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diff --git a/old/61380-h/61380-h.htm b/old/61380-h/61380-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 769decd..0000000 --- a/old/61380-h/61380-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1958 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Five Hells of Orion, by Frederick Pohl. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Five Hells of Orion, by Frederik Pohl - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Five Hells of Orion - -Author: Frederik Pohl - -Release Date: February 11, 2020 [EBook #61380] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE HELLS OF ORION *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="368" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>THE FIVE HELLS OF ORION</h1> - -<h2>BY FREDERICK POHL</h2> - -<p class="ph1">Out in the great gas cloud of the Orion<br /> -Nebula McCray found an ally—and a foe!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1963.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>His name was Herrell McCray and he was scared.</p> - -<p>As best he could tell, he was in a sort of room no bigger than a prison -cell. Perhaps it was a prison cell. Whatever it was, he had no business -in it; for five minutes before he had been spaceborne, on the Long Jump -from Earth to the thriving colonies circling Betelgeuse Nine. McCray -was ship's navigator, plotting course corrections—not that there were -any, ever; but the reason there were none was that the check-sightings -were made every hour of the long flight. He had read off the azimuth -angles from the computer sights, automatically locked on their beacon -stars, and found them correct; then out of long habit confirmed the -locking mechanism visually. It was only a personal quaintness; he had -done it a thousand times. And while he was looking at Betelgeuse, Rigel -and Saiph ... it happened.</p> - -<p>The room was totally dark, and it seemed to be furnished with a -collection of hard, sharp, sticky and knobby objects of various shapes -and a number of inconvenient sizes. McCray tripped over something -that rocked under his feet and fell against something that clattered -hollowly. He picked himself up, braced against something that smelled -dangerously of halogen compounds, and scratched his shoulder, right -through his space-tunic, against something that vibrated as he touched -it.</p> - -<p>McCray had no idea where he was, and no way to find out.</p> - -<p>Not only was he in darkness, but in utter silence as well. No. Not -quite utter silence.</p> - -<p>Somewhere, just at the threshold of his senses, there was something -like a voice. He could not quite hear it, but it was there. He sat as -still as he could, listening; it remained elusive.</p> - -<p>Probably it was only an illusion.</p> - -<p>But the room itself was hard fact. McCray swore violently and out loud.</p> - -<p>It was crazy and impossible. There simply was no way for him to get -from a warm, bright navigator's cubicle on <i>Starship Jodrell Bank</i> to -this damned, dark, dismal hole of a place where everything was out to -hurt him and nothing explained what was going on. He cried aloud in -exasperation: "If I could only <i>see</i>!"</p> - -<p>He tripped and fell against something that was soft, slimy and, like -baker's dough, not at all resilient.</p> - -<p>A flickering halo of pinkish light appeared. He sat up, startled. He -was looking at something that resembled a suit of medieval armor.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was, he saw in a moment, not armor but a spacesuit. But what was the -light? And what were these other things in the room?</p> - -<p>Wherever he looked, the light danced along with his eyes. It was like -having tunnel vision or wearing blinders. He could see what he was -looking at, but he could see nothing else. And the things he could -see made no sense. A spacesuit, yes; he knew that he could construct -a logical explanation for that with no trouble—maybe a subspace -meteorite striking the <i>Jodrell Bank</i>, an explosion, himself knocked -out, brought here in a suit ... well, it was an explanation with more -holes than fabric, like a fisherman's net, but at least it was rational.</p> - -<p>How to explain a set of Gibbon's <i>Decline and Fall of the Roman -Empire?</i> A space-ax? Or the old-fashioned child's rocking-chair, the -chemistry set—or, most of all, the scrap of gaily printed fabric -that, when he picked it up, turned out to be a girl's scanty bathing -suit? It was slightly reassuring, McCray thought, to find that most of -the objects were more or less familiar. Even the child's chair—why, -he'd had one more or less like that himself, long before he was old -enough to go to school. But what were they doing here?</p> - -<p>Not everything he saw was familiar. The walls of the room itself were -strange. They were not metal or plaster or knotty pine; they were -not papered, painted or overlaid with stucco. They seemed to be made -of some sort of hard organic compound, perhaps a sort of plastic or -processed cellulose. It was hard to tell colors in the pinkish light. -But they seemed to have none. They were "neutral"—the color of aged -driftwood or unbleached cloth.</p> - -<p>Three of the walls were that way, and the floor and ceiling. The fourth -wall was something else. Areas in it had the appearance of gratings; -from them issued the pungent, distasteful halogen odor. They might be -ventilators, he thought; but if so the air they brought in was worse -than what he already had.</p> - -<p>McCray was beginning to feel more confident. It was astonishing how a -little light made an impossible situation bearable, how quickly his -courage flowed back when he could see again.</p> - -<p>He stood still, thinking. Item, a short time ago—subjectively it -seemed to be minutes—he had been aboard the <i>Jodrell Bank</i> with -nothing more on his mind than completing his check-sighting and meeting -one of the female passengers for coffee. Item, apart from being -shaken up and—he admitted it—scared damn near witless, he did not -seem to be hurt. Item, wherever he was now, it became, not so much what -had happened to him, but what had happened to the ship?</p> - -<p>He allowed that thought to seep into his mind. Suppose there had been -an accident to the <i>Jodrell Bank</i>.</p> - -<p>He could, of course, be dead. All this could be the fantasies of a -cooling brain.</p> - -<p>McCray grinned into the pink-lit darkness. The thought had somehow -refreshed him, like icewater between rounds, and with a clearing head -he remembered what a spacesuit was good for.</p> - -<p>It held a radio.</p> - -<p>He pressed the unsealing tabs, slipped his hand into the vacant chest -of the suit and pulled out the hand mike. "This is Herrell McCray," he -said, "calling the <i>Jodrell Bank</i>."</p> - -<p>No response. He frowned. "This is Herrell McCray, calling <i>Jodrell -Bank</i>.</p> - -<p>"Herrell McCray, calling anybody, come in, please."</p> - -<p>But there was no answer.</p> - -<p>Thoughtfully he replaced the microphone. This was ultrawave radio, -something more than a million times faster than light, with a range -measured, at least, in hundreds of light-years. If there was no answer, -he was a good long way from anywhere.</p> - -<p>Of course, the thing might not be operating.</p> - -<p>He reached for the microphone again—</p> - -<p>He cried aloud.</p> - -<p>The pinkish lights went out. He was in the dark again, worse dark than -before.</p> - -<p>For before the light had gone, McCray had seen what had escaped -his eyes before. The suit and the microphone were clear enough in -the pinkish glimmer; but the hand—his own hand, cupped to hold the -microphone—he had not seen at all. Nor his arm. Nor, in one fleeting -moment of study, his chest.</p> - -<p>McCray could not see any part of his own body at all.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph2">II</p> - -<p>Someone else could.</p> - -<p>Someone was watching Herrell McCray, with the clinical fascination -of a biochemist observing the wigglings of paramecia in a new -antibiotic—and with the prayerful emotions of a starving, shipwrecked, -sailor, watching the inward bobbing drift of a wave-born cask that -<i>may</i> contain food.</p> - -<p>Suppose you call him "Hatcher" (and suppose you call it a "him.") -Hatcher was not exactly male, because his race had no true males; but -it did have females and he was certainly not that. Hatcher did not in -any way look like a human being, but they had features in common.</p> - -<p>If Hatcher and McCray had somehow managed to strike up an acquaintance, -they might have got along very well. Hatcher, like McCray, was an -adventurous soul, young, able, well-learned in the technical sciences -of his culture. Both enjoyed games—McCray baseball, poker and -three-dimensional chess; Hatcher a number of sports which defy human -description. Both held positions of some importance—considering their -ages—in the affairs of their respective worlds.