Chapter IX

Together, they stood at last in the free air of the desert--Stone, Reva, MacDougal.

Slowly, half a mile away, the great shining metal ball that was the alien sphere-ship lifted from the gathering shadows of the canyon floor. Soundless as nightfall it rose, drifting higher and higher. The three stub legs retracted.

Then, of a sudden, it had topped the mesa’s rim. Faster it climbed, and faster, picking up speed with every passing second.

The blink of an eye later it was gone, up into the dusk and the boundless space that stretched from star to star.

For a long, long moment the silence held. Then MacDougal said quietly, “There aren’t any words for what I want to say, Carl. But--the world can never repay you for what you’ve done.”

And Reva: “You saved us. Carl--us, and all the unborn generations that will ever live on Earth.”

It was strange, Stone thought. By all the rules, he should feel the same way they did. Happy. Relieved. At peace.

Grateful for the breaks he’d gotten, at least.

Instead, inside, he felt only aching emptiness and pain.

But however he felt, he had to find words. They were expected. The other--the ugly, unfinished job he had yet to do--that could wait.

Shrugging, he said, “The boys at the base are the ones who rate the credit. They worked fast--two minutes flat from the time I passed the word till they shot an anti-tank grenade right into the middle of that damn’ tower, if our friends the monsters had it right.”

“You’re over-modest, Carl.” MacDougal gestured with his still sling-bound right arm. “You’re the one who did the job, and I’m going to see that people know it. The right people.”

“Thanks.” The word came out faintly caustic, even to Stone’s ears.

But maybe that was only the aftermath of strain.

If MacDougal caught it, he ignored it. His craggy face stayed tolerant, relaxed. The hedgerow eyebrows didn’t even bristle.

“The big point is, it’s over,” he reminded. “The aliens and their ship are gone. Our own world’s safe.”

Reva moved restlessly, drawing her torn dress closer about her, as if touched by a sudden chill. “I hope so. I still don’t feel quite as if I were awake. There’s so much I don’t understand--so many, many things....”

Stone’s voice was just above a whisper: “For instance--?”

“You mean--you haven’t thought about it?--About why those creatures didn’t harm the base, in spite of all their threats? Why they let us go, when it would have been so much easier to kill us?”

Stone didn’t answer.

MacDougal said, “I think it’s easy enough to understand. The aliens’ whole technology is based on krypton, and it’s in short supply. Destroying the base would have cut down what little reserve they had left, with no return.”

“And letting us go--?”

The base director’s heavy shoulders shifted. “That’s almost a rhetorical question, isn’t it, Doctor Adams?” The slightest of edges barbed his words.

Deep in Stone’s middle, the pain and emptiness seethed anew.

That was the trouble with unfinished jobs. They kept forcing themselves onto you, when you least wanted to have to think about them.

Only now this particular ugliness was coming out into the open in spite of him. He’d have to face it, grapple with it.

Even if it tore his soul apart.

* * * * *

Reva was staring at MacDougal. “Rhetorical--? I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to be brutal, Doctor.” The base director let out a gusty, sighing breath. “Perhaps you don’t realize the nasty role you’ve played in this whole business. If so, I’m sorry. But the fact remains that in all likelihood Stone and I are alive and free only because of you.”

His tone made Reva draw back just a little. Once more, she pulled her torn dress about her, with a movement strangely awkward for one so graceful.

“You’ll have to speak more plainly, Mr. MacDougal,” she said sharply. “I don’t understand you at all.”

“Very well, then.” MacDougal’s massive head came forward, jaw belligerently out-thrust. “I’m saying flat-out that you were the aliens’ contact. Your mind was the one they took over when they first landed. You were the one who set up the transmitter in your project building and turned the whole base mad. Is that plain enough for you to understand?”

The torn dress bunched under Reva’s fingers, an ugly, lumpy wad.

MacDougal again: “I’ll carry it even further, Doctor. The aliens don’t plan to drop that contact with you. And that’s the only reason why the three of us are free.”

Even through the gathering dusk, Stone could see the pallor that sprang to Reva’s face. Fear widened her eyes. She seemed to grow smaller, older.

It twisted like a knife inside him ... made him wonder bleakly how long he could go on.

“Did you think they’d really left for good, Doctor Adams?” The base director’s sarcasm rang open, bitter, now. “How far do you estimate they can go--with their krypton reserves already so drained that they didn’t even dare to blast our base? To Aldebaran? Antares? Alpha Centauri?” He laughed--curt, scornful. “No, Doctor! They’ll be back, somewhere close by, in hours, not lightyears. Then, when they get here, they’ll contact you. There’ll be another transmitter, another base gone mad. And this time, maybe, they’ll get their krypton--that is, if Stone and I are fools enough to let you live!”

There it was, out in the open. All of it.

Or almost all.

The blood rang in Stone’s ears.

Reva’s face was a twisted, distorted thing. Her face seemed to crack. Her lips peeled back. “No, no!” She was half-screaming. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong--!”

The base director swung his thick, sling-bound right arm--hammering, relentless. “Then why did they let us live? Why--except to keep you free and above suspicion, ready to serve them another day?”

Silence. Echoing eternities of silence.

Then, abruptly, Reva’s shoulders slumped. Her chin sank to her chest. She didn’t speak.

Slowly, MacDougal straightened. Grim-faced, he looked at Stone. “Well, Carl?”

More silence. A sickness, too ... gnawing through Stone, body and brain.

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t it have ended another way?

MacDougal said, “I’m sorry, Carl. I know how you feel. But this is just too big for us. We can’t take chances. The world’s at stake. We’ve got to act now, before the aliens come back.”

