy. It resolved itself into vast bales,and all of the stellene rings--storage and factory--of Post Three. Alsothere were over a hundred men and thirty-three wives. Many of them werePallastown refugees.
Nelsen helped Joe through the airlock of the ring that he had hopedwould be his and Nance's. "Bubbtown, huh, Frank?" Joe chuckled. "Theidea is spreading faster than we had believed, and we aren't the onlyones that have got it. The timing is just right. People are scared, fedup. Out Here--and on Earth, too... Most of the guys that are single inthis crowd have girls who will be on the way soon. Some of the tougherspace-fitness tests are being junked. We're even screening a small batchof runaways from Ceres--to be included in the next load. An experiment.But it should work out. They're just like anybody... Art is all ofsudden sort of liberal--the way he gets when things seem to breakright."
Everything went fine for quite a while. Art Kuzak was out playing hishunches, giving easy terms to those who couldn't pay at once.
"Might as well gamble," he growled from the distance. "Space andterrestrial forces are still poised. If we lose at all, we lose thewhole works, anyway. So let's bring them from all around the Belt, fromEarth, Venus and from wherever they'll come. Give them a place to work,or let them start their own deal. It all helps... You know what I hear?The Tovies are letting men do things by themselves. To hold their own inroom as big as this, they have to. Their bosses are over a barrel. Justorganized discipline ain't gonna work. A guy has to want things his ownway..."
In a more general view, doubts were sneaking up on Frank Nelsen, thoughas far as KRNH was concerned, he had started the ball rolling. "We'llkeep our fingers crossed," he said.
It was only a couple of Earth-days later that another member of the oldBunch showed up. "I had to bubb all the way from Mercury to Post One toget your location from Art, Frankie," he complained. "Cripes--why didn'tanybody ever try to beam Gimp and me, anymore? Solar radiation ain't_that_ hard to get past... So I had to come sneak a look for myself, tosee what the Big Deal on the grapevine is."
"We left the back door unlatched for you, Two-and-Two," Nelsen laughed."And you crept in quietly. Swell to see you."
Sitting showered and in fresh clothes on Frank Nelsen's sundeck, anychanges in Two-and-Two Baines were less evident than one might havesupposed. His eyes had a much surer, farther look. Otherwise he wasstill the same large hulk with much the same lugubrious humor.
"Mercury's okay, Frankie," he said. "About four thousand people areliving in the Twilight Zone, already. I could show you pictures, but Iguess you know. Whole farms and little towns under stellene. Made mesome dough doing lots of the building. Could have been more, but whocares? Oh, Gimp'll be along out here sometime, soon. He was putting upanother solar powerhouse. But he's beginning to say, what the hell, thefuture ain't there, or on any planet... So this is how it's gonna be,huh? With some additions, sure. Factories, super markets, cornfields,pig farms, parks, playgrounds, beauty parlors, all encased in stellene,and orbiting in clusters around the sun, eh...? 'Hey, Pop!' some smallfry will say to his old man. 'Gimme ten bucks, please, for an ice creamcone down at the soda bubb?' And his mom'll say to his dad, 'George,Dear--is the ionocar nice and shiny? I have to go play bridge with thegirls over in Nelsenville...' No, I'm not ribbing you, Frankie. It'll bekind of nice to hear that type of talk, again--if they only include aplace for a man to be a little bit himself."
Two-and-Two (George) Baines sighed rapturously and continued. "Figure itout to the end, Frankie. No planets left--all the materials in them usedup to build these bubbtowns. There'll be just big shining, magnificentrings made up of countless little floating stellene houses all aroundthe sun. A zillion people, maybe more. Gardens, flowers, everythingbeautiful. Everybody free to move anywhere. Uh-uh--I'm not making fun,Frankie. I'm joining in with all the relief and happiness of my heart.Only, it'll be kind of sad to see the old planets go--to be replaced bya wonderful super-suburbia. Or maybe we should say, superbia."
Nelsen burst out laughing, at last. "You sly slob...! Anyhow, _that_extreme is millenniums off--if it has a chance of happening, at all.Even so, our descendants, if any, will be going to the stars by then.There won't be any frustration of their thirst for danger... Just asthere isn't any, now, for us. Except that we can keep our weapons handy,and hope... Me--I'm a bit bored with adventure, just at present."
