Collected Stories Of Arthur C. Clarke (136 page)

It was not even luck that she had seen him leave the guesthouse; she had been watching most of the evening from the porch of her father’s residence, on the other side of the street. And it was certainly not luck, but deliberate and careful planning, that had taken her to this point on the beach as soon as she was sure of the direction Leon was heading.

He came to a halt a dozen feet away. (Did he recognise her? Did he guess that this was no accident? For a moment her courage almost failed her, but it was too late now to retreat.) Then he gave a curious, twisted smile that seemed to light up his whole face and made him look even younger than he was.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I never expected to meet anyone at this time of night. I hope I haven’t disturbed you.’

‘Of course not,’ Lora answered, trying to keep her voice as steady and emotionless as she could.

‘I’m from the ship, you know. I thought I’d have a look at Thalassa while I’m here.’

At those last words, a sudden change of expression crossed Lora’s face; the sadness he saw there puzzled Leon, for it could have no cause. And then, with an instantaneous shock of recognition, he knew that he had seen this girl before, and understood what she was doing here. This was the girl who had smiled at him when he came out of the ship – no, that was not right;
he
had been the one who smiled …

There seemed nothing to say. They stared at each other across the wrinkled sand, each wondering at the miracle that had brought them together out of the immensity of time and space. Then, as if in unconscious agreement, they sat facing each other on the gunwale of the boat, still without a word.

This is folly, Leon told himself. What am I doing here? What right have I, a wanderer passing through this world, to touch the lives of its people? I should make my apologies and leave this girl to the beach and the sea that are her birthright, not mine.

Yet he did not leave. The bright disc of Selene had risen a full hand’s breadth above the sea when he said at last: ‘What’s your name?’

‘I’m Lora,’ she answered, in the soft, lilting accent of the islanders, which was so attractive, but not always easy to understand.

‘And I’m Leon Carrell, Assistant Propulsion Engineer, Starship
Magellan
.’

She gave a little smile as he introduced himself, and at that moment Leon was certain that she already knew his name. At the same time a completely irrelevant and whimsical thought struck him; until a few minutes ago he had been dead-tired, just about to turn back for his overdue sleep. Yet now he was fully awake and alert – poised, as it were, on the brink of a new and unpredictable adventure.

But Lora’s next remark was predictable enough: ‘How do you like Thalassa?’

‘Give me time,’ Leon countered. ‘I’ve only seen Palm Bay, and not much of that.’

‘Will you be here – very long?’

The pause was barely perceptible, but his ear detected it.
This
was the question that really mattered.

‘I’m not sure,’ he replied, truthfully enough. ‘It depends on how long the repairs take.’

‘What went wrong?’

‘Oh, we ran into something too big for our meteor screen to absorb. And – bang! – that was the end of the screen. So we’ve got to make a new one.’

‘And you think you can do that here?’

‘We hope so. The main problem will be lifting about a million tons of water up to the
Magellan
. Luckily, I think Thalassa can spare it.’

‘Water? I don’t understand.’

‘Well, you know that a starship travels at almost the speed of light; even then it takes years to get anywhere, so that we have to go into suspended animation and let the automatic controls run the ship.’

Lora nodded. ‘Of course – that’s how our ancestors got here.’

‘Well, the speed would be no problem if space was really empty – but it isn’t. A starship sweeps up thousands of atoms of hydrogen, particles of dust, and sometimes larger fragments, every second of its flight. At nearly the speed of light, these bits of cosmic junk have enormous energy, and could soon burn up the ship. So we carry a shield about a mile ahead of us, and let
that
get burned up instead. Do you have umbrellas on this world?’

‘Why – yes,’ Lora replied, obviously baffled by the incongruous question.

‘Then you can compare a starship to a man moving head down through a rainstorm behind the cover of an umbrella. The rain is the cosmic dust between the stars, and our ship was unlucky enough to lose its umbrella.’

‘And you can make a new one of
water
?’

‘Yes; it’s the cheapest building material in the universe. We freeze it into an iceberg which travels ahead of us. What could be simpler than that?’

Lora did not answer; her thoughts seemed to have veered onto a new track. Presently she said, her voice so low and wistful that Leon had to bend forward to hear it against the rolling of the surf: ‘And you left Earth a hundred years ago.’

‘A hundred and four. Of course, it seems only a few weeks, since we were deep-sleeping until the autopilot revived us. All the colonists are still in suspended animation; they don’t know that anything’s happened.’

‘And presently you’ll join them again, and sleep your way on to the stars.’

Leon nodded, avoiding her eye. ‘That’s right. Planet-fall will be a few months late, but what does that matter on a trip that takes three hundred years?’

Lora pointed to the island behind them, and then to the shoreless sea at whose edge they stood.

‘It’s strange to think that your sleeping friends up there will never know anything of all this. I feel sorry for them.’

‘Yes, only we fifty or so engineers will have any memories of Thalassa. To everyone else in the ship, our stop here will be nothing more than a hundred-year-old entry in the logbook.’

He glanced at Lora’s face, and saw again that sadness in her eyes.

‘Why does that make you unhappy?’

She shook her head, unable to answer. How could one express the sense of loneliness that Leon’s words had brought to her? The lives of men, and all their hopes and fears, were so little against the inconceivable immensities that they had dared to challenge. The thought of that three-hundred-year journey, not yet half completed, was something from which her mind recoiled in horror. And yet – in her own veins was the blood of those earlier pioneers who had followed the same path to Thalassa, centuries ago.

