Title: Prize ship
Author: Dick, Philip K.
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Prize ship" ***


                              Prize Ship

                           By PHILIP K. DICK

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                 Thrilling Wonder Stories Winter 1954.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


General Thomas Groves gazed glumly up at the battle maps on the wall.
The thin black line, the iron ring around Ganymede, was still there.
He waited a moment, vaguely hoping, but the line did not go away. At
last he turned and made his way out of the chart wing, past the rows of
desks.

At the door Major Siller stopped him. "What's wrong, sir? No change in
the war?"

"No change."

"What'll we do?"

"Come to terms. Their terms. We can't let it drag on another month.
Everybody knows that. _They_ know that."

"Licked by a little outfit like Ganymede."

"If only we had more time. But we don't. The ships must be out in
deep-space again, right away. If we have to capitulate to get them out,
then let's do it. Ganymede!" He spat. "If we could only break them. But
by that time--"

"By that time the colonies won't exist."

"We have to get our cradles back in our own hands," Groves said grimly.
"Even if it takes capitulation to do it."

"No other way will do?"

"You find another way." Groves pushed past Siller, out into the
corridor. "And if you find it, let me know."

       *       *       *       *       *

The war had been going on for two Terran months, with no sign of a
break. The System Senate's difficult position came from the fact that
Ganymede was the jump-off point between the System and its precarious
network of colonies at Proxima Centauri. All ships leaving the System
for deep-space were launched from the immense space cradles on
Ganymede. There were no other cradles. Ganymede had been agreed on as
the jump-off point, and the cradles had been constructed there.

The Ganymedeans became rich, hauling freight and supplies in their
tubby little ships. Over a period of time more and more Gany ships took
to the sky, freighters and cruisers and patrol ships.

One day this odd fleet landed among the space cradles, killed and
imprisoned the Terran and Martian guards, and proclaimed that Ganymede
and the cradles were their property. If the Senate wanted to use the
cradles they paid, and paid plenty. Twenty per cent of all freighted
goods turned over to the Gany Emperor, left on the moon. And full
Senate representation.

If the Senate fleet tried to take back the cradles by force the
cradles would be destroyed. The Ganymedeans had already mined them with
H bombs. The Gany fleet surrounded the moon, a little ring of hard
steel. If the Senate fleet tried to break through, seize the moon, it
would be the end of the cradles. What could the System do?

And at Proxima, the colonies were starving.

"You're certain we can't launch ships into deep-space from regular
fields," a Martian Senator asked.

"Only Class-One ships have any chance to reach the colonies," Commander
James Carmichel said wearily. "A Class-One ship is ten times the size
of a regular intra-system ship. A Class-One ship needs a cradle miles
deep. Miles wide. You can't launch a ship that size from a meadow."

There was silence. The great Senate chambers were full, crowded to
capacity with representatives from all the nine planets.

"The Proxima colonies won't last another twenty days," Doctor Basset
testified. "That means we must get a ship on the way sometime next
week. Otherwise, when we do get there we won't find anyone alive."

"When will the new Luna cradles be ready?"

"A month," Carmichel answered.

"No sooner?"

"No."

"Then apparently we'll have to accept Ganymede's terms." The Senate
Leader snorted with disgust. "Nine planets and one wretched little
moon! How dare they want equal voice with the System members!"

"We could break their ring," Carmichel said, "but they'll destroy the
cradles without hesitation if we do."

"If only we could get supplies to the colonies without using space
cradles," a Plutonian Senator said.

"That would mean without using Class-One ships."

"And nothing else will reach Proxima?"

"Nothing that we know of."

A Saturnian Senator arose. "Commander, what kind of ships does Ganymede
use? They're different from your own?"

"Yes. But no one knows anything about them."

"How are they launched?"

Carmichel shrugged. "The usual way. From fields."

"Do you think--"

"I don't think they're deep-space ships. We're beginning to grasp at
straws. There simply is no ship large enough to cross deep-space that
doesn't require a space cradle. That's the fact we must accept."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Senate Leader stirred. "A motion is already before the Senate that
we accept the proposal of the Ganymedeans and conclude the war. Shall
we take the vote, or are there any more questions?"

No one blinked his light.

"Then we'll begin. Mercury. What is the vote of the First Planet?"

"Mercury votes to accept the enemy's terms."

"Venus. What does Venus vote?"

"Venus votes--"

"_Wait!_" Commander Carmichel stood up suddenly. The Senate Leader
raised his hand.

"What is it? The Senate is voting."

Carmichel gazed down intently at a foil strip that had been shot to him
across the chamber, from the chart wing. "I don't know how important
this is, but I think perhaps the Senate should know about it before it
votes."

"What is it?"

