Star Ship on Saddle Mountain (18 page)
"Nor any other world, son," the Primate added. "You
see, it's been now approximately seven thousand years since our
great cities were united, and since the armed forces of that time
were abolished."
They were all silent for some time after Dondee's
sudden outburst.
"It would be difficult to make you see it,
Charles," the Primate went on.
"Why—why would it, sir—" Charlie asked quickly,
"because maybe your world still thinks I'm a primitive?"
"Oh no," Elstara said, going over and putting her
arm about him. "We could never think that again, son. Never."
"I shall tell you," Darda Bin said. "If you feel it
proper, you can keep the confidence. If not, you may divulge
it."
"I'll keep it," Charlie agreed, "just so long as it
won't hurt anybody. Back home."
"It is this, then," the Primate began. "I hope, in
the light of circumstance, you can understand a higher
civilization's pride, son. For a long time, we never knew what your
world's reaction might be, were we to tell them the secret of our
search, the reasons for the Star Project. And, as a proud culture,
we could not bring ourselves to ask, perhaps even beg, and then be
refused the chance to find what we sought."
"But I still don't see what—"
"I'll tell you, Charles. We now have within our
grasp, the solution to the one great problem of our land, the
knowledge of how we might be able to break down the Barrier around
this planet, just as the barrier once circling your Little Star was
broken down. Not by Man, but through natural causes, millions of
years ago."
"You mean, sir—father, that all you want to know
is—is how to clear away the fog, the mist, and have straight
sunshine?"
"Yes, Charles. We know now it can be done,
chemically.
"It was for that reason only, Charles, that we made
regular missions to your Arizona country. Through the study and
experiments under your atmospheric conditions, we have realized the
greatest dream of all, as we now stand on the threshold. We shall
be able now to brush away the mighty mists that veil us from the
Sun we call our own."
Charlie looked at each one, then back at the
Primate again.
take-off, that his life on the Barrier World had been pretty happy
all around, almost like the happy days when Uncle John was still
alive. Navajo had been sick the night before, but it was mostly
from all the past strain of the trip between two planets, different
water for drinking, and the general excitement he had been through.
He was just tired, Charlie realized, and getting pretty old now.
But the morning came, and Navajo, seeming to sense that he was
going home, was up and eager when Charlie came to get him for the
trip to the upper surface.
"Here, Dondee," he said, "you always liked them a
lot— and one for you, Biri. This one's for you to keep."
Jumping up and down with joy, they both hugged
Charlie, delighted with the silver star spur-wheel he had given
each one of them. Neither one of them mentioned the fact that he
now had only one spur, or that he'd probably never have any use for
it in the city, much less find a horse to ride. That was beside the
point. Both immediately got other heavier shoes—the boots worn on
the surface—and Charlie helped them attach the spurs.
would keep this homeland's secret, Charlie was held close by the
Primate and Elstara, before they finally released him to go
aboard.
them, too.
husband's comment.
"And when we get there—" Dondee pushed their
victory further, "we don't have to just drop Charles and rush right
back the same minute, do we, father?"
Primate Bin sighed wearily, smiling at
Charles.
"No, I suppose you don't. But don't delay too long.
It's hard enough for Charles to leave you now, without your making
his going home all the more difficult."
The last goodbyes were said on the Barrier World.
Only Elstara cried now, softly, gently, as Charles left. Charlie
finally ran for the flagship's open waiting ramp. Dondee and Biri
had already gone aboard and were waiting for him. There was no
dragging of time on the return trip to Little Star, for none of the
three really wanted the separation. With every passing day, their
pleasure in being together became more clouded as they neared the
Arizona country. But to Charlie it was far easier to take it since
it was his own world to which he was returning, the world he had
always known, and he wanted to be back in the security of the
familiar Shack, just to be home again. He loved Dondee and Biri,
the only brother and sister he had ever had, his duplicates, but
this was something he must force himself to forget.
On the last day the commander began the
deceleration. Charlie, Biri and Dondee watched silently as
Charlie's brilliant green ball loomed in monumental splendor before
them, its five great continents clearly defined. With the speed
decrease, the ship was scheduled for alightment that evening—in the
same old place Charlie remembered, the natural cradle ramp, formed
by the twin peaks of Saddle Mountain. In this way, they would most
likely be unseen, since the Commander didn't want to make it any
more obvious than necessary that they had come down.
