He was going to turn his head; he was going to see who stood there. He was! Inch by inch, Ross's head came around, though sweat stung his seared and bitten flesh, and every breath was an effort. He caught a half glimpse of the beach behind the rocks, and the stretch of sand was empty. Overhead the birds were gone—as if they had never existed. Or, as if they had been swept away by some impatient fighter, who wanted no distractions3 from the purpose at hand.
Having successfully turned his head, Ross decided4 to turn his body. His left hand went out, slowly, as if it moved some great weight. His palm gritted5 painfully on the rock and he savored6 that pain, for it pierced through the dead blanket of compulsion that was being used against him. Deliberately7 he ground his blistered8 skin against the stone, concentrating on the sharp torment9 in his hand as the agony shot up his arm. While he focused his attention on the physical pain, he could feel the pressure against him weaken. Summoning all his strength, Ross swung around in a movement which was only a shadow of his former feline10 grace.
The beach was still empty, except for the piles of driftwood, the rocks, and the other things he had originally found there. Yet he knew that something was waiting to pounce11. Having discovered that for him pain was a defense12 weapon, he had that one resource. If they took him, it would be after besting him in a fight.
Even as he made this decision, Ross was conscious of a curious weakening of the force bent13 upon him. It was as if his opponents had been surprised, either at his simple actions of the past few seconds or at his determination. Ross leaped upon that surprise, adding it to his stock of unseen weapons.
He leaned forward, still grinding his torn hand against the rock as a steadying influence, took up a length of dried wood, and thrust its end into the fire. Having once used fire to save himself, he was ready and willing to do it again, although at the same time, another part of him shrank from what he intended.
Holding his improvised14 torch breast-high, Ross stared across it, searching the land for the faintest sign of his enemies. In spite of the fire and the light he held before him, the dusk prevented him from seeing too far. Behind him the crash of the surf could have covered the noise of a marching army.
"Come and get me!"
He whirled his brand into bursting life and then hurled15 it straight into the drift among the dunes17. He was grabbing for a second brand almost before the blazing head of the first had fallen into the twisted, bleached18 roots of a dead tree.
He stood tense, a second torch now kindled19 in his hand. The sharp vise of another's will which had nipped him so tightly a moment ago was easing, slowly disappearing as water might trickle20 away. Yet he could not believe that this small act of defiance21 had so daunted22 his unseen opponent as to make him give up the struggle this easily. It was more likely the pause of a wrestler23 seeking for a deadlier grip.
The brand in his hand—Ross's second line of defense—was a weapon he was loath24 to use, but would use if he were forced to it. He kept his hand mercilessly flat against the rock as a reminder25 and a spur.
Fire twisted and crackled among the driftwood where the first torch had lodged26, providing a flickering27 light yards from where he stood. He was grateful for it in the gloom of the gathering29 storm. If they would only come to open war before the rain struck....
Ross sheltered his torch with his body as spray, driven inward from the sea, spattered his shoulders and his back. If it rained, he would lose what small advantage the fire gave him, but then he would find some other way to meet them. They would neither break him nor take him, even if he had to wade30 into the sea and swim out into the lash31 of the cold northern waves until he could not move his tired limbs any longer.
Once again that steel-edge will struck at Ross, probing his stubbornness, assaulting his mind. He whirled the torch, brought the scorching32 breath of the flame across the hand resting on the rock. Unable to control his own cry of protest, he was not sure he had the fortitude33 to repeat such an act.
He had won again! The pressure had fallen away in a flick28, almost as if some current had been snapped off. Through the red curtain of his torment Ross sensed a surprise and disbelief. He was unaware34 that in this queer duel35 he was using both a power of will and a depth of perception he had never known he possessed36. Because of his daring, he had shaken his opponents as no physical attack could have affected37 them.
"Come and get me!" He shouted again at the barren shoreline where the fire ate at the drift and nothing stirred, yet something very much alive and conscious lay hidden. This time there was more than simple challenge in Ross's demand—there was a note of triumph.
The spray whipped by him, striking at his fire, at the brand he held. Let the sea water put both out! He would find another way of fighting. He was certain of that, and he sensed that those out there knew it too and were troubled.
