Journey Into Space (20 page)

“It seems to have gone round us once and then made off again,” I said to Jet.

“Yes,” he said as he flashed the light over a wider area. Then I heard him draw his breath.

“Doc,” he said abruptly, “I’m going out there.”

“No, Jet,” I remonstrated. “Not now, wait until daylight.”

But he ignored my protest and ordered Lemmy to let down the ladder. I watched with apprehension as he made his way over to the remains of the fire on which we had cooked our last meal. Then he stooped, picked something up from the ground and returned to the ship.

“All right, Doc,” he said, as he climbed into the airlock. “Now let’s get back.”

Once in the cabin, Jet went straight to the control table and threw on it the object he had found outside. We all gathered round and gazed at it curiously.

“What’s that?” asked Mitch.

“Take a look at it,” said Jet. “You tell me.”

Mitch picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “Just a fancy piece of stone,” he said, without much interest.

“Doesn’t its shape tell you anything?”

“It’s a peculiar shape all right, but.   . .”

“Take hold of it,” Jet broke in, “feel the weight and balance of it in your hand. I’d say it was some kind of a weapon.”

“Let me see it,” I asked Mitch, and took the stone from him.

“Somebody made that thing and dropped it near the ship some time after we came in,” Jet went on.

“How do you know?” asked Lemmy.

“Because of where I found it. It was right in the very place where I was sitting earlier, near the fire. If it had been there then, I’d have noticed it, wouldn’t I?”

“You could hardly have helped yourself, could you?” Lemmy said.

I examined the object. It was almost a foot long and shaped rather like an aspidistra leaf. The handle was flat and narrow. The leaf-shaped blade was about half an inch thick and tapered off at the edges and to a point at its tip. One edge was certainly sharp, the other blunt. It had been roughly chipped into shape and then, apparently, rubbed down until it was almost smooth. When held in the hand, it had a nice balance and could be used either as a dagger or some kind of chopper. I handed it back to Jet. “It’s some kind of knife all right,” I told him, “and, for what it is, very craftily made. It’s been used recently, too.”

“How do you know?” said Lemmy.

“Look,” I pointed at the knife, “you see those dark patches there? Blood.”

“Eh? Whose?”

“How should I know? Maybe whoever dropped it used it for hunting or something.”

“Let me have another look, Jet,” said Mitch.

“Sure,” said Jet, and he handed the object to the engineer.

Mitch admitted, a little grudgingly I thought, that it might have been a knife. “But I’ve never seen one like this before,” he added.

“Except in history books,” said Jet.

“How do you mean?”

“For thousands of years Man was making just this kind of weapon, certainly in Europe and the Mediterranean regions. Even the ancient Egyptians used them until they discovered the use of metal.”

“You mean this is a relic from the Stone Age?” Mitch queried. “But it’s in such darned good condition, and Doc says it’s been used only recently.”

“Precisely.”

“But that would suggest that out there, outside this ship,” Mitch carried on, “there are men or some kind of animals who use stone knives, who belong to a stone age.”

“Why not? We might have landed anywhere--in Time.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” argued Mitch. “That presupposes two entirely different civilisations existing at once. One extremely advanced, with machines and space ships, the other as primitive as pre-history itself.”

“Could be,” I suggested. “Railroads were spanning the American continent at the same time as Red Indians were still living in a primitive state, still in a stone age.”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” said Jet. “I only know this knife was outside.”

“Did whoever dropped it leave any footprints behind?” I asked him.

“Not that I noticed, but the grass round that fire has been trampled flat by us anyway.”

“Well,” I said, “maybe we’ll get to the bottom of it someday.”

‘‘Meanwhile,” said Jet, “we’d better get back to sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

We had planned to do a little exploring and next morning, in spite of the events of the previous night, we decided to go ahead with the project. We intended to cover an area about a mile in radius with the ship as its centre. Only Jet and Mitch were to go and they were to keep in constant touch with Lemmy and me with the aid of their personal radios.

“I only hope the batteries can stand up to it,” said Lemmy. “There can’t be much juice left in them now. And what if you meet up with any of those ape men with the stone knives?”

