The Lost Kafoozalum Page 12

into silence and the dark.

  For a moment I do not understand; then I recognize the feel of FragileCargo, still clamping me to the stretcher, and I open my mouth andscream and scream.

  Clatter of feet. Hatch opens. Fragile Cargo goes limp.

  I stagger to my feet. Faint light through the hatch; B's head. I holdout the Andite stick and she turns and shouts; and a panel slides openin the wall so that the wind comes roaring in.

  I push the stick through and the wind snatches it away and it is gone.

  After that--

  * * * * *

  After that, for a while, nothing, I suppose, though I have norecollection of losing consciousness; only without any sense of breakI find I am flat on my back on one of the seats in the cabin of thehopper.

  I sit up and say "How--"

  B who is sitting on the floor beside me says that when the broadcasterwas activated of course they came at once, only while they werewaiting for the boat to reach land whole squads of land cars arrivedand started combing the area, and some came up on top of the cliff andshone their headlights out over the sea so Mr. Yardo had to lurkagainst the cliff face and wait till I got into a position where hecould pick me up and it was _frightfully_ clever of me to think offloating up on antigrav--

  I forgot about the broadcaster.

  I forgot about the hopper come to that, there seemed to be nothing inthe world except me and the stretcher and the enemy.

  Stretcher.

  I say, "Is M'Clare--"

  At which moment Mr. Yardo turns from the controls with a wide smile oftriumph and says "Eighteen twenty-seven, girls!" and the world goesweightless and swings upside down.

  Then still with no sense of any time-lapse I am lying in the biglighted hold, with the sound of trampling all round: it is somehowfiltered and far off and despite the lights there seems to be a globeof darkness around my head. I hear my own voice repeating, "M'Clare?How's M'Clare?"

  A voice says distantly, without emphasis, "M'Clare? He's dead."

  The next time I come round it is dark. I am vaguely aware of havingbeen unconscious for quite a while.

  There is a single thread of knowledge connecting this moment with thelast: M'Clare's dead.

  This is the central factor: I seem to have been debating it withmyself for a very long time.

  I suppose the truth is simply that the Universe never guaranteesanything; life, or permanence, or that your best will be good enough.

  The rule is that you have to pick yourself up and go on; and lyinghere in the dark is not doing it.

  I turn on my side and see a cluster of self-luminous objects includinga light switch. I reach for it.

  How did I get into a hospital?

  On second thoughts it is a cabin in the ship, or rather two of themwith the partition torn out, I can see the ragged edge of it. There isa lot of paraphernalia around; I climb out to have a look.

  Holy horrors what's happened? Someone borrowed my legs and put themback wrong; my eyes also are not functioning well, the light is set atMinimum and I am still dazzled. I see a door and make for it to getExplanations from somebody.

  Arrived, I miss my footing and stumble against the door and on theother side someone says "Hello, Lizzie. Awake at last?"

  I think my heart stops for a moment. I can't find the latch. I amvaguely aware of beating something with my fists, and then the doorgives, sticks, gives again and I stumble through and land on all foursthe other side of it.

  Someone is calling: "Lizzie! Are you hurt? Where the devil have theyall got to? Liz!"

  I sit up and say, "They said you were _dead_!"

  "_Who_ did?"

  "I ... I ... someone in the hold. I said How's M'Clare? and they saidyou were dead."

  M'Clare frowns and says gently, "Come over here and sit down quietlyfor a bit. You've been dreaming."

  Have I? Maybe the whole thing was a dream--but if so how far does itgo? Going down in the heli? The missile? The boat? Crawling throughthe black tunnel of a broken ship?

  No, because he is sitting in a sort of improvised chaise longue andhis legs are evidently strapped in place under the blanket; he isfumbling with the fastening or something.

  * * * * *

  I say "Hey! Cut that out!"

  He straightens up irritably.

  "Don't you start that, Lysistrata. I've been suffering the attentionsof the damnedest collection of amateur nurses who ever handled athermocouple, for over a week. I don't deny they've been veryefficient, but when it comes to--"

  Over a _week_?