"So am I," Two-and-Two affirmed fervently. "Now, have you got me a job,Frankie?"
"There'll be something," Nelsen answered him. "Meanwhile, to keep fromfeeling regimented by civilization, you could take your rocket launcherand join the perimeter watchers that range out a thousand miles..."
Nance Codiss arrived a week later, with a group of recent Pallastownconvalescents. Bad signs came with her, but that fact got lost as shehugged Nelsen quickly there in the dwelling he had set up with thethought it would be their home. At once she went on a feminine exploringexpedition of the prefab's interior, and its new, gleaming appointments.Kitchen, living room, sundeck. Nelsen's garden was already well along.
"Like the place?" he asked.
"Love it, Frank," she answered quietly.
"It could have been more individual," he commented. "But we were in ahurry. So they are all identical. That can be fixed, some, soon. You'rethinking about improvements?"
Her eyes twinkled past the shadow in her expression. "Always some," shelaughed. Then her face went solemn. "Let them ride, for now, Frank. It'sall wonderful and unbelievable. Hug me again--I love you. Only--all thisis even more fantastically new to me than it is to you. Realize that,please, Frank. I'm a month late in getting here and I'm still groping myway. A little more time--for us both... Because you might be fumbling,some, too."
Her tone was gentle. He saw that her eyes, meeting his, were honest andclear. He felt the careful strength behind them, after a moment of hurt.There was no rushing, one-way enthusiasm that might easily burn out andblow up in a short time.
He held her close. "Sure, Nance," he said.
"You probably know that our group from Mars was followed, Frank. I hopeI'm not a jinx."
"Of course you're not. Somebody would have followed--sometime. We'rewatching and listening. Just keep your Archer handy..."
The faint, shifting blips in the radar screens was an old story,reminding him that certain things were no better than before, and thatsome were worse. Somewhere there were other bubbtowns. There werepolicing space forces, too. But for millions of miles around, thiscluster of eight hundred prefabs and the numerous larger bubbs thatserved them, were all alone.
Nelsen looked out from his sundeck, and saw dangerous contrasts. Theworst, perhaps, was a spherical bubble of stellene. Inside it was agreat globe of water surrounded by air--a colossal dewdrop. Within it, aman and two small boys--no doubt father and sons from Pallastown, wereswimming, horsing around, having a swell time--only a few feet fromnothing. Nelsen spoke softly into his radio-phone. "Leland--close downthe pool..."
It wasn't long before the perimeter watch, returning from a patrol thathad taken them some distance out, brought in a makeshift dwelling bubbmade from odds and ends of stellene. They had also picked up itsoccupant, a lean comic character with an accent and a strange way oftalking.
"Funny that
you'd turn up, here--Igor, is it?" Nelsen said dryly.
Igor sniffed, as if with sorrow. He had been roughed up, some. "Veryfunny--also simple. You making a house, so I am making a house for thisidentical purpose. People from Ceres are already being here; inconsequence, I am also arriving. Nobody are saying what are proper doingand thinking--so I am informed. I am believing--okay, Igor. When beingnot true, I am going away again."
The tone was bland. The pale eyes looked naive and artless, except,perhaps, for a hard, shrewd glint, deep down.
Joe Kuzak was present. "We searched him, Frank," he said. "His bubb,too. He's clean--as far as we can tell. Not even a weapon. I also askedhim some questions. I savvy a little of his real lingo."
"I'll ask them over," Nelsen answered. "Igor--a friend named Tiflinwouldn't be being around some place, would he?"
The large space comedian didn't even hesitate. "I am thinking not veryfar--not knowing precisely. Somebody more is being here, likewise. BeltParnay. You are knowing this one? Plenty Jollies--new fellas--not havingmuch supplies--only many new rocket launchers they are receiving fromsomeplace. You are understanding this? Bad luck, here, it is meaning."
Nelsen eyed the man warily, with mixed doubt and liking. "I don't thinkyou can be going away again, right now, Igor," he said. "We don't have ajail, but a guard will be as good..."
The watch didn't give the alarm for several hours. Three hisses in thephones, made vocally. Then one, then two more. North, second quadrant,that meant. Direction of first attack. Ionic drives functioned. Thecluster of bubbs began to scatter further. Nelsen knew that if Igor hadtold the truth, the outlook was very poor. Too much deployment wouldthin the defenses too much. And against new, homing rockets--if Parnayreally had them--it would be almost useless. A relatively small numberof men, riding free in armor, could smash the much larger targets fromalmost any distance.
