Since it is the most natural of languages, even
superseding tone variations or music, which all peoples can easily
enjoy, you can learn it very quickly. In fact, since it is in every
human's basic cell structure, it's more a matter of just getting
back into practice than learning it, Charles. And even now, your
thought waves are very clear and direct."
"Why can't I see you, Dondee—do you think you could
come on down to where I am?"
For a moment there was a disturbed uncertainty in
the air, coming from the alien boy. Then a complete blank out.
"Dondee? Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Come on down where I am. I'd like to meet
you."
"I—I am not permitted to see you till after the
Star Project is—"
A sudden angry jumble of impulses
shattered Dondee's small, mild impulse. Charlie called to him
again, a little worried now, and then waited. There was no reply.
Only the jumbled, high-speed impulses being sent from several
stronger and more powerful mind waves all at once. It could only be
one thing, Charlie thought. The other aliens had heard Dondee and
stopped his conversation. Maybe because of that thing he had just
mentioned, the
Star
Project
—whatever that was. He tried to
make out what they were telling Dondee but he couldn't. The only
thing he was sure of was that the others had silenced Dondee
completely.
The impulses had been angry. And even though they
had moved far too fast for Charlie's reception, he had the general
idea, from Dondee's slower replies, slower and perhaps,
purposely so for his benefit. It
concerned Dondee's talking too much, and his referring to something
secret while talking to the
Primitive
. That was
him,
Charlie knew. But
whatever it was, whatever the aliens were doing they wanted to keep
it secret.
"Dondee—can you hear me, Dondee?" Charlie tried
again now. "Dond—"
He left the alien boy's name unfinished, the one
syllable fading out as its sound echoed off around the circular
tier. The other aliens had silenced Dondee all right. And they
would not answer him, either. Charlie's every spoken thought
slammed up against a blank wall. The barrier was as solid as Saddle
Mountain. Unable to stand the tense silence—the waiting— Charlie
got up finally and walked over to the broad band of panoramic view.
He stared out at the last traces of the retreating night shadows,
vanishing under rocks, into cracks, before his eyes. It was a calm,
beautiful day, the quiet of the mild and cool early morning desert
that he knew so well. It was the clear light of morning before the
sunbeams shot down.
Navajo whinnied and walked leisurely over to stand
beside Charlie. He, too, looked out the view-port.
"It's okay, Nav. We'll figure out something yet. We
sure will. Then we'll high tail it for home."
But Charlie was uneasy, despite the tranquility of
the still morning. He ran his fingers over the cool, smooth surface
of the transparent view band that circled the deck. It was
velvety—like smooth, polished steel. But in spite of his first
inspection, Charlie suddenly balled up his fist, then drew
back and punched hard at what seemed like thin
glass. Staring down at the desert below, he rubbed his bruised
knuckles.
There was no escape, he felt sure,
or they wouldn't have left him alone here. That was the worst of
it. If he did not escape the aliens, if he
never
returned home to the Shack
again, no one would miss him. Uncle John was gone, and
J
there was no one
else.
"Gosh, Nav, I—" but Charlie did not finish the
words as he turned. Silently he put his arms about the neck of the
old horse, pressing his face against its warmness, and breathing in
the clean, horsey smell of Navajo's mane against his face, "You're
all the folks I got now, Nav."
C H A PTER FIVE
The 7,000 Steps
Charlie straightened up suddenly. He remembered he
had not slept at all last night. He was tired, just plain tired.
But as he considered whether or not he might risk stretching out on
the deck and taking a quick nap, Navajo decided for him. The old
horse swished his tail from side to side in his easy, lazy fashion,
and turned around several times on the unfamiliar deck. Then he
peacefully got down on his haunches and stretched out his legs.
Watching him, Charlie smiled as Navajo looked up at him, from out
of one half-closed eye. Charlie dropped down in front of Navajo's
forelegs, and stretching out too, he propped his head back against
Navajo's neck.