</p> - -<p>Physically they were nothing alike. Hatcher was a three-foot, -hard-shelled sphere of jelly. He had "arms" and "legs," but they were -not organically attached to "himself." They were snakelike things which -obeyed the orders of his brain as well as your mind can make your toes -curl; but they did not touch him directly. Indeed, they worked as well -a yard or a quarter-mile away as they did when, rarely, they rested -in the crevices they had been formed from in his "skin." At greater -distances they worked less well, for reasons irrelevant to the Law of -Inverse Squares.</p> - -<p>Hatcher's principal task at this moment was to run the "probe team" -which had McCray under observation, and he was more than a little -excited. His members, disposed about the room where he had sent them on -various errands, quivered and shook a little; yet they were the calmest -limbs in the room; the members of the other team workers were in a -state of violent commotion.</p> - -<p>The probe team had had a shock.</p> - -<p>"Paranormal powers," muttered Hatcher's second in command, and the -others mumbled agreement. Hatcher ordered silence, studying the -specimen from Earth.</p> - -<p>After a long moment he turned his senses from the Earthman. -"Incredible—but it's true enough," he said. "I'd better report. Watch -him," he added, but that was surely unnecessary. Their job was to -watch McCray, and they would do their job; and even more, not one of -them could have looked away to save his life from the spectacle of -a creature as odd and, from their point of view, hideously alien as -Herrell McCray.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatcher hurried through the halls of the great buried structure in -which he worked, toward the place where the supervising council of all -probes would be in permanent session. They admitted him at once.</p> - -<p>Hatcher identified himself and gave a quick, concise report:</p> - -<p>"The subject recovered consciousness a short time ago and began to -inspect his enclosure. His method of doing so was to put his own -members in physical contact with the various objects in the enclosure. -After observing him do this for a time we concluded he might be unable -to see and so we illuminated his field of vision for him.</p> - -<p>"This appeared to work well for a time. He seemed relatively -undisturbed. However, he then reverted to physical-contact, -manipulating certain appurtenances of an artificial skin we had -provided for him.</p> - -<p>"He then began to vibrate the atmosphere by means of resonating organs -in his breathing passage.</p> - -<p>"Simultaneously, the object he was holding, attached to the artificial -skin, was discovered to be generating paranormal forces."</p> - -<p>The supervising council rocked with excitement. "You're sure?" demanded -one of the councilmen.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. The staff is preparing a technical description of the forces -now, but I can say that they are electromagnetic vibrations modulating -a carrier wave of very high speed, and in turn modulated by the -vibrations of the atmosphere caused by the subject's own breathing."</p> - -<p>"Fantastic," breathed the councillor, in a tone of dawning hope. "How -about communicating with him, Hatcher? Any progress?"</p> - -<p>"Well ... not much, sir. He suddenly panicked. We don't know why; but -we thought we'd better pull back and let him recover for a while."</p> - -<p>The council conferred among itself for a moment, Hatcher waiting. It -was not really a waste of time for him; with the organs he had left in -the probe-team room, he was in fairly close touch with what was going -on—knew that McCray was once again fumbling among the objects in the -dark, knew that the team-members had tried illuminating the room for -him briefly and again produced the rising panic.</p> - -<p>Still, Hatcher fretted. He wanted to get back.</p> - -<p>"Stop fidgeting," commanded the council leader abruptly. "Hatcher, you -are to establish communication at once."</p> - -<p>"But, sir...." Hatcher swung closer, his thick skin quivering slightly; -he would have gestured if he had brought members with him to gesture -with. "We've done everything we dare. We've made the place homey -for him—" actually, what he said was more like, <i>we've warmed the -biophysical nuances of his enclosure</i>—"and tried to guess his needs; -and we're frightening him half to death. We <i>can't</i> go faster. This -creature is in no way similar to us, you know. He relies on paranormal -forces—heat, light, kinetic energy—for his life. His chemistry is not -ours, his processes of thought are not ours, his entire organism is -closer to the inanimate rocks of a sea-bottom than to ourselves."</p> - -<p>"Understood, Hatcher. In your first report you stated these creatures -were intelligent."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. But not in our way."</p> - -<p>"But in <i>a</i> way, and you must learn that way. I know." One lobster-claw -shaped member drifted close to the councillor's body and raised itself -in an admonitory gesture. "You want time. But we don't have time, -Hatcher. Yours is not the only probe team working. The Central Masses -team has just turned in a most alarming report."</p> - -<p>"Have they secured a subject?" Hatcher demanded jealously.</p> - -<p>The councillor paused. "Worse than that, Hatcher. I am afraid their -subjects have secured one of them. One of them is missing."</p> - -<p>There was a moment's silence. Frozen, Hatcher could only wait. The -council room was like a tableau in a museum until the councillor spoke -again, each council member poised over his locus-point, his members -drifting about him.</p> - -<p>Finally the councillor said, "I speak for all of us, I think. If the -Old Ones have seized one of our probers our time margin is considerably -narrowed. Indeed, we may not have any time at all. You must do -everything you can to establish communication with your subject."</p> - -<p>"But the danger to the specimen—" Hatcher protested automatically.</p> - -<p>"—is no greater," said the councillor, "than the danger to every one -of us if we do not find allies <i>now</i>."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatcher returned to his laboratory gloomily.</p> - -<p>It was just like the council to put the screws on; they had a -reputation for demanding results at any cost—even at the cost of -destroying the only thing you had that would make results possible.</p> - -<p>Hatcher did not like the idea of endangering the Earthman. It cannot -be said that he was emotionally involved; it was not pity or sympathy -that caused him to regret the dangers in moving too fast toward -communication. Not even Hatcher had quite got over the revolting -physical differences between the Earthman and his own people. But -Hatcher did not want him destroyed. It had been difficult enough -getting him here.</p> - -<p>Hatcher checked through the members that he had left with the rest of -his team and discovered that there were no immediate emergencies, so he -took time to eat. In Hatcher's race this was accomplished in ways not -entirely pleasant to Earthmen. A slit in the lower hemisphere of his -body opened, like a purse, emitting a thin, pussy, fetid fluid which -Hatcher caught and poured into a disposal trough at the side of the -eating room. He then stuffed the slit with pulpy vegetation the texture -of kelp; it closed, and his body was supplied with nourishment for -another day.</p> - -<p>He returned quickly to the room.</p> - -<p>His second in command was busy, but one of the other team workers -reported—nothing new—and asked about Hatcher's appearance before the -council. Hatcher passed the question off. He considered telling his -staff about the disappearance of the Central Masses team member, but -decided against it. He had not been told it was secret. On the other -hand, he had not been told it was not. Something of this importance was -not lightly to be gossiped about. For endless generations the threat -of the Old Ones had hung over his race, those queer, almost mythical -beings from the Central Masses of the galaxy. One brush with them, in -ages past, had almost destroyed Hatcher's people. Only by running and -hiding, bearing one of their planets with them and abandoning it—with -its population—as a decoy, had they arrived at all.</p> - -<p>Now they had detected mapping parties of the Old Ones dangerously near -the spiral arm of the galaxy in which their planet was located, they -had begun the Probe Teams to find some way of combating them, or of -fleeing again.</p> - -<p>But it seemed that the Probe Teams themselves might be betraying their -existence to their enemies—</p> - -<p>"Hatcher!"</p> - -<p>The call was urgent; he hurried to see what it was about. It was his -second in command, very excited. "What is it?" Hatcher demanded.</p> - -<p>"Wait...."