The captain strode onto the deck.
"Sir," said Small. "We have found a fountain of Earth's younger days. Voices from centuries past. Strange radio people, ghosts of laughter, political charades. Listen!"
The captain said, most sadly, "Yes, yes." And then, suddenly, "Small, Jones, leave that now. They speak but to themselves. We cannot play, nor laugh, nor weep with them. They are dead. And we have an appointment with the real."
Small reached again for the console dial, as a final voice announced: "Line drive! Mantle safe at first!"
Then, silence.
I touched my cheek to wipe away a tear. Why do I weep? I wondered. Those voices were not my people, my times, my ghosts. And yet once they lived. Their dust stirred in my ears, and I could not stop my eyes.
Suddenly, over the ship's intercom, a voice boomed: "Blue alert. All scanning stations. Visual sighting. Star sector CV7. Visual sighting. Blue alert!"
Quell and I stood before his viewing screen, stunned at what we saw there.
"Great God," I said. "What's that?"
"A moon," said Quell.
"Yes," I said. "But what a moon. It looks so old. Much older than our own, covered with towns, cities, ancient gardens. How long do you think that moon has been spinning in space alone?"
Quell consulted his instrument panel, and zoomed in the picture.
"Ten thousand times a million years," said Quell. "Oh lovely, lovely...the spires, the jeweled windows, the lonely and deserted courtyards filled with dust."
And then we heard Redleigh's voice: "Stand by! Diminish speed."
And then the captain's voice cut in: "Mr. Redleigh!"
"Sir, this moon! It's very old and fine. Our mission is to explore, to find, to report."
"Yes, Redleigh, I can hear it in your voice. It is a lovely lost and wandering world, an ancient beauty, passing strange, but pass it we must. Resume course."
And over the intercom came the order: "Resume full speed. Blue alert canceled."
The image of the lost moon, which had been projected on all the screens throughout the ship, began to pass away.
"Lost again," said Quell.
And once again, the ship was surrounded by black space.
CHAPTER 5.
From Small's console came dim voices, cloaked in static, from untold miles away: "Lightfall 1 calling Cetus 7. Lightfall here. Inbound from twelve years out. Cetus 7, do you read?"
My God, I thought, another spacecraft.
Quell's voice touched my thoughts. "Impossible. In all these billions of miles of space. What are the chances of meeting-"
"Another spaceship?" I asked aloud.
"This is Lightfall 1," came the voice again. "Shall we hang fire, Cetus 7?"
Men were running to the main deck from every direction, crowding around monitors.
"Cetus 7, request permission to approach, link, and board."
"Yes!" cried the crew.
"No!" thundered the captain.
"Cetus 7, please respond."
The captain instructed Small to open a communications channel to the other ship. "Lightfall 1, this is Cetus 7. Permission denied."
"Cetus 7- please confirm: permission denied? Do I read you?"
"You do," our captain replied.
"But my men, Captain, listen to them!"
And over the open communications channel we hear a grand clamor from the other ship, a few thousand miles off.
"Damned fools at nursery games," said our captain. "There is no time. No time!"
"Time?!" said the voice from Lightfall 1. "Why, for Christ's sake, that's all there is in space! God has a plentitude of time. And I? I am full of long years wandering and news of strange stars and terrible comets."
"Comets?" our captain cried.
"The greatest comet in the universe, sir!" said the commander of Lightfall 1.
"Stand by, then," our captain said. "Permission to come aboard."
We watched on the viewscreens as the Lightfall 1 approached. Both ships reached out mechanical arms and grasped each other as friends. There was a dull thunk as the linkage was complete, and within the hour the Lightfall 1' s captain stepped aboard the Cetus 7 and saluted.
"Jonas Enderby here, of the Lightfall 1."
He stepped out of the airlock, and from behind him came a dozen or so crew members of the Lightfall 1-dark, light; male and female; short, tall; human and alien-glancing about them. We smiled in welcome, eager to hear their story.
Later, in the communal mess, Commander Enderby raised a glass to our captain, with whom he sat at the center table. "To your health, sir. No, mine. My God, it's been nine months since I've had an honest-to-God drink. I'm with child! And that child is thirst."
The Lightfall commander drank.
"More!" he demanded.
"More, yes," our captain said. "And then speak."
"Would you like to hear of comets?" said Enderby of the Lightfall 1.
"I am tuned to that," replied our captain, a bright light glinting in his eye.
We all inched a little closer, as close as protocol would allow, to listen.
