She blinked out of her reverie and lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers.
"Thanks," Court said, and took it gently from her.
She lit another for herself.
"Funny," she said.
Court nodded grimly, staring ahead.
"Yes, I know. All this changing—'Giving place to the new.' But God knows what the new order will be. A world peopled by beings of pure energy, eventually consuming all then-natural food, and dying off. Then there will be only a dead planet."
"Will it still be as lovely?" she asked softly.
"Lovely?" Court frowned, seemed to notice the landscape for the first time. His gaze swept out over the rolling hills and the placid river. "Yes," he said finally, in a curious voice, "it is rather lovely. I wasn't aware of it before."
"I didn't think you ever would be," she said.
He flushed. "I have had so little time—"
"It wasn't that. You never looked at the world or at human beings. You looked through microscopes and telescopes."
He glanced at the girl and his hand went out in a gesture that was somehow pathetic. Then his lips tightened. He drew back, again clutching the wheel firmly. He looked ahead grimly without speaking, not seeing the tears that hung on Marion's lashes.
They reached the air field soon after. The Terra had been wheeled out. A shining, golden cylinder, eight feet in diameter and twenty feet long, its ends were slightly tapered and bluntly rounded. It gleamed in contrast to the rich black loam on which it lay.
"Small," Court criticized, 'Taut we had no time to make a larger one. It'll have to do."
He helped Marion from the car and together they went toward the Terra. A group of mechanics and workers approached.
"All set," the foreman stated. "She's warmed up and ready, Mr. Court."
"Thanks." He halted at the open port. "Well…"
"Good luck," Marion breathed.
Court stared at her. Curious lines that had never been there before now bracketed his mouth. He looked away at the green hillside, and then back at the girl. His lips parted involuntarily, but with an effort he controlled himself.
"Thanks," he said. "Good-by, Marion. I—I'll see you soon." He entered the ship and closed the port behind him.
Marion stood quite silent, her fingers blindly shredding her handkerchief to rags.
The Terra rose smoothly, swiftly mounted straight up. Smaller and smaller it grew, a glittering nugget of gold against the blue sky. Then it was merely a speck—and it was gone.
Marion turned and walked slowly back to the car. Her lips were bravely scarlet, yet they quivered against the pallor of her face.
Court sat before the control panel, peering ahead through a porthole.
"Wonder what effect radiation in space will have?" he murmured. "It's leaded polaroid glass, of course, but the other ship had no portholes at all. They probably used some sort of televisor equipment that's beyond our contemporary science."
He could see nothing but the blue of the sky. It grew darker, shading to a deep purple. Faint stars began to twinkle, until countless points of light were glittering frostily.
"Sinus, Jupiter, Mars." Court sighed.
With the secret of space travel mastered, man could reach all the planets. With sufficient power, the interstellar gulfs might even be bridged. But how long would man continue to exist on Earth?
Hours merged into an unending monotony of watchful, weary vigilance. The Terra plunged on, gathering speed.
"Meteors might be a menace," Court mused, "unless the magnetic field deflects them. But that would work only on ferrous bodies. Still, nothing's happened so far." He changed his course slightly. "I'm doubtful about that space-armor. Spatial conditions can't be duplicated on Earth. Well, I've taken other precautions."
He had had the door made to fit exactly the port that had been telescopically visible on the golden ship.
A queer excitement grew stronger within Court as he neared his destination. He could not keep away from the transparent ports, for he was desperately anxious to see the golden ship. Some subtle instinct told him that the rendezvous might even be more important than he had realized.
How long had the space ship maintained its orbit beyond the atmosphere? Whence had it come? What strange secrets might it hold?
When Court found that his fingers were trembling slightly on the controls, he grimly repressed his nervousness. But he could not help wondering. Centuries—eons, perhaps—might have passed while the golden vessel circled the planet And now Stephen Court, man of Earth, was questing out to what destiny? He did not know, but some premonition of the incredible future must have come to him, for he shuddered.
"Somebody's walked over my grave," he muttered, with a sardonic smile at the whimsy. "Well, it won't be long now."
Again he turned to the port, and his breath caught in his throat.
The golden ship hung there, a mysterious, gleaming cylinder against the star-bright background of black space. Swiftly it grew larger.
As Court decelerated, his face was curiously pale. The Terra was easy to handle. He deftly pulled it alongside the other craft.
Hull scraped against alloyed hull, till finally the two ports were flush together. Court threw a lever and hastily spun a wheel. He was breathing unevenly, and his eyes were glowing with excitement.
The ships were held firmly together by an airtight rubberoid ring.
He rose, donned a gas-mask, and picked up a revolver. Then he went to the port and gingerly swung it open. The air remained in the ship.
Facing him was a surface of yellow metal, a scarcely visible crack showing that it was an oval door. Court pushed, but it did not yield. A blow torch might cut it, and certainly acids would bite through. But Court did not resort to these immediately. He fumbled with a powerful electromagnet and worked unavailingly for a time.
At last, in desperation, he used acids to eat a small hole through the outer hull. The air that rushed out was thin and dead, but far from poisonous. Grunting, Court reached through the gap and managed to open the port.
What he expected, he did not know. His nerves were strung to wire-edge, unbearably tense, now that he was face to face with the solution of the mystery. The port opened, and for a moment Court was weak with reaction.
He saw nothing but a short corridor, about six feet long, featureless and vacant. Naturally there would be an airlock, for safety's sake. He should have expected one. At the farther end was another door, but this one had a lever set in it.
Court walked forward and moved the lever slightly. The port swung open. Air gusted from the Terra to the golden ship. He stepped across the threshold and halted, staring around.
He was in a good-sized room, apparently only one of several in this huge vessel. Open doorways gaped in the walls. The chamber was bare, with nothing but a few couches.
But on the couches lay human beings!
A gigantic gargoyle-faced man was naked, save for a clout, his bronzed body glistening in the dim illumination that came from no discernible source. Another man, Oriental, fat as a Buddha, sprawled untidily on a pile of cushions. On the floor beside him lay a lute with one broken string. And there was a girl…
An elfin creature with ivory skin, her lips curved into a tender smile, she slept with her golden hair partially veiling her face.
On the floor near a doorway lay another figure, face down. Court crossed to it and turned it over. He stared at a slight form and chiseled, patrician features. That face had some vague yet unmistakable touch of the alien visitor to Earth.
Something caught Court's eye beyond the threshold of the next room. A huge body sprawled there, one hand outstretched toward an instrument panel.