"I have a message from the first line. A Martian raider has surprised
and captured a Gany Research Station, on an asteroid between Mars and
Jupiter. A large quantity of Gany equipment has been taken intact."
Carmichel looked around the hall. "Including a Gany ship, a new ship,
undergoing tests at the Station. The Gany staff was destroyed, but the
prize ship is undamaged. The raider is bringing it here so it can be
examined by our experts."

A murmur broke through the chamber.

"I put forth a motion that we withhold our decision until the
Ganymedean ship has been examined," a Uranian Senator shouted.
"Something might come of this!"

"The Ganymedeans have put a lot of energy into designing ships,"
Carmichel murmured to the Senate Leader. "Their ships are strange.
Quite different from ours. Maybe...."

"What is the vote on the motion?" the Senate Leader asked. "Shall we
wait until this ship can be examined?"

"Let's wait!" voices cried. "Wait! Let's see."

Carmichel rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "It's worth a try. But if
nothing comes of this we'll have to go ahead and capitulate." He folded
up the foil strip. "Anyhow, it's worth looking into. A Gany ship. I
wonder...."

       *       *       *       *       *

Doctor Earl Basset's face was red with excitement.

"Let me by." He pushed through the row of uniformed officers. "Please
let me by." Two shiny Lieutenants stepped out of his way and he saw,
for the first time, the great globe of steel and rexenoid that was the
captured Ganymedean ship.

"Look at it," Major Siller whispered. "Nothing at all like our own
ships. What makes it run?"

"No drive jets," Commander Carmichel said. "Only landing jets to set
her down. What makes her go?"

The Ganymedean globe rested quietly in the center of the Terran
Experimental laboratory, rising up from the circle of men like a great
bubble. It was a beautiful ship, glimmering with an even metallic fire,
shimmering and radiating a cold light.

"It gives you a strange feeling," General Groves said. Suddenly he
caught his breath. "You don't suppose this--this could be a gravity
drive ship? The Ganys were supposed to be experimenting with gravity."

"What's that?" Basset said.

"A gravity drive ship would reach its destination without time lapse.
The velocity of gravity is infinite. Can't be measured. If this globe
is--"

"Nonsense," Carmichel said. "Einstein showed gravity isn't a force but
a warpage, a space warpage."

"But couldn't a ship be built using--"

"Gentlemen!" The Senate Leader came quickly into the laboratory,
surrounded by his guards. "Is this the ship? This globe?" The officers
pulled back and the Senate Leader went gingerly up to the great
gleaming side. He touched it.

"It's undamaged," Siller said. "They're translating the control
markings so we can use it."

"So this is the Ganymedean ship. Will it help us?"

"We don't know yet," Carmichel said.

"Here come the think-men," Groves said. The hatch of the globe had
opened, and two men in white lab uniforms were stepping carefully down,
carrying a semantibox.

"What are the results?" the Senate Leader asked.

"We've made the translations. A Terran crew could operate the ship now.
All the controls are marked."

"We should make a study of the engines before we try the ship out,"
Doctor Basset said. "What do we know about it? We don't know what makes
it run, or what fuel it uses."

"How long will such a study take?" the Leader asked.

"Several days, at least," Carmichel said.

"That long?"

"There's no telling what we'll run into. We may find a radically new
type of drive and fuel. It might even take several weeks to finish the
analysis."

The Senate Leader pondered.

"Sir," Carmichel said, "I think we should go ahead and have a test run.
We can easily raise a volunteer crew."

"A trial run could begin at once," Groves said. "But we might have to
wait weeks for the drive analysis."

"You believe a complete crew would volunteer?"

Carmichel rubbed his hands together. "Don't worry about that. Four men
would do it. Three, outside of me."

"Two," General Groves said. "Count me in."

"How about me, sir?" Major Siller asked hopefully.

Doctor Basset pushed up nervously. "Is it all right for a civilian to
volunteer? I'm curious as hell about this."

The Senate Leader smiled. "Why not? If you can be of use, go along. So
the crew is already here."

The four men grinned at each other.

"Well?" Groves said. "What are we waiting for? Let's get her started!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The linguist traced a meter reading with his finger. "You can see the
Gany markings. Next to each we've put the Terran equivalent. There's
one hitch, though. We know the Gany word for, say, five. _Zahf._ So
where we find _zahf_ we mark a five for you. See this dial? Where the
arrow's at _nesi_? At zero. See how it's marked?"

    100  liw
     50  ka
      5  zahf
      0  nesi
      5  zahf
     50  ka
    100  liw

Carmichel nodded. "So?"

"This is the problem. We don't know what the units refer to. Five,
but five what? Fifty, but fifty what? Presumably velocity. Or is it
distance? Since no study has been made of the workings of this ship--"

"You can't interpret?"

