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Read Ebook: The Lonely Ones by Ludwig Edward W Orban Paul Illustrator
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Ebook has 206 lines and 7439 words, and 5 pages
Someone coughed behind Captain Wiley.
"Sir, the men would like to look at the screen. They can't see the planet out of the ports yet." The speaker was Doyle, the ship's Engineer, a dry, tight-skinned little man.
"Sure." Captain Wiley stepped aside.
Doyle looked, then Parker and Fong. Just three of them, for Watkins had sliced his wrists the fourth year out. And Brown was drunk.
As they looked, a realization came to Captain Wiley. The men were getting old. The years had passed so gradually that he'd never really noticed it before. Lieutenant Gunderson had been a kid just out of Space Academy. Parker and Doyle and Fong, too, had been in their twenties. They had been boys. And now something was gone--the sharp eyes and sure movements of youth, the smooth skin and thick, soft hair.
Now they had become men. And yet for a few moments, as they gazed at the screen, they seemed like happy, expectant children.
"I wish Brown could see this," Doyle murmured. "He says now he isn't going to get off his couch till we land and discover life. Says he won't dare look for himself."
"The planet's right for life," said Fong, the dark-faced astro-physicist. "Atmosphere forty per cent oxygen, lots of water vapor. No poisonous gases, according to spectroscopic analyses. It should be ideal for life."
"You need a drink," said Fong.
"It's getting bigger," murmured Lieutenant Gunderson.
"The Centaurians," mused Doyle, half to himself. "What'll they be like? Monsters or men? If Parker's right about universal justice, they'll be men."
"Hey, where there's men, there's women!" yelled Parker. "A Centaurian woman! Say!"
"Look at those clouds!" exclaimed Doyle. "Damn it, we can't see the surface."
"Hey, there! Look there, to the right! See it? It's silver, down in a hole in the clouds. It's like a city!"
"Maybe it's just water."
"No, it's a city!"
"Bring 'er down, Captain. God, Captain, bring 'er down fast!"
"Drag Brown in here! He ought to see this!"
"Can't you bring 'er down faster, Captain?"
"Why doesn't someone get Brown?"
"Take to your couches, men," said Captain Wiley. "Landing's apt to be a bit bumpy. Better strap yourselves in."
Down went the rocket, more slowly now, great plumes of scarlet thundering from its forward braking jets. Down, down into soft, cotton-like clouds, the whiteness sliding silently past the ports.
Suddenly, a droning voice:
"To those in the ship from the planet called Earth: Please refrain from landing at this moment. You will await landing instructions."
Parker leaped off his couch, grasping a stanchion for support. "That voice! It was human!"
Captain Wiley's trembling hand moved over the jet-control panel. The ship slowed in its descent. The clouds outside the portholes became motionless, a milky whiteness pressed against the ship.
"The voice!" Parker cried again. "Am I crazy? Did everyone hear it?"
Captain Wiley turned away from the panel. "We heard it, Parker. It was in our minds. Telepathy."
He smiled. "Yes, the planet is inhabited. There are intelligent beings on it. Perhaps they're more intelligent than we are."
It was strange. The men had hoped, dreamed, prayed for this moment. Now they sat stunned, unable to comprehend, their tongues frozen.
"We'll see them very soon," said Captain Wiley, his voice quivering. "We'll wait for their directions."
Breathlessly, they waited.
Captain Wiley's fingers drummed nervously on the base of the control panel. Lieutenant Gunderson rose from his couch, stood in the center of the cabin, then returned to his couch.
Silence, save for the constant, rumbling roar of the jets which held the ship aloft.
"I wonder how long it'll be," murmured Fong at last.
"It seems like a long time!" burst Parker.
"We've waited nine years," said Captain Wiley. "We can wait a few more minutes."
They waited.
"Good Lord!" said Parker. "How long is it going to be? What time is it? We've been waiting an hour! What kind of people are they down there?"
"Maybe they've forgotten about us," said Fong.
"That's it!" cried Parker. "They've forgotten about us! Hey, you! Down there--you that talked to us! We're still here, damn it! We want to land!"
"Parker," said Captain Wiley, sternly.
Parker sat down on his couch, his lips quivering.
Then came the voice:
"We regret that a landing is impossible at this moment. Our field is overcrowded, and your vessel is without priority. You must wait your turn."
Captain Wiley stared forward at nothing. "Whoever you are," he whispered, "please understand that we have come a long way to reach your planet. Our trip...."
"We do not wish to discuss your trip. You will be notified when landing space is available."
Captain Wiley's body shook. "Wait, tell us who you are. What do you look like? Tell us...."
"Talking to you is quite difficult. We must form our thoughts so as to form word-patterns in your minds. You will be notified."
"Wait a minute!" called Captain Wiley.
No answer.
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