  He nods. "My dear Lizzie, we left Incognita ten days ago. Amateurnursing again! They have some unholy book of rules which says that forExposure, Exhaustion and Shock the best therapy is sleep. I don'tdoubt it, but it goes on to say that in extreme cases the patient hasbeen known to benefit by as much as two weeks of it. I didn't find outthat they were trying it on you until about thirty-six hours ago whenI began inquiring why you weren't around. They kept me under for threedays--in fact until their infernal Handbook said it was time for myleg muscles to have some exercise. Miss Lammergaw was thering-leader."

  No wonder my legs feel as though someone exchanged the muscles forcotton wool, just wait till I get hold of Kirsty.

  If it hadn't been for her, I shouldn't have spent ten daysremembering, even in my sleep, that--

  I say, "Hell's feathers, it was _you_!"

  M'Clare makes motions as though to start getting out of his chair,looking seriously alarmed. I say, "It was your voice! When I asked--"

  M'Clare, quite definitely, starts to blush. Not much, but some.

  "Lizzie, I believe you're right. I have a sort of vague memory ofsomeone asking how I was--and I gave what I took to be a truthfulanswer. I remember it seemed quite inconceivable that I could bealive. In fact I still don't understand it. Neither Yardo nor MissLaydon could tell me. How _did_ you get me out of that ship?"

  Well, I do my best to explain, glossing over one or two points; at thefinish he closes his eyes and says nothing for a while.

  Then he says, "So except for this one man who saw you, you left notraces at all?"

  Not that I know of, but--

  "Do you know, five minutes later there were at least twenty men inthat bay, most of them scientists? They don't seem to have foundanything suspicious. Visibility was bad, of course, and you can'tleave foot-prints in shingle--"

  Hold on, what _is_ all this?

  M'Clare says, "We've had two couriers while you were asleep. Yes, Iknow it's not ordinarily possible for a ship on Mass-Time to get news.One of these days someone will have an interesting problem in CulturalEngineering, working out how to integrate some of these Space Forcesecrets into our economic and social structure without upsetting thewhole of the known volume. Though courier boats make their crews soinfernally sick I doubt whether the present type will ever come intocommon use. Anyway, we've had transcripts of a good many broadcastsfrom Incognita, the last dated four days ago; and as far as we cantell they're interpreting _Gilgamesh_ just as we meant them to.

  "The missile, by the way, was experimental, waiting to be test-firedthe next day. The man in charge saw _Gilgamesh_ on the alarm screensand got trigger-happy. The newscasters were divided as to whether heshould be blamed or praised; they all seem to feel he averted amenace, at least temporarily, but some of them think the invaderscould have been captured alive.

  "The first people on the scene came from a scientific camp; you andMiss Laydon saw their lights on the way down. You remember that areais geophysically interesting? Well, by extraordinary good luck aninternational group was there studying it. They rushed straight off tothe site of the landing--they actually saw _Gilgamesh_, and sheregistered on some of their astronomical instruments, too. They mustbe a reckless lot. What's more, they started trying to locate her onthe sea bottom the next day. Found both pieces; they're still tryingto locate the nose. They were all set to try raising the smaller piecewhen their governments bo
th announced in some haste that they weresending a properly equipped expedition. Jointly.

  "There's been no mention in any newscast of anyone seeing fairies orsea maidens--I expect the poor devil thinks you were a hallucination."

  So we brought it off.

  * * * * *

  I am very thankful in a distant sort of way, but right now theIncognitans have no more reality for me than the Lost Kafoozalum.

  M'Clare came through alive.

  I could spend a good deal of time just getting used to that fact, butthere is something I ought to say and I don't know how.

  I inquire after his injuries and learn they are healing nicely.

  I look at him and he is frowning.

  He says, "Lizzie. Just before my well-meant but ineffective attempt atsuicide--"

  Here it