The People

"To bring the Ship back under its own power?"
Remy's hand dropped from my arm. "It'll get back all right. Stop worrying." "Remy." It was my turn to take his arm. "Have you the instructions for a return flight? Tom said-"
"No," said Remy. His voice was hard and impersonal.
"There are no instructions for a return flight-nor for the flight out. But I'll make it-there and back. if not with the ship, then by myself."
"Remy! You can't!" My protest crowded out of the horrified tumult of my thoughts. "Even the Old Ones wouldn't try it without a ship and they have all the Signs and Persuasions among them. You can't Motive the whole craft by yourself. You're not strong enough. You can't break it out of orbit-Oh, Remy!" I was almost sobbing. "You don't even know all the things-inertia-trajectory-gravitational pull-it's too complicated. No one could do it by himself! Not even the two of us together!"
Remy moved away from my hand. "There's no question of your going," he said. "You told me-this is my own little red wagon and I'll find some way of dragging it, even if a wheel comes off along the way." He smiled a little and then sobered.
"Look, Shadow, it's for Tom. He's so wrapped up in this whole project that there's literally nothing for him in this life but the ship and the trip. He'd have died long ago if this hope hadn't kept him alive. You haven't touched him unshielded or you'd know in a second that he was Called months ago and is stubbornly refusing to go. I doubt if he'll live through blastoff, even with all the shielding I can give him. But I've got to take him, Shadow. I've just got to. It-it-I can't explain it so it makes sense, but it's as necessary for me to do this for Tom as it is for Tom to do it. Why he's even forgotten God except as a spy who might catch us in the act and stop us. I think even the actual blast-off or one look at the Earth from Space will Purge him and he will submit to being Called and go to where his son is waiting, just the Otherside.
"I've got to give him his dream." Remy's voice faltered.
"Young people have time to dream and change their dreams, but old people Like Tom have time for only one dream, and if that fails them-"
"But, Remy," I whispered forlornly. "You might never make it back."
"It is in the hands of The Power," he said soberly. "If I'm to be Called, I'm to be Called."
"I don't think you're right," I said thickly, finding it difficult after all these years to contradict Remy in anything of importance. "You're trying to catch the sun in a sieve-and you'll die of it!" Tears were wet on my face. "I can't let you I can't-"
"It isn't for you to say "no' or 'go,'" said Remy, flatly. "If you won't help, don't hinder-"
Tom was back, holding out his hands, bloodstained across the palms.
"Come help me," he panted. "I can't get the rocks off my son-"
Remy and I exchanged astonished glances.
"But, Tom-" I took one of his hands in mine to examine the cut flesh-and was immediately caught up in Death! Death rolled over me like a smothery cloud. Death shrieked at me from every corner of my mind. Death! Death! Rebellious, struggling Death! Nothing of the solemn Calling. Nothing of preparation for returning to the Presence. I forced my stiff fingers to open and dropped his hand. Remy had my other hand, pulling me away from Tom, his eyes anxiously on me.
"But, Tom," he said into the silence my dry mouth couldn't fill, "we're going to take the little flag. Remember? That's to be the memorial for your son-"
"I promised my son I'd go into Space with him," said Tom serenely. "It cuts both ways. He's going into Space with me. Only there are so many rocks. Come help me, you kids. We don't want to be late." He wiped his palms on the seat of his pants and started back down the drift.
"Wait," called Remy. "You help us first. We can't go anywhere until we fuel up. You've got to show me the fuel dump. You promised you would when the ship was finished. Well, it's finished now-all but pumping the fuel in."
Tom stopped. "That's right," nodded his head. "That's right." He laughed. The sound of it crinkled my spine. "I'm nobody's fool. Always keep an ace in the hole."
We followed him down another drift. "Wonder what fuel they have," said Remy. "Tom either wouldn't say, or didn't know. Never could get a word out of him about it except it would be there when we were ready for it. The fuel compartment was finished before we ever found him. He wouldn't let me go in there. He has the key to it."
"It's awfully far from the ship," I worried. "How're we going to get it back there?"
"Don't know," Remy frowned. "They must have had something figured out. But if it's liquid-"
Tom had stopped at the padlocked door. He fumbled for a key and, after
several abortive attempts, found the right one and opened the lock. He flung the door wide. There was a solid wall of metal blocking the door, a spigot protruding from it was the only thing that broke its blank expanse.
"Liquid, then," whispered Remy. "Now, how on earth-"
Tom giggled at our expressions. "Used to keep water in here. 'S'all gone now. Nothing but the fuel-" He pushed a section of the metal It swung inward. It had been cut into a rude door.
"There 'tis," cried Tom. "There 'tis."
At first we could see nothing because our crowding into the door shut out all the light that came from behind us; then Tom shuffled forward and the shaft of light followed him. He stopped and fumbled, then turned to us, lifting his burden triumphantly. "Here 'tis," he repeated. "You gotta put it in the ship. Here's the key to the compartment. I'll go get my son."
Remy grasped and almost dropped the thing Tom had given him. It was a box or something like a box. A little more rectangular than square, but completely featureless except for a carrying handle on each end and a smooth, almost mirrorlike surface on the top.
"What is it?" I asked. "How does it work?"
"I don't know." Remy was hunkered down by it on the floor, prodding at it with curious fingers.
"Maybe it's a solid fuel of some kind. It must be. Tom says it's the fuel."
"But why such a big fuel compartment if this is all that goes in it?" I had sensed the big empty chamber several times-padlock and all.
"Well, the only answer I have to that is let's go put it where it belongs and maybe we'll see."
We carried the object between us, back to the ship and into the fuel compartment-at least what was so labeled on the plans. We put it down on the spot indicated for it and fastened it down with the metal clamps that were situated in just the right places to hold the object. Then we stepped back and looked the situation over. The object sat there in the middle of the floor-plenty of room all around it and above it. The almost mirror surface reflected cloudily the ceiling above. There were no leads, no wires, no connections, nothing but the hold-clamps and they went no farther into the structure of the floor than was necessary to hold them secure.
"Remy?" I looked at his mystified face. "How does it work? Do the plans say?"
"There aren't any plans about this room," he said blankly, searching back in his memory of the plans that were available. "Only a label that says 'fuel room.' There's one notation. I couldn't figure it out before. It says, 'After clamps are secure, coordinate and lift off!!!!' With four exclamation points. That's all. You see, Tom had only the plans for finishing the ship. Nothing for the actual trip."
"And you thought you could-" I was horrified.
"Oh, relax, Shadow," said Remy. "Of course I could see how everything fitted into everything and what the dial readings meant after we got started, but-" His voice stopped and his thoughts concentrated on the plans again. "Nowhere a starter button or lever-" He bit his lip and frowned down at the object. In the silence we heard a clatter of rock and Tom's voice echoing eerily. "Come on out, Son. It's time to go! Rise and shine!"