"How?" The linguist tapped a switch. "Obviously, this throws the drive
on. _Mel_--start. You close the switch and it indicates _io_--stop. But
how you guide the ship is a different matter. We can't tell you what
the meter is for."

Groves touched a wheel. "Doesn't this guide her?"

"It governs the brake rockets, the landing jets. As for the central
drive we don't know what it is or how you control it, once you're
started. Semantics won't help you. Only experience. We can translate
numbers only into numbers."

Groves and Carmichel looked at each other.

"Well?" Groves said. "We may find ourselves lost in space. Or falling
into the sun. I saw a ship spiral into the sun, once. Faster and
faster, down and down--"

"We're a long way from the sun. And we'll point her out, toward Pluto.
We'll get control eventually. You don't want to unvolunteer, do you?"

"Of course not."

"How about the rest of you?" Carmichel said, to Basset and Siller.
"You're still coming along?"

"Certainly." Basset was stepping cautiously into his spacesuit. "We're
coming."

"Make sure you seal your helmet completely." Carmichel helped him
fasten his leggings. "Your shoes, next."

"Commander," Groves said, "they're finishing on the vidscreen. I wanted
it installed so we could establish contact. We might need some help
getting back."

"Good idea." Carmichel went over, examining the leads from the screen.
"Self-contained power unit?"

"For safety's sake. Independent from the ship."

Carmichel sat down before the vidscreen, clicking it on. The local
monitor appeared. "Get me the Garrison Station on Mars. Commander
Vecchi."

The call locked through. Carmichel began to lace his boots and leggings
while he waited. He was lowering his helmet into place when the screen
glowed into life. Vecchi's dark features formed, lean-jawed above his
scarlet uniform.

"Greetings, Commander Carmichel," he murmured. He glanced curiously at
Carmichel's suit. "You are going on a trip, Commander?"

"We may visit you. We're about to take the captured Gany ship up. If
everything goes right I hope to set her down at your field, sometime
later today."

"We'll have the field cleared and ready for you."

"Better have emergency equipment on hand. We're still unsure of the
controls."

"I wish you luck." Vecchi's eyes flickered. "I can see the interior of
your ship. What drive is it?"

"We don't know yet. That's the problem."

"I hope you will be able to land, Commander."

"Thanks. So do we." Carmichel broke the connection. Groves and Siller
were already dressed. They were helping Basset tighten the screw locks
of his earphones.

"We're ready," Groves said. He looked through the port. Outside a
circle of officers watched silently.

"Say good-by," Siller said to Basset. "This may be our last minute on
Terra."

"Is there really much danger?"

Groves sat down beside Carmichel at the control board. "Ready?" His
voice came to Carmichel through his phones.

"Ready." Carmichel reached out his gloved hand, toward the switch
marked _mel_. "Here we go. Hold on tight!"

He grasped the switch firmly and pulled.

       *       *       *       *       *

They were falling through space. "Help!" Doctor Basset shouted. He slid
across the up-ended floor, crashing against a table. Carmichel and
Groves hung on grimly, trying to keep their places at the board.

The globe was spinning and dropping, settling lower and lower through a
heavy sheet of rain. Below them, visible through the port, was a vast
rolling ocean, an endless expanse of blue water, as far as the eye
could see. Siller stared down at it, on his hands and knees, sliding
with the globe.

"Commander, where--where should we be?"

"Someplace off Mars. But this can't be Mars!"

Groves flipped the brake rocket switches, one after another. The globe
shuddered as the rockets came on, bursting into life around them.

"Easy does it," Carmichel said, craning his neck to see through the
port. "Ocean? What the hell--"

The globe leveled off, shooting rapidly above the water, parallel to
the surface. Siller got slowly to his feet, hanging onto the railing.
He helped Basset up. "Okay, Doc?"

"Thanks." Basset wobbled. His glasses had come off inside his helmet.
"Where are we? On Mars already?"

"We're there," Groves said, "but it isn't Mars."

"But I thought we were going to Mars."

"So did the rest of us." Groves decreased the speed of the globe
cautiously. "You can see this isn't Mars."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. We'll find out, though. Commander, watch the starboard
jet. It's overbalancing. Your switch."

Carmichel adjusted. "Where do you think we are? I don't understand it.
Are we still on Terra? Or Venus?"

Groves flicked the vidscreen on. "I'll soon find out if we're on
Terra." He raised the all-wave control. The screen remained blank.
Nothing formed.

"We're not on Terra."

"We're not anywhere in the System." Groves spun the dial. "No response."

"Try the frequency of the big Mars Sender."