</p> - -<p>Hatcher was patient; he knew his assistant well. Obviously something -was about to happen. He took the moment to call his members back to -him for feeding; they dodged back to their niches on his skin, fitted -themselves into their vestigial slots, poured back their wastes into -his own circulation and ingested what they needed from the meal he had -just taken.... "Now!" cried the assistant. "Look!"</p> - -<p>At what passed among Hatcher's people for a viewing console an image -was forming. Actually it was the assistant himself who formed it, not a -cathode trace or projected shadow; but it showed what it was meant to -show.</p> - -<p>Hatcher was startled. "Another one! And—is it a different species? Or -merely a different sex?"</p> - -<p>"Study the probe for yourself," the assistant invited.</p> - -<p>Hatcher studied him frostily; his patience was not, after all, endless. -"No matter," he said at last. "Bring the other one in."</p> - -<p>And then, in a completely different mood, "We may need him badly. We -may be in the process of killing our first one now."</p> - -<p>"Killing him, Hatcher?"</p> - -<p>Hatcher rose and shook himself, his mindless members floating away like -puppies dislodged from suck. "Council's orders," he said. "We've got to -go into Stage Two of the project at once."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph2">III</p> - -<p>Before Stage Two began, or before Herrell McCray realized it had begun, -he had an inspiration.</p> - -<p>The dark was absolute, but he remembered where the spacesuit had been -and groped his way to it and, yes, it had what all spacesuits had to -have. It had a light. He found the toggle that turned it on and pressed -it.</p> - -<p>Light. White, flaring, Earthly light, that showed everything—even -himself.</p> - -<p>"God bless," he said, almost beside himself with joy. Whatever that -pinkish, dancing halo had been, it had thrown him into a panic; now -that he could see his own hand again, he could blame the weird effects -on some strange property of the light.</p> - -<p>At the moment he heard the click that was the beginning of Stage Two.</p> - -<p>He switched off the light and stood for a moment, listening.</p> - -<p>For a second he thought he heard the far-off voice, quiet, calm and -almost hopeless, that he had sensed hours before; but then that was -gone. Something else was gone. Some faint mechanical sound that had -hardly registered at the time, but was not missing. And there was, -perhaps, a nice new sound that had not been there before; a very -faint, an almost inaudible elfin hiss.</p> - -<p>McCray switched the light on and looked around. There seemed to be no -change.</p> - -<p>And yet, surely, it was warmer in here.</p> - -<p>He could see no difference; but perhaps, he thought, he could smell -one. The unpleasant halogen odor from the grating was surely stronger -now. He stood there, perplexed.</p> - -<p>A tinny little voice from the helmet of the space suit said sharply, -amazement in its tone, "McCray, is that you? Where the devil are you -calling from?"</p> - -<p>He forgot smell, sound and temperature and leaped for the suit. "This -is Herrell McCray," he cried. "I'm in a room of some sort, apparently -on a planet of approximate Earth mass. I don't know—"</p> - -<p>"McCray!" cried the tiny voice in his ear. "Where are you? This is -<i>Jodrell Bank</i> calling. Answer, please!"</p> - -<p>"I <i>am</i> answering, damn it," he roared. "What took you so long?"</p> - -<p>"Herrell McCray," droned the tiny voice in his ear, "Herrell McCray, -Herrell McCray, this is <i>Jodrell Bank</i> responding to your message, -acknowledge please. Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray...."</p> - -<p>It kept on, and on.</p> - -<p>McCray took a deep breath and thought. Something was wrong. Either they -didn't hear him, which meant the radio wasn't transmitting, or—no. -That was not it; they <i>had</i> heard him, because they were responding. -But it seemed to take them so long....</p> - -<p>Abruptly his face went white. Took them so long! He cast back in his -mind, questing for a fact, unable to face its implications. When was -it he called them? Two hours ago? Three?</p> - -<p>Did that mean—did it <i>possibly</i> mean—that there was a lag of an hour -or two each way? Did it, for example, mean that at the speed of his -suit's pararadio, millions of times faster than light, it took <i>hours</i> -to get a message to the ship and back?</p> - -<p>And if so ... where in the name of heaven was he?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Herrell McCray was a navigator, which is to say, a man who has learned -to trust the evidence of mathematics and instrument readings beyond the -guesses of his "common sense." When <i>Jodrell Bank</i>, hurtling faster -than light in its voyage between stars, made its regular position -check, common sense was a liar. Light bore false witness. The line of -sight was trustworthy directly forward and directly after—sometimes -not even then—and it took computers, sensing their data through -instruments, to comprehend a star bearing and convert three fixes into -a position.</p> - -<p>If the evidence of his radio contradicted common sense, common sense -was wrong. Perhaps it was impossible to believe what the radio's -message implied; but it was not necessary to "believe," only to act.</p> - -<p>McCray thumbed down the transmitter button and gave a concise report -of his situation and his guesses. "I don't know how I got here. I -don't know how long I've been gone, since I was unconscious for a -time. However, if the transmission lag is a reliable indication—" he -swallowed and went on—"I'd estimate I am something more than five -hundred light-years away from you at this moment. That's all I have to -say, except for one more word: Help."</p> - -<p>He grinned sourly and released the button. The message was on its way, -and it would be hours before he could have a reply. Therefore he had to -consider what to do next.</p> - -<p>He mopped his brow. With the droning, repetitious call from the ship -finally quiet, the room was quiet again. And warm.</p> - -<p>Very warm, he thought tardily; and more than that. The halogen stench -was strong in his nostrils again.</p> - -<p>Hurriedly McCray scrambled into the suit. By the time he was sealed -down he was coughing from the bottom of his lungs, deep, tearing rasps -that pained him, uncontrollable. Chlorine or fluorine, one of them was -in the air he had been breathing. He could not guess where it had come -from; but it was ripping his lungs out.</p> - -<p>He flushed the interior of the suit out with a reckless disregard for -the wastage of his air reserve, holding his breath as much as he could, -daring only shallow gasps that made him retch and gag. After a long -time he could breathe, though his eyes were spilling tears.</p> - -<p>He could see the fumes in the room now. The heat was building up.</p> - -<p>Automatically—now that he had put it on and so started its -servo-circuits operating—the suit was cooling him. This was a -deep-space suit, regulation garb when going outside the pressure hull -of an FTL ship. It was good up to at least five hundred degrees in thin -air, perhaps three or four hundred in dense. In thin air or in space it -was the elastic joints and couplings that depolymerized when the heat -grew too great; in dense air, with conduction pouring energy in faster -than the cooling coils could suck it out and hurl it away, it was the -refrigerating equipment that broke down.</p> - -<p>McCray had no way of knowing just how hot it was going to get. Nor, -for that matter, had the suit been designed to operate in a corrosive -medium.</p> - -<p>All in all it was time for him to do something.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Among the debris on the floor, he remembered, was a five-foot space-ax, -tungsten-steel blade and springy aluminum shaft.</p> - -<p>McCray caught it up and headed for the door. It felt good in his -gauntlets, a rewarding weight; any weapon straightens the back of the -man who holds it, and McCray was grateful for this one. With something -concrete to do he could postpone questioning. Never mind why he had -been brought here; never mind how. Never mind what he would, or could, -do next; all those questions could recede into the background of his -mind while he swung the ax and battered his way out of this poisoned -oven.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="329" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><i>Crash-clang!</i> The double jolt ran up the shaft of the ax, through his -gauntlets and into his arm; but he was making progress, he could see -the plastic—or whatever it was—of the door. It was chipping out. Not -easily, very reluctantly; but flaking out in chips that left a white -powdery residue.</p> - -<p>At this rate, he thought grimly, he would be an hour getting through -it. Did he have an hour?