Nelsen didn't stay in his prefab. Floating in his Archer, he could behis own, less easily identifiable, less easily hit command post, whilehe fired his own homing missiles at the far-off radar specks of theattackers. He ordered everyone not specifically needed inside the bubbsfor some defense purpose to jump clear.
In the first half-minute, he saw at least fifty compartmented prefabspartly crumple, as explosives tore into them. A dozen, torn open, weredeflated entirely. The swimming pool globe was punctured, and a cloud offrosty vapor made rainbows in the sunshine, as the water boiled away.Far out, Nelsen saw the rockets he and his own men had launched,sparkling soundlessly, no doubt scoring, some, too.
The attackers didn't even try to get close yet. Far greater damage wouldhave to be inflicted, before panic and disorganization might give themsufficient advantage. But such damage would take only minutes. Too muchwould reduce the loot. So now there was a halt in the firing, andanother component of fear was applied. It was a growling, tauntingvoice.
"Nelsen! And all of you silly bladder-brains...! This is Belt Parnay...!Ever hear of him? Come back from hell, eh? Not with just rocks, thistime! The latest, surest equipment! Want to give up, now, Nelsen--youand your nice, civilized people? Cripes, what will you cranks try next?Villages built in nothing and on nothing! Thanks, though. Brother, whata blowout this is gonna provide!"
Parnay's tone had shifted, becoming mincingly mocking, then hard andjoyful at the end.
Maybe he shouldn't have suggested so plainly what would happen--unlesssomething was done, soon. Maybe he shouldn't have sounded just a littlebit unsure of himself under all his bluff. Because Nelsen had madepreparations that matched a general human trend. Now, he saw a conditionthat fitted in, making an opportunity... So he began to taunt Parnayback.
"We've got a lot of the latest type rockets to throw, too, Parnay. You'dhave quite a time, trying to take us. But there's more... Just lookbehind you, Parnay. And all around. Not too far. Who's silly? Who's thejerk? Some new guys are in your crowd, I hear? Then they won't have muchagainst them--they aren't real outlaws. Do you think they want to keepfollowing you around, stinking in their armor--when what we've got iswhat they're bound to want, right now, too? They can hear what I'msaying, Parnay. Every one of them must have a weapon in his hands. Why,you stupid clown, you're in a trap! We will give them what they needmost, without them having to risk getting killed. In space, there'llhave to be a lot of things forgotten, but not for you or for the roughold-timers with you... Come on, you guys out there. There's a foldedbubb right here waiting for each of you. Take it anywhere you want--awayfrom here, of course... Parnay--big, important Belt Parnay--are youstill alive...?"
Nelsen had his own sneering tone of mockery. He used it to bestadvantage--but with fear in his heart. Plenty of his act was onlycounter-bluff. But now, as he paused, he heard Two-and-Two Baines'mournful voice continue the barrage of persuasion.
"Flowers, Parnay? We ain't got many, yet. But you won't care...Fellas--do you want to keep being pushed around by this loud mouth wholikes to run and lets you sweat for him, because he's mostly alone andneeds company? Believe me, I know what it's like out there, too. At acertain point, all you really want is something a little like home. Andthe Chief ain't kidding. It was all planned. Try us and see. Send acouple of guys in. They'll come out with the proof..."
Other voices were shouting. "Wake up, you suckers...! You'll never takeus, you stupid slobs...! Come on and try it, if that's what you want tobe..."
What happened, could never have happened so quickly if Parnay'sdoubtless considerably disgruntled following hadn't been disturbedfurther by intrigue beforehand. Nelsen heard Parnay roar commands andcurses that might have awed many a man. But then there was a cluster ofminute sparks in the distance, as rockets, not launched by thedefenders, homed and exploded.
There was a pause. Then many voices were audible, shouting at the sametime, with scarcely any words clear... Several minutes passed like that.Then there was almost silence.
"So--has it happened?" Nelsen growled into his phone.
"It has," came the mocking answer. "Be cavalier, Nelsen. Salute the newtop outlaw... Don't faint-- I knew I'd make it... And don't try anythingyou might regret... I'm coming in with a couple of my Jolly Lads. You'dbetter not welsh on your promises. Because the others are armed andwaiting..."
