Айзек Азимов - Before The Golden Age

And he didn’t finish the sentence. For an idea, a conception so alluring, so utterly startling, leaped into his mind, that he drew his breath inward through his suddenly meeting teeth. “Lord!” he whispered, and almost as if he were stunned, he dropped back, lying full length, his head cupped in the palms of his joined hands. And he saw the stars.

The two men were zooming along at a good fast clip that was building on itself. They were guided by the frictionless stuff of the mirror, and pulled by the force of gravity.

And above were the stars. So cold, so remote, so harshly, quietly beautiful. Deverel was looking at them, hard. They were exciting stars. They never changed their position as a whole. They looked the same as when they—the men—had gone plunging down the curve of the mirror.

While Deverel lay there on his back, his brow wrinkled in thought, Colbie watched him, watched him for a good many minutes, while they plummeted into the depths of the shining bowl. In an incredibly short time, they reached bottom—and Colbie grew tired of trying to read the outlaw’s thoughts. He tried to rise to his feet. He went through a number of gyrations, which left him lying face down, looking at his own reflections.

Deverel had come out of his brown study, and was watching amusedly. “If there were a large enough area on the soles of your feet, m’lad, you could stand easily enough. But when you sit down, the center of gravity of your body is considerably lowered, and it’s easy. So you’ll never stand up unless by some miracle of balance.”

This bit of wisdom was apparent. Colbie sat down, drew the water tube into his mouth, and sucked with abandon. Then he regarded Deverel knowingly. “Been thinking, eh? What about?”

“The mirror,” Deverel replied solemnly. “I have to keep it to myself, though—sorry!”

“Likely!” There was a tigerish snarl implied in Colbie’s voice overtones.

Deverel’s worldly wise eyes grew sardonic. “Sure—I’ve been doing a lot of figuring, and I’ve found out a lot of stuff. Interesting, unusual. But there’s something missing, Colbie—something I can’t put my finger on. If I had it—and I will get it—I could get us out of here. Any suggestions?” he concluded, regarding Colbie sidewise out of a laughing eye.

“If I had them,” pointedly, “I’d keep ‘em. By the way, are you being fair? Withholding information? I’m referring to your promise—that you wouldn’t try to get away.”

“I did make a promise, just as you said—that I wouldn’t try to get away. And I haven’t. And I won’t until you tell me it’s all right if I try. Get it?” He fixed Colbie with a rigidly extended index finger, and went on in tight tones of significance. “Let’s be ourselves from now on, Colbie—outlaw and cop! Right now, we’re just partners in adventure. But you, just by saying so, can make us what we really are—and I’d be your prisoner. D’you see? Do that, Colbie, and I’ll get us out of here!”

Colbie felt a slow flush rising to his face. Suddenly he felt utterly humiliated; felt as if his intelligence had been insulted and mocked at. Colbie’s voice exploded, an eruption of searing wrath. “No! Listen,” he went on in a low, deadly, flat voice, “the answer is no. No from now on. I don’t give a damn. I don’t give a damn if we slide back and forth here for eternity—that’s what we’ll do if you wait for me to give in to you and your damned insulting demand. You’ve got the brass—” Colbie choked apoplectically, and stopped. He waved his arms helplessly, glaring at the other man. After a while he went on, his voice now even, “You suggest I haven’t got the mentality or the resource to find my—our—way out of here. Maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’m a damned dummy. But I’ll tell you something that’s going to make you squirm; you’re going to see me outbluff you! And you’re going to give in to me! Remember it.”

He sank back, glaring.

Deverel’s eyes were popping. “Well!” he exclaimed in astonishment. “Phew! Glad you got that off your chest—you sure take the fits!”

A lot of thought went on under Deverel’s helmet, and in a way they amused him. But they were all directed toward one end—escape. This was a new Colbie, an undreamed-of Colbie, he saw here, and he was going to be a tough nut to crack! So Deverel finally said, “You’re going to outbluff me, you said.”

“Sure. Now, ever, and always. Something else, my dear mental marvel —it’s you that’s going to do the thinking.” His voice was contemptuous. “Now, go ahead and use that so superior gray matter you’re claiming.”

Deverel’s lips twitched. He said, shrugging, “If that’s the way you want it But you’re crazy.”

Colbie refused to answer.

“Well.” The outlaw laughed lightly. “Now we’ve got our own personal feud mapped out. We won’t be on speaking terms for maybe two or three hours. Incidentally, we’ll be bored to death. We won’t even enjoy ourselves the least bit. That’s the way people do when they’re mad at each other. If I were a kid, or if we were medium-close relatives, I’d say all right—but we’re two grown men.”

“I get it.” Colbie put a grin on his face.

“Good!” Deverel exclaimed. “Now where are we, Colbie? Near the top again. There’s the rim, too!”

It was true. The rim was there—but it was not the same section of the rim from which they had dropped. Deverel realized it. That mountain, that landmark, did not show up against the rim. They had gone across the mirror twice. By common sense, they should have returned to their starting point. But had they returned, Deverel would have been startled indeed.

They came to the apex of the second trip across—and dropped back, once more missing it by an additional ten vertical feet. Once more they plunged downward into the depths of the shining bowl.

On the way down, Colbie was silent. Unable to help himself, his thoughts began to revolve. How could they get out? But his thoughts revolved futilely. He was unable to look at the matter objectively. Had he been solving a puzzle on paper, the answer would have come soon enough. He was well enough equipped on the laws of motion to have solved it. But, being a part of the brain-teaser himself, he was helpless.

But undoubtedly he should have noticed that the position of the stars in the heavens never changed.

They passed bottom, went sloping upward again, in a monotony of evenly decreasing speed that was maddening, at least to Colbie.

Deverel was not silent. He occupied himself in a frivolous manner, talking, laughing, cracking jokes. He enjoyed himself thoroughly. He could make himself at home anywhere, and in the strangest circumstances. It was one of his admirable qualities.

Finally he called, “How about it, Lieutenant? Making any headway?”

Colbie came out of it. “Know less than I did before,” he admitted sadly. The light of the stars, and the light which the mirror so faithfully threw back into space, were beginning to irritate him, too.

“Damn shame.” Deverel sounded regretful. “I’ve got a lot of dope on this strange vale o’ paradise,” he added sadly, “but I can’t find the missing link that’d put it to some advantage. And to be frank, the time to put it to the best advantage will be in less than an hour. A crucial moment, I mean.” He was staring intently at Colbie.

“Damn the crucial moment,” Colbie said coldly.

“Well, there’ll be several crucial moments,” Deverel said, laughing softly. “The best possible times for us to get out—but I don’t know yet how we’ll get out. You say I have to do the thinking? But it won’t hurt if we talk things over a little, will it?”