</p> - -<p>But it did not take an hour. One blow was luckier than the rest; it -must have snapped the lock mechanism. The door shook and slid ajar. -McCray got the thin of the blade into the crack and pried it wide.</p> - -<p>He was in another room, maybe a hall, large and bare.</p> - -<p>McCray put the broad of his back against the broken door and pressed it -as nearly closed as he could; it might not keep the gas and heat out, -but it would retard them.</p> - -<p>The room was again unlighted—at least to McCray's eyes. There was not -even that pink pseudo-light that had baffled him; here was nothing -but the beam of his suit lamp. What it showed was cryptic. There were -evidences of use: shelves, boxy contraptions that might have been -cupboards, crude level surfaces attached to the walls that might have -been workbenches. Yet they were queerly contrived, for it was not -possible to guess from them much about the creatures who used them. -Some were near the floor, some at waist height, some even suspended -from the ceiling itself. A man would need a ladder to work at these -benches and McCray, staring, thought briefly of many-armed blind giants -or shapeless huge intelligent amoebae, and felt the skin prickle at the -back of his neck.</p> - -<p>He tapped half-heartedly at one of the closed cupboards, and was not -surprised when it proved as refractory as the door. Undoubtedly he -could batter it open, but it was not likely that much would be left of -its contents when he was through; and there was the question of time.</p> - -<p>But his attention was diverted by a gleam from one of the benches. -Metallic parts lay heaped in a pile. He poked at them with a -stiff-fingered gauntlet; they were oddly familiar. They were, he -thought, very much like the parts of a bullet-gun.</p> - -<p>In fact, they were. He could recognize barrel, chamber, trigger, even -a couple of cartridges, neatly opened and the grains of powder stacked -beside them. It was an older, clumsier model than the kind he had seen -in survival locker, on the <i>Jodrell Bank</i>—and abruptly wished he were -carrying now—but it was a pistol. Another trophy, like the strange -assortment in the other room? He could not guess. But the others had -been more familiar; they all have come from his own ship. He was -prepared to swear that nothing like this antique had been aboard.</p> - -<p>The drone began again in his ear, as it had at five-minute intervals -all along:</p> - -<p>"Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, this is <i>Jodrell Bank</i> -calling Herrell McCray...."</p> - -<p>And louder, blaring, then fading to normal volume as the AVC circuits -toned the signal down, another voice. A woman's voice, crying out in -panic and fear: "<i>Jodrell Bank!</i> Where are you? Help!"</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph2">IV</p> - -<p>Hatcher's second in command said: "He has got through the first -survival test. In fact, he broke his way out! What next?"</p> - -<p>"Wait!" Hatcher ordered sharply. He was watching the new specimen and -a troublesome thought had occurred to him. The new one was female and -seemed to be in pain; but it was not the pain that disturbed Hatcher, -it was something far more immediate to his interests.</p> - -<p>"I think," he said slowly, "that they are in contact."</p> - -<p>His assistant vibrated startlement.</p> - -<p>"I know," Hatcher said, "but watch. Do you see? He is going straight -toward her."</p> - -<p>Hatcher, who was not human, did not possess truly human emotions; but -he did feel amazement when he was amazed, and fear when there was -cause to be afraid. These specimens, obtained with so much difficulty, -needed so badly, were his responsibility. He knew the issues involved -much better than any of his helpers. They could only be surprised at -the queer antics of the aliens with attached limbs and strange powers. -Hatcher knew that this was not a freak show, but a matter of life and -death. He said, musing:</p> - -<p>"This new one, I cannot communicate with her, but I get—almost—a -whisper, now and then. The first one, the male, nothing. But this -female is perhaps not quite mute."</p> - -<p>"Then shall we abandon him and work with her, forgetting the first one?"</p> - -<p>Hatcher hesitated. "No," he said at last. "The male is responding well. -Remember that when last this experiment was done every subject died; he -is alive at least. But I am wondering. We can't quite communicate with -the female—"</p> - -<p>"But?"</p> - -<p>"But I'm not sure that others can't."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The woman's voice was at such close range that McCray's suit radio made -a useful RDF set. He located her direction easily enough, shielding the -tiny built-in antenna with the tungsten-steel blade of the ax, while -she begged him to hurry. Her voice was heavily accented, with some -words in a language he did not recognize. She seemed to be in shock.</p> - -<p>McCray was hardly surprised at that; he had been close enough to shock -himself. He tried to reassure her as he searched for a way out of the -hall, but in the middle of a word her voice stopped.</p> - -<p>He hesitated, hefting the ax, glancing back at the way he had come. -There had to be a way out, even if it meant chopping through a wall.</p> - -<p>When he turned around again there was a door. It was oddly shaped and -unlike the door he had hewn through, but clearly a door all the same, -and it was open.</p> - -<p>McCray regarded it grimly. He went back in his memory with meticulous -care. Had he not looked at, this very spot a matter of moments before? -He had. And had there been an open door then? There had not. There -hadn't been even a shadowy outline of the three-sided, uneven opening -that stood there now.</p> - -<p>Still, it led in the proper direction. McCray added one more -inexplicable fact to his file and walked through. He was in another -hall—or tunnel—rising quite steeply to the right. By his reckoning it -was the proper direction. He labored up it, sweating under the weight -of the suit, and found another open door, this one round, and behind -it—</p> - -<p>Yes, there was the woman whose voice he had heard.</p> - -<p>It was a woman, all right. The voice had been so strained that he -hadn't been positive. Even now, short black hair might not have proved -it, and she was lying face down but the waist and hips were a woman's, -even though she wore a bulky, quilted suit of coveralls.</p> - -<p>He knelt beside her and gently turned her face.</p> - -<p>She was unconscious. Broad, dark face, with no make-up; she was -apparently in her late thirties. She appeared to be Chinese.</p> - -<p>She breathed, a little raggedly but without visible discomfort; her -face was relaxed as though she were sleeping. She did not rouse as he -moved her.</p> - -<p>He realized she was breathing the air of the room they were in.</p> - -<p>His instant first thought was that she was in danger of asphyxiation; -he started to leap up to get, and put her into, the small, flimsy space -suit he saw slumped in a corner. At second thought he realized that -she would not be breathing so comfortably if the air were full of the -poisonous reek that had driven him out of the first room.</p> - -<p>There was an obvious conclusion to be drawn from that; perhaps he could -economize on his own air reserve. Tentatively he cracked the seal of -his faceplate and took a cautious breath. The faint reek of halogens -was still there, but it was not enough even to make his eyes water, and -the temperature of the air was merely pleasantly warm.</p> - -<p>He shook her, but she did not wake.</p> - -<p>He stood up and regarded her thoughtfully. It was a disappointment. -Her voice had given him hope of a companion, someone to talk things -over with, to compare notes—someone who, if not possessing any more -answers than himself, could at least serve as a sounding-board in the -give-and-take of discussion that might make some sort of sense out of -the queerness that permeated this place.</p> - -<p>What he had instead was another burden to carry, for she was unable to -care for herself and surely he could not leave her in this condition.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He slipped off the helmet absently and pressed the buttons that turned -off the suit's cooling units, looking around the chamber. It was bare -except for a litter of irrelevant human articles—much like the one in -which he himself had first appeared, except that the articles were not -<i>Jodrell Bank's</i>. A woven cane screen, some cooking utensils, a machine -like a desk calculator, some books—he picked up one of the books and -glanced at it. It was printed on coarse paper, and the text was in -ideographs, Chinese, perhaps; he did not know Oriental languages.</p> - -<p>McCray knew that the <i>Jodrell Bank</i> was not the only FTL vessel in this -volume of space. The Betelgeuse run was a busy one, as FTL shipping -lanes went. Almost daily departures from some point on Earth to one of -the colonies, with equal traffic in the other direction.