Biri was the most excited of all, since Dondee had
seen Charlie's Arizona already, and she was extremely disappointed
when the Commander informed them that the landing
would be made at night. She wanted to see Charlie's
Sun, how it looked white instead of blue in Arizona, as Charlie had
told her.
As the last rays of the Sun fell shimmering into
the great Pacific Ocean to the westward, out of Biri's eager view,
the mighty flagship plunged downward, slanting like a great and
swiftly falling leaf. It navigated the last several hundred
thousand feet, then hovered briefly as it swung into position over
the familiar Saddle Peaks.
"That's them! That's it!" Charlie shouted, and all
three danced happily, carelessly disregarding the signal to hold to
the grip-safeties.
After the first excitement, and after the ramp had
been lowered from the bottom tier, the three stood on the lower
control dome's platform, finding themselves strangely without
anything to say. Charlie was home. Charlie looked at them now,
feeling inwardly guilty about leaving them, saying goodbye forever.
Then suddenly Dondee pushed out his hand, trying hard to say the
words lightly as he smiled.
"Shake, Charles!"
Charlie did. Then he shook Biri's hand, anxious to
do anything to hide his feelings.
"And—and like on your world," Charlie said quickly,
and he put his hands to both Biri's and Dondee's face in turn, as
was their world's custom. "My duplicates."
Turning abruptly, Charlie ran for Navajo, jumping
up onto his back Indian fashion. As he mounted, the old horse
started eagerly off the ramp, whinnying happily at the familiar
desert smell. Charlie glanced back at the dim glow of lights, and
the
two small figures standing there close together on
the great ramp. He waved, then turned away quickly, even as they
waved back.
Charlie didn't look back or even wait to see their
take-off into the night. He had seen that once before, and knew how
it would be. It was better not to stop and think or let his
feelings go. As he hurried Navajo down the hard dirt road toward
the Dam, Charlie spurred the old horse gently with his spur-less
boot heels, getting the already-excited Navajo into an easy gallop.
But even now, the terrible loneliness from the past came back to
him. He felt again that former emptiness, that he had felt ever
since Uncle John died. Leaving Dondee and Biri now only added to
the feeling, making it come back worse than ever.
He patted Navajo again as he released him near the
old corral, then went inside. He stopped a moment to look at the
same old hoof-marks where Navajo had regularly kicked in the side
of the house under his special window. Carefully folding up the
bright toga with the Primate cobalt stripe, Charlie sighed as he
half-heartedly slapped some dust out of the old levis. Then he lay
back on his same old bunk, kicking off the boots slowly, one by
one.
He whistled once, as he often used to do, waiting
to hear Nav's answering whinny from the corral. But it did not
come. Frowning, he turned his head toward the window, and whistled
again, louder this time. It was strange Nav didn't answer.
A sudden alarm overtaking him, Charlie hopped up
from the bunk and ran through the door. As he hurried across
the
much. He died a few minutes later. For a long time after the last
weary sigh came weakly from the old horse, Charlie held Navajo's
head close against his lap. Charlie's own head dropped down against
Navajo's cheek, there in the darkness. Poor old Nav . . . the trip
had been too much for him. Charlie cried softly a long time. Nav
was gone. His best friend, and now he was gone.
At last, Charlie went into the Shack again, trying
hard not to think. He rummaged around through the back porch shed,
finally locating the spade. Pausing as he started through the
kitchen, Charlie dug down in the deep cooler box and took out the
bag. The whole bag, since it was the last time.
He worked silently, steadily, digging in the soft
sand of the corral yard. It wasn't long before he had the grave dug
deep enough, down to the cool, moist sand. In the most careful way
he could, Charlie eased Navajo's body over, sliding it down into
the shallow pit. Then he covered Nav's head over with the piece of
oilcloth he had brought out. And in beside it, he placed the bag,
with all the remaining apples that had been in the cooler box.
Charlie didn't cry any more when the pit was
finally all covered over and smoothed out. But by the time he
reached the shed on the back porch to put away the spade, the tears
in his eyes felt like hot desert rain. He sat down on the floor
beside his bunk, after turning out the light, and leaned his face
against the blanket.