“I’m almost hoping we will,” said Mitch. “It might clear up a few things.”

“And what if that machine comes back?” said Lemmy. He was in a pessimistic mood this morning.

“We can’t stay locked up in here forever,” said Mitch. “We’ve got to know what lies beyond the horizon.”

Two minutes later Mitch and Jet were outside the ship, checking the radios. They still seemed quite healthy.

“Hearing you loud and clear,” came Jet’s voice.

“Me, too,” said Mitch.

“Then I think we’ll get started,” said Jet, “and I. . .” He broke off.

“I don’t think you’d better,” said Lemmy urgently. “You’d better come back into the ship, and quick.” “Too right we will,” said Mitch.

There was good reason for the new panic--the space music was back again. I ran over to the main door control and closed it behind Jet and Mitch as they entered the airlock. By the time they had reached the cabin, the noise was at its greatest.

“Well,” shouted Lemmy above the racket, “that’s put paid to a nice morning’s stroll.”

“It must be those ships again,” I exclaimed, “and they must be very close.”

Mitch was all for looking out of the pilot’s window but Jet refused to allow it in case the ‘ray’, or whatever it was, might be projected at us again. He ordered me to close the door and, by the time I had, the music had stopped.

“The televiewer, Lemmy,” said Jet; “see if it’s working.”

“Shouldn’t think so,” said Lemmy helpfully, but switched on just the same. Within a few moments the screen was glowing and a picture of the country towards the river was clearly visible.

“Rotate the camera,” ordered Jet. Lemmy did, and there outside, not a hundred yards away, was another space ship identical with the one which had landed in the crater on the Moon.

It was the same episode all over. Once more the strange music was heard and the opening in the dome of the craft revealed itself, only this time the ladder which Mitch had found on the opposite side of the craft was facing us.

“Looks like they’re inviting us to go out there and get in,” said Mitch.

“Well, if they are,” said Jet positively, “we’re not accepting.”

“Maybe,” I suggested, “this time somebody will come out.”

“Don’t, Doc,” said Lemmy.

“Well, why not?” I asked him.

“Then whoever it is must have two legs.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Who else could use a ladder?”

“A cat can climb a ladder,” I reminded him.

Lemmy didn’t reply. And nothing came out. Thirty minutes later a constant watch had revealed no further development in the situation.

“Well,” said Mitch, “what are we going to do--sit here all day biting our finger nails? Supposing that thing stays out there for a week, what do we do about food?”

“I know,” said Jet suddenly, “the radio.”

“The radio?” repeated Mitch, looking very puzzled.

“Yes, don’t you remember? When you went up to that ship before and kicked it, we all heard it over the radio. And when you went inside, we heard your voice. Obviously if that ship can communicate with us at all,” concluded Jet, “it must be via the radio. Lemmy, is the transmitter still switched on?”

“Yes, Jet.”

“But the last time,” protested Mitch, “I had to be in there before you heard anything.”

“Who knows what’ll happen this time? At least it’s worth a try.”

Mitch agreed, reluctantly. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He had hardly finished speaking when over the intercom speaker we heard the space music once again, but this time it didn’t increase in volume. Quite suddenly it stopped.

“Well,” said Lemmy, “is that all we get? That’s nothing new.”

And then to our surprise and consternation, we heard something that was. It wasn’t very loud but it was sufficient to give us a violent shock. It was a voice.

“Hullo, Luna,” it said.

“Blimey!” said Lemmy. “Did you hear that?

“Quiet,” said Jet.

“But it was a voice.”

“A human voice,” I added.

“And it came over the radio,” said Mitch.

“Yes,” said Jet. “It came from there.” He pointed at the image on the televiewer screen. “There’s somebody or something in that ship.”

The voice was completely characterless. “Hello, Luna,” was delivered very precisely, rather as one used to hear on the elevators in the old London subways when a disembodied voice announced: ‘Stand clear of the doors’. It was neither friendly, antagonistic, calm nor excited; it was just a voice.

None of us said a word or moved a muscle for at least two minutes. It was Jet who broke the silence eventually and all he did was to repeat slowly what he had said a moment before: “It came from there. There’s somebody or something in that ship.”