</p> - -<p>Of course, if the time-lag in communication did not lie, he was no -longer anywhere within that part of the sky; Betelgeuse was only a few -hundred light-years from Sol, and subspace radio covered that distance -in something like fifty minutes. But suppose the woman came from -another ship; perhaps a Singapore or Tokyo vessel, on the same run. -She might easily have been trapped as he was trapped. And if she were -awake, he could find out from her what had happened, and thus learn -something that might be of use.</p> - -<p>Although it was hard to see what might be of use in these most -unprecedented and unpleasant circumstances.</p> - -<p>The drone from <i>Jodrell Bank</i> began again: "Herrell McCray, Herrell -McCray, Herrell McCray, this is <i>Jodrell Bank</i> responding—"</p> - -<p>He turned the volume down but did not dare turn it off. He had lost -track of time and couldn't guess when they would respond to his last -message. He needed to hear that response when it came. Meanwhile, what -about his fellow-captive?</p> - -<p>Her suit was only a flimsy work-about model, as airtight as his but -without the bracing required for building jet propulsors into it. It -contained air reserves enough, and limited water; but neither food nor -emergency medical supplies.</p> - -<p>McCray had both of these, of course. It was merely one more reason why -he could not abandon her and go on ... if, that is, he could find some -reason for going in one direction preferably to another, and if a wall -would conveniently open again to let him go there.</p> - -<p>He could give her an injection of a stimulant, he mused. Would that -improve the situation? Not basically, he decided, with some regret. -Sleep was a need, not a luxury; it would not help her to be awakened -chemically, when body was demonstrating its need for rest by refusing -to wake to a call. Anyway, if she were not seriously injured she would -undoubtedly wake of her own accord before long.</p> - -<p>He checked pulse and eye-pupils; everything normal, no evidence of -bleeding or somatic shock.</p> - -<p>So much for that. At least he had made one simple decision on his own, -he thought with grim humor. To that extent he had reestablished his -mastery of his own fate, and it made him feel a touch better.</p> - -<p>Perhaps he could make some more. What about trying to find a way out of -this place, for instance?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was highly probable that they would not be able to stay here -indefinitely, that was the first fact to take into account. Either his -imagination was jumpy, or the reek of halogens was a bit stronger. In -any case there was no guarantee that this place would remain habitable -any longer than the last, and he had to reckon with the knowledge that -a spacesuit's air reserve was not infinite. These warrens might prove a -death trap.</p> - -<p>McCray paused, leaning on the haft of his ax, wondering how much of -that was reason and how much panic. He knew that he wanted, more than -anything to get out of this place, to see sky and stars, to be where no -skulking creatures behind false panels in the walls, or peering through -televiewers concealed in the furnishings, could trick and trap him. But -did he have any reason to believe that he would be better off somewhere -else? Might it not be even that this place was a sort of vivarium -maintained for his survival—that the leak of poison gases and heat in -the first room was not a deliberate thrust at his safety, but a failure -of the shielding that alone could keep him alive?</p> - -<p>He didn't know, and in the nature of things could not. But -paradoxically the thought that escape might increase his danger made -him all the more anxious to escape. He wanted to know. If death -was waiting for him outside his chamber, McCray wanted to face -it—now—while he was still in good physical shape.</p> - -<p>While he was still sane. For there was a limit to how many phenomena -he could store away in the back of his mind; sooner or later the -contradictions, the puzzles, the fears would have to be faced.</p> - -<p>Yet what could he do with the woman? Conceivably he could carry her; -but could he also carry her suit? He did not dare take her without -it. It would be no kindness to plunge her into another atmosphere of -poison, and watch her die because he had taken her from her only hope -of safety. Yet the suit weighed at least fifty pounds. His own was -slightly more; the girl, say, a hundred and thirty. It added up to more -mass than he could handle, at least for more than a few dozen yards.</p> - -<p>The speaker in his helmet said suddenly: "Herrell McCray, this is -<i>Jodrell Bank</i>. Your transmission received. We are vectoring and -ranging your signal. Stand by. We will call again in ten minutes." And, -in a different tone: "God help you, Mac. What the devil happened to -you?"</p> - -<p>It was a good question. McCray swore uselessly because he didn't know -the answer.</p> - -<p>He took wry pleasure in imagining what was going on aboard <i>Jodrell -Bank</i> at that moment. At least not all the bewilderment was his own. -They would be utterly baffled. As far as they were concerned, their -navigator had been on the bridge at one moment and the next moment -gone, tracelessly. That in itself was a major puzzle; the only way off -an FTL ship in flight was in the direction called "suicide." That would -have been their assumption, all right, as soon as they realized he was -gone and checked the ship to make sure he was not for some reason -wandering about in a cargo hold or unconscious in a closet after some -hard-to-imagine attack from another crewman. They would have thought -that somehow, crazily, he had got into a suit—there was the suit—and -jumped out of a lock. But there would have been no question of going -back to look for him. True, they could have tracked his subspace radio -if he had used it. But what would have been the good of that? The first -question, an all but unanswerable one, would be how long ago he had -jumped. Even if they knew that, <i>Jodrell Bank</i>, making more than five -hundred times light-speed, could not be stopped in fewer than a dozen -light-years. They could hardly hope to return to even approximately the -location in space where he might have jumped; and there was no hope -of reaching a position, stopping, casting about, starting again—the -accelerations were too enormous, a man too tiny a dust-mote.</p> - -<p>And, of course, he would have been dead in the first place, anyway. The -transition from FTL drive to normal space was instantly fatal except -within the protecting shield of a ship's engines.</p> - -<p>So they would have given him up and, hours later—or days, for he had -lost track of time—they would have received his message. What would -they make of that?</p> - -<p>He didn't know. After all, he hardly knew what he made of it himself.</p> - -<p>The woman still slept. The way back was still open. He could tell -by sniffing the air that the poisons in the atmosphere were still -gaining. Ahead there was nothing but blank walls, and the clutter of -useless equipment littering the floor. Stolidly McCray closed his mind -and waited.</p> - -<p>The signal came at last.</p> - -<p>"Mac, we have verified your position." The voice was that of Captain -Tillinger, strained and shaking. "I don't know how you got there, but -unless the readings lie you're the hell of a long way off. The bearing -is identical with Messier object M-42 and the distance—" raggedly—"is -compatible. About a thousand light-years from us, Mac. One way or -another, you've been kidnaped. I—I—"</p> - -<p>The voice hesitated, unable to say what it could not accept as fact but -could not deny. "I think," it managed at last, "that we've finally come -across those super-beings in space that we've wondered about."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatcher's detached limbs were quivering with excitement—and with more -than excitement, because he was afraid. He was trying to conceal from -the others just how afraid he was.</p> - -<p>His second in command reported: "We have the second subject out of -consciousness. How long do you want us to keep her that way?"</p> - -<p>"Until I tell you otherwise! How about the prime subject?"</p> - -<p>"We can't tell, Hatcher. But you were right. He is in communication -with others, it seems, and by paranormal means." Hatcher noted the -dismay in what his assistant said. He understood the dismay well -enough. It was one thing to work on a project involving paranormal -forces as an exercise in theory. It was something else entirely to see -them in operation.</p> - -<p>But there was more cause for dismay than that, and Hatcher alone knew -just how bad the situation was. He summoned one of his own members to -him and impressed on it a progress report for the Council. He sent it -floating through the long warrens of his people's world, ordered his -assistants back to their work and closed in his thoughts to consider -what had happened.