all day,” Abna said finally, his hand still on his proton-gun. “Better go in the midst of them and see what happens.”
He set the example by walking forward and the Amazon came up immediately behind him. A little more reticently Viona and Mexone followed, until at length they had come into the midst of the nearest group of tulip people—and here at close quarters the real fantasy of the creatures became obvious. They were like something out of a dream—eight feet high, with their missing faces and enormous bobbing heads. But they were sentient and vital; there was no doubt of that.
Warily, the Amazon and Abna watched, Viona and Mexone behind them with their hands on their weapons. But apparently no hostility was intended for, when a few feet away, the tulip beings stopped and writhed their arm-like appendages in something that could have passed for a salute.
Immediately Abna took his cue and raised his own arm in solemn greeting.
“We salute you, friends,” he said gravely, and inwardly wished he did not feel as though he were addressing a flowerbed. “We come from the deeps of space and would have audience with whoever is your ruler.”
“Very well, that can be granted.”
Abna blinked slightly. He was quite sure he had heard that response, and yet— He turned abruptly, and from the looks on the faces of his wife, daughter, and Mexone he knew it had been no illusion.
“They talk our language,” Viona whispered in amazement. “And without mouths! This is certainly some planet!”
“Vibration,” the Amazon said, as coldly practical as ever. “To say nothing of a high order of intelligence. They have absorbed our language in a matter of seconds—presumably by telepathic means.”
“Your statement is correct, woman of space.” It was impossible to judge which being was talking. “We are telepaths and have minds capable of both absorption and transmission of mental waves. Be assured that you are more than welcome here. If you will come with us, your wish to have audience with our ruler will be gratified.”
Abna relaxed a little and took a hand from his weapon. He gave the Amazon a significant glance and then stepped forward, falling in behind the tulip being as he about-turned and went back up the street. To either side of them the gathered tulip people fell aside, which seemed to suggest that the leader was a high dignitary of some kind.
“Makes you wonder what we’ve got into,” Abna murmured, as the Amazon fell into step beside him. “A planet that leap-frogs, populated by a form of life that’s basically vegetable, and yet they are telepaths and have space travel.”
“If they are telepaths we’ve got to watch ourselves,” Viona put in. “They’ll know all we’re thinking about and planning before we can even say anything.”
“There’s a way around that, too,” Abna told her. “Just blank your mind. I’ve trained you how to do it: now is the time to put it into practice.”
By this time they had practically walked the length of the street and followed their escorts into one of the larger cone-like edifices. Once inside it, with the eyes accustoming to the dimmer light following the brilliant sunshine, the full majestic beauty of the interior became apparent. The main hall they were now traversing appeared to be solid marble, the vaulted root supported in pseudo-Roman style by gigantic fluted pillars. In the midst of the marble ran traceries of deep yellow metal, which was probably gold.
“If you will wait,” came the voice, “our ruler will be informed of your presence. We regret the appointments are not designed for your type of bodies, but that was something we could not foresee.”
Their heads bobbing on their ridiculous bodies, the tulip beings departed and closed the door. In silence the travelers stared at the furniture. It seemed to be made up of curled creations, vaguely suggestive of an earthly helter-skelter on a small scale. Plainly the idea was that the tulip bodies could drape into the curved lineage as a human being sits in a chair.
“Well,” Abna said finally, turning, “I shouldn’t think even you, Viona, can be bored with this!”
“Bored! I’m fascinated! It’s the most peculiar world we’ve yet come across—”
She paused and turned as the door opened into the room there came the two most remarkable beings yet. These were quite ten feet tall, and still conveying the same tulip-like effect as their fellows. One was a deep sea green with a huge and bobbing head—and the other a flaming, almost hurtful scarlet. They moved silently, like their fellows, pausing at length and both inclining their ridiculous, flower-like heads.
“Greetings,” came a voice, of heavy bass. “This is an interesting occasion indeed, even though visitors from space are not unique. You, though, are very different from any we have yet encountered—and I note you are thinking the same about us.”
“Yes,” Abna agreed blandly. “We are. It would help if we knew which one of you is now addressing us.”
The sea green one waggled his tendrils for identification.
“I am the ruler of this particular zone of the planet, my friends. Vashon by name. My companion here is my chief scientific adviser—Sazner.”
Abna inclined his head. “Greetings to both of you. I am Abna