Return From The Stars Part 18

"That is our fate now," Olaf observed calmly. He exhaled and watched the smoke spread out above a clump of pale purple flowers that resembled hyacinths. He went on: "We feel most at home among the o-o-old folks. With lo-o-ong beards. When I think about it, I could scream. I tell you what. Let's buy ourselves a chicken coop, we can wring their necks."

"Come on, enough clowning. This doctor said a number of wise things to me. That we have no family, no friends of our own generation -- which leaves only women, but nowadays it is harder to get one woman than many. And he was right. I can see that now."

"Hal, I know that you are much cleverer than I. You always liked the unprecedented. It had to be d.a.m.ned difficult, something that you couldn't manage at first, something you couldn't get without busting a gut three times over. Otherwise it didn't tickle your fancy. Don't give me that look. I'm not afraid of you, you know."

"Praise the Lord. That would make things complete."

"And so. . . what was I going to say? Ah. At first I thought that you wanted to be by yourself and that you hit the books because you wanted to be something more than a pilot and the guy who made the engine work. I waited for you to start putting on airs. And I must say that when you floored Normers and Venturi with those observations of yours and, all innocence, entered into those oh-so-highly-learned discussions, well, I thought that you had started. But then there was that explosion, you remember?"

"The one at night."

"Yes. And Kereneia, and Arcturus, and that moon. My friend, I still see that moon sometimes in my dreams, and once I actually fell out of bed because of it. Oh, that moon! Yes, but what -- you see, my mind is going; I keep on forgetting -- but then all that happened, and I saw that you were not out to be superior. That that was simply what you liked, and you couldn't be different. Remember how you asked Venturi for his personal copy of that book, the red one, what was it?"

"The Topology of Hypers.p.a.ce."

"Right. And he said, 'It is too difficult for you, Bregg. You lack the background. . .' "

I laughed, because he did Venturi perfectly.

"He was right, Olaf. It was too difficult."

"Yes, then, but in time you figured it out, didn't you?"

"I did. But. . . without any real satisfaction. You know why. Venturi, that poor guy. . ."

"Not another word. It remains to be seen who should feel sorry for whom -- in the light of subsequent events."

"He cannot feel sorry for anyone now. You were on the upper deck at the time?"

"I? On the upper deck? I was standing right beside you!"

"That's right. If he hadn't let it all into the cooling system, he might have got off with a few burns. The way Arne did. He had to go and lose his head."

"Indeed. No, you're incredible! Arne died anyway!"

"But five years later. Five years are five years."

"Years like those?"

"Now you're talking this way, but before, by the water, when I started to, you jumped down my throat."

"It was unbearable, yes, but it was magnificent, too. Admit it. You tell me -- but, then, you don't need to talk. When you crawled out of that hole on Ke --"

"Enough, already, about that G.o.dforsaken hole!"

"It was only then that I understood what made you tick. We didn't know each other that well yet. When Gimma told me, a month later, that Arder would be flying with you, I thought -- well, I don't know! I went to him but said nothing. He, of course, knew right away. 'Olaf,' he said to me, 'don't be angry. You are my best friend, but I'm flying with him this time, not with you, because. . .' Do you know what he said?"

"No." I had a lump in my throat.

" 'Because he alone went down. He alone. No one believed that it was possible to land there. He himself didn't believe it.' Well, did you believe that you would come back?"

I was silent.

"You see, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d? 'Either he'll return with me,' Arder said, 'or neither of us will return. . .' "

"And I returned without him," I said.

"And you returned without him. I didn't recognize you. I was horrified! I was down below, at the pumps."

"Then that was you?"

"Yes. I saw -- a stranger. A complete stranger. I thought I was hallucinating. Even your suit, all red."

"That was rust. A pipe had burst on me."

"What, you're telling me? I'm the one who patched that pipe later. The way you looked. . . But the clincher, afterward. . ."

"The thing with Gimma?"

"Yes. It isn't in the official records. And they cut it out of the tape, the following week; Gimma did it himself, I think. At the time I thought you were going to kill him. Christ."

"Don't talk about it," I said. I felt that in another minute I would start shaking. "Don't, Olaf. Please."

"No hysterics. Arder was closer to me than to you."

"Closer, not closer, what difference does it make? You're a blockhead. If Gimma had given him a reserve, Arder would be sitting here with us now! Gimma h.o.a.rded everything; he was afraid of running out of transistors, but running out of men didn't bother him! I. . ."

I broke off.

"Olaf! This is insane. Let's forget it."

"Apparently, Hal, we can't forget it. At least, not so long as we are together. After that Gimma never again. . ."

"To h.e.l.l with Gimma! Olaf! The end. Period. I don't want to hear another word!"

"And am I also forbidden to talk about myself?"

I shrugged. The white robot came to clear the table, but only looked in from the hall and left. Our raised voices must have frightened it off.

"Hal, tell me. What exactly is eating you?"

"Don't pretend."

"No, really."

"How can you ask? After all, it was because of me. . ."

"What was because of you?"

"The business with Arder."

"Wha-a-at?"

"Of course. Had I insisted from the first, before we took off, Gimma would have given. . ."

"Come on now! How were you to know that it was his radio that would go? It could have been something else."

"Could have been, could have been. But it was the radio."

"Hold on. And you walked around with this inside you for six years and never said a word?"

"What was there to say? I thought it was obvious; wasn't it?"

"Obvious! Ye G.o.ds! What are you saying, man? Come to your senses! Had you said that, any one of us would have thought you crazy. And when Ennesson's beam went out of focus, was that your fault, too? Well?"

"No. He. . . that can happen. . ."

"I know it can. Don't worry, I know as much as you. Hal, I won't have any peace until you tell me. . ."

"What now?"

"That you are imagining things. This is complete nonsense. Arder himself would tell you so, if he were here."

"Thanks."

"Hal, I have a mind to. . ."

"Remember, I'm heavier."

"But I am angrier, you understand? Idiot!"

"Olaf, don't yell. We aren't alone here."

"All right. OK. Well, was it nonsense or not?" .

"No."

Olaf inhaled until his nostrils went white.

"Why not?" he asked almost genially.

"Because, even before that, I had noticed Gimma's. . . tight-fistedness. It was my duty to foresee what might happen and confront Gimma immediately -- and not when I returned with Arder's obituary. I was too soft. That is why not."

"I see. Yes. You were too soft. . . No! I. . . Hal! I can't. I'm leaving."

He got up from the table abruptly; so did I.

"Are you crazy?" I cried. "He's leaving! All because. . ."

"Yes. Yes. Do I have to listen to your fantasies? No, thank you. Arder didn't reply?"

"Leave it be."

"He didn't reply, right?"

"He didn't reply."

"Could he have had a corona?"

I was silent.

"Could he have had any of a thousand other kinds of accidents? Or did he enter an echo belt? Did it kill his signal when he lost contact in the turbulence? Or did his emitters demagnetize above a sunspot and. . . ?"

"Enough."

"You won't admit I'm right? You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"I didn't say anything."

"True. Well, then, could any of the things I said have happened?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you insist that it was the radio, the radio and nothing else, only the radio?"

"You may be right," I said. I felt terribly tired, I no longer cared.

"You may be right," I repeated. "The radio. . . it was simply the most likely thing. . . No. Don't say anything else. We've already talked about it ten times more than was necessary."

Olaf walked up to me.

"Bregg," he said, "you poor old soldier. . . you have too much good in you, you know that?"

"What good?"

"A sense of responsibility. There should be moderation in everything. What do you intend to do?"

"About what?"

"You know."

"I have no idea."

"It's bad, is it?"

"Couldn't be worse."

"How about going away with me? Or somewhere -- alone. If you like, I can help you arrange it. I can take your things or you can leave them, or. . ."