Return From the Stars Page 18

  “Really, it’s a shame I didn’t take your picture when you came out of that hole on Kereneia. Then you could see what a quiet type you are. Man, I thought that you… Never mind!”

  “Let’s stow Kereneia, its caves and all of that,” I said. “You know, Olaf, before I came here I went to a doctor, Juffon is his name, a very likable character. Over eighty, but…”

  “That is our fate now,” Olaf observed calmly. He exhaled and watched the smoke spread out above a clump of pale purple flowers that resembled hyacinths. He went on: “We feel most at home among the o-o-old folks. With lo-o-ong beards. When I think about it, I could scream. I tell you what. Let’s buy ourselves a chicken coop, we can wring their necks.”

  “Come on, enough clowning. This doctor said a number of wise things to me. That we have no family, no friends of our own generation — which leaves only women, but nowadays it is harder to get one woman than many. And he was right. I can see that now.”

  “Hal, I know that you are much cleverer than I. You always liked the unprecedented. It had to be damned difficult, something that you couldn’t manage at first, something you couldn’t get without busting a gut three times over. Otherwise it didn’t tickle your fancy. Don’t give me that look. I’m not afraid of you, you know.”

  “Praise the Lord. That would make things complete.”

  “And so… what was I going to say? Ah. At first I thought that you wanted to be by yourself and that you hit the books because you wanted to be something more than a pilot and the guy who made the engine work. I waited for you to start putting on airs. And I must say that when you floored Normers and Venturi with those observations of yours and, all innocence, entered into those oh-so-highly-learned discussions, well, I thought that you had started. But then there was that explosion, you remember?”

  “The one at night.”

  “Yes. And Kereneia, and Arcturus, and that moon. My friend, I still see that moon sometimes in my dreams, and once I actually fell out of bed because of it. Oh, that moon! Yes, but what — you see, my mind is going; I keep on forgetting — but then all that happened, and I saw that you were not out to be superior. That that was simply what you liked, and you couldn’t be different. Remember how you asked Venturi for his personal copy of that book, the red one, what was it?”

  “The Topology of Hyperspace.”

  “Right. And he said, ‘It is too difficult for you, Bregg. You lack the background…’ “

  I laughed, because he did Venturi perfectly.

  “He was right, Olaf. It was too difficult.”

  “Yes, then, but in time you figured it out, didn’t you?”

  “I did. But… without any real satisfaction. You know why. Venturi, that poor guy…”

  “Not another word. It remains to be seen who should feel sorry for whom — in the light of subsequent events.”

  “He cannot feel sorry for anyone now. You were on the upper deck at the time?”

  “I? On the upper deck? I was standing right beside you!”

  “That’s right. If he hadn’t let it all into the cooling system, he might have got off with a few burns. The way Arne did. He had to go and lose his head.”

  “Indeed. No, you’re incredible! Arne died anyway!”

  “But five years later. Five years are five years.”

  “Years like those?”

  “Now you’re talking this way, but before, by the water, when I started to, you jumped down my throat.”

  “It was unbearable, yes, but it was magnificent, too. Admit it. You tell me — but, then, you don’t need to talk. When you crawled out of that hole on Ke —”

  “Enough, already, about that godforsaken hole!”

  “It was only then that I understood what made you tick. We didn’t know each other that well yet. When Gimma told me, a month later, that Arder would be flying with you, I thought — well, I don’t know! I went to him but said nothing. He, of course, knew right away. ‘Olaf,’ he said to me, ‘don’t be angry. You are my best friend, but I’m flying with him this time, not with you, because…’ Do you know what he said?”

  “No.” I had a lump in my throat.

  “‘Because he alone went down. He alone. No one believed that it was possible to land there. He himself didn’t believe it.’ Well, did you believe that you would come back?”

  I was silent.

  “You see, you bastard? ‘Either he’ll return with me,’ Arder said, ‘or neither of us will return…’ “

  “And I returned without him,” I said.