</p> - -<p>These two creatures, with their command of forces in the -paranormal—i.e., the electromagnetic—spectrum, seemed able to -survive in the environments prepared for them. That was step one. No -previous team had done as well. This was not the first time a probe -team of his race had snatched a warmblooded biped from a spaceship for -study—because their operation forces, psionic in nature, operated in -non-Euclidean ways, it was easiest for them to make contact with the -crew of a ship in the non-Euclidean space of FTL drive.</p> - -<p>But it was the first time that the specimens had survived. He -reviewed the work they had already done with the male specimen. He -had shown himself unable to live in the normal atmospheric conditions -of Hatcher's world; but that was to be expected, after all, and -the creature had been commendably quick about getting out of a bad -environment. Probably they had blundered in illuminating the scene for -him, Hatcher conceded. He didn't know how badly he had blundered, for -the concept of "light" from a general source, illuminating not only -what the mind wished to see but irrelevant matter as well, had never -occurred to Hatcher or any of his race; all of their senses operated -through the mind itself, and what to them was "light" was a sort -of focusing of attention. But although something about that episode -which Hatcher failed to understand had gone wrong, the specimen had -not been seriously harmed by it. The specimen was doing well. Probably -they could now go to the hardest test of all, the one which would mean -success or failure. Probably they could so modify the creature as to -make direct communication possible.</p> - -<p>And the other specimen?</p> - -<p>Hatcher would have frowned, if he had had brow muscles to shape such -an expression—or a brow to be shaped. The female specimen was the -danger. His own people knew how to shield their thoughts. This one -evidently did not. It was astonishing that the Old Ones had not already -encountered these bipeds, so loosely guarded was their radiation—when -they radiated at all, of course, for only a few of them seemed to -possess any psionic power worth mentioning.</p> - -<p>Hatcher hastily drove that thought from his mind, for what he proposed -to do with the male specimen was to give him that power.</p> - -<p>And yet there was no choice for Hatcher's people, because they were -faced with disaster. Hatcher, through his communications from the -Council, knew how close the disaster was. When one of the probers from -the Central Masses team disappeared, the only conclusion that could be -drawn was the Old Ones had discovered them. They needed allies; more, -they needed allies who had control of the electromagnetic forces that -made the Old Ones so potent and so feared.</p> - -<p>In the male and female they had snatched out of space they might have -found those allies. But another thought was in Hatcher's mind: Suppose -the Old Ones found them too?</p> - -<p>Hatcher made up his mind. He could not delay any longer.</p> - -<p>"Open the way to the surface," he ordered. "As soon as possible, take -both of them to where we can work."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The object Captain Tillinger had called "M-42" was no stranger to -Herrell McCray. It was the Great Nebula in Orion, in Earth's telescopes -a fuzzy patch of light, in cold fact a great and glowing cloud of -gas. M-42 was not an external galaxy, like most of the "nebulae" -in Messier's catalogue, but it was nothing so tiny as a single sun -either. Its hydrogen mass spanned dozens of light-years. Imbedded in -it—growing in it, as they fed on the gas that surrounded them—were -scores of hot, bright new suns.</p> - -<p><i>New</i> suns. In all the incongruities that swarmed around him McCray -took time to consider that one particular incongruity. The suns of -the Orion gas cloud were of the spectral class called "B"—young -suns, less than a thousandth as old as a Sol. They simply had not -been in existence long enough to own stable planetary systems—much -less planets which themselves were old enough to have cooled, brewed -chemical complexes and thus in time produced life. But surely he was on -a planet....</p> - -<p>Wasn't he?</p> - -<p>McCray breathed a deep sigh and for one more time turned his mind away -from unprofitable speculations. The woman stirred slightly. McCray -knelt to look at her; then, on quick impulse, opened his medical kit, -took out a single-shot capsule of a stimulant and slipped it neatly -into the exposed vein of her arm.</p> - -<p>In about two minutes she would be awake. Good enough, thought McCray; -at least he would have someone to talk to. Now if only they could find -a way out of this place. If a door would open, as the other door had, -and—</p> - -<p>He paused, staring.</p> - -<p>There was another door. Open.</p> - -<p>He felt himself swaying, threw out an arm and realized that he -was ... falling? Floating? Moving toward the door, somehow, not as -though he were being dragged, not as though he were walking, but -surely and rather briskly moving along.</p> - -<p>His feet were not touching the ground.</p> - -<p>It wasn't a volitional matter. His intentions had nothing to do with -it. He flailed out, and touched nothing; nor did he slow his motion at -all. He fought against it, instinctively; and then reason took over and -he stopped.</p> - -<p>The woman's form lifted from the floor ahead of him. She was still -unconscious. From the clutter on the floor, her lightweight space suit -rose, too; suit and girl, they floated ahead of him, toward the door -and out.</p> - -<p>McCray cried out and tried to run after them. His legs flailed and, of -course, touched nothing; but it did seem that he was moving faster. The -woman and her suit were disappearing around a bend, but he was right -behind them.</p> - -<p>He became conscious of the returning reek of gases. He flipped up the -plate of his helmet and lunged at the girl, miraculously caught her in -one hand and, straining, caught the suit with the other.</p> - -<p>Stuffing her into the suit was hard, awkward work, like dressing a -doll that is too large for its garments; but he managed it, closed her -helmet, saw the flexible parts of her suit bulge out slightly as its -automatic pressure regulators filled it with air.</p> - -<p>They drove along, faster and faster, until they came to a great portal, -and out into the blinding radiance of a molten copper sky.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gathered in a circle were a score or more of Hatcher's people.</p> - -<p>McCray didn't know they were Hatcher's people, of course. He did not -know even that they were animate beings, for they lacked all the -features of animals that he had been used to. No eyes. No faces. Their -detached members, bobbing about seemingly at random, did not appear to -have any relation to the irregular spheres that were their owners.</p> - -<p>The woman got unevenly to her feet, her faceplate staring toward the -creatures. McCray heard a smothered exclamation in his suit-phones.</p> - -<p>"Are you all right?" he demanded sharply. The great crystal eye turned -round to look at him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, the man who spoke to me." Her voice was taut but controlled. The -accent was gone; her control was complete. "I am Ann Mei-Ling, of the -<i>Woomara</i>. What are—those?"</p> - -<p>McCray said, "Our kidnappers, I guess. They don't look like much, do -they?"</p> - -<p>She laughed shakily, without answering. The creatures seemed to be -waiting for something, McCray thought; if indeed they were creatures -and not machines or—or whatever one might expect to find, in the -impossible event of being cast away on an improbable planet of an -unexplored sun. He touched the woman's helmet reassuringly and walked -toward the aliens, raising his arms.</p> - -<p>"Hello," he said. "I am Herrell McCray."</p> - -<p>He waited.</p> - -<p>He half turned; the woman watching him. "I don't know what to do next," -he confessed.</p> - -<p>"Sit down," she said suddenly. He stared. "No, you must! They want you -to sit down."</p> - -<p>"I didn't hear—" he began, then shrugged. He sat down.</p> - -<p>"Now lie stretched out and open your face mask."</p> - -<p>"<i>Here?</i> Listen—Ann—Miss Mei-Ling, whatever you said your name was! -Don't you feel the heat? If I crack my mask—"</p> - -<p>"But you must." She spoke very confidently. "It is <i>s'in fo</i>—-what do -you call it—telepathy, I think. But I can hear them. They want you to -open your mask. No, it won't kill you. They understand what they are -doing."</p> - -<p>She hesitated, then said, with less assurance, "They need us, McCray. -There is something ... I am not sure, but something bad. They need -help, and think you can give it to them. So open your helmet as they -wish, please."