Groves adjusted the dial. At the spot where the Mars Sender should
have come in there was--nothing. The four men gaped foolishly at the
screen. All their lives they had received the familiar sanguine faces
of Martian announcers on that wave. Twenty-four hours a day. The
most powerful sender in the System. Mars Sender reached all the nine
planets, and even out into deep-space. And it was always on the air.

"Lord," Basset said. "We're out of the System."

"We're not in the System," Groves said. "Notice the horizontal
curve--This is a small planet we're on. Maybe a moon. But it's no
planet or moon I've ever seen before. Not in the System, and not the
Proxima area, either."

Carmichel stood up. "The units must be big multiples, all right. We're
out of the System, perhaps all the way around the galaxy." He peered
out the port at the rolling water.

"I don't see any stars," Basset said.

"Later on we can get a star reading. When we're on the other side, away
from the sun."

"Ocean," Siller murmured. "Miles of it. And a good temperature." He
removed his helmet cautiously. "Maybe we won't need these after all."

"Better leave them on until we can make an atmosphere check," Groves
said. "Isn't there a check tube on this bubble?"

"I don't see any," Carmichel said.

"Well, it doesn't matter. If we--"

"Sir!" Siller exclaimed. "Land."

They ran to the port. Land was rising into view, on the horizon of the
planet. A long low strip of land, a coastline. They could see green;
the land was fertile.

"I'll turn her a little right," Groves said, sitting down at the board.
He adjusted the controls. "How's that?"

"Heading right toward it." Carmichel sat down beside him. "Well, at
least we won't drown. I wonder where we are. How will we know? What if
the star map can't be equated? We can take a spectroscopic analysis,
try to find a known star--"

"We're almost there," Basset said nervously. "You better slow us down,
General. We'll crash."

"I'm doing the best I can. Any mountains or peaks?"

"No. It seems quite flat. Like a plain."

The globe dropped lower and lower, slowing down. Green scenery whipped
past below them. Far off a row of meager hills came finally into view.
The globe was barely skimming, now, as the two pilots fought to bring
it to a stop.

"Easy, easy," Groves murmured. "Too fast."

       *       *       *       *       *

All the brakes were firing. The globe was a bedlam of noise, knocked
back and forth as the jets fired. Gradually it lost velocity, until
it was almost hanging in the sky. Then it sank, like a toy balloon,
settling slowly down to the green plain below.

"Cut the rockets!"

The pilots snapped their switches. Abruptly all sound ceased. They
looked at each other.

"Any moment ..." Carmichel murmured:

_Plop!_

"We're down," Basset said. "We're down."

They unscrewed the hatch cautiously, their helmets tightly in place.
Siller held a Boris gun ready, as Groves and Carmichel swung the heavy
rexenoid disc back. A blast of warm air rolled into the globe, swelling
around them.

"See anything?" Basset said.

"Nothing. Level fields. Some kind of planet." The General stepped down
onto the ground. "Tiny plants! Thousands of them. I don't know what
kind."

The other men stepped out, their boots sinking into the moist soil.
They looked around them.

"Which way?" Siller said. "Toward those hills?"

"Might as well. What a flat planet!" Carmichel strode off, leaving deep
tracks behind him. The others followed.

"Harmless looking place," Basset said. He picked a handful of the
little plants. "What are they? Some kind of weed." He stuffed them into
the pocket of his spacesuit.

"_Stop._" Siller froze, rigid, his gun raised.

"What is it?"

"Something moved. Through that patch of shrubbery over there."

They waited. Everything was quiet around them. A faint breeze eddied
through the surface of green. The sky overhead was a clear, warm blue,
with a few faint clouds.

"What did it look like?" Basset said.

"Some insect. Wait." Siller crossed to the patch of plants. He kicked
at them. All at once a tiny creature rushed out, scuttling away. Siller
fired. The bolt from the Boris gun ignited the ground, a roar of white
fire. When the cloud dissipated there was nothing but a seared pit.

"Sorry." Siller lowered the gun shakily.

"It's all right. Better to shoot first, on a strange planet." Groves
and Carmichel went on ahead, up a low rise.

"Wait for me," Basset called. He fell behind the others. "I have
something in my boot."

"You can catch up." The three went on, leaving the Doctor alone. He sat
down on the moist ground, grunting. He began to unlace his boot slowly,
carefully.

       *       *       *       *       *

Around him the air was warm. He sighed, relaxing. After a moment he
removed his helmet and adjusted his glasses. Smells of plants and
flowers were heavy in the air. He took a deep breath, letting it out
again slowly. Then he put his helmet back on and finished lacing up his
boot.

A tiny man, not six inches high, appeared from a clump of weeds and
shot an arrow at him.

[Illustration: A tiny man appeared and shot an arrow.]