"God sickened in my face," said Enderby. "I am not clean yet. For it was the greatest, longest, brightest-"
Our captain cut in. "Leviathan?!"
Enderby gasped. "You know it?"
"You tracked it then?"
"Tracked it, hell, it bled me white and cracked my bones!
I only just escaped with my life."
"Ah," the captain cried. "Do you hear, Redleigh?"
Enderby continued. "I do not mean to stretch the joke. It tried me, sir. It swallowed me, my ship, and crew in one great hungry gulp. We lived in Leviathan!"
"In! Hear that, Redleigh? In!"
The Lightfall 1 commander went on. "You do make it sound jolly, sir."
Our captain stood, all stony silence. "I meant no offense. Of all people, I well know..."
"And jolly it was!" Enderby continued. "What else can one do when stuck deep in the belly of the beast? We danced a rigadoon in Leviathan's gut!"
"And yet-you're here!"
"Sir, it could not stomach us! We poisoned it with laughter. All round within it we rose, we fell, we rose again, mystified by Fate, hysterical with chance. We fired our laughs like cannons at its heart!"
The captain shook. "Laughter? Dancing?" he wondered.
And Enderby of the Lightfall 1 touched his right eye. "Yes! Though before it took us into its maw, it spoiled my sight and killed this eye. See? Pure forge-cast Irish crystal. Glass! I swear. Shall I pluck it out and play at marbles?"
"No, no. Let it be," our captain said with a sigh. "I believe you."
"I see you do," Enderby replied. "Leviathan did blind me once, but completed only half the job. It would have destroyed my other eye, if it'd had the chance. But we raised such a riot that Leviathan suffered sickness and spat us out back unto the stars!"
Our captain seized Enderby's arm. "Where?"
"Ten million miles beyond the outermost circumscape of Saturn's transit."
"Do you hear that, Redleigh?" our captain cried. "It is still on course!"
"Course?" The Lightfall 1 captain laughed. "What course? Do you think it knows what it is doing, where it is going? How can chaos be plotted, planned, coursed? Where is that gin? I need another drink."
Redleigh stepped forward and doled it out.
"My charts are right and true," said the captain, grabbing Redleigh's arm and spilling gin in the process. "I will go to meet that ghost!"
"On my recommendation?" Enderby said, astonished. "Did I make it sound too bright? Hell." He shook his head. "Here's to caps and bells and rollicking tunes. Here's to Leviathan and you, sir. May you cap its bile as it spits you out. God will that it may spit you out."
"We must be away, and now," the captain said, his brow glistening with sudden sweat. "All hands, on deck!"
Enderby stood and said, "But Captain, can we not stay a bit longer? My crew would do well for some more time with new faces, new friends, news of home. We are weary, and dry as sand."
"My thirst is greater," the captain thundered. "We must be off."
Enderby drained his glass and slammed it on the table. "To hell with you, sir! Go on your fool's mission, if that is what you choose."
Enderby stood, and motioned for his crew to follow. They wound their way through the corridors to the airlock doors, donned their suits, and left.
In moments, Lightfall 1 and all its crew were gone, lost again to soundless space.
CHAPTER 6.
Deep in the false night, our captain walked along the sleeping quarter corridors. Quell scanned his mind and spoke his words to me in whispers: "'What, pretending at sleep? Do that, and bite your bitter tongues, which hate me for spoiled games. But if Christ Himself walked through space this night-'"
And Quell, speaking in his own voice, added: "Not Christ. But one of His lost shepherds."
The next morning, Redleigh summoned Quell and me to Small's communication console. There we met crewman Downs.
"This communication occurred last night," Redleigh said, nodding at Small, who touched a contact on his console. We listened, and heard at first the usual static and pulses of space, and at last a fine voice began to speak.
"This is starship Rachel," a far voice said. "Theological starship Rachel, the spacecraft of Pius the Wanderer, calling Cetus 7. Answer, Cetus 7." And the captain, switching on, said, "Cetus 7 here."
The mournful voice of Pius filled the air. "Have you seen a small life-rocket adrift? A space storm carried it away. Fine priests were in it, pacing that comet-"
"Leviathan?!" asked the captain.
The Rachel's captain responded, "Yes! My son, my only son, good child of God, was on that rocket. Fearless, curious. The Great White Bride, he called it. He went to search the White Bride's wake, with two other good men. And now I search for him. Will you help?"
"I have no time, sir," said our captain.
"Time!" the Rachel's captain cried. "Why, I've lost my whole life. You must help me."