Edmund Cooper: A Far Sunset

Still nothing. Presently the moons would be over the horizon, and that would be that. Maybe they were already out of range of the small transceiver. Maybe the damn thing wasn’t working, anyway. Maybe it was an extra-terrestrial ship and the occupants didn’t bother to keep a radio watch because they were all little green men with built-in telepathic antennae. Maybe it was just a bloody great lump of rock—a cold, dead piece of space debris … Maybe … Maybe…

At least the receiving circuits were working. He could now hear the hiss and crackle of static—an inane message, announcing only the presence of an electrical storm somewhere in the atmosphere.

‘Say something, you bastard,’ he raged. ‘Don’t just hook yourself on to a flock of moons and go skipping gaily by … I’m alone, do you hear? Alone … Alone with a bloody great family of children, and no one to talk to … Say something, you stupid, tantalizing bastard! ’

And then it came.

The miracle.

The voice of man reaching out to man across the black barrier of space.

‘This is the Cristobal Colon called Altair Five.’ The static was getting worse. But the words—the blessed, beautiful words—were unmistakable. ‘This is the Cristobal Colon calling Altair Five … Greetings from Earth … Identify yourself, please. Over.’

For a dreadful moment or two he couldn’t speak. There was a tightness in his chest, and his heart seemed ready to burst. He opened his mouth, and at first there was only a harsh gurgling. Instantly—and curiously—he was ashamed. He clenched his fist until the nails dug into his palms, and then he forced out the words.

‘I’m Paul Marlowe,’ he managed to say. ‘The only survivor ’ his voice broke and he had to start again. ‘The only survivor of the Gloria Mundi … When—when did you leave Earth?’

There was no answer. With a curse, he realized that he had forgotten to switch to receive. He hit the button savagely, and came in on mid-sentence from a different voice.

‘—name is Konrad Jurgens, commander of the Cristobal Colon,’ said the accented voice slowly in English. ‘We left Earth under faster than light drive in twenty twenty-nine, four subjective years ago … We are so glad to discover that you are still alive—one of the great pioneers of star flight. What has happened to the Gloria Mundi and your companions? We have seen the canals but have not yet made detailed studies. What are the creatures of this planet like. Are they hostile? How shall we find you?’

Paul’s eyes were on the moons, now very low in the sky. Somehow, he managed to keep his head.

‘Sorry, no time for much explanation,’ he answered hurriedly. ‘You will soon be passing over my horizon, and I think we’ll lose contact. So I’ll concentrate on vital information. If you take telephoto detail surveys of the area round the canals, you will see where the Gloria Mundi touched down … We burned a swathe through the forest—about ten kilometres long. It’s probably visible even to the naked eye from a low orbit … You’ll see also the crater where the Gloria Mundi programmed its own destruction after being abandoned. Touch down as near to it as possible. I’ll send people out to meet you—you’ll recognize them. But don’t—repeat don’t— leave the star ship until they come. There are also people in these parts who are not too friendly … I’ll get the reception committee to meet you about two days from now … They are small, dark and quite human.’ He laughed, thinking of what he had learned from the Aru Re. ‘In fact, I think you are going to be amazed at how very human they are. Over to you.’

‘Message received. We will follow your instructions. Are you in good health? Over.’

Paul, drunk with excitement, laughed somewhat hysterically and said: ‘I’ve never felt better in my life.’

There was a short silence. Then he heard: ‘ Cristobal Colon to Paul Marlowe. We have received your message and will follow your instructions. Are you in good health? Over.’

Paul saw the ten moons disappearing one by one over the horizon. He tried to reach the Cristobal Colon again, and failed. He switched back to receive.

‘ Cristobal Colon to Paul Marlowe. We will follow your instructions. We no longer hear you. We will follow your instructions. We no longer hear you … Cristobal Colon to Paul Marlowe. We will follow ’

He switched off the transceiver and gave a great sigh.

The impossible seemed oddly inevitable, somehow—after it had happened.

He stood on the balcony of the Temple of the Weeping Sun for a long time, gazing at the night sky, trying not to be swamped by the torrents of thoughts and emotions that stormed inside him.

Faster than light drive … That was what they had said … Faster than light drive … Four subjective years of star flight … The Cristobal Colon must have left Earth seventeen years after the Gloria Mundi … And now here it was, orbiting Altair Five less than three years after the Gloria Mundi had touched down … Probably half the crew of this new ship were still at school when he was spending years in suspended animation on the long leap between stars … No wonder they regarded him as one of the pioneers of star flight… Cristobal Colon —a good name for a ship that, like Columbus, had opened up a new route for the voyagings of man … Soon, soon he would be speaking to men who could remember clearly what spring was like in London, or Paris or Rome. Men who still savoured the taste of beer or lager, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding or Frutti del Mare. Men—and, perhaps women —whose very looks and way of speaking would bring back so much to him of all that he had left behind—all that he had missed—on the other side of the sky…

Suddenly, the tumult in his head spent itself. He was desperately tired, exhausted by hope and excitement. He wanted only to sleep.

Enka Ne sat pensively on his couch. The single Bayani warrior on guard stared fixedly at the ceiling. The Cristobal Colon had touched down successfully and its occupants had been met by a troop of the god-king’s personal escort. Besides their tridents they had carried banners bearing the legend: Bienvenu, Wilkommen, Benvenuto, Welcome. The troop had been led by a hunter, a boy and a crippled child. It must, thought the god-king, have been quite a carnival… And now men from Earth walked in Baya Nor…

Yurui Sa, general of the Order of the Blind Ones, entered the room and gazed upon the presence, although the god-king wore only his samu.

‘Lord, it is as you have commanded. The strangers wait in the place of many fountains … They are tall and powerful, these men, taller even than ’ Yurui Sa stopped.

‘Taller even,’ said the god-king with a faint smile, ‘than one who waited in the place of many fountains a long, long time ago.’

During the past months, Yurui Sa and the god-king had developed something approaching friendship—but only in private, and when the plumage had been set aside. They were men of two worlds who had grown to respect each other.

‘Lord,’ went on Yurui Sa, ‘I have seen the silver bird. It is truly a thing of much wonder, and very beautiful.’

‘Yes,’ said the god-king, ‘I do not doubt that it is very beautiful.’

There was a short silence. Yurui Sa allowed his gaze to drift through the archway to the small balcony and the open sky. Soon the light would die and it would be evening.

‘I think,’ said Yurui Sa tentatively, ‘that it would be very wonderful to journey in the silver bird to a land beyond the sky … Especially if one has already known that land, and if the heart has known much pain.’