The late moon was slowly rising, slanting beams
across the floor. Charlie first noticed it as he turned and saw the
beam of light moving up his ankle. He had no idea how long he'd
been there, and he didn't much care. He didn't even look at the
clock as he sat on the bunk, pulling on his boots. Then in a sudden
mixture of loneliness and fear, Charlie ran to the phone across the
room, trying hard to call anyone, in town. It hadn't changed. The
powerlines were making as much static as ever. He got nothing but
static.
Going to the door, Charlie breathed the cool air of
the desert night into his lungs, to try and stop that deep down
pain, though he knew it wouldn't help. He started walking toward
the Colorado, silently watching the small shadows of clouds race
across his path on the desert floor. There was no way of telling
how long he walked, not caring whether it was up river or down
river. He vaguely recalled crossing the Dam road, millions and
millions of years ago ... it didn't matter.
Then he noticed a faint gray in the East, across
the mountain ridges. It must be near to morning ... Dondee ...
Biri, they should be far out in space by now. And Elstara ... and
the Primate ... his folks.
the turn in the road, the small hill up river from the Dam. Then he
stopped suddenly. He stood very still. There—it came again just
now—that familiar impulse, one he knew so well!
see, it's been now approximately seven thousand years since our
great cities were united, and since the armed forces of that time
were abolished."
"Then
why
should it be a secret—whatever
it is?" Charlie asked, more puzzled than ever.
"Pride!"
Dondee said, suddenly angry. "That's all it is, foolish
pride!"
They were all silent for some time after Dondee's
sudden outburst.
"It would be difficult to make you see it,
Charles," the Primate went on.
"Why—why would it, sir—" Charlie asked quickly,
"because maybe your world still thinks I'm a primitive?"
"Oh no," Elstara said, going over and putting her
arm about him. "We could never think that again, son. Never."
"I shall tell you," Darda Bin said. "If you feel it
proper, you can keep the confidence. If not, you may divulge
it."
"I'll keep it," Charlie agreed, "just so long as it
won't hurt anybody. Back home."
"It is this, then," the Primate began. "I hope, in
the light of circumstance, you can understand a higher
civilization's pride, son. For a long time, we never knew what your
world's reaction might be, were we to tell them the secret of our
search, the reasons for the Star Project. And, as a proud culture,
we could not bring ourselves to ask, perhaps even beg, and then be
refused the chance to find what we sought."
"But I still don't see what—"
"I'll tell you, Charles. We now have within our
grasp, the solution to the one great problem of our land, the
knowledge of how we might be able to break down the Barrier around
this planet, just as the barrier once circling your Little Star was
broken down. Not by Man, but through natural causes, millions of
years ago."
"You mean, sir—father, that all you want to know
is—is how to clear away the fog, the mist, and have straight
sunshine?"
"Yes, Charles. We know now it can be done,
chemically.
The studies made in your Arizona
country have proven that. The shadows of our world can be
lifted,
must
be
lifted, just as even your world already knows how to
make
mists. It is what
your land calls rain-making."
"It was for that reason only, Charles, that we made
regular missions to your Arizona country. Through the study and
experiments under your atmospheric conditions, we have realized the
greatest dream of all, as we now stand on the threshold. We shall
be able now to brush away the mighty mists that veil us from the
Sun we call our own."
Charlie looked at each one, then back at the
Primate again.
"Sir, I promise that I'll
never
tell the secret. I
sort of feel a little bit, well—like this is my own world now, too.
I'll want to know you have the Sunlight too, so I'll keep the
secret."
take-off, that his life on the Barrier World had been pretty happy
all around, almost like the happy days when Uncle John was still
alive. Navajo had been sick the night before, but it was mostly
from all the past strain of the trip between two planets, different
water for drinking, and the general excitement he had been through.
He was just tired, Charlie realized, and getting pretty old now.
But the morning came, and Navajo, seeming to sense that he was
going home, was up and eager when Charlie came to get him for the
trip to the upper surface.
"Here, Dondee," he said, "you always liked them a
lot— and one for you, Biri. This one's for you to keep."