Basset stared down. The arrow, a minute splinter of wood, was sticking
in the sleeve of his spacesuit. He opened and closed his mouth but no
sounds came.

A second arrow glanced off the transparent shield of his helmet. Then a
third and a fourth. The tiny man had been joined by companions, one of
them on a tiny horse.

"Mother of Heaven!" Basset said.

"What's the matter?" General Groves' voice came in his earphones. "Are
you all right, Doctor?"

"Sir, a tiny man just fired an arrow at me."

"Really?"

"There's--there's a whole bunch of them, now."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No!" Basset scrambled to his feet. A volley of arrows rose up,
sticking into his suit, glancing off his helmet. The shrill voices of
the tiny men came to his ears, an excited, penetrating sound. "General,
please come back here!"

Groves and Siller appeared at the top of the ridge. "Basset, you must
be out of--"

They stopped, transfixed. Siller raised the Boris gun, but Groves
pushed the muzzle down. "Impossible." He advanced, staring down at the
ground. An arrow pinged against his helmet. "Little men. With bows and
arrows."

Suddenly the little men turned and fled. They raced off, some on foot,
some on horseback, back through the weeds and out the other side.

"There they go," Siller said. "Should we follow them? See where they
live?"

"It isn't possible." Groves shook his head. "No planet has yielded tiny
human beings like this. So _small_!"

Commander Carmichel strode down the ridge to them. "Did I really see
it? You men saw it, too? Tiny figures, racing away?"

Groves pulled an arrow from his suit. "We saw. And felt." He held the
arrow close to the plate of his helmet, examining it. "Look--the tip
glitters. Metal tipped."

"Did you notice their costumes?" Basset said. "In a storybook I once
read. Robin Hood. Little caps, boots."

"A story...." Groves rubbed his jaw, a strange look suddenly glinting
in his eyes. "A book."

"What, sir?" Siller said.

"Nothing." Groves came suddenly to life, moving away. "Let's follow
them. I want to see their city."

He increased his pace, walking with great strides after the tiny men,
who had not got very far off, yet.

"Come on," Siller said. "Before they get away." He and Carmichel and
Basset followed behind Groves, catching up with him. The four of them
kept pace with the tiny men, who were hurrying away as fast as they
could. After a time one of the tiny men stopped, throwing himself down
on the ground. The others hesitated, looking back.

"He's tired out," Siller said. "He can't make it."

Shrill squeaks rose. He was being urged on.

"Give him a hand," Basset said. He bent down, picking the tiny figure
up. He held him carefully between his gloved fingers, turning him
around and around.

"Ouch!" He set him down quickly.

"What is it?" Groves came over.

"He stung me." Basset massaged his thumb.

"Stung you?"

"Stabbed, I mean. With his sword."

"You'll be all right." Groves went on, after the tiny figures.

"Sir," Siller said to Carmichel, "this certainly makes the Ganymede
problem seem remote."

"It's a long way off."

"I wonder what their city will be like," Groves said.

"I think I know," Basset said.

"You know? How?"

Basset did not answer. He seemed to be deep in thought, watching the
figures on the ground intently.

"Come on," he said. "Let's not lose them."

       *       *       *       *       *

They stood together, none of them speaking. Ahead, down a long slope,
lay a miniature city. The tiny figures had fled into it, across a
drawbridge. Now the bridge was rising, lifted by almost invisible
threads. Even as they watched, the bridge snapped shut.

"Well, Doc?" Siller said. "This what you expected?"

Basset nodded. "Exactly."

The city was walled, built of gray stone. It was surrounded by a little
moat. Countless spires rose up, a conglomeration of peaks and gables,
tops of buildings. There was furious activity going on inside the city.
A cacophony of shrill sounds from countless throats drifted across the
moat to the four men, growing louder each moment. At the walls of the
city figures appeared, soldiers in armor, peering across the moat at
them.

Suddenly the drawbridge quivered. It began to slide down, descending
into position. There was a pause. Then--

"Look!" Groves exclaimed. "Here they come."

Siller raised his gun. "My Lord! Look at them!"

A horde of armored men on horseback clattered across the drawbridge,
spilling out onto the ground beyond. They came straight toward the four
spacesuited men, the sun sparkling against their shields and spears.
There were hundreds of them, decked with streamers and banners and
pennants of all colors and sizes. An impressive sight, on a small scale.

"Get ready," Carmichel said. "They mean business. Watch your legs." He
tightened the bolts of his helmet.

The first wave of horsemen reached Groves, who was standing a little
ahead of the others. A ring of warriors surrounded him, little
glittering armored and plumed figures, hacking furiously at his ankles
with miniature swords.

"Cut it out!" Groves howled, leaping back. "Stop!"