</p> - -<p>McCray closed his eyes and grimaced; but there was no help for it, he -had no better ideas. And anyway, he thought, he could close it again -quickly enough if these things had guessed wrong.</p> - -<p>The creatures moved purposefully toward McCray, and he found himself -the prisoner of a dozen unattached arms. Surprised, he struggled, but -helplessly; no, he would not be able to close the plate again!... But -the heat was no worse. Somehow they were shielding him.</p> - -<p>A tiny member, like one of the unattached arms but much smaller, -writhed through the air toward him, hesitated over his eyes and -released something tinier still, something so small and so close that -McCray could not focus his eyes upon it. It moved deliberately toward -his face.</p> - -<p>The woman was saying, as if to herself, "The thing they fear is—far -away, but—oh, no! My God!"</p> - -<p>There was a terrible loud scream, but McCray was not quite sure he -heard it. It might have been his own, he thought crazily; for that tiny -floating thing had found his face and was burrowing deep inside; and -the pain was beyond belief.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The pain was incredible. It was worse than anything he had ever felt, -and it grew ... and then it was gone.</p> - -<p>What it was that the spheroidal aliens had done to his mind McCray had -no way of learning. He could only know that a door had been open. An -opaque screen was removed. He was free of his body.</p> - -<p>He was more than free, he was extended—increased—enlarged. He was -inside the body of an alien, and the alien was in him. He was also -outside both, looking at them.</p> - -<p>McCray had never felt anything like it in his life. It was a situation -without even a close analogue. He had had a woman in his arms, he had -been part of a family, he had shared the youthful sense of exploration -that comes in small, eager groups: These were the comparisons that came -to his mind. This was so much more than any of these things. He and the -alien—he and, he began to perceive, a number of aliens—were almost -inextricably mingled. Yet they were separate, as one strand of colored -thread in a ball of yarn is looped and knotted and intertwined with -every other strand, although it retains its own integrity. He was in -and among many minds, and outside them all. McCray thought: This is how -a god must feel.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatcher would have laughed—if he had lips, larynx or mouth to laugh -with. He would have laughed in pure exultation, and, indeed, his second -in command recognized the marionette quivering of his detached limbs -as a shout of glee. "We've done it," cried the assistant, catching his -delight. "We've made the project work!"</p> - -<p>"We've done a great deal more than that," exulted Hatcher. "Go to the -supervisors, report to them. Pass on the word to the Central Masses -probe. Maintain for the alien the pressure and temperature value he -needs—"</p> - -<p>"And you, Hatcher?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going with him—out in the open! I'm going to show him what <i>we</i> -need!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hatcher. McCray recognized that this was a name—the name of the entity -closest to himself, the one that had somehow manipulated his forebrain -and released the mind from the prison of the skull. "Hatcher" was not a -word but an image, and in the image he saw a creature whose physical -shape was unpleasant, but whose instincts and hopes were enough like -his own to provide common ground.</p> - -<p>He saw more than that. This Hatcher was trying to persuade him to move. -To venture farther. To come with him....</p> - -<p>McCray allowed himself to be lead and at once he was outside not only -of his own body but of all bodies. He was free in space.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="329" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The entity that had been born of Herrell McCray was now larger than a -sun. He could see, all around him, the wonder and beauty of the great -gas cloud in which his body rested, on one tiny planet of one trivial -star. His sense of time was not changed from what it had been—he could -count the pulses of his own body, still thudding in what, however -remote, was his ear—but he could see things that were terribly slow -and vast. He could see the friction of the streamers of gas in the -cloud as light-pressure drove them outward. He could hear the subtle -emanations of ion clashing with hurtling ion. He could see the great -blue new suns tunneling through the cloud, building their strength -out of the diffuse contaminated hydrogen that made the Orion nebula, -leaving relatively clear "holes" behind them. He could see into the gas -and through it. He could perceive each star and gassy comet; and he -could behold the ordered magnificence of the galaxy of stars, and the -universe of galaxies, beyond.</p> - -<p>The presence beside him was urging him to look beyond, into a denser, -richer region of suns. McCray, unsure of his powers, stretched toward -it—and recoiled.</p> - -<p>There was something there which was terrifying, something cold and -restless that watched him come toward it with the eyes of a crouched -panther awaiting a deer.</p> - -<p>The presence beside him felt the same terror, McCray knew. He was -grateful when Hatcher allowed him to look away from the central -clusters and return to the immediate neighborhood of his body.</p> - -<p>Like a child's toy in a diminishing glass, McCray could see the planet -he had left.</p> - -<p>But it was no planet. It was not a planet, but a great irregular sphere -of metal, honeycombed and warrened. He would have thought it a ship, -though huge, if it had had engines or instruments.... No. It <i>was</i> a -ship. Hatcher beside him was proof that these creatures needed neither, -not in any Earthly sense, at least. They themselves were engines, with -their power to move matter apart from the intervention of other matter. -They themselves were instruments, through the sensing of force, that -was now within his own power.</p> - -<p>A moment's hesitant practice, and McCray had the "planet" in the palm -of his hand—not a real palm, not a real hand; but it was there for his -inspection. He looked at it and within it and saw the interior nests of -Hatcher's folk, found the room where he had been brought, traced his -course to the surface, saw his own body in its spacesuit, saw beside it -the flaccid suit that had held the strange woman's body....</p> - -<p>The suit was empty.</p> - -<p>The suit was empty, and in the moment of that discovery McCray heard a -terrible wailing cry—not in his ears, in his mind—from the aliens -around him. The suit was empty. They discovered it the same moment -as he. It was wrong and it was dangerous; they were terrified. The -companion presence beside him receded into emptiness. In a moment -McCray was back in his own body, and the gathering members let him free.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph2">VI</p> - -<p>Some hundreds of light-years away, the <i>Jodrell Bank</i> was making up -lost time on its Betelgeuse run.</p> - -<p>Herrell McCray swept the long line from Sol to Betelgeuse, with his -perceptions that were not his eyes and his touch that was not of -matter, until he found it. The giant ship, fastest and hugest of -mankind's star vessels, was to him a lumbering tiny beetle.</p> - -<p>It held friends and something else—something his body needed—air and -water and food. McCray did not know what would happen to him if, while -his mind was out in the stars, his body died. But he was not anxious to -find out.</p> - -<p>McCray had not tried moving his physical body, but with what had -been done to his brain he could now do anything within the powers of -Hatcher's people. As they had swept him from ship to planet, so he -could now hurl his body back from planet to ship. He flexed muscles -of his mind that had never been used before, and in a moment his body -was slumped on the floor of the <i>Jodrell Bank's</i> observation bubble. -In another moment he was in his body, opening his eyes and looking out -into the astonished face of Chris Stoerer, his junior navigator. "God -in heaven," whispered Stoerer. "It's you!"</p> - -<p>"It is," said McCray hoarsely, through lips that were parched and -cracked, sitting up and trying the muscles of the body. It ached. He -was bone-weary. "Give me a hand getting out of this suit, will you?"</p> - -<p>It was not easy to be a mind in a body again, McCray discovered. Time -had stopped for him. He had been soaring the star-lanes in his released -mind for hours; but while his mind had been liberated, his body, back -on Hatcher's "planet," had continued its slow metabolism, its steady -devouring of its tissues, its inevitable progress toward death. When he -had returned to it he found its pulse erratic and its breathing ragged. -A grinding knot of hunger seethed in its stomach. Its muscles ached.