Гарри Гаррисон - To The Stars

The bit more was over an hour and Sara did not think she could make it. But Old Jemmy was far stronger than he looked, so he and Jan walked on each side of her, half supporting her. They were paralleling the motorway now and could clearly see the headlights sweeping by in both directions. An island of light appeared ahead in the darkness and they headed for it.

“Heston services,” Old Jemmy said. “End of the line. You got a bit of shelter in this house here and you can spy from the window.”

He was gone before they could even thank him. Sara sat with her back to the wall, her hea4 on her knees, while Jan found the window. The service area was no more than a hundred meters away, bright as day under the glaring yellow lights. A few passenger cars were refueling, but most of the vehicles were heavy long distance lorries.

“We are looking for a juggernaut from London Brick,” Sara said. “Is it there yet?’

“Not that I can see.”

“We can expect it any time now. It will stop at the last hydrogen pump. When it does we get out of here. Past the buildings to the exit ramp, beyond the lights. The driver will stop there and open the door. That’s our chance.”

“I’ll look out for it. You take it easy.

“That’s all I can do.”

The cold was beginning to bite through their heavy clothing when the long, articulated shape pulled in under the lights.

“It’s here,” Jan said.

There was more than enough light reflected from the area to show them a path through the rubble. They worked their way around it, then climbed the low fence. After that there was a cold wait behind a dark shack until the truck rumbled to a stop; the door swung open.

“Run,” Sara said, stumbling toward it.

As soon as they were in, the door slammed and the great vehicle rumbled to life. It was wonderfully warm in the cab. The driver was a big man, half seen in the darkness.

“Tea in a thermos here,” he said. “Sandwiches too. Get some sleep, if you want. No stops until we reach Swansea around five. I’ll drop you before the Security check. Do you know the way from there?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “And thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

Jan did not think he would be able to sleep, but the warmth and steady vibration of the cab lulled him. The next thing he was aware of was the hissing of air brakes as the driver drew to a stop. It was still dark out, though the stars were bright and clear here. Sara was sleeping curled against him, and he stroked her hair, reluctant to awaken her.

“This is the place,” the driver said.

She was awake on the instant, opening the door when they stopped.

“Good luck,” the driver said. Then the door slammed and they were alone, shivering in the cold hour before dawn.

“The walk will warm us up,” Sara said, leading the

“Where are we?” Jan asked.

“Just outside Swansea. We head for the port. If the arrangements have been made we will go out on one of the fishing boats. Transfer to an Irish boat at sea. We’ve used the route before successfully.”

“And then?”

“Ireland.”

“Of course. I mean the future. What happens to me?”

She was silent as they plodded on, their footsteps loud in the dark silence. “There has been so much to do to get out in a hurry, I just never thought. It might be arranged for you to stay on in Ireland under another name, though you would have to be very inconspicuous. There are a lot of British spies there”

“What about Israel? You will be there, won’t you?”

“Of course. Your technical skills would be respected.”

Jan smiled into the night. “Enough of this respect. What about love? You, I mean. I asked you earlier.”

“This is still not the time for a discussion. When we are out of here, then…”

“When we are safe, you mean. Will we ever be? Are you forbidden to fall in love in your work? Or can you at least pretend to be to get some cooperation…”

“Jan, please. You’re hurting me, and yourself as well, when you talk like that. I have never lied to you. I did not have to make love to you to enlist you in the work. I did it for the same reason that you did. I wanted to. Now, for a little while, let us please not talk like this. The most dangerous part is ahead.”

It was a clear, cold dawn when they walked through the city. Other early risers were up, hurrying along, breath steaming. There were no police in sight. Security here was not as tight as in London. They turned a corner and there, at the end of the ice-slick street, was the harbor. The stern of a fishing trawler could be seen.

“Where do we go?” Jan asked.

“That doorway, it’s the office. They’ll know in there.”

As they approached it the door opened and a man stepped out and turned to face them.

It was Thurgood-Smythe.

For a single shocking instant they stood, frozen, staring at each other. Thurgood-Smythe’s mouth was twisted in a slight and unhumorous smile.

“End of the line,” he said.

Sara pushed Jan hard; he slipped on the ice and fell to his knees. At the same time she drew a pistol from her pocket and fired twice, rapidly, at Thurgood-Smythe. He spun about and dropped. Jan was still climbing to his feet when she turned and ran back up the street.

There were Security Police there now, blocking her way, raising their guns.

Sara fired as she ran, over and over.

They returned the fire and she crumpled and dropped.

Jan ran to her, ignoring the guns pointed at him, lifting her and holding her in his arms. There was a smear of dirt and blood on her cheek and he brushed it away. Her eyes were closed and she was not breathing.

“I’ll never know,” Jan whispered. “Never know.”

He held her still body to him, held her tightly, unaware of his tears. Unaware of the ring of police. Not even noticing Thurgood-Smythe who stood there as well, blood dripping between his fingers that he had clamped hard about his arm.

The room was white, walls, ceiling, and floor. Unblemished and cheerless. The chair was white too, as was the plain table set before it. Sterile and cold, resembling a hospital in a way, but not like a hospital at all. Not at all.

Jan sat on the chair with his arms resting on the table. His clothing was white; white sandals were on his feet. His skin was very pale, as though it were trying to conform to the all-pervading whiteness. The reddened rings around his eyes were in stark contrast to the whiteness all about him.

Someone had given him a mug of coffee and it rested on the table, still held by his fingers. He had drunk none of it and it had grown cold. His red-rimmed eyes stared unseeing into the distance. There was no distance for the room was windowless. The door opened and a white-garbed attendant came in. He held a blast hypodermic in one hand and Jan did not protest, or even notice, when his arm was lifted and the injection was blown through his skin and into his bloodstream.

The attendant went out, but he left the door open. He was back in a moment with an identical white chair which he placed on the opposite side of the table. This time he closed the door when he left.

A few minutes passed before Jan stirred and looked about, then glanced down at his hand as though aware for the first time that he was holding the cup. He raised it and sipped, then grimaced at the cold liquid. As he was pushing the cup away from him, Thurgood-Smythe entered and sat down in the chair opposite.

“Can you understand me?” he asked.

Jan frowned a second, then nodded.

Good. You have bad a shot that should pick you up a little bit. I’m afraid that you have been out of things for some time.”

Jan started to talk, but burst into a fit of coughing instead. His brother-in-law waited patiently. Jan tried again.