16. Terra Calling
"I don't believe it." Smitt's voice sounded thin; his attention was fixed on that high seat and the incredible sign it bore. "This can't be the Hall of Leave-Taking. That was just a legend — "
"Was it?" asked Kartr. "But legends are not always fables."
"And out there" — Dalgre pointed toward the doorway without turning his head from the dais — "is the Field of Flight!"
"How long — ?" Rolth's question dwindled off into silence, but his words continued to echo down the hall.
Kartr wheeled to face those rows of chairs and the section of seats each one headed. There — why, right there had sat the commanders, and behind them crews and colonists! And so they must have gathered, shipful after shipful for years — maybe centuries. Gathered, spoke together for the last time, received their last orders and instructions — then went out to the field and the waiting ships and blasted off into the unknown — never to return. Some — a few — had won through to their goals. They, Smitt, Dalgre, Rolth and he, were living proof of that. Others — others had reached an end in the cold of outer space or on planets which could not support human life. How long had it gone on, that gathering, that leave-taking? With no return. Long enough to drain Terra's veins of life — until only those were left who were temperamentally unfitted to try for the stars? Was that the answer to the riddle of this half-and-half world?
"No return — " Rolth had picked that out of his thoughts somehow. "No return. So the cities died and even the memory of why this exists is gone. Terra!"
"But we remember," Kartr answered softly. "For we have made the full circle. The green — that is the green of Terra's hills. It has been a legend, an ancient song, a dim folk memory, but it has always been ours, going with us from world to world across the galaxy. For we are the sons of Terra — inner system, outer system, barbarian and civilized — we are all the sons of Terra!"
"And now," Smitt observed with wistful simplicity, "we have come home."
It was a home which bore no resemblance to the dark mountains and chill valleys of Rolth's half-frozen Falthar, to his own tall forests and stone cities now forever dust, to the highly civilized planets which had been the birthplaces of Smitt and Dalgre. It was a planet of wilderness and dead cities, of primitive natives and forgotten powers. But it was Terra and, as different as their races might be today, they were all originally of the stock which had walked this earth.
Once more he surveyed that assembly of empty seats. Almost he could people it. But those he summoned to sit there could not be the ones who had once done so. The men of Terra had been gone too long — were scattered too far —
He walked slowly down the center of the hall. The Zacathans and Fylh had drawn apart. They must have watched with amazement the actions of the humans. Now Kartr tried to explain.
"This is Terra — "
But Zicti knew what that meant. "The ancient home of your species! But what an amazing discovery!"
What else he might have added was drowned out in a shout which drew all their attention to the dais again. Dalgre stood at the left of it beckoning to them. Rolth and Smitt had disappeared. In a body they hurried to join Dalgre.
The new discovery was behind the dais, hidden by a tall partition — and it covered most of the wall. A giant screen of some dark glass on which pin points of light made patterns.
Below it was a table top of which was inlaid with a paneling of switches and buttons. Smitt crouched on the bench before it, his face intent.
"A communication device?" asked Kartr.
"Either that or some kind of a course plotter," Dalgre answered. Smitt merely grunted impatiently.
"Could it still be in working order?" Zacita marveled.
Dalgre shook his head. "We can't tell yet. The city functioned again after they pulled the right switches. But this" — he indicated the giant star map and the intricate controls on the table — "will have to be studied before we can push the right levers. Why, we don't understand any of their wiring methods — "
The techneer, any techneer, might possibly put the machine into working order again. But, Kartr knew, such a feat was totally beyond the rangers. He studied the star map slowly, identifying the points he could recognize. Yes, here was the galaxy as it appeared from this ancient planet close to its rim. He noted the brilliance of Sarmak, moved on to Altair and the others. Had this board once plotted the course on which man went out to those far-off suns and the worlds they nourished?
It was growing darker as the evening closed down. But even as the light faded from overhead, a soft glow outlined the star map and illumined the table — although the rest of the hall remained shrouded with shadows.
Kartr moved. "Shall we camp outside or return to the hills?" he asked Zicti.
"I see no reason for returning," the Zacathan replied. "If all the natives have withdrawn, as they apparently have, surely there can be no objection to our staying — "
Behind him Zinga laughed and pointed a talon at Smitt. "If you think that you can drag him away from here even by force, you are sadly in error, Sergeant."
Which, of course, was true. The com-techneer, confronted by a mysterious device in his own field, refused to leave even for food, preferring to gulp down a cup of water and chew on a piece of tough meat absently while his eyes were busy with the marvels before him.
They chose to drag their bedrolls into the hall when the full night fell, putting out their cooking fire and lying closely together below the empty seats of the vanished colonists.
"There are" — Zicti's voice boomed through the emptiness — "no ghosts in this place. Those who gathered here once were already voyaging on in spirit, even as they sat here, eager to be gone. They have left nothing of themselves behind."
"In a way," Rolth agreed, "that was also true of the city. It was — "
"Discarded." Kartr produced the right word as the Faltharian hesitated. "Discarded as might be a garment grown too small for its wearer. But you are right, sir, we shall meet no ghosts here. Unless Smitt can awaken some with his tinkering. Is he going to stay there all night?"
"Naturally," Zinga replied. "And let us hope that he will not raise any voices out of the past — even out of your human past, friend. I have an odd desire to spend this night in slumber."
Kartr awakened twice during the night. And by the faint glow which crept around the edges of the partition he saw that Smitt's bedroll was still unoccupied. The com-techneer must be hypnotized by his discovery. But there was a limit to everything. So, at his second awakening, Kartr pulled himself out of the warmth of his bed with an impatient sigh, shivered in the chill, and padded on bare feet across the cold stone. Either Smitt would come willingly or he would be dragged to bed now.
The com-techneer was still on the seat, his head thrown back, his gaze fixed on the star map. In the reflection of the light his eyes appeared sunken and there were dark shadows like bruises along his cheek bones.
Kartr followed the direction of the other's set stare. He saw what held Smitt fascinated, blinked, and gave a gasp.
There was a red dot on the black glass surface, a dot which moved in a steady curve.
"What is it — "
Smitt replied without taking his eyes from the traveling dot.
"I'm not sure — I'm not sure!" He passed his hands across his face. "You do see it, too?"
"I see a red dot moving. But what is it?"
"Well, I've guessed — "
And Kartr knew the nature of that guess. A ship — moving through space — headed in their general direction!
"Coming here?"
"It's on a course — but — how can we tell? Look!"