The guys with Tiflin looked more tired than tough. Out from under theirfierce, truculent bravado showed the fiercer hunger for common thingsand comforts. Nelsen knew. The record was in his own memory.
"You'll get your bubbs right away," he told them. "Then send the othersin, a pair at a time. After that, go and get lost. Make your ownplace--town--whatever you want to call it... Leland, Crobert,Sharpe--fit these guys out, will you...?"
All this happened under the sardonic gaze of Glen Tiflin, and before thepuzzled eyes of Joe Kuzak and Two-and-Two Baines. A dozen others werehovering near.
Nelsen lowered his voice and called, "Nance?"
She answered at once. "I'm all right, Frank. A few people to patch. Somebeyond that. I'm in the hospital with Doc Forbes..."
"You guys can find something useful to do," Nelsen snapped at thegathering crowd.
"Well, Frankie," Tiflin taunted. "Aren't you going to invite me intoyour fancy new quarters? Joe and Two-and-Two also look as though theycould stand a drink."
On the sundeck, Tiflin spoke again. "I suppose you've got it figured,Nelsen?"
Nelsen answered him in clipped fashion. "Thanks. But let's not dawdletoo much. I've got a lot of wreckage to put back together... Maybe I'vestill got it figured wrong, Tiflin. But lately I began to think theother way. You were always around when trouble was cooking--like part ofit, _or like a good cop_. The first might still be right."
Tiflin sneered genially. "Some cops can't carry badges. And they don'talways stop trouble, but they try... Anyhow, what side do you think Iwas on, after Fessler kicked me around for months...? Let Igor go. He'sgot law and order in his soul. I kind of like having him around... Butkeep your mouths buttoned, will you? I'm talking to you, Mr. Baines, andyou, Mr. Kuzak, as well as to you, Nelsen. And I'm
take my bubb along,the same as the other ninety or so guys who are left from Parnay'scrowd. I've got to look good with them... Cheers, you slobs. See youaround..."
Afterwards, Joe growled, "Hell--what do you know! Him...! SpecialPolice. Undercover. U.N., U.S., or what?"
"Shut up," Nelsen growled.
Though he had sensed it coming and had met it calmly, the Tiflin switchwas something that Frank Nelsen had trouble getting over. It confusedhim. It made him want to laugh.
Another thing that began to bother him even more was the realizationthat the violence, represented by Fessler, Fanshaw, Parnay, andthousands of others like them back through history, was bound to crop upagain. It was part of the complicated paradox of human nature. And itwas hard to visualize a time when there wouldn't be followers--frustratedslobs who wanted to get out and kick over the universe. Nelsen had feltsuch urges cropping up within himself. So this wasn't the end oftrouble--especially not out here in raw space, that was still far toobig for man-made order.
So it wasn't just the two, opposed space navies patrolling, more quietlynow, between Ceres and Pallas. That condition could pass. The way peoplealways chose--or were born to--different sides was another matter. Orwas it just the natural competition of life in whatever form? Moredisturbing, perhaps, was the mere fact of trying to live here, so closeto natural forces that could kill in an instant.
For example, Nelsen often saw two children and a dog racing aroundinside one of the rotating bubbs--having fun as if just in a back yard.If the stellene were ripped, the happy picture would change to horror...How long would it take to get adjusted to--and accept--such a chance?Thoughts like that began to disturb Nelsen. Out here, in all thisenormous freedom, the shift from peaceful routine to tragedy could bequicker than ever before.
But is wasn't thinking about such grim matters that actually threw FrankNelsen--that got him truly mixed up. In Parnay's attack, ten men and twowomen had been killed. There were also twenty-seven injured. Such factshe could accept--they didn't disturb him too much, either. Yet there wasa curious sort of straw that broke the camel's back, one might havesaid.
The incident took place quite a while after the assault. Out on aninspection tour in his Archer, he happened to glance through thetransparent wall of the sundeck of a prefab he was passing...
In a moment he was inside, grinning happily. Miss Rosalie Parks waslecturing him: "... You needn't be surprised that I am here, Franklin.'O, tempora O, mores!' Cicero once said. 'O, the times! O, the customs!'But we needn't be so pessimistic. I am in perfect health--and ten yearsbelow retirement age. Young people, I suspect, will still be taughtLatin if they choose... Or there will be something else... Of course Ihad heard of your project... It was quite easy for you not to notice myarrival. But I came with the latest group, straight from Earth..."