The night was no longer friendly; she felt a sudden longing for her home and family, for the little room that held everything she owned and that was all the world she knew or wanted. The cold of space was freezing her heart; she wished now that she had never come on this mad adventure. It was time – more than time – to leave.

As she rose to her feet, she noticed that they had been sitting on Clyde’s boat, and wondered what unconscious prompting of her mind had brought her here to this vessel out of all the little fleet lined up along the beach. At the thought of Clyde, a spasm of uncertainty, even of guilt, swept over her. Never in her life, except for the most fleeting of moments, had she thought of any other man but him. Now she could no longer pretend that this was true.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Leon. ‘Are you cold?’ He held out his hand to her, and for the first time their fingers touched as she automatically responded. But at the instant of contact, she shied like a startled animal and jerked away.

‘I’m all right,’ she answered, almost angrily. ‘It’s late – I must go home. Goodbye.’

Her reaction was so abrupt that it took Leon by surprise. Had he said anything to offend her? he wondered. She was already walking quickly away when he called after her: ‘Will I see you again?’

If she answered, the sound of the waves carried away her voice. He watched her go, puzzled and a little hurt, while not for the first time in his life he reflected how hard it was to understand the mind of a woman.

For a moment he thought of following her and repeating the question, but in his heart he knew there was no need. As surely as the sun would rise tomorrow, they would meet again.

*

And now the life of the island was dominated by the crippled giant a thousand miles out in space. Before dawn and after sunset, when the world was in darkness but the light of the sun still streamed overhead, the
Magellan
was visible as a brilliant star, the brightest object in all the sky except the two moons themselves. But even when it could not be seen – when it was lost in the glare of day or eclipsed by the shadow of Thalassa – it was never far from men’s thoughts.

It was hard to believe that only fifty of the starship’s crew had been awakened, and that not even half of those were on Thalassa at any one time. They seemed to be everywhere, usually in little groups of two or three, walking swiftly on mysterious errands or riding small anti-gravity scooters which floated a few feet from the ground and moved so silently that they made life in the village rather hazardous. Despite the most pressing invitations, the visitors had still taken no part in the cultural and social activities of the island. They had explained, politely but firmly, that until the safety of their ship was secured, they would have no time for any other interests. Later, certainly, but not now …

So Thalassa had to wait with what patience it could muster while the Earthmen set up their instruments, made their surveys, drilled deep into the rocks of the island, and carried out scores of experiments which seemed to have no possible connection with their problem. Sometimes they consulted briefly with Thalassa’s own scientists, but on the whole they kept to themselves. It was not that they were unfriendly or aloof; they were working with such a fierce and dedicated intensity that they were scarcely aware of anyone around them.

After their first meeting, it was two days before Lora spoke to Leon again. She saw him from time to time as he hurried about the village, usually with a bulging brief case and an abstracted expression, but they were able to exchange only the briefest of smiles. Yet even this was enough to keep her emotions in turmoil, to banish her peace of mind, and to poison her relationship with Clyde.

As long as she could remember, he had been part of her life; they had had their quarrels and disagreements, but no one else had ever challenged his place in her heart. In a few months they would be married – yet now she was not even sure of that, or indeed of anything.

‘Infatuation’ was an ugly word, which one applied only to other people. But how else could she explain this yearning to be with a man who had come suddenly into her life from nowhere, and who must leave again in a few days or weeks? No doubt the glamour and romance of his origin was partly responsible, but that alone was not enough to account for it. There were other Earthmen better looking than Leon, yet she had eyes for him alone, and her life now was empty unless she was in his presence.

By the end of the first day, only her family knew about her feelings; by the end of the second, everyone she passed gave her a knowing smile. It was impossible to keep a secret in such a tight and talkative community as Palm Bay, and she knew better than to attempt it.

Her second meeting with Leon was accidental – as far as such things can ever be accidents. She was helping her father deal with some of the correspondence and inquiries that had flooded upon the village since the Earthmen’s arrival, and was trying to make some sense out of her notes when the door of the office opened. It had opened so often in the last few days that she had ceased to look up; her younger sister was acting as receptionist and dealt with all the visitors. Then she heard Leon’s voice; and the paper blurred before her eyes, the notes might have been in an unknown language.

‘Can I see the mayor, please?’

‘Of course, Mr—?’

‘Assistant Engineer Carrell.’

‘I’ll go and fetch him. Won’t you sit down?’

Leon slumped wearily on the ancient armchair that was the best the reception room could offer its infrequent visitors, and not until then did he notice that Lora was watching him silently from the other side of the room. At once he sloughed off his tiredness and shot to his feet.

‘Hello – I didn’t know you worked here.’

‘I live here; my father’s the mayor.’

This portentous news did not seem to impress Leon unduly. He walked over to the desk and picked up the fat volume through which Lora had been browsing between her secretarial duties.

‘
A Concise History of Earth
,’ he read, ‘
from the Dawn of Civilisation to the Beginning of Interstellar Flight
. And all in a thousand pages! It’s a pity it ends three hundred years ago.’

‘We hope that you’ll soon bring us up to date. Has much happened since that was written?’

‘Enough to fill about fifty libraries, I suppose. But before we go we’ll leave you copies of all our records, so that your history books will only be a hundred years out of date.’

They were circling around each other, avoiding the only thing that was important. When can we meet again? Lora’s thoughts kept hammering silently, unable to break through the barrier of speech. And does he really like me or is he merely making polite conversation?