"It's not as bad as that," Groves said; he had opened his writing tablet and was studying a list. "We can use that old carpenter. I don't think the Sibley woman will be much use. It's good that Gardner stayed. The optical workers will come in handy when..."
Mary appeared at the entrance, white-faced and breathless. "They've left three children in the forward cabins! And there's all that stuff everybody left. We'll have plenty of protine when we land!"
After a moment Groves answered: "Plenty of food, clothing, raw plastics, machine tools, construction materials, wiring, pipe, boring equipment, medical supplies—everything but fuel."
"We won't need fuel," Mary said, surprised. "We won't leave again, will we?"
"We may have to search before we locate it," Groves admitted reluctantly.
"Is it true that the Hills have data about the Disc?" Konklin asked. "Good photographs that were never publicly released?"
"One hears that. The Hills are interested in not finding the Disc."
"The expedition of 'eighty-nine found nothing," Konklin pointed out. "And they had all Preston's data."
"Maybe what Preston saw was an extra large space serpent," Mary suggested wanly. "Maybe it'll devour us, like in the stories."
Groves eyed her stonily. "You two turn in and get some sleep."
Mary shivered. "It's like a tomb; down there in the cargo hold."
Mary threw herself wearily down on a bed and slipped off her sandals. "It's peaceful, here," she said to Konklin.
Konklin wandered moodily about. "I keep thinking of what's outside. The no-man's-land of space: it's all around us, out there. Coldness, silence, death... if not worse. It seemed a good idea, a tenth planet for everybody to migrate to, but now we're beginning to face the fact that it may not be true."
Konklin threw himself down on the cot beside her. "I never told you why I came, or why I joined the Society. You want to know?"
"If you want to tell me."
Konklin licked his lips. "I'm wanted by the Directorate police. I skipped out of a work-camp on Europa three years ago. The penalty for that is death. With four others I beat up a guard, stole a patrol ship and took off for Earth. We were shot down over North America. I was the only one who got out. I've been on the run since then."
"Does Groves know all this?"
"Both he and Cartwright know."
Mary reached out shyly and took his hand. "I think you'll be a good person for the colony." She pulled him close to her. "Even if we don't get there, this will be wonderful."
"This cell?"
She gazed up at him earnestly. "This is what I wanted when I was drifting aimlessly. I have a charm I made up to bring you to me; Janet Sibley helped me with it. I wanted you to love me."
Konklin smiled and leaned down to kiss her.
Abruptly, soundlessly, the girl winked out of existence.
A sheet of white flame filled the room; there was nothing else, only the glittering fire, a shimmering incandescence.
He stumbled and fell into the sea of light. He groped futilely for something to hang on to, but there was only the expanse of dazzling phosphorescence.
And then the voice began.
The sheer force of it stunned him. He sank down, bewildered and helpless, limp, inert. The voice thundered in this world of fire that had consumed him completely.
"Earth ship," it said, "where are you going? Why are you here?"
The sound thrilled through Konklin as he lay helplessly sprawled in the lake of foaming light.
"This is beyond your system," the voice went on. "You have gone outside. Do you understand that? This is the middle, space, the emptiness between your system and mine. Why have you come so far? What is it you are after?"
In the control bubble, Groves struggled desperately against the current of fury that swept over his body and mind. He crashed blindly against the navigation table and as instruments and charts rained down, the voice continued harshly.
"Fragile Earthmen, go back to your own system. Go back to your little orderly universe, your strict civilization. Stay away from regions you do not know! Stay away from darkness and monsters!"
Groves stumbled against the hatch. Groping feebly, he managed to creep from the bubble into the corridor. The voice came again, and seemed to impale him against the battered hull of the ship.
"You seek the tenth planet of your system, the legendary Flame Disc. Why do you seek it? What do you want with it?"
Groves shrieked in terror. He knew, now, what this was. The Voices prophesied in Preston's book. The Voices that led.
"Flame Disc is our world. Carried by us across space to this system. Set in motion here, to circle your sun for eternity. You have no right to it. What is your purpose?"
Groves tried to direct his thoughts outward. In an instant of time he tried to project all his hopes, plans, all the needs of the race, mankind's vast yearnings... .
The voice answered: "We will consider and analyse your thoughts———"
Groves found the ipvic transmission room. He stumbled to the transmitter, a vague shape dancing beyond the rim of white fire. His fingers flung on the power: closed circuits locked automatically in place.
"Cartwright!" he gasped. Across the void the beamed signal speared its way to the Directorate monitor at Pluto and from there to Uranus. From planet to planet the thin signal went, relayed directly to the office at Batavia.
"Flame Disc was placed within your system for a reason," the great voice continued. It paused, as if consulting with companions. "Contact between our races might bring us to a new cultural level," it went on presently.
Groves huddled over the transmitter. He prayed feverishly that the signal was getting across, that back in Batavia Cartwright was hearing the booming voice he heard, and understanding the terrifying yet hope-giving words.
The voice continued: "We must know more about you. We do not decide quickly. As your ship is guided towards Flame Disc we will reach a decision; we will decide whether to destroy you or to lead you to safety on Flame Disc."
Reese Verrick accepted the ipvic technician's hurried call. "Come along," he snapped to Herb Moore. "We're cutting-in on Cartwright's ship. A transmission's coming across to Batavia, something important."
Seated before the vid-tap the ipvic technicians had set up for Chemie, Verrick and Moore gazed with incredulous amazement at the scene. Groves, a miniature figure lost in a rolling flame, was dwarfed to the size of an insect. From the aud speaker above the screen the booming voice, distorted and dimmed by millions of miles of space, thundered out:
"Our warning! If you attempt to ignore our friendly efforts to guide your ship, if you try to navigate on your own, then we cannot promise..."
"What is it?" Verrick croaked, blank-faced and dazed. "Is this really———"
"Shut up!" Moore grated. He peered hastily around. "You have a tape running on this?"
Verrick nodded, slack-jawed.
Moore examined the vid and aud tape recorders and then turned briskly to Verrick. "You think this is a supernatural manifestation?"
"It's from another civilization," Verrick quavered. "We've made contact with another race."
As soon as the transmission ceased, and the screen had faded into black silence, Moore snatched up the tapes and hurried them out of the Chemie buildings to the public Information Library.
Within an hour the analysis was in, from the main Quiz research organs in Geneva. Moore grabbed the report up and carried it to Reese Verrick.
"Look at this!" He slammed the report on Verrick's desk.