"They're going to give us trouble," Carmichel said.

Siller began to giggle nervously, as arrows flew around him. "Shall I
give it to them, sir? One blast from the Boris gun and--"

"No! Don't fire--that's an order." Groves moved back as a phalanx of
horses rushed toward him, spears lowered. He swung his leg, spilling
them over with his heavy boot. A frantic mass of men and horses
struggled to right themselves.

"Back." Basset said. "Those damn archers."

Countless men on foot were rushing from the city with long bows and
quivers strapped to their backs. A chaos of shrill sound filled the air.

"He's right," Carmichel said. His leggings had been hacked clean
through by determined knights who had dismounted and were swinging
again and again, trying to chop him down. "If we're not going to fire
we better retreat. They're tough."

Clouds of arrows rained down on them.

"They know how to shoot," Groves admitted. "These men are trained
soldiers."

"Watch out." Siller said. "They're trying to get between us. Pick us
off one by one." He moved toward Carmichel nervously. "Let's get out of
here."

"Hear them?" Carmichel said. "They're mad. They don't like us."

The four men retreated, backing away. Gradually the tiny figures
stopped following, pausing to reorganize their lines.

"It's lucky for us we have our suits on," Groves said. "This isn't
funny anymore."

Siller bent down and pulled up a clump of weeds. He tossed the clump at
the line of knights. They scattered.

"Let's go," Basset said. "Let's leave."

"Leave?"

"Let's get out of here." Basset was pale. "I can't believe it. Must be
some kind of hypnosis. Some kind of control of our minds. It can't be
real."

Siller caught his arm. "Are you all right? What's the matter?"

Basset's face was contorted strangely. "I can't accept it," he muttered
thickly. "Shakes the whole fabric of the universe. All basic beliefs."

"Why? What do you mean?"

Groves put his hand on Basset's shoulder. "Take it easy, Doctor."

"But General--"

"I know what you're thinking. But it can't be. There must be some
rational explanation. There has to be."

"A fairy tale," Basset muttered. "A story."

"Coincidence. The story was a social satire, nothing more. A social
satire, a work of fiction. It just seems like this place. The
resemblance is only--"

"What are you two talking about?" Carmichel said.

"This place." Basset pulled away. "We've got to get out of here. We're
caught in a mind web of some sort."

"What's he talking about?" Carmichel looked from Basset to Groves. "Do
you know where we are?"

"We can't be there," Basset said.

"_Where?_"

"He made it up. A fairy tale. A child's tale."

"No, a social satire, to be exact," Groves said.

"What are they talking about, sir?" Siller said to Commander Carmichel.
"Do you know?"

Carmichel grunted. A slow light dawned in his face. "What?"

"Do you know where we are, sir?"

"Let's get back to the globe," Carmichel said.

       *       *       *       *       *

Groves paced nervously. He stopped by the port, looking out intently,
peering into the distance.

"More coming?" Basset said.

"Lots more."

"What are they doing out there _now_?"

"Still working on their tower."

The little people were erecting a tower, a scaffolding up the side of
the globe. Hundreds of them were working together, knights, workmen,
archers, even women and boys. Horses and oxen pulling tiny carts were
drawing supplies from the city. A shrill hubbub penetrated the rexenoid
hull of the globe, filtering to the four men inside.

"Well?" Carmichel said. "What'll we do? Go back?"

"I've had enough," Groves said. "All I want now is to go back to
Terra."

"Where are we?" Siller demanded, for the tenth time. "Doc, you know.
Tell me, damn it! All three of you know. Why won't you say?"

"Because we want to keep our sanity," Basset said, his teeth clenched.
"That's why."

"I'd sure like to know," Siller murmured. "If we went over in the
corner would you tell me?"

Basset shook his head. "Don't bother me, Major."

"It just can't be," Groves said. "How _could_ it be?"

"And if we leave, we'll never know. We'll never be sure. It'll haunt us
all our lives. Were we really--_here_? Does this place really exist?
And is this place really--"

"There was a second place," Carmichel said abruptly.

"A second place?"

"In the story. A place where the people were big."

Basset nodded. "Yes. It was called--What?"

"Brobdingnag."

"Brobdingnag. Maybe it exists, too."

"Then you really think this is--"

"Doesn't it fit his description?" Basset waved toward the port. "Isn't
that what he described? Everything small, tiny soldiers, little walled
cities, oxen, horses, knights, kings, pennants. Draw-bridge. Moat. And
their damn towers. Always building towers--and shooting arrows."

"Doc," Siller said. "Whose description?"

No answer.

"Could--could you whisper it to me?"