The fire was being driven by the wind along the crisscross lines of bone-white wood left high on the beach, forming a wall of flame between him and the interior, not, however, an insurmountable barrier to whatever lurked38 there.
Again Ross leaned against the rock, studying the length of beach. Had he been wrong in thinking that they were within the range of his voice? The power they had used might carry over a greater distance.
"Yahhhh—" Instead of a demand, he now voiced a taunting39 cry, screaming his defiance. Some wild madness had been transmitted to him by the winds, the roaring sea, his own pain. Ready to face the worst they could send against him, he tried to hurl16 that thought back at them as they had struck with their united will at him. No answer came to his challenge, no rise to counter-attack.
Moving away from the rock, Ross began to walk forward toward the burning drift, his torch ready in his hand. "I am here!" he shouted into the wind. "Come out—face me!"
It was then that he saw those who had tracked him. Two tall thin figures, wearing dark clothes, were standing40 quietly watching him, their eyes dark holes in the white ovals of their faces.
Ross halted. Though they were separated by yards of sand and rock and a burning barrier, he could feel the force they wielded41. The nature of that force had changed, however. Once it had struck with a vigorous spear point; now it formed a shield of protection. Ross could not break through that shield, and they dared not drop it. A stalemate existed between them in this strange battle, the like of which Ross's world had not known before.
He watched those expressionless white faces, trying to find some reply to the deadlock42. There flashed into his mind the certainty that while he lived and moved, and they lived and moved, this struggle, this unending pursuit, would continue. For some mysterious reason they wanted to have him under their control, but that was never going to happen if they all had to remain here on this strip of water-washed sand until they starved to death! Ross tried to drive that thought across to them.
"Murrrrdock!" That croaking43 cry borne out of the sea by the wind might almost have come from the bill of a sea bird.
"Murrrrdock!"
Ross spun44 around. Visibility had been drastically curtailed45 by the lowering clouds and the dashing spray, but he could see a round dark thing bobbing on the waves. The sub? A raft?
Sensing a movement behind him, Ross wheeled about as one of the alien figures leaped the blazing drift, heedless of the flames, and ran light-footedly toward him in what could only be an all-out attempt at capture. The man had ready a weapon like the one that had felled Foscar. Ross threw himself at his opponent in a reckless dive, falling on him with a smashing impact.
In Ross's grasp the alien's body was fragile, but he moved fluidly as Murdock fought to break his grip on the hand weapon and pin him to the sand. Ross was too intent upon his own part of the struggle to heed46 the sounds of a shot over his head and a thin, wailing47 cry. He slammed his opponent's hand against a stone, and the white face, inches away from his own, twisted silently with pain.
Fumbling48 for a better hold, Ross was sent rolling. He came down on his left hand with a force which brought tears to his eyes and stopped him just long enough for the other to regain49 his feet.
The blue-suited man sprinted50 back to the body of his fellow where it lay by the drift. He slung51 his unconscious comrade over the barrier with more ease than Ross would have believed possible and vaulted52 the barrier after him. Ross, half crouched53 on the sand, felt unusually light and empty. The strange tie which had drawn54 and held him to the strangers had been broken.
"Murdock!"
A rubber raft rode in on the waves, two men aboard it. Ross got up, pulling at the studs of his suit with his right hand. He could believe in what he saw now—the sub had not left, after all. The two men running toward him through the dusk were of his own kind.
"Murdock!"
It did not seem at all strange that Kelgarries reached him first. Ross, caught up in this dream, appealed to the major for aid with the studs. If the strangers from the ship did trace him by the suit, they were not going to follow the sub back to the post and serve the project as they had the Reds.
"Got—to—get—this—off—" He pulled the words out one by one, tugging55 frantically56 at the stubborn studs. "They can trace this and follow us—"
Kelgarries needed no better explanation. Ripping loose the fastenings, he pulled the clinging fabric57 from Ross, sending him reeling with pain as he pulled the left sleeve down the younger man's arm.