Jumping up and down with joy, they both hugged
Charlie, delighted with the silver star spur-wheel he had given
each one of them. Neither one of them mentioned the fact that he
now had only one spur, or that he'd probably never have any use for
it in the city, much less find a horse to ride. That was beside the
point. Both immediately got other heavier shoes—the boots worn on
the surface—and Charlie helped them attach the spurs.
"We'll never take them off!" Biri
promised, reflecting Dondee's impulse too. "We'll
always
wear them,
Charles."
would keep this homeland's secret, Charlie was held close by the
Primate and Elstara, before they finally released him to go
aboard.
"Please
,"
Dondee begged again, as he and Biri had done all day, "can't we
just go with Charles, to be sure he gets home again all
right?"
them, too.
"All right, you can go with your
duplicate, the both of you. But remember, all of
you—
you
too,
Charles, be sure and obey the flagship's commander."
husband's comment.
"And when we get there—" Dondee pushed their
victory further, "we don't have to just drop Charles and rush right
back the same minute, do we, father?"
Primate Bin sighed wearily, smiling at
Charles.
"No, I suppose you don't. But don't delay too long.
It's hard enough for Charles to leave you now, without your making
his going home all the more difficult."
The last goodbyes were said on the Barrier World.
Only Elstara cried now, softly, gently, as Charles left. Charlie
finally ran for the flagship's open waiting ramp. Dondee and Biri
had already gone aboard and were waiting for him. There was no
dragging of time on the return trip to Little Star, for none of the
three really wanted the separation. With every passing day, their
pleasure in being together became more clouded as they neared the
Arizona country. But to Charlie it was far easier to take it since
it was his own world to which he was returning, the world he had
always known, and he wanted to be back in the security of the
familiar Shack, just to be home again. He loved Dondee and Biri,
the only brother and sister he had ever had, his duplicates, but
this was something he must force himself to forget.
On the last day the commander began the
deceleration. Charlie, Biri and Dondee watched silently as
Charlie's brilliant green ball loomed in monumental splendor before
them, its five great continents clearly defined. With the speed
decrease, the ship was scheduled for alightment that evening—in the
same old place Charlie remembered, the natural cradle ramp, formed
by the twin peaks of Saddle Mountain. In this way, they would most
likely be unseen, since the Commander didn't want to make it any
more obvious than necessary that they had come down.
Biri was the most excited of all, since Dondee had
seen Charlie's Arizona already, and she was extremely disappointed
when the Commander informed them that the landing
would be made at night. She wanted to see Charlie's
Sun, how it looked white instead of blue in Arizona, as Charlie had
told her.
As the last rays of the Sun fell shimmering into
the great Pacific Ocean to the westward, out of Biri's eager view,
the mighty flagship plunged downward, slanting like a great and
swiftly falling leaf. It navigated the last several hundred
thousand feet, then hovered briefly as it swung into position over
the familiar Saddle Peaks.
"That's them! That's it!" Charlie shouted, and all
three danced happily, carelessly disregarding the signal to hold to
the grip-safeties.
After the first excitement, and after the ramp had
been lowered from the bottom tier, the three stood on the lower
control dome's platform, finding themselves strangely without
anything to say. Charlie was home. Charlie looked at them now,
feeling inwardly guilty about leaving them, saying goodbye forever.
Then suddenly Dondee pushed out his hand, trying hard to say the
words lightly as he smiled.
"Shake, Charles!"
Charlie did. Then he shook Biri's hand, anxious to
do anything to hide his feelings.
"And—and like on your world," Charlie said quickly,
and he put his hands to both Biri's and Dondee's face in turn, as
was their world's custom. "My duplicates."
Turning abruptly, Charlie ran for Navajo, jumping
up onto his back Indian fashion. As he mounted, the old horse
started eagerly off the ramp, whinnying happily at the familiar
desert smell. Charlie glanced back at the dim glow of lights, and
the
two small figures standing there close together on
the great ramp. He waved, then turned away quickly, even as they
waved back.
Charlie didn't look back or even wait to see their
take-off into the night. He had seen that once before, and knew how
it would be. It was better not to stop and think or let his
feelings go. As he hurried Navajo down the hard dirt road toward
the Dam, Charlie spurred the old horse gently with his spur-less
boot heels, getting the already-excited Navajo into an easy gallop.