The old horse didn't mind, for he was used to
Charlie. This camping-out sleeping position was an old and
familiar
one for both of them, specially when they bedded
down in the canyons on a hunting trip. Navajo heaved another sigh
and closed his eyes.
"So am I, Nav. Just plain tired. I guess we should
have hit the hay long ago."
Charlie smiled to himself again, his eyes closing
down fast as sleep came to him. Navajo was already snoring a
little. It wasn't as scary as night, even with aliens running
around somewhere else on the star ship, and the last thing Charlie
had on his mind was that Navajo was the softest and warmest pillow
in the world.
Charlie didn't know how long he slept. He awoke
when Navajo lifted his head suddenly, and, remembering his
imprisonment, Charlie jumped to his feet. Navajo got up, too, in a
scramble of hoof beats on the smooth, rubbery deck surface.
"At least it's daytime, Nav. Maybe we can figure
our way out of—"
He stopped abruptly. Navajo had heard it, too, and
was sidling over to him, head alert and nostrils flaring, as they
both looked about the deck.
"It's okay, Nav. It's okay," and Charlie patted the
horse. "Just another one of those telepathic mind waves. I guess
the aliens are out of bed, too. Or whatever they sleep in."
Charlie listened to several other impulses, then
called out loudly: "Why are you keeping me in here—why can't I go
on home?"
Just then, with no sound at all, he received a
clear impulse.
"We do not wish to hold you, Primitive. But we
cannot let you go free. You have discovered us, and we must keep
you with us. We cannot free you."
Holding back a feeling of panic at their words,
Charlie answered the alien's impulse, calling out to the unseen man
somewhere else in the ship.
"Please—you've got to let me go, let us out. I
won't tell anybody. We'll go straight back to the Shack—I mean,
back home. And you'll never have to worry about us. Please let
us
go."
"We repeat, we do not wish to hold you, Primitive.
But now there is no alternative. As a member of a sub-race, a
civilization not yet fully responsible for its actions, you cannot
be freed. You shall accompany us to the island we came from. That
is your future, Primitive. There is no retrograding."
"Then—" Charlie asked, "will I know, can I know
what you will do with me?"
"Your fate and future, if any, shall be determined
shortly. Very likely you shall return with us behind the Barrier,
and there stand trial. Possibly, quite possibly, you might be
considered adjustable to our world island's level of
civilization."
"And if—if I become adjusted," Charlie pressed
further, "will—"
"You would then become a member of our society,
having been permitted to take the seven thousand year advancement
into the history of our time. In brief, Primitive, you would
be living in the world of your own island here,
only in the state of advancement that it will hold seven thousand
years ; from this time."
"Oh," was all Charlie could say.
The interview was abruptly ended
by his unseen informant. Charlie was stunned. He felt now as he had
felt once long ago. It was the time when Uncle John had first
brought him a young colt, and he had named him Navajo. It
was
(
the first time he had tried to ride that colt, and the air
had been knocked out of him. It was like that now. Charlie stood
very still, thinking.
Saturn.
It was a planet in our Solar
system all right, but it was millions of miles away. Mars was much
closer to Earth, and even Mars at its nearest would be around
thirty-five million miles away. As Charlie's mind raced over these
facts he once
j
again felt thankful to Miss Tisdale back in school. It
helped
j
now.
Even if back there at school he had never given a hoot how far away
Saturn was, it came in handy right now to know. And one thing
Charlie was certain of, and that was, no matter how he figured it,
Saturn was a doggone long way from Arizona. A terrible homesickness
came down over him like a sudden desert thunderstorm.
Aware of his danger, he decided to make at least
one more escape try and make it right now. With the aliens far up
on some other deck, he might possibly be able to do it. It might
work. But if it didn't, still the noise might reach out to the
roadway far off by the river, and attract somebody passing. He'd
give it a try, anyway.