"I don't see how it can be," Carmichel said flatly. "I remember the
book, of course. I read it when I was a child, as we all did. Later on
I realized it was a satire of the manners of the times. But good Lord,
it's either one or the other! Not a real place!"

"Maybe he had a sixth sense. Maybe he really was there. Here. In a
vision. Maybe he had a vision. They say that he was supposed to have
been psychotic, toward the end."

"Brobdingnag. The other place." Carmichel pondered. "If this exists,
maybe that exists. It might tell us.... We might know, for sure. Some
sort of verification."

"Yes, our theory. Hypothesis. We predict that it should exist, too. Its
existence would be a kind of proof."

"The _L_ theory, which predicts the existence of _B_."

"We've got to be sure," Basset said. "If we go back without being sure,
we'll always wonder. When we're fighting the Ganymedeans we'll stop
suddenly and wonder--was I really there? Does it really exist? All
these years we thought it was just a story. But now--"

Groves walked over to the control board and sat down. He studied the
dials intently. Carmichel sat down beside him.

"See this," Groves said, touching the big central meter with his
finger. "The reading is up to _liw_, 100. Remember where it was when we
started?"

"Of course. At _nesi_. At zero. Why?"

"_Nesi_ is neutral position. Our starting position, back on Terra.
We've gone the limit one way. Carmichel, Basset is right. We've got
to find out. We can't go back to Terra without knowing if this really
is.... _You know._"

"You want to throw it back all the way? Not stop at zero? Go on to the
other end? To the other _liw_?"

Groves nodded.

"All right." The Commander let his breath out slowly. "I agree with
you. I want to know, too. I have to know."

"Doctor Basset." Groves brought the Doctor over to the board. "We're
not going back to Terra, not yet. The two of us want to go on."

"On?" Basset's face twitched. "You mean on beyond? To the other side?"

They nodded. There was silence. Outside the globe the pounding and
ringing had ceased. The tower had almost reached the level of the port.

"We must know," Groves said.

"I'm for it," Basset said.

"Good," Carmichel said.

"I wish one of you would tell me what it is you're talking about,"
Siller said plaintively. "Can't you tell me?"

"Then here goes." Groves took hold of the switch. He held it for a
moment, sitting silently. "Are we ready?"

"Ready," Basset said.

Groves threw the switch, all the way down.

       *       *       *       *       *

Shapes, enormous and confused.

The globe floundered trying to right itself. Again they were falling,
sliding about. The globe was lost in a sea of vague, misty forms,
immense dim figures that moved on all sides of them, beyond the port.

Basset stared out, his jaws slack. "What--"

Faster and faster the globe fell. Everything was diffused, unformed.
Shapes like shadows drifted and flowed outside, shapes so huge that
their outlines were lost.

"Sir!" Siller muttered. "Commander! Hurry! Look!"

Carmichel made his way to the port.

They were in a world of giants. A towering figure walked past them, a
torso so large that they could see only a portion of it. There were
other shapes, but so vast and dim they could not be identified. All
around the globe was a roaring, a deep undercurrent of sound like the
waves of a monstrous ocean. An echoing sound, a booming that tossed and
bounced the globe around and around.

Groves looked up at Basset and Carmichel.

"Then it's true," Basset said.

"This confirms it."

"I can't believe it," Carmichel said. "But this is the proof we asked
for. Here it is--out there."

Outside the globe something was coming closer, coming ponderously
toward them. Siller gave a sudden shout, moving back from the port. He
grabbed up the Boris gun, his face ashen.

"Groves!" Basset cried. "Throw it to neutral! Quick! We've got to get
away."

Carmichel pushed Siller's gun down. He grinned fixedly at him. "Sorry.
This time it's too small."

A hand was reached toward them, a hand so large that it blotted out the
light. Fingers, skin with gaping pores, nails, great tufts of hair. The
globe shuddered as the hand closed around them from all sides.

"General! Quick!"

Then it was gone. The pressure ceased, winking out. Beyond the port
was--nothing. The dials were in motion again, the pointer rising up
toward _nesi_. Toward neutral. Toward Terra.

Basset breathed a sigh of relief. He removed his helmet and mopped his
forehead.

"We got away," Groves said. "Just in time."

"A hand," Siller said. "Reaching for us. A big hand. Where were we?
Tell me!"

Carmichel sat down beside Groves. They looked silently at each other.

Carmichel grunted. "We mustn't tell anyone. No one. They wouldn't
believe us, and anyhow, it would be very damaging if they did. A
society can't learn something like this. Too much would totter."

"He must have seen it in a vision. Then he wrote it up as a children's
story. He knew he could never put it down as fact."

"Something like that. So it really exists. Both exist. And perhaps
others. Wonderland, Oz, Pellucidar, Erewhon, all the fantasies,
dreams--"

Groves put his hand on the Commander's arm. "Take it easy. We'll simply
tell them the ship didn't work. As far as they're concerned we didn't
go anywhere. Right?"

"Right." Already, the vidscreen was sputtering, coming to life. An
image was forming. "Right. We won't say anything. Just the four of us
will know." He glanced at Siller. "Just the three of us, I mean."

On the vidscreen the image of the Senate Leader was fully formed.
"Commander Carmichel! Are you safe? Were you able to land? Mars sent us
no report. Is your crew all right?"

Basset peered out the port. "We're hanging about a mile up from the
city. Terra City. Dropping slowly down. The sky is full of ships. We
don't need help, do we?"

"No," Carmichel said. He began to fire the brake rockets slowly, easing
the ship down.

"Someday, when the war is over," Basset said, "I want to ask the
Ganymedeans about this. I'd like to find out the whole story."

"Maybe you'll get your chance," Groves said, suddenly sobered. "That's
right. Ganymede! Our chance to win the war certainly fizzled."

"The Senate Leader is going to be disappointed," Carmichel said grimly.
"You may get your wish very soon, Doctor. The war will probably be over
shortly, now that we're back--empty-handed."

       *       *       *       *       *

The slender yellow Ganymedean moved slowly into the room, his robes
slithering across the floor after him. He stopped, bowing.

Commander Carmichel nodded stiffly.

"I was told to come here," the Ganymedean lisped softly. "They tell me
that some of our property is in this laboratory."

"That's right."

"If there are no objections, we would like to--"

"Go ahead and take it."

"Good. I am glad to see there is no animosity on your part. Now that we
are all friends again, I hope that we can work together in harmony, on
an equal basis of--"

Carmichel turned abruptly away, walking toward the door. "Your property
is this way. Come along."

The Ganymedean followed him into the central lab building. There,
resting silently in the center of the vast room, was the globe.

Groves came over. "I see they've come for it."

"Here it is," Carmichel said to the Ganymedean. "Your spaceship. Take
it."

"Our time ship, you mean."

Groves and Carmichel jerked. "Your _what_?"

The Ganymedean smiled quietly. "Our time ship." He indicated the globe.
"There it is. May I begin moving it onto our transport?"

"Get Basset," Carmichel said. "Quick!"

Groves hurried from the room. A moment later he returned with Doctor
Basset.

"Doctor, this Gany is after his property." Carmichel took a deep
breath. "His--his time machine."

Basset leaped. "His _what_? His time machine?" His face twitched.
Suddenly he backed away. "This? A time machine? Not what we--Not--"

Groves calmed himself with an effort. He addressed the Ganymedean as
casually as he could, standing to one side, a little dismayed. "May we
ask you a couple of questions before you take your--your time ship?"

"Of course. I will answer as best I can."

"This globe. It--it goes through time? Not space? It's a time machine?
Goes into the past? Into the future?"

"That is correct."

"I see. And _nesi_ on the dial, that's the present."

"Yes."

"The upward reading is the past?"

"Yes."

"The downward reading is the future, then. One more thing. Just one
more. A person going back into the past would find that because of the
expansion of the universe--"

The Ganymedean reacted. A smile crossed his face, a subtle, knowing
smile. "Then you have tried out the ship?"

Groves nodded.

"You went into the past and found everything much smaller? Reduced in
size?"

"That's right--because the universe is expanding! And the future.
Everything increased in size. Expanded."

"Yes." The Ganymedean's smile broadened. "It is a shock, is it not? You
are astonished to find your world reduced in size, populated by minute
beings. But size, of course, is relative. As you discover when you go
into the future."

"So that's it." Groves let out his breath. "Well, that's all. You can
have your ship."

"Time travel," the Ganymedean said regretfully, "is not a successful
undertaking. The past is too small, the future too expanded. We
considered this ship a failure."

The Gany touched the globe with his feeler.

"We could not imagine why you wanted it. It was even suggested that
you stole the ship to use--" the Gany smiled--"to use to reach your
colonies in deep-space. But that would have been _too_ amusing. We
could not really believe that."

No one said anything.

The Gany made a whistling signal. A work crew came filing in and began
to load the globe onto an enormous flat truck.

"So that's it," Groves muttered. "It was Terra all the time. And those
people, they were our ancestors."

"About fifteenth century," Basset said. "Or so I'd say by their
costumes. Middle Ages."

They looked at each other.

Suddenly Carmichel laughed. "And we thought it was--We thought we were
at--"

"I knew it was only a child's story," Basset said.

"A social satire," Groves corrected him.

Silently they watched the Ganymedeans trundle their globe out of the
building, onto the waiting cargo ship.



*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Prize ship" ***


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