But even now, the terrible loneliness from the past came back to
him. He felt again that former emptiness, that he had felt ever
since Uncle John died. Leaving Dondee and Biri now only added to
the feeling, making it come back worse than ever.
He patted Navajo again as he released him near the
old corral, then went inside. He stopped a moment to look at the
same old hoof-marks where Navajo had regularly kicked in the side
of the house under his special window. Carefully folding up the
bright toga with the Primate cobalt stripe, Charlie sighed as he
half-heartedly slapped some dust out of the old levis. Then he lay
back on his same old bunk, kicking off the boots slowly, one by
one.
He whistled once, as he often used to do, waiting
to hear Nav's answering whinny from the corral. But it did not
come. Frowning, he turned his head toward the window, and whistled
again, louder this time. It was strange Nav didn't answer.
A sudden alarm overtaking him, Charlie hopped up
from the bunk and ran through the door. As he hurried across
the
clearing to the corral in his bare
feet, he heard a low moan,
then a feeble whinny, as Navajo answered as best he could.
Running now, Charlie found Navajo lying on his side,
breathing hard as his nostrils flared, his eyes wide and
frightened.
Charlie dropped down beside him wiping away the small ball
of foamy white froth that was on his lips. As Charlie raised
his head gently onto his lap, Navajo quieted a little, some-
what soothed by Charlie's comforting talk and
nearness.
much. He died a few minutes later. For a long time after the last
weary sigh came weakly from the old horse, Charlie held Navajo's
head close against his lap. Charlie's own head dropped down against
Navajo's cheek, there in the darkness. Poor old Nav . . . the trip
had been too much for him. Charlie cried softly a long time. Nav
was gone. His best friend, and now he was gone.
At last, Charlie went into the Shack again, trying
hard not to think. He rummaged around through the back porch shed,
finally locating the spade. Pausing as he started through the
kitchen, Charlie dug down in the deep cooler box and took out the
bag. The whole bag, since it was the last time.
He worked silently, steadily, digging in the soft
sand of the corral yard. It wasn't long before he had the grave dug
deep enough, down to the cool, moist sand. In the most careful way
he could, Charlie eased Navajo's body over, sliding it down into
the shallow pit. Then he covered Nav's head over with the piece of
oilcloth he had brought out. And in beside it, he placed the bag,
with all the remaining apples that had been in the cooler box.
Charlie didn't cry any more when the pit was
finally all covered over and smoothed out. But by the time he
reached the shed on the back porch to put away the spade, the tears
in his eyes felt like hot desert rain. He sat down on the floor
beside his bunk, after turning out the light, and leaned his face
against the blanket.
The late moon was slowly rising, slanting beams
across the floor. Charlie first noticed it as he turned and saw the
beam of light moving up his ankle. He had no idea how long he'd
been there, and he didn't much care. He didn't even look at the
clock as he sat on the bunk, pulling on his boots. Then in a sudden
mixture of loneliness and fear, Charlie ran to the phone across the
room, trying hard to call anyone, in town. It hadn't changed. The
powerlines were making as much static as ever. He got nothing but
static.
Going to the door, Charlie breathed the cool air of
the desert night into his lungs, to try and stop that deep down
pain, though he knew it wouldn't help. He started walking toward
the Colorado, silently watching the small shadows of clouds race
across his path on the desert floor. There was no way of telling
how long he walked, not caring whether it was up river or down
river. He vaguely recalled crossing the Dam road, millions and
millions of years ago ... it didn't matter.
Then he noticed a faint gray in the East, across
the mountain ridges. It must be near to morning ... Dondee ...
Biri, they should be far out in space by now. And Elstara ... and
the Primate ... his folks.
"Charles Bin," Charlie whispered
the words aloud. "
My
folks."
He shouldn't have said that out
loud, for, more than ever now, he realized how lonely he really
was. The feeling was worse than ever. His chest ached at the memory
of Uncle John, Navajo ... his
other
family.
the turn in the road, the small hill up river from the Dam. Then he
stopped suddenly. He stood very still. There—it came again just
now—that familiar impulse, one he knew so well!
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