“And whoever it is,” said Lemmy, who had recovered his tongue by now, “he speaks English.”

“Wouldn’t it be rather awkward if I didn’t?” There was no tone of interrogation in the announcement. It was only the order in which the words were put that made it a question.

“Who are you?” asked Jet. “What do you want?”

“We only want to help you,” came the dispassionate reply.

“How?”

“All we ask is for you to leave your ship and enter ours. No harm will come to you--you need not be afraid.”

“We’re not afraid,” said Jet, “just cautious.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Lemmy quietly.

“Are you anything to do with that ship we saw on the Moon?” asked Jet.

“Yes, we are.”

“Then
who
are you?” asked Mitch.

The Voice ignored the question. “Leave your own ship and come in here.”

“You come in here,” suggested Lemmy. “Why don’t you show yourself?”

“I cannot show myself.”

“Why not?” asked Lemmy. “Are you invisible?”

“No, but I am not in this ship.”

Jet turned to Mitch and me. “What are we going to do about this?” he said.

Lemmy left us in no doubt as to what he wanted to do about it. “Stay where we are, of course,” he said. “It would be barmy to go out there.”

“Not necessarily,” I told him. “No harm came to Mitch when he went into the ship we saw on the Moon.”

“Well,” said Mitch doubtfully, “at least I wasn’t conscious of anything strange going on.”

“But if all of us go into that ship,” Lemmy argued, “who knows what might happen?”

“I think we should find out more about this before we even set foot outside,” said Jet. “I’ll talk to him. Hullo, whoever you are,” he called. “We would like you to answer a few questions.”

“Then go ahead.”

“Well, in the first place, have you anything to do with our being here now?”

“Possibly.”

“That’s a great help,” said Mitch.

“And how about that perishing music we keep hearing?” asked Lemmy. “Is that anything to do with you?”

“Music?”

“Yes, music.”

“What is music?” said the Voice flatly.

“You don’t know--what--music is?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s a kind of--noise,” Lemmy groped for his words, “that goes up and down--and when you hear it, well, it makes you feel good. Except your music--that makes you feel dreadful.”

“A noise, you say?”

“Yes,” said Jet, “a peculiar kind of noise.” “Like this?”

And over the radio came a short burst of the weird music we’d now heard so often. It started, as usual, with a high-pitched note, swooped down to a deep, almost inaudible bass and died away in reverberating echoes. At the end of the short interlude Jet said excitedly, “Yes, that’s it, that’s it exactly. And whenever we hear it, something always happens to us.”

“What is it?” asked Mitch. “What does it do?”

“All I did was turn on the power.”

“The power that drives your ship?” asked Mitch.

“Then it was you on the Moon, wasn’t it?” Jet gave the Voice no chance to answer Mitch’s question.

“One of our ships visited your side of the Moon.”

“Weren’t you in it?”

“No.”

“You mean those ships were remote controlled, and you sent them specially to look for us?”

“No, we didn’t. We were very surprised to find you there.”

“Not half so surprised as we were to find you,” broke in Lemmy.

“Then where are you from?” asked Jet.

“From the other side of the Universe.”

“That’s just what Mitch told us, remember?” I said.

“Leave your own ship and come into ours.”

“Look,” said Jet politely, “will you give us a few minutes to talk this thing over?”

“Certainly.”

“Can we call you back?”

“There is really no need, I cannot go away.”

“Then you don’t mind if we switch off our radios. We have to conserve power.”

“When you call, I will answer.”

Jet turned to address all of us. “Switch off your sets,” he commanded. We did so. “Well,” he went on, “what do you make of it?”

“We must go out there,” said Mitch eagerly. “Just think of what we could learn from those--whatever they are. Why, just to have the secret of their motive power alone would be worth the risk.”

“In many ways I agree,” I told him, “but if they can help us, as they say they can, why can’t they do it here and now? Why do we have to go into their ship and, if we do, where will they take us?”

“That’s what worries me,” put in Lemmy quickly.

“Well, it’s something we can ask him,” said Jet.

“Go on then,” prompted Lemmy, “see what he says.”

“Right,” said Jet. “Switch on the radio.”