  “And you returned without him. I didn’t recognize you. I was horrified! I was down below, at the pumps.”

  “Then that was you?”

  “Yes. I saw — a stranger. A complete stranger. I thought I was hallucinating. Even your suit, all red.”

  “That was rust. A pipe had burst on me.”

  “What, you’re telling me? I’m the one who patched that pipe later. The way you looked… But the clincher, afterward…”

  “The thing with Gimma?”

  “Yes. It isn’t in the official records. And they cut it out of the tape, the following week; Gimma did it himself, I think. At the time I thought you were going to kill him. Christ.”

  “Don’t talk about it,” I said. I felt that in another minute I would start shaking. “Don’t, Olaf. Please.”

  “No hysterics. Arder was closer to me than to you.”

  “Closer, not closer, what difference does it make? You’re a blockhead. If Gimma had given him a reserve, Arder would be sitting here with us now! Gimma hoarded everything; he was afraid of running out of transistors, but running out of men didn’t bother him! I…”

  I broke off.

  “Olaf! This is insane. Let’s forget it.”

  “Apparently, Hal, we can’t forget it. At least, not so long as we are together. After that Gimma never again…”

  “To hell with Gimma! Olaf! The end. Period. I don’t want to hear another word!”

  “And am I also forbidden to talk about myself?”

  I shrugged. The white robot came to clear the table, but only looked in from the hall and left. Our raised voices must have frightened it off.

  “Hal, tell me. What exactly is eating you?”

  “Don’t pretend.”

  “No, really.”

  “How can you ask? After all, it was because of me…”

  “What was because of you?”

  “The business with Arder.”

  “Wha-a-at?”

  “Of course. Had I insisted from the first, before we took off, Gimma would have given…”

  “Come on now! How were you to know that it was his radio that would go? It could have been something else.”

  “Could have been, could have been. But it was the radio.”

  “Hold on. And you walked around with this inside you for six years and never said a word?”

  “What was there to say? I thought it was obvious; wasn’t it?”

  “Obvious! Ye gods! What are you saying, man? Come to your senses! Had you said that, any one of us would have thought you crazy. And when Ennesson’s beam went out of focus, was that your fault, too? Well?”

  “No. He… that can happen…”

  “I know it can. Don’t worry, I know as much as you. Hal, I won’t have any peace until you tell me…”

  “What now?”

  “That you are imagining things. This is complete nonsense. Arder himself would tell you so, if he were here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hal, I have a mind to…”

  “Remember, I’m heavier.”

  “But I am angrier, you understand? Idiot!”

  “Olaf, don’t yell. We aren’t alone here.”

  “All right. OK. Well, was it nonsense or not?” .

  “No.”

  Olaf inhaled until his nostrils went white.

  “Why not?” he asked almost genially.

  “Because, even before that, I had noticed Gimma’s… tight-fistedness. It
was my duty to foresee what might happen and confront Gimma immediately — and not when I returned with Arder’s obituary. I was too soft. That is why not.”

  “I see. Yes. You were too soft… No! I… Hal! I can’t. I’m leaving.”

  He got up from the table abruptly; so did I.

  “Are you crazy?” I cried. “He’s leaving! All because…”

  “Yes. Yes. Do I have to listen to your fantasies? No, thank you. Arder didn’t reply?”

  “Leave it be.”

  “He didn’t reply, right?”

  “He didn’t reply.”

  “Could he have had a corona?”

  I was silent.

  “Could he have had any of a thousand other kinds of accidents? Or did he enter an echo belt? Did it kill his signal when he lost contact in the turbulence? Or did his emitters demagnetize above a sunspot and… ?”

  “Enough.”

  “You won’t admit I’m right? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “True. Well, then, could any of the things I said have happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why do you insist that it was the radio, the radio and nothing else, only the radio?”

  “You may be right,” I said. I felt terribly tired, I no longer cared.

  “You may be right,” I repeated. “The radio… it was simply the most likely thing… No. Don’t say anything else. We’ve already talked about it ten times more than was necessary.”

