The Eighth Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK ®: Milton Lesser by Milton Lesser & Stephen Marlowe

Author:Milton Lesser & Stephen Marlowe [Lesser, Milton]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: short stories, science fiction, pulp fiction, sci-fi, classic
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2014-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X

“It’s all so big! So incredible! We’ll never understand it! Never.…”

“Relax, Sophia. Arkalion said—”

“I know what Arkalion said, but we haven’t learned anything yet.”

Hours before, Arkalion had landed them on the space station, a gleaming, five-mile in diameter globe, and had quickly departed. Soon after that they had found themselves in a veritable labyrinth of tunnels, passageways, vaults. Occasionally they passed a great glowing screen, and always the view of space was the same. Like a magnificent, elongated shield, sparkling with a million million points of light, pale gold, burnished copper, blue of glacial ice and silver white, the Andromeda Galaxy spanned space from upper right to lower left. Off at the lower right hand corner they could see their space station; apparently the viewer itself stood far removed in space, projecting its images here at the globe.

Awed the first time they had seen one of the screens, Temple said, “All the poets who ever wrote a line would have given half their lives to see this as we see it now.”

“And all the writers, musicians, artists.…”

“Anyone, who ever thought creatively, Sophia. How can you say it’s breathtaking or anything like that when words weren’t ever spoken which can.…”

“Let’s not go poetic just yet,” Sophia admonished him with a smile. “We’d better get squared away here, as the expression goes, before it’s too late.”

“Yes.… Hello, what’s this?” A door irised open for them in a solid wall of metal. Irised was the only word Temple could think of, for a tiny round hole appeared in the wall spreading evenly in all directions with a slow, uniform, almost liquid motion. When it was large enough to walk through, they entered a completely bare room and Temple whirled in time to see the entrance irising shut.

“Something smells,” said Sophia, sniffing at the air.

Sweet and cloying, the odor grew stronger. Temple may have heard a faint hissing sound. “I’m getting sleepy,” he said.

Nodding, Sophia ran, banged on the wall where the door had opened so suddenly, then closed. No response. “Is it a trap?”

“By whom? For what?” Temple found it difficult to keep his eyes from closing. “Fight it if you want, Sophia. I’m going to sleep.” And he squatted in the center of the floor, staring vacantly at the bare wall.

Just as Temple was drifting off into a dream about complex machinery he did not yet understand but realized he soon would, Sophia joined him the hard way, collapsing alongside of him, unconscious and sprawling gracelessly on the floor.

Temple slept.

* * * *

“Sleepy-head, get up.” Sophia stirred as he spoke and shook her. She yawned, stretched, smiled up at him lazily. “How do you feel now?”

“Hungry, Kit.”

“That’s a point. It’s all right now, though. I know exactly where the food concentrates are kept. Three levels below us, second segment of the wall. You can make those queer doors iris by pressing the wall twice, with about a one second interval.”

They found the food compartment, discovered row on row of cans, boxes, jars.

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