Nelsen was very pleased that Miss Parks was here. He told her so. Hestayed for cakes and coffee. He told her that it was quite right for herto keep up with the times. He believed this, himself...
Afterwards, though, in his own quarters, he began to laugh. Her presencewas so incongruous, so fantastic...
His laughter became wild. Then it changed to great rasping hiccups. Toomuch that was unbelievable by old standards had happened around him.This was delayed reaction to space. He had heard of such a thing. But hehad hardly thought that it could apply to him, anymore...! Well, heknew what to do... Tranquilizer tablets were practically forgottenthings to him. But he gulped one now. In a few minutes, he seemed okay,again...
Yet he couldn't help thinking back to the Bunch, the Planet Strappers.To the wild fulfillment they had sought... So--most of them had made it.They had become men--the hard way. Except, of course, Eileen--thedistaff side... They had planned, callowly, to meet and compareadventures in ten years. And this was still less than seven...
How long had it been since he had even beamed old Paul, in Jarviston...?Now that most of the Syrtis Fever had left him, it seemed futile even toconsider such a thing. It involved memories buried in enormous time,distance, change, and unexpectedness.
Glen Tiflin--the sour, space-wild punk who had become a cop. Had Tiflineven saved his--Frank Nelsen's--life, once, long ago, persuading a JollyLad leader to cast him adrift for a joke, rather than to kill him andRamos outright...?
Charlie Reynolds--the Bunch-member whom everybody had thought mostlikely to succeed. Well, Charlie was dead from a simple thing, andburied on Venus. He was unknown--except to his acquaintances.
Jig Hollins, the guy who had played it safe, was just as dead.
Eileen Sands was a celebrity in Serene, in Pallastown and the wholeBelt.
Mex Ramos--of the flapping squirrel tails on an old motor scooter--nowbelonged to the history of exploration, though he no longer had realhands or feet, and, very likely, was now dead, somewhere out towardinterstellar space.
David Lester, the timid one, had become successful in his own way, andwas the father of one of the first children to be born in the Belt.
Two-and-Two Baines had won enough self-confidence to make cracks aboutthe future. Gimp Hines, once the saddest case in the Whole Bunch, hadbeen, for a long time, perhaps the best adjusted to the Big Vacuum.
Art Kuzak, one-time hunkie football player, was a power among theasteroids. His brother, Joe, had scarcely changed, personally.
About himself, Nelsen got the most lost. What had he become, after hiswrong guesses and his great luck, and the fact that he had managed tosee more than most? Generally, he figured that he was still the samefree-wheeling vagabond by intention, but too serious to quite make itwork out. Sometimes he actually gave people orders. It came to him as asurprise that he must be almost as rich as old J. John Reynolds, whowas still drawing wealth from a comparatively small loan--futilely athis age, unless he had really aimed at the ideal of bettering thefuture.
Nelsen's busy mind couldn't stop. He thought of three other-worldcultures he had glimpsed. Two had destroyed each other. The third andstrangest was still to be reckoned with...
There, he came to Mitch Storey, the colored guy with the romantic name.Of all the Planet Strappers, his history was the most fabulous. Maybe,now, with a way of living in open space started, and with the planetsultimately to serve only as sources of materials, Mitch's star peoplewould be left in relative peace for centuries.
Frank Nelsen began to chuckle again. As if something, everything, wasfunny. Which, perhaps, it was in a way. Because the whole view, personaland otherwise, seemed too huge and unpredictable for his wits to grasp.It was as if neither he, nor any other person, belonged where he was atall. He checked his thoughts in time. Otherwise, he would have commencedhiccuping.
That was the way it went for a considerable succession of arbitrarytwenty-four hour day-periods. As long as he kept his attention on thetasks in hand, he was okay--he felt fine. Still, the project wasproceeding almost automatically, just now. The first cluster of prefabshad grown until it had been split into halves, which moved a millionmiles apart, circling the sun. And he knew that there were otherclusters, built by other outfits, growing and dividing into widelyseparated portions of the same great ring-like zone.
Maybe the old problems were beat. Safety? If deployment was the answerto that, it was certainly there--to a degree, at least. Room enough?Check. It was certainly available. Freedom of mind and action? Therewasn't much question that that would work out, too. Home, comfort, and akind of life not too unfamiliar? In the light of detached logic andobservation, that was going fine, too. In the main, people wereadjusting very quickly and eagerly. Perhaps _too_ quickly.