"Nav—come on over, Nav. That's it," Charlie
coaxed,
getting the horse to back around. "Attaboy—now
you're going to get us out of here, Nav. The both of us." Patting
Navajo as he backed him up to the thin, sheer glasslike band of
window, Charlie held the reins to steady the horse.
"Now we do it, Nav. Then we get
out on that rim and go around there—to where the mountain side is
just a short jump down for the both of us. Remember, Nav—remember
—the stagger fence poles, Nav! The corral fence poles, Nav!"
Charlie repeated. "You never let them stop you from getting out—go
on, Nav,
kick
—let
'em have it!"
With a brief whinny, Navajo showed he understood.
Winding up as Charlie talked to him, Navajo pranced about a little,
then lowered his neck—stretching it out low, for more balance. At
that same moment he heaved his hind quarters up—clear of the deck.
In those few seconds Navajo shot out both back legs—slamming a
shattering double blow against the crystal surface of the panoramic
view.
"Again,
Nav—hit it again!"
Trampling about and once more establishing a sure
footing, Navajo once more repeated the process. The awful clash of
the iron horse shoes on the pane made Charlie blink his eyes. Twice
more Navajo followed Charlie's orders, then Charlie stopped him.
His sides heaving mightily, Navajo looked around as Charlie
inspected the clear pane. There were only small scratches on the
clear surface.
Charlie walked slowly around, in front of Navajo,
patting him. The old horse had really tried. Navajo's nostrils were
still flaring wide as he breathed heavily from the exertion.
"Thanks, Nav. It's okay. I know you tried real
hard, Nav. You sure did."
Charlie took out his handkerchief and stroked off
the sweat ( beads on Navajo's neck.
"That's so's you won't catch cold," he said,
repeating the process on the other side. "That window's barely
scratched, Nav. Just as if we hadn't even tried."
As he talked to the horse, Charlie heard the sound
of running feet on the deck above—then the panel door opened in the
cylinder and five aliens rushed out. Charlie could tell they were
really angry about something, and he figured he and Navajo knew
what it was. He could feel their confused thoughts directed at him,
and their mounting anger.
They stopped abruptly before him. Now their thought
impulses were slowing down, and Charlie began to understand them.
One alien, seeming to hold more authority than the others, stood
before him, his bright green eyes flashing. Charlie felt they were
looking right through him now, reading his every thought. Then the
alien sighed shortly, seeming to relax a little. His expression
became less severe as he looked down at Charlie. Charlie got a
fleeting thought, not directed at him, but seeming to be from this
leader to the other aliens.
"What has been done is done, the past is prologue,"
the tall alien seemed to shrug his shoulders, as if to get it over
with, and Charlie thought he'd heard that impulse somewhere
before.
"You have," the alien replied briefly to his
thought, then continued, "but since you are not yet fully grown,
there is no use of further moralizing."
full height, a good height for an Earthman, Charlie thought better
of it and said nothing. Instead, he tried to understand them as
they talked to each other, tossing impulses back and forth. And to
his surprise, he was gaining speed, for he caught some of what they
said. Then the leader turned to him again.
"We told you, Primitive, escape is not possible. To
try further may only make it advisable for us to take the only
course left. Any further interruption of our scheduled work, and
you may possibly be destroyed."
"Yes, sir," Charlie said, nodding. "I—I only wanted
to get o u t ... to go home."
"I understand," came the other's immediate impulse,
"but that desire cannot be realized. You must accept the
circumstance."
Charlie was silent. No matter what, he couldn't
agree not to try and escape. He would try, every chance he got. He
would never go to Saturn—if he could possibly help it—to their
homeland in the Barrier World.
The aliens turned, rapidly exchanging thoughts
between themselves, and Charlie once again found himself admiring
them a little, and liking their strange and brilliant clothing.
There were no mild tones of color. Their colors were all strong,
clean-cut and bright. And as he watched them, Charlie felt for a
fleeting moment, a mild friendliness for these fellow-humans, these
strangers who had come from another world so far away. They were
not monsters, and in