The wind and spray were ice on his body as they dragged him down to the raft, bundling him aboard. He did not at all remember their arrival on board the sub. He was lying in the vibrating heart of the undersea ship when he opened his eyes to see Kelgarries regarding him intently. Ashe, a coat of bandage about his shoulder and chest, lay on a neighboring bunk58. McNeil stood watching a medical corpsman lay out supplies.
"He needs a shot," the medic was saying as Ross blinked at the major.
"You left the suit—back there?" Ross demanded.
"We did. What's this about them tracing you by it? Who was tracing you?"
"Men from the space ship. That's the only way they could have trailed me down the river." He was finding it difficult to talk, and the protesting medic kept waving a needle in his direction, but somehow in bursts of half-finished sentences Ross got out his story—Foscar's death, his own escape from the chief's funeral pyre, and the weird59 duel of wills back on the beach. Even as he poured it out he thought how unlikely most of it must sound. Yet Kelgarries appeared to accept every word, and there was no expression of disbelief on Ashe's face.
"So that's how you got those burns," said the major slowly when Ross had finished his story. "Deliberately searing your hand in the fire to break their hold—" He crashed his fist against the wall of the tiny cabin and then, when Ross winced60 at the jar, he hurriedly uncurled those fingers to press Ross's shoulder with a surprisingly warm and gentle touch. "Put him to sleep," he ordered the medic. "He deserves about a month of it, I should judge. I think he has brought us a bigger slice of the future than we had hoped for...."
Ross felt the prick61 of the needle and then nothing more. Even when he was carried ashore62 at the post and later when he was transported into his proper time, he did not awaken63. He only approached a strange dreamy state in which he ate and drowsed, not caring for the world beyond his own bunk.
But there came a day when he did care, sitting up to demand food with a great deal of his old self-assertion. The doctor looked him over, permitting him to get out of bed and try out his legs. They were exceedingly uncooperative at first, and Ross was glad he had tried to move only from his bunk to a waiting chair.
"Visitors welcome?"
Ross looked up eagerly and then smiled, somewhat hesitatingly, at Ashe. The older man wore his arm in a sling64 but otherwise seemed his usual imperturbable65 self.
"Ashe, tell me what happened. Are we back at the main base? What about the Reds? We weren't traced by the ship people, were we?"
Ashe laughed. "Did Doc just wind you up to let you spin, Ross? Yes, this is home, sweet home. As for the rest—well, it is a long story, and we are still picking up pieces of it here and there."
Ross pointed66 to the bunk in invitation. "Can you tell me what is known?" He was still somewhat at a loss, his old secret awe67 of Ashe tempering his outward show of eagerness. Ross still feared one of those snubs the other so well knew how to deliver to the bumptious68. But Ashe did come in and sit down, none of his old formality now in evidence.
"You have been a surprise package, Murdock." His observation had some of the ring of the old Ashe, but there was no withdrawal69 behind the words. "Rather a busy lad, weren't you, after you were bumped off into that river?"
Ross's reply was a grimace70. "You heard all about that!" He had no time for his own adventures, already receding71 into a past which made them both dim and unimportant. "What happened to you—and to the project—and——"
"One thing at a time, and don't rush your fences." Ashe was surveying him with an odd intentness which Ross could not understand. He continued to explain in his "instructor72" voice. "We made it down the river—how, don't ask me. That was something of a 'project' in itself," he laughed. "The raft came apart piece by piece, and we waded73 most of the last couple of miles, I think. I'm none too clear on the details; you'll have to get those out of McNeil, who was still among those present then. Other than that, we cannot compete with your adventures. We built a signal fire and sat by it toasting our shins for a few days, until the sub came to collect us——"
"And took you off." Ross experienced a fleeting74 return of that hollow feeling he had known on the shore when the still-warm coals of the signal fire had told him the story of his too-late arrival.
"And took us off. But Kelgarries agreed to spin out our waiting period for another twenty-four hours, in case you did manage to survive that toss you took into the river. Then we sighted your spectacular display of fireworks on the beach, and the rest was easy."
"The ship people didn't trace us back to post?"
"Not that we know of. Anyway, we've closed down the post on that time level. You might be interested in a very peculiar75 tale our modern agents have picked up, floating over and under the iron curtain. A blast went off in the Baltic region of this time, wiping some installation clean off the map. The Reds have kept quiet as to the nature of the explosion and the exact place where it occurred."