That was where Nelsen always got scared, as if he had become a nervousold man. The Big Vacuum had a grandeur. It could seem gentle. Couldchildren, women and men--everybody sometimes forgot--learn to live withit without losing their respect for it, until suddenly it killed them?
That was the worst point, if he let himself think. And how could healways avoid that? From there his thoughts would branch out into hismultiple uncertainties, confusions and puzzl
ements. Then thosestrangling hiccups would come. And who could be taking devil-killersall the time?
He hadn't avoided Nance Codiss. He talked with her every day, lunchedwith her, even held her hand. Otherwise, a restraint had come over him.Because something was all wrong with him, and was getting worse. Justone urge was clear, now, inside him. She knew, of course, that he wasloused up; but she didn't say anything. Finally he told her.
"You were right, Nance. I was fumbling my way, too. Space fatigue, themedic told me just a little while ago. He agrees with me that I shouldgo back to Earth. I've got to go--to take a look at everything from thesmall end, again. Of course I've always had the longing. And now I cango. It has been a year since the worst of the Syrtis Fever."
"I've had the fever. And sometimes the longing, Frank," she said aftershe had studied him for a moment. "I think I'd like to go."
"Only if you want to, Nance. It's me that's flunking out, pal." Hechuckled apologetically, almost lightly. "My part has to be a one-persondeal. I don't know whether I'll ever come back. And you seem to fit, outhere."
She looked at him coolly for almost a minute. "All right, Frank," shesaid quietly. "Follow your nose. It's just liable to be right on thebeam--for you. I might follow mine. I don't know."
"Joe and Two-and-Two are around--if you need anything, Nance," he said."I'll tell them. Gimp, I hear, is on the way. Not much point in mywaiting for him, though..."
Somehow he loved Nance Codiss as much or more than ever. But how couldhe tell her that and make sense? Not much made sense to him anymore. Itseemed that he had to get away from everybody that he had ever seen inspace.
Fifty hours before his departure with a returning bubb caravan that hadbrought more Earth-emigrants, Nelsen acquired a travelling companion whohad arrived from Pallastown with a small caravan bringing machinery. Thepassenger-hostess brought him to Nelsen's prefab. He was a grave littleguy, five years old. He was solemn, polite, frightened, tall for hisage--funny how corn and kids grew at almost zero-gravity.
The boy handed Nelsen a letter. "From my father and mother, sir," hesaid.
Nelsen read the typed missive.
"Dear Frank: The rumor has come that you are going home. You have ourvery best wishes, as always. Our son, Davy, is being sent to hispaternal grandmother, now living in Minneapolis. He will go to schoolthere. He is capable of making the trip without any special attention.But--a small imposition. If you can manage it, please look in on himonce in a while, on the way. We would appreciate this favor. Thank you,take care of yourself, and we shall hope to see you somewhere within thenext few months. Your sincere friends, David and Helen Lester."
A lot of nerve, Nelsen thought first. But he tried to grin engagingly atthe kid and almost succeeded.
"We're in luck, Dave," he said. "I'm going to Minneapolis, too. I'mafraid of a lot of things. What are you afraid of?"
The small fry's jutting lip trembled. "Earth," he said. "A great bigplanet. Hoppers tell me I won't even be able to stand up or breathe."
Nelsen very nearly laughed and went into hiccups, again. Fantastic.Another viewpoint. Seeing through the other end of the telescope. Buthow else would it be for a youngster born in the Belt, while beingsent--in the old colonial pattern--to the place that his parentsregarded as home?
"Those jokers," Nelsen scoffed. "They're pulling your leg! It just isn'tso, Davy. Anyhow, during the trip, the big bubb will be spun fastenough, so that we will get used to the greater Earth-gravity. Let metell you something. I guess it's space and the Belt that _I'm_ afraidof. I never quite got over it. Silly, huh?"
But as Nelsen watched the kid brighten, he remembered that he, himself,had been scared of Earth, too. Scared to return, to show weakness, tolack pride... Well, to hell with that. He had accomplished enough, now,maybe, to cancel such objections. Now it seemed that he had to get toEarth before it vanished because of something he had helped start.Silly, of course...