Stone couldn’t speak.

“She can’t be allowed to leave this spot alive, Carl. You and I--we’ll have to serve as judge and jury. Executioners too. Here. Now.”

Stone looked at Reva.

Her eyes were upon him. Grey eyes, imploring. “Carl--!”

MacDougal: “I’m sorry, Carl....”

Tension. Surging billows of tension. Blood pulsing. Heart pounding.

_Why couldn’t it have ended another way?_

Only this was the way it was. These were the cards he had to play.

So he’d play them--

Stone said, “You’ve figured it right, Mac. All but one point.”

“One--? What--?”

“She isn’t guilty. You are.”

* * * * *

The base director stood like a graven image. Then his sling hand twitched, just a fraction. That was all.

Stone said, “It all rides on one thing, Mac: You keep talking about the aliens having some sort of mind control over Reva. But it’s not true. Violence is the only weapon they know how to use.”

MacDougal’s lip twisted. “You forget the transmitter.”

“The transmitter?” Stone shook his head slowly. “That came second, Mac. Not first. Because somebody had to help the aliens design it--somebody working of his own free will.”

“She did it, then. She’s the psychiatrist.”

“No, Mac. She couldn’t have. It took a scientist--a physical scientist, one who knew electronics.” A pause, while Stone drew a deep breath. “That’s why it has to be you, Mac. You’re the man with the know-how. Even if Reva could have done it, you’d have had to pass on it, o.k. the construction; that’s part of your base director’s job.”

“I see.”

“You had the motive, too, Mac. And I understand it: When you found The Project was failing, you blew up, clutched at straws. Then the aliens came along and contacted you, somehow. They offered you their own special straw with a hook in it. Probably they promised that if you’d help them get krypton, they’d figure you a new angle on The Project. And you were so afraid of failing, washing up your career, that you grabbed at the chance. The hook--you were too eager to see it. After all, nobody on Earth knew that krypton was a catalyst, holding our atmosphere together. How could you guess it?”

“Your logic’s good, Carl.” MacDougal nodded slowly. “You’ve done some straight thinking. But if what you say’s true, then where does it leave us? I’ve made a mistake, but what have I done wrong?”

“You still don’t see it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Stone sighed, just a little. “To you, Mac, your career’s too important. If you think it’s in danger, everything else has to get out of the way. Like here, now. You’d have had us kill Reva--to give you a goat, and keep me from talking. There’d be no black marks on your record. Maybe you even picked up a few tricks from the monsters that would make The Project go.”

“So--?” The base director spoke very gently.

“So it won’t wash, Mac. I’m security. It’s my job to see straight, and to push out people whose careers mean more than duty.”

“We’ve been friends a long time, Carl--”

It was Stone’s turn to nod. “That’s what makes it so hard, Mac. Maybe if the aliens come back, you’d have an H-bomb all waiting. Maybe. But maybe not, too. Maybe you’d bite on another hook--one that would really catch, give the monsters their chance to laugh and laugh and laugh, all the way back to Arcturus Four--” Stone broke off abruptly. “No, Mac. We can’t take that chance. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Carl.” The heavy shoulders shifted. “Because--it means I have to kill you, as well as Doctor Adams.”

Stone frowned. “That might take some doing.”

“I doubt it.” Of a sudden there was ice in the base director’s voice--ice, and granite. His sling-suspended hand moved sharply. “You see, I’ve got a gun here, Carl. My arm isn’t really hurt, but the sling seemed like good cover.” He laughed, harsh and short. “Any last words--?”

A numbness came to Stone’s middle.

How far was he from MacDougal? Three steps? Four?

Too far. He looked over at Reva.

* * * * *

She stood as before, still clutching her torn dress. The bulkiness of the fabric lumped in her twisting fingers was like a deformity growing out of her side. Strain had stolen her face’s last traces of beauty. Her blonde hair hung limp and straggly.

Stone didn’t care. Of a sudden he could think only of all the words unspoken between them; of the long years that should have been theirs, the feelings crumbling down into ashes.

Inside him, the emptiness swirled to a churning vortex. “Reva--!” he whispered. “Reva....”

“Time’s up!” MacDougal said. His sling-hand flickered out.

Stone lunged at him.

Only it was too far, too far. He knew it even as he charged. MacDougal’s bullet would cut him down in mid-stride.

And then Reva would die.

He sobbed a curse that came out as a prayer.

MacDougal’s gun leveled, rock-steady.

Stone braced for the slug.

Only then--suddenly; incredibly--another gun roared. A gun off to one side, from where Reva stood.

MacDougal jerked round, firing wildly.

With every ounce of his weight, Stone crashed his fist against the heavy, jutting jaw.

The base director’s head snapped back. Like a pole-axed ox, he toppled to the ground and lay there motionless.

Stone picked up the gun and stuck it into his belt. “Reva--”

She came to him, then--running, arms out, the torn dress forgotten.

For a long moment, Stone held her. “You ... saved my life.”

“With your own gun.” Of a sudden, she was shaking. “It landed beside me, back there on the sphere-ship. I hid it under my dress--for myself. I didn’t want to die with tentacles around me....”

Her voice broke. She buried her face on Stone’s shoulder. He held her close.

“We’re not going to die,” he said gently. “Neither of us. Not now. We’ve got too much to live for.” Her face came up slowly. “To live for!” she echoed.

Never, Stone thought, had he seen her so beautiful.

Together, then, hand in hand, they walked out across the desert towards the distant highway.

THE END

Transcriber’s Note:

This etext was produced from Imaginative Tales, September 1955 (Vol.
2, No. 1). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but
minor inconsistencies have been retained as printed.