"The aliens followed them all the way up to this time!"—Ross half rose from the chair—"But why? And why did they trail me?"
"That we can only guess. But I don't believe that they were moved by any private vengeance76 for the looting of their derelict. There is some more imperative77 reason why they don't want us to find or use anything from one of their cargoes——"
"But they were in power thousands of years ago. Maybe they and their worlds are gone now. Why should things we do today matter to them?"
"Well, it does matter, and in some very important way. And we have to learn that reason."
"How?" Ross looked down at his left hand, encased in a mitten78 of bandage under which he very gingerly tried to stretch a finger. Maybe he should have been eager to welcome another meeting with the ship people, but if he were truly honest, he had to admit that he did not. He glanced up, sure that Ashe had read all that hesitation79 and scorned him for it. But there was no sign that his discomfiture80 had been noticed.
"By doing some looting of our own," Ashe answered. "Those tapes we brought back are going to be a big help. More than one derelict was located. We were right in our surmise81 that the Reds first discovered the remains82 of one in Siberia, but it was in no condition to be explored. They already had the basic idea of the time traveler, so they applied83 it to the hunting down of other ships, with several way stops to throw people like us off the scent84. So they found an intact ship, and also several others. At least three are on this side of the Atlantic where they couldn't get at them very well. Those we can deal with now——"
"Won't the aliens be waiting for us to try that?"
"As far as we can discover they don't know where any of these ships crashed. Either there were no survivors85, or passengers and crew took off in lifeboats while they were still in space. They might never have known of the Reds' activities if you hadn't triggered that communicator on the derelict."
Ross was reduced to a small boy who badly needed an alibi86 for some piece of juvenile87 mischief88. "I didn't mean to." That excuse sounded so feeble that he was surprised into a laugh, only to see Ashe grinning back at him.
"Seeing as how your action also put a very effective spike89 in the opposition's wheel, you are freely forgiven. Anyway, you have also provided us with a pretty good idea of what we may be up against with the aliens, and we'll be prepared for that next time."
"Then there will be a next time?"
"We are calling in all time agents, concentrating our forces in the right period. Yes, there will be a next time. We have to learn just what they are trying so hard to protect."
"What do you think it is?"
"Space!" Ashe spoke90 the word softly as if he relished91 the promise it held.
"Space?"
"That ship you explored was a derelict from a galactic fleet, but it was a ship and it used the principle of space flight. Do you understand now? In these lost ships lies the secret which will make us free of all the stars! We must claim it."
"Can we——?"
"Can we?" Ashe was laughing at Ross again with his eyes, though his face remained sober. "Then you still want to be counted in on this game?"
Ross looked down again at his bandaged hand and remembered swiftly so many things—the coast of Britain on a misty92 morning, the excitement of prowling the alien ship, the fight with Ennar, even the long nightmare of his flight down the river, and lastly, the exultation93 he had tasted when he had faced the alien and had locked wills—to hold steady. He knew that he could not, would not, give up what he had found here in the service of the project as long as it was in his power to cling to it.
"Yes." It was a very simple answer, but when his eyes met Ashe's, Ross knew that it would serve better than any solemn oath.
The End
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1
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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distractions
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| n.使人分心的事[人]( distraction的名词复数 )；娱乐，消遣；心烦意乱；精神错乱 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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savored
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| v.意味，带有…的性质( savor的过去式和过去分词 )；给…加调味品；使有风味；品尝 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wrestler
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| n.摔角选手，扭 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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deadlock
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| n.僵局，僵持 | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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curtailed
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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sprinted
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| v.短距离疾跑( sprint的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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52
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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57
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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58
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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63
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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64
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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65
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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67
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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bumptious
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| adj.傲慢的 | |
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69
withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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70
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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71
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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72
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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73
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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75
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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76
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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78
mitten
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| n.连指手套，露指手套 | |
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79
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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80
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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81
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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82
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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83
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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84
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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85
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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86
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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87
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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88
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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89
spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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90
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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91
relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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92
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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93
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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