He and Davy travelled fast and almost in luxury. Within two weeks theywere in orbit around the bulk of the Old World. Then, in the powerfultender with its nuclear retard rockets, there was the Blast In--thereverse of that costly agony that had once meant hard won and enormousfreedom, when he was poor in money and rich in mighty yearning. But nowNelsen yielded in all to the mother clutch of the gravity. The wholeprocess had been gentled and improved. There were special anti-knockseats. There was sound- and vibration-insulation. Even Davy's slightfear was more than half thrill.
At the new Minneapolis port, Nelsen delivered David Lester, Junior intothe care of his grandmother, who seemed much more human than Nelsen oncehad thought long ago. Then he excused himself quickly.
Seeking the shelter of anonymity, he bought a rucksack for his fewclothes, and boarded a bus which dropped him at Jarviston, Minnesota, attwo a.m. He thrust his hands into his pockets, partly like a lonesometramp, partly like some carefree immortal, and partly like a mixed-upwraith who didn't quite know who or what he was, or where he belonged.
In his wallet he had about five hundred dollars. How much more he mighthave commanded, he couldn't even guess. Wups, fella, he told himself.That's too weird, too indigestible--don't start hiccuping again. How oldare you--twenty-five, or twenty-five thousand years? Wups--careful...
The full Moon was past zenith, looking much as it always had. Theblue-tinted air domes of colossal industrial development, were mostlytoo small at this distance to be seen without a glass. Good...
With wondering absorption he sniffed the mingling of ripe field and roadsmells, borne on the warm breeze of the late-August night. Some few carsevidently still ran on gasoline. For a moment he watched neon signsblink. In the desertion he walked past Lehman's Drug Store and OttoKramer's bar, and crossed over to pause for a nameless moment in frontof Paul Hendricks' Hobby Center, which was all dark, and seemed littlechanged. He took to a side street, and won back the rustle of trees andthe click of his heels in the silence.
A few more buildings--that was about all that was visibly different inJarviston, Minnesota.
A young cop eyed him as he returned to the main drag and paused near astreet lamp. He had a flash of panic, thinking that the cop wassomebody, grown up, now, who would recognize him. But at least it was noone that he remembered.
The cop grinned. "Get settled in a hotel, buddy," he said. "Or else moveon, out of town."
Nelsen grinned back, and ambled out to the highway, where intermittentclumps of traffic whispered.
There he paused, and looked up at the sky, again. The electric beacon ofa weather observation satellite blinked on and off, moving slowly. Venushad long since set, with hard-to-see Mercury preceding it. Jupiterglowed in the south. Mars looked as remote and changeless as it musthave looked in the Stone Age. The asteroids were never even visible herewithout a telescope.
The people that he knew, and the events that he had experienced OutThere, were like myths, now. _How could he ever put Here and Theretogether, and unite the mismatched halves of himself and hisexperience?_ He had been born on Earth, the single home of his kind fromthe beginning. How could he ever even have been Out There?
He didn't try to hitch a ride. He walked fourteen miles to the nexttown, bought a small tent, provisions and a special, miniaturizedradio. Then he slipped into the woods, along Hickman's Lake, where heused to go.
There he camped, through September, and deep into October. He fished, heswam again. He dropped stones into the water, and watched the circlesform, with a kind of puzzled groping in his memory. He retreated fromthe staggering magnificence of his recent past and clutched at oldsimplicities.
On those rare occasions when he shaved, he saw the confused sickness inhis face, reflected by his mirror. Sometimes, for a moment, he felt hot,and then cold, as if his blood still held a tiny trace of Syrtis Fever.If there _was_ such a thing? No--don't start to laugh, he warnedhimself. Relax. Let the phantoms fade away. Somewhere, that multiplebigness of Nothing, of life and death, of success and unfairness andsurprise, must have reality--but not here...
Occasionally he listened to news on the radio. But mostly he shut itoff--out. Until boredom at last began to overtake him--because he hadbeen used to so much more than what was here. Until--specifically--onemorning, when the news came too quickly, and with too much impact. Itwas a recording, scratchy, and full of unthinkable distance.
"... Frank, Gimp, Two-and-Two, Paul, Mr. Reynolds, Otto, Les, Joe, Art,everybody--especially you, Eileen--remember what you promised, when Iget back, Eileen...! Here I am, on Pluto--edge of the star desert! Clearsailing--all the way. All I see, yet, is twilight, rocks, mountains,snow which must be frozen atmosphere--and one big star, Sol. But I'llget the data, and be back..."
