The Navigators of Space by J.-H. Rosny Aîné

Author:J.-H. Rosny Aîné [Aîné, J.-H. Rosny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2012-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

VII. Water, Mother of Life

In the morning, Arva had no suspicion of Targ’s absence. He had worked hard the day before; doubtless, worn out with fatigue, he was sleeping late. After two hours of waiting, however, she became anxious, and ended up knocking on the door of the watchman’s chosen room. There was no response. Perhaps he had gone out while she was asleep? She knocked again, then pressed the door-switch; as it rolled back, the door revealed an empty room.

The young woman went in, and saw that everything was in good order: the arcum bed was lifted back against the wall; the washstand was tidy. There was no evidence of the recent presence of a man. A certain apprehension gripped the visitor’s heart.

She went to find Mano; they both interrogated birds and humans alike without obtaining any useful reply. That was abnormal, and perhaps worrying—for the oasis, after the earthquake, was full of pitfalls. Targ might have fallen into a fissure or have been caught up in a collapse.

“It’s more likely that he’s gone out in the morning sunlight,” said the optimistic Mano. “As he’s an orderly fellow, he’d have tidied his room first. Let’s go find him.”

Arva was still anxious. Communications having become uncertain, and many radiolinks having been broken, their research made no progress.

As midday approached, Arva was wandering sadly through the rubble in the borderlands of the oasis and the desert when a flock of birds appeared, calling loudly: “Targ is found!”

She only had to climb up on the wall to see him, still distant, approaching with a heavy tread.

His clothes were torn; there were cuts gashing his neck, face and hands; his entire body expressed fatigue—only his eyes retained a certain vigor.

“Where have you been?” Arva cried.

“I’ve been deep into the Earth,” he replied—but he did not want to say any more.

The rumor of his return spread rapidly, and his traveling companions came to see him. One of them having reproached him for delaying their departure, however, he replied: “Don’t criticize me, for I bring great news.”

This reply surprised and shocked his listeners. How could a man bring news that was not known to other men? Such words had had meaning, once, when the Earth was unknown and full of resources, when hazard dwelt among living beings and individuals or peoples opposed their destiny—but now, when the planet was exhausted, when men could no longer struggle against one another, when everything was resolved by inflexible laws and no one could anticipate perils before the birds and the instruments, they were absurd.

“Great news!” the man who had reproached him repeated, disdainfully. “Have you gone mad, watchman?”

“You’ll soon see whether I’ve gone mad! Let’s go in search of the Redlands Council.”

“You’ve made them wait.”

Targ did not reply. He turned to his sister and said to her: “Go fetch the woman I saved yesterday. Her presence is necessary.”

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