  Olaf walked up to me.

  “Bregg,” he said, “you poor old soldier… you have too much good in you, you know that?”

  “What good?”

  “A sense of responsibility. There should be moderation in everything. What do you intend to do?”

  “About what?”

  “You know.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “It’s bad, is it?”

  “Couldn’t be worse.”

  “How about going away with me? Or somewhere — alone. If you like, I can help you arrange it. I can take your things or you can leave them, or…”

  “You think I ought to hightail it?”

  “I don’t think anything. But when I see you lose control of yourself, just a little, as you did a moment ago… then…”

  “Then?”

  “Then I begin to wonder.”

  “I don’t want to go away. You know what? I won’t budge from here. And if…”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. That robot, at the service station, what did it say? When will the car be ready? Was it tomorrow or today? I’ve forgotten.”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. Look: it’s getting dark. We’ve chatted away the entire afternoon.”

  “God preserve us from such chats!”

  “I was joking. Shall we go for a swim?”

  “No. I’d like to read. Can you give me something?”

  “Take whatever you want. Do you know how to work those grains of glass?”

  “Yes. I hope you don’t have that… that reading device with the sugary voice.”

  “No, all I have is an opton.”

  “Fine. I’ll take it. You’ll be in the pool?”

  “Yes. But I’ll go upstairs with you. I have to change.”

  I gave him a few books, mostly history, and one thing on the stabilization of population dynamics, since that interested him. And biology, with a long article on betrization. As for me, I started to change but couldn’t find my trunks. I had mislaid them somewhere. No sign of them. I took Olaf’s black trunks, put on my bathrobe, and went outside.

  The sun had already set. From the west a bank of clouds was moving in, extinguishing the brighter part of the sky. I threw my robe on the sand, cool now after the heat of the day. I sat down, let my toes dangle in the water. The conversation had disturbed me more than I cared to admit. Arder’s death stuck in me like a splinter. Olaf may have been right. Perhaps it was only the claim of a memory that had never been reconciled…

  I got up and made a flat dive, without any spring, head down. The water was warm. I had braced myself for cold and was taken by surprise. I surfaced. Too warm, like swimming in soup. I had just climbed out on the opposite side, leaving dark wet hand marks on the rail, when something pierced me in the heart. The story of Arder had carried me into a different world, but now, possibly because the water was warm — was supposed to be warm — I remembered the girl, and it was as if I had remembered something horrible, a misfortune that I could not overcome, yet had to.

  And it may have been only my imagination. I examined the idea uncertainly, hunched over in the growing dusk. I could hardly see my own body, my tan hid me in the darkness. The clouds now filled the sky, and unexpectedly, too soon, it was night. From the house, a whiteness approached. Her bathing cap. Panic seized me. I got up slowly. I intended simply to run away, but she spotted me against the sky.

  “Mr. Bregg?” she said in a small voice.

  “It’s me. You want to swim? I am in the way. I’m leaving…”

  “Why? You are not bothering me. Is the water warm?”

  “Yes. For my taste, too warm,” I said. She walked to the edge and jumped in lightly. I saw only her silhouette. Her bathing suit was dark. A splash. She surfaced near my feet.

  “Terrible!” she cried, spitting out water. “What has he done? Some cold ought to be let in. Do you know how?”

  “No. But I’ll find out in a moment.”

  I dived over her head. I swam down, low, until I could touch the bottom, and I began to swim along it, touching the concrete every now and then. Underwater, as is usually the case, it was a little brighter than in the air, so that I was able to locate the inflow pipes. They were in the wall opposite the house. I swam to the surface, somewhat out of breath, since I had been under for a while.

  “Bregg!” I heard her voice.

  “Here. What’s wrong?”

  “I was frightened…” she said, more quietly.

  “Of what?”

  “You were gone so long.”

  “I know where it is now. We’ll have it fixed in no time!” I called out and ran to the house. I could have spared myself the heroic dive; the taps were in full view, on a column near the veranda. I turned on the cold water and returned to the pool.

  “It’s done. You’ll have to wait a little.”

  “Yes.”

  She stood below the springboard, I at the shallow end of the pool, as if I feared to draw near. Then I walked toward her, slowly, as though unintentionally. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. I was able to make out the features of her face. She regarded the water. Was very pretty in her white cap. And seemed taller without her clothes.

  I stood like a post beside her; the situation grew awkward. Perhaps that is why I suddenly sat down. Clod! I berated myself. But I could think of nothing to say. The clouds thickened, it grew darker, but it did not look like rain. Quite cool.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No. Mr. Bregg?”

  “Yes?”

  “The water doesn’t seem to be rising…”

  “Because I opened the outlet. That ought to be enough. I’ll close it.”

  While I was coming back from the house it occurred to me that I could call out to Olaf. I nearly laughed aloud: it was so stupid. I was afraid of her.

  I dived in flat and surfaced.

  “There. Unless I overdid it — just tell me, I can let in some warm.”

  The water was visibly lower now, because the outlet was still open. The girl — I saw her slender shadow against the clouds — seemed to hesitate. Perhaps she no longer wanted to, perhaps she would go back; the thought flashed through me, and I felt a kind of relief. At that moment she jumped, feet first, and gave a faint cry, because the water was quite shallow there now — I hadn’t had time to warn her. She must have hit bottom quite hard; she staggered but did not fall. I hurled myself toward her.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”
<
br />   “No.”

  “It’s my fault. I’m an idiot.”

  We were standing in water up to our waists. She began to swim. I climbed out, ran to the house, shut off the outlet, and returned. I did not see her anywhere. I got in quietly and swam the length of the pool, then turned on my back and, moving my arms gently, sank to the bottom. I opened my eyes, saw the delicately rippled dark-glass surface of the water. I drifted upward slowly, began to tread water, and saw her. She was standing on the same side of the pool. I swam over to her. The springboard was at the other end; here it was shallow, I touched bottom immediately. The water, which I pushed aside as I walked, splashed noisily. I saw her face; she was looking at me; whether it was the momentum of my last steps — because if it is difficult to walk in water, it is not easy, either, to come to a sudden stop — or something else, I don’t know, but I found myself beside her. Perhaps nothing would have happened had she withdrawn, but she remained where she was, her hand on the first rung of the ladder, and I was too close now to speak, to take refuge in conversation…

  I held her tightly. She was cold, slippery, like a fish, a strange, alien creature, and suddenly in this touch, so cool, lifeless — for she did not move at all — I found a place of heat, her mouth, I kissed her, I kissed and I kissed… It was utter madness. She did not defend herself. Did not resist at all, was as if dead. I held her arms, lifted up her face, I wanted to see her, to look into her eyes, but it was already so dark, I had to imagine them. She did not tremble. There was only throbbing — from my heart or hers, I did not know. We stood like that, until slowly she began to free herself from my arms. I released her immediately. She went up the ladder. I followed her and again embraced her, from the side; she trembled. Now she trembled. I wanted to say something but could not find my voice. I just held her, pressed her to me, and we stood, and she freed herself again — not pushing me away, but as if I were not there at all. My arms dropped. She walked away. In the light that fell from my window I saw her pick up her robe and, without putting it on, start up the stairs. Lights were on at the door and in the hall. Drops of water gleamed on her shoulders and thighs. The door closed. She was gone.

  I had — for a second — the urge to throw myself into the water and not come up. No, truly. Never before had such a thing entered my head. What served for a head. It all had been so senseless, impossible, and the worst of it was that I did not know what it meant and what I was supposed to do now. And why had she been that way… so… ? Had she been overwhelmed with fear? Ah, was it always fear, then, nothing but fear? It was something else. What? How could I discover what? Olaf. Then was I a fifteen-year-old kid, to kiss a girl and go running to him for advice?