Nelsen listened to the end, with panic in his face--as if suchadventures and such living were too gigantic and too rich... He hiccupedonce. Then he held himself very still and concentrated. He had knownthat voice Out There and Here, too. Now, as he heard it again--Here, butfrom Out There--it became like a joining force to bring them bothtogether within himself. Though how could it be...?
"Ramos," he said aloud. "Made it... Another good guy, accomplishing whathe wanted... Hey...! Hey, that's swell... Like things should happen."
He didn't hiccup anymore, or laugh. By being very careful, he justgrinned, instead. He arose to his feet, slowly.
"What am I doing here--wasting time?" he seemed to ask the woods.
Without picking up his camping gear at all, he headed for the road,thumbed a ride to Jarviston, where he arrived before eight o'clock.Somebody had started ringing the city hall bell. Celebration?
Hendricks' was the most logical place for Nelsen to go, but he passedit by, following a hunch to his old street. _She_ had almost said thatshe might come home, too. He touched the buzzer.
Not looking too completely dishevelled himself, he stood there, as agirl--briskly early in dress and impulse, so as not to waste the brightmorning--opened the door.
"Yeah, Nance--me," he croaked apologetically. "Ramos has reached Pluto!"
"I know, _Frankie_!" she burst out.
But his words rushed on. "I've been goofing off--by Hickman's Lake. Overnow. Emotional indigestion, I guess--from living too big, before I couldtake it. I figured you _might_ be here. If you weren't, I'd come...Because I know where I belong. Nance--I hope you're not angry. Maybewe're pulling together, at last?"
"Angry--when I was the first fumbler? How could that be, Frank? Oh, Iknew where you were--folks found out. I told them to leave you alone,because I understood some of what you were digging through. Because itwas a little the same--for me... So, you see, I didn't just tag afteryou." She laughed a little. "That wouldn't be proud, would it? Eventhough Joe and Two-and-Two said I had to go bring you back..."
His arms went tight around her, right there on the old porch."Nance--love you," he whispered. "And we've got to be tough. Everybody'sgot to be tough--to match what we've come to. Even little kids. But itwas always like that--on any kind of frontier, wasn't it? A few will getkilled, but more will live--many more..."
Like that, Frank Nelsen shook the last of the cobwebs out of hisbrain--and got back to his greater destiny.
"I'll buy all of that philosophy," Nance chuckled gently. "But you stilllook as though you needed some breakfast, Frank."
He grinned. "Later. Let's go to see Paul, first. A big day forhim--because of Ramos. Paul is getting feeble, I suppose?" Nelsen's facehad sobered.
"Not so you could notice it much, Frank," Nance answered. "There's a newtherapy--another side of What's Coming, I guess..."
They walked the few blocks. The owner of the Hobby Center was now along-time member of KRNH Enterprises. He had the means to expand andmodernize the place beyond recognition. But clearly he had realized thatsome things should not change.
In the display window, however, there gleamed a brand-new Archer Nine,beautiful as a garden or a town floating, unsupported, under thestars--beautiful as the Future, which was born of the Past.
A Bunch of fellas--the current crop of aficionados--were inside thestore, making lots of noise over the news. Was that Chip Potter, growntall? Was that his same old dog, Blaster? Frank Nelsen could see PaulHendricks' white-fringed bald-spot.
"Go ahead--open the door. Or are you still scared?" Nance challengedlightly.
"No--just anticipating," Nelsen gruffed. "And seeing if I can rememberwhat's Out There ... Serene, bubb, Belt, Pallas..." He spoke the wordslike comic incantations, yet with a dash of reverence.
"Superbia?" Nance teased.
"That is somebody's impertinent joke!" he growled in feigned solemnity."Anyhow, it would be too bad if something _that_ important couldn't takea little ribbing. Shucks--we've hardly _started_ to work, yet!"
He drew Nance back a pace, out of sight of those in the store, andkissed her long and rather savagely.
"With all its super-complications, life still seems pretty nice," hecommented.
The door squeaked, just as it used to, as Nelsen pushed it open. The oldoverhead bell jangled.
Pale, watery eyes lifted and lighted with another fulfilment.
"Well, Frank! Long time no see...!"
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