Children of the Sun Page 4
He had been right. It was the one argument that could move this man whose life bad been spent in the gathering and interchange of knowledge. He felt the doubt, the turmoil, in Carlin’s shaken mind. The unwillingness and yet the strong tug of lifetime habits of mind.
The thunders of the Sun’s heart roared about them as Newton poised waiting. And at last, reluctantly, Carlin said “Yes.Yes, I must take back what I have learned. And yet. .”
He burst out, bitter, passionate, “And yet to leave all this!”
“You must, Carlin!”
Another pause. And then, “If I must go let us go at once, Curt!”
Newton became aware then that Thardis still hovered beside them. And Thardis told them, “Come, I will guide you.”
They three went winging upward from the depths of the Sun — swiftly up through the golden many-tinted photosphere, past the angry crimson tides above, high, high, through the whipping veils of the corona into empty space.
DAZED, his shaken senses reeling, Newton perceived across the gulf the tiny semi-molten ball of Vulcan. He fixed upon it, knowing that if he faltered now he was lost.
Thardis said, “Go quickly, little brothers. I know. I too once started back.”
“Come!” cried Newton desperately.
He plunged out across the gulf, swift as a shooting star, and by the very force of his mind he dragged the wavering Carlin with him.
Too much had happened, too much to bear. Newton’s mind was clouded, torn between exaltation and pain of loss, dazed with sights and sounds beyond human power to endure. It was as in a dream that they rushed toward Vulcan.
Down the Beam into the hollow world they flashed and he perceived only vaguely the jungle and hills and the citadel. They passed together through the triple arch and sank down into the dimness where the Futuremen waited.
Carlin went first into the space between the somber coils. Newton saw him enter the force-field, a tenuous thing of flame, and step forth from it a man — a dazed and reeling man. Otho caught him as he fell.
Curt Newton followed him, into the blue-green light. And all consciousness left him.
He found himself standing upright with Grag’s great arm around him. It was as though his body was encased in lead now, his senses muffled, the very life in him dimmed.
Otho was shouting at him. Grag’s voice boomed in his ear. “Curt, you got back! And you brought him —”
Simon Wright’s metallic cry cut across their excited babble. “Carlin Newton swung around. Philip Carlin had recovered consciousness. He stood, swaying, in the center of the chamber. He was not looking at them. He was looking down at his own body, slowly raising his own arms and staring at them.
And in his face was such white misery as Newton had seen on no man’s face before.
“I can’t”, whispered Carlin, his voice rusty, croaking. “I can’t be like this again, prisoned in leaden flesh. No!” With the word he moved with clumsy reeling swiftness toward the tall golden-shining coils of the other converter.
Newton sprang shakily to intercept him but his own legs buckled and he went to his knee.
“Carlin, wait!”
The scientist turned a face transfigured by agony of resolve. “You weren’t there as long as I, Curt. You don’t know why I have to go back to that other life, that real life.
“But you’ll understand at least. You’ll remember and maybe you too some day — crust. Curt Newton sat at the controls. He who had ridden the Beam before, free and unfettered, now maneuvered the man-made ship along that pathway. His face was harsh with strain and in his eyes was something strange and haunted.
The three who were with him in the bridge-room kept silent as by tacit agreement while the little ship sped swiftly through the opening into the naked glare of the Sun.
Newton’s eyes were dazzled but he could not turn them away from that mighty orb of flame.
And he remembered.
Would he always remember how he had looked upon the Sun unveiled and seen the beating of its heart? Would he always feel the tearing pang he felt now, remembering the freedom and the strength? Would he some day return alone to that buried citadel that held the secret of life and death?
In fierce denial he pressed down the firing-keys. The Comet leaped forward and behind it Vulcan dwindled and was lost, a tiny mote swallowed in the eternal fires of the Sun.
He hurled himself forward onto the dais and was lost in a flare of yellow light.
A small bright star flashed upward toward the triple arch — a living star, swift and free and joyous, seeking the Beam, the pathway to the Sun.
And below, on the dark floor of the citadel, Curt Newton bent his head and hid his face between his hands.
* * * * *
The Comet rose on blasting keel-jets, gathered speed and roared out above the blackened Belt toward the gap in Vulcan’s crust. Curt Newton sat at the controls. He who had ridden the Beam before, free and unfettered, now maneuvered the man-made ship along that pathway. His face was harsh with strain and in his eyes was something strange and haunted.
The three who were with him in the bridge-room kept silent as by tacit agreement while the little ship sped swiftly through the opening into the naked glare of the Sun.
Newton's eyes were dazzled but he could not turn them away from that mighty orb of flame. And he remembered. Would he always remember how he had looked upon the Sun unveiled and seen the beating of its heart? Would he always feel the tearing pang he felt now, remembering the freedom and the strength? Would he some day return alone to that buried citadel that held the secret of life and death?
In fierce denial he pressed down the firing-keys. The Comet leaped forward and behind it Vulcan dwindled and was lost, a tiny mote swallowed in the eternal fires of the Sun.
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