He picked it up, staring into the milky depths. A pulse tingled up his arm, fingering into his mind. A pulse of longing—
The girl had appeared when O’Brien summoned her.
Perhaps it would work again. There was no other hope.
But he could not call her Deirdre. He gripped the hard crystal. His thought probed out, forceful and summoning.
“Circe!”
Nothing. The eternal silence, the cold blaze of the stars. …
“Circe!”
The gem in his hand leaped with eagerness. In emptiness above him a rainbow glitter of coruscating light flamed. The crystals—and, within them, the girl!
She had not changed. Lovely and alien, she lay among her dancing, shining gems, and her lashes still veiled the cryptic depth of her eyes. Arnsen stumbled forward.
“Where’s O’Brien?” His voice cracked, harsh and inhuman. “Damn you! Where is he?”
She did not look at him. Her body seemed to recede. The jewels swirled into swift motion about her.
Arnsen lurched on. His mind felt on fire. He whipped out his elastic billy and plunged toward the girl.
She was not there. She had drifted back amid the rainbow crystals.
Arnsen could not overtake her. It was like following a will-o’-the-wisp, a torch of St. Elmo’s fire. But he did not take his eyes from the girl. More than once he fell. She was leading him away from the ship, he knew. That did not matter. Not if she also led him to Doug.
What had she done with the boy? He hated her, hated her relentless inhumanity, her incredible beauty. Teeth bared, red-rimmed eyes glaring, Arnsen plunged on in a nightmare race across the face of the silent asteroid.
Hours later, it seemed, she vanished in black shadow under a thrusting pinnacle of slag. Arnsen followed, reeling with fatigue, expecting to cannon into a rock wall. But the darkness remained intangible. The ground sloped down beneath his leaded boots. Suddenly light shone through a cleft at his side.
Pale, warm, liquid light, it drifted up from a slanting corridor in the rock. Far down the passage Arnsen could see the cloud of dancing flames that marked the girl’s crystal attendants. He stumbled on.
Down he went, and down, till at last the passage turned again in the distance. He rounded the bend—and stopped, blinded and dazed.
As his vision adjusted itself, Arnsen made out a pillar of fire that rose from floor to ceiling of the cavern before him. Yet it was not fire. It was something beyond human knowledge. Pure energy, perhaps, wrenched from the locked heart of the atom itself, silently thundering and pouring up like a geyser. The pillar shook. It wavered and rocked, coldly white, intensely brilliant, like a living thing blazing with a power inconceivable.
Walls and floor and roof of the cavern were crusted with jewels. The rainbow crystals clung quivering, thousands of them, some tiny, others huge. They watched.
They were alive.
The girl stood near Arnsen. A score of the jewels pressed against her lovingly. They caressed her. The veiled eyes did not meet Arnsen’s. But she lifted her arm.
There was a movement in Arnsen’s gloved hand. The milky gem stirred; a pulse of eagerness beat out from it.
It leaped free—raced toward Circe.
She caught it, flung it at the shaking tower of flame.
Into the pillar’s blazing heart the crystal darted.
The fires sank—rose again. Spewed forth the jewel.
No longer milky—no longer dulled. It blazed with fantastic brilliance! Vital energy streamed from it; it whirled and danced joyously with sheer delight. It was like a sleeper suddenly awakened.
It spun toward Circe, pulsed madly with the intoxication of life.
The girl rose, featherlight, without gravity, drifting across the cavern to a passage-mouth that gaped in the wall. The jewels clustered around it swayed toward her. Some broke free, rushing in her train.
She vanished into the portal.
The spell that held Arnsen broke. He flung himself after her, too late. Already she was gone. But along the corridor jewels floated, bright, shining, alive.
And suddenly strong arms were around Arnsen. The face of O’Brien was before him. O’Brien, no longer wearing his spacesuit, haggard, and yet aflame with a vital something that glowed in his dark eyes. O’Brien—laughing.
“Steve!” His voice shook. “So you followed me. I’m glad. Come in here—it’s all right.”
The energy went out of Arnsen, leaving him weak and exhausted. He cast one glance up the empty corridor and followed O’Brien through a cave-opening into a little room cut out of solid rock. He felt the other’s fingers loosening his helmet, removing the bulky spacesuit. Some remnant of caution returned.
“The oxygen—”
“There’s air here. It’s a place of wonders, Steve!”
There was air. Cool, sweet, and refreshing, it crept into Arnsen’s lungs. He looked around. The little cavern was empty, save for dozens of the rainbow crystals clinging to the walls.
They watched alertly.
O’Brien pressed him back, made a quick gesture. A jewel floated forward, hovering over Arnsen’s face. He felt water trickling between his lips, and, too exhausted for wonder, swallowed gratefully.
“You need sleep,” O’Brien said. “But it’s all right, Steve. It’s all right, I tell you. You’ll hear all about it when you wake up. Time enough then. You’ll see Deirdre.”
Arnsen tried to struggle up. “I won’t—”
O’Brien signalled again. Another gem drifted close. From it a gray breath of cloud floated, perfume-sweet, soporific. It crept into Arnsen’s nostrils. …
And he slept.
V
The Jewel-Folk
The room was unchanged when he woke once more. O’Brien sat cross-legged, looking into space. His face had altered, had acquired a new peace and maturity.
He heard Arnsen’s slight movement and turned.
“Awake? How do you feel?”
“All right. Well enough to hear explanations,” Arnsen said with a flash of temper. “I’ve been nearly crazy—looking for you all over this damned asteroid. I still think I’m crazy after all this.”
O’Brien chuckled. “I can imagine. I felt pretty upset for a while, till the crystals explained.”
“The crystals what?”
“They’re alive, Steve. The ultimate product of evolution, perhaps. Crystalline life. Perfect machines. They can do almost anything. You saw how one created drinkable water, and—well, look here.” He beckoned.
A jewel floated close. From it a jet of flame shot, red