</p> - -<p>Whatever might become of his mind, it was clear that his body would die -if it were left unfed and uncared-for much longer. So he had brought it -back to the <i>Jodrell Bank</i>. He stood up and avoided Chris's questions. -"Let me get something to eat, and then get cleaned up a little." (He -had discovered that his body stank.) "Then I'll tell you everything -you want to know—you and the captain, and anybody else who wants to -listen. And we'll have to send a dispatch to Earth, too, because this -is important.... But, please, I only want to tell it once." Because—he -did not say—I may not have time to tell it again.</p> - -<p>For those cold and murderous presences in the clustered inner suns had -reached out as casually as a bear flicking a salmon out of a run and -snatched the unknown woman from Hatcher's planet. They could reach -anywhere in the galaxy their thoughts roamed.</p> - -<p>They might easily follow him here.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was good to be human again, and McCray howled with pain and joy as -the icy needle-spray of the showers cleansed his body. He devoured the -enormous plates of steak and potatoes the ship's galley shoved before -him, and drank chilled milk and steaming black coffee in alternate pint -mugs. McCray let the ship's surgeon look him over, and laughed at the -expression in the man's eyes. "I know I'm a little wobbly," he said. -"It doesn't matter, Doc. You can put me in the sickbay as long as you -like, as soon as I've talked to the captain. I won't mind a bit. You -see, I won't be there—" and he laughed louder, and would not explain.</p> - -<p>An hour later, with food in his belly and something from the surgeon's -hypospray in his bloodstream to clear his brain, he was in the -captain's cabin, trying to spell out in words that made sense the -incredible story of (he discovered) eight days since he had been -abducted from the ship.</p> - -<p>Looking at the ship's officers, good friends, companions on a dozen -planetside leaves, McCray started to speak, stumbled and was for a -moment without words. It was too incredible to tell. How could he make -them understand?</p> - -<p>They would have to understand. Insane or not, the insane facts had -to be explained to them. However queerly they might stare, they were -intelligent men. They would resist but ultimately they would see.</p> - -<p>He settled his problem by telling them baldly and plainly, without -looking at their faces and without waiting for their questions, -everything that had happened. He told them about Hatcher and about the -room in which he had come to. He told them about the pinkish light -that showed only what he concentrated on—and explained it to them, -as he had not understood it at first; about Hatcher's people, and how -their entire sense-world was built up of what humans called E.S.P., -the "light" being only the focusing of thought, which sees no material -objects that it is not fixed on. He told them of the woman from the -other ship and the cruel, surgical touch on his brain that had opened -a universe to him. He promised that that universe would open for them -as well. He told them of the deadly, unknowable danger to Hatcher's -people—and to themselves—that lay at the galaxy's core. He told them -how the woman had disappeared, and told them she was dead—at the hands -of the Old Ones from the Central Masses—a blessing to her, McCray -explained, and a blessing to all of them; for although her mind would -yield some of its secrets even in death, if she were alive it would be -their guide, and the Old Ones would be upon them.</p> - -<p>He did not wait for them to react.</p> - -<p>He turned to the ship's surgeon. "Doc, I'm all yours now, body and -soul ... cancel that. Just body!"</p> - -<p>And he left them, to swim once more in space.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In so short a time McCray had come to think of this as life, and a sort -of interregnum. He swept up and out, glancing back only to see the -ship's surgeon leaping forward to catch his unconscious body as it fell -and then he was in space between the stars once more.</p> - -<p>Here, 'twixt Sol and Betelgeuse, space was clear, hard and cold, no -diffuse gas cloud, no new, growing suns. He "looked" toward Hatcher's -world, but hesitated and considered.</p> - -<p>First or last, he would have to look once more upon the inimical -presences that had peered out at him from the Central Masses. It might -as well be now.</p> - -<p>His perceptions alert, he plunged toward the heart of the galaxy.</p> - -<p>Thought speeds where light plods. The mind of Herrell McCray covered -light-millenia in a moment. It skipped the drifty void between spiral -arms, threaded dust clouds, entered the compact central galactic -sphere to which our Earth's sector of the galaxy is only a remote and -unimportant appendage. Here a great globular cluster of suns massed -around a common center of gravity. McCray shrank himself to the -perspective of a human body and stared in wonder. Mankind's Sol lies in -a tenuous, stretched-out arm, thinly populated by stellar standards: if -Earth had circled one of these dense-clustered suns, what a different -picture of the sky would have greeted the early shepherds! Where Man's -Earthbound eyes are fortunate to count a thousand stars in a winter -sky, here were tens of thousands, bright enough to be a Sirius or a -Capella at the bottom of a sink of atmosphere like Earth's—tens of -billions of stars in all, whirling close to each other, so that star -greets star over distances that are hardly more than planetary. Sol's -nearest neighbor star is four light-years away. No single sun in this -dense, gyrating central mass was as much as one light-year from its -fellows.</p> - -<p>Here were suns that had been blazing with mature, steady light when Sol -was a mere contracting mass of hydrogen—whose planets had cooled and -spawned life before Earth's hollows cupped the first scalding droplets -that were the beginnings of seas.</p> - -<p>On these ancient worlds life existed.</p> - -<p>McCray had not understood all of what Hatcher had tried to communicate -to him, but he had caught the terror in Hatcher's thoughts. Hatcher's -people had fled from these ancients many millenia before—fled and -hidden in the heart of the Orion gas cloud, their world and all. Yet -even there they were not safe. They knew that in time the Old Ones -would find them. And it was this fear that had led them to kidnap -humans, seeking allies in the war that could not forever be deferred.</p> - -<p>Hatcher's people were creatures of thought. Man was the wielder -of physical forces—"paranormal" to Hatcher, as teleportation and -mind-seeing were "paranormal" to McCray. The Old Ones had mastered both.</p> - -<p>McCray paused at the fringe of the cluster, waiting for the touch of -contemptuous hate. It came and he recoiled a thousand light-years -before he could stop.</p> - -<p>To battle the Old Ones would be no easy match—yet time might work for -the human race. Already they controlled the electromagnetic spectrum, -and hydrogen fusion could exert the force of suns. With Hatcher's -help—and his own—Man would free his mind as well; and perhaps the Old -Ones would find themselves against an opponent as mighty as themselves.</p> - -<p>He drew back from the Central Masses, no longer afraid, and swept out -to see Hatcher's planet.</p> - -<p>It was gone.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the great gas cloud the tunneling blue suns swept up their graze of -hydrogen, untroubled by planets. Themselves too young to have solid -satellites, Hatcher's adopted world removed again, they were alone.</p> - -<p>Gone!</p> - -<p>It was for a moment, a panicky thought. McCray realized what they had -done. Hatcher's greatest hope had been to find another race to stand -between his people and the Old Ones. And they had found it!</p> - -<p>Now Hatcher's world could hide again and wait until the battle had been -fought for them.</p> - -<p>With a face light-years across, with a brain made up of patterns in the -ether, McCray grinned wryly.</p> - -<p>"Maybe they made the right choice," he thought, considering. "Maybe -they'd only be in the way when the showdown comes." And he sought out -<i>Jodrell Bank</i> and his body once more, preparing to return to being -human ... and to teach his fellow-humans to be gods.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph2">[Transcriber's Note: No Secton V heading in original]</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Five Hells of Orion, by Frederik Pohl - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIVE HELLS OF ORION *** - -***** This file should be named 61380-h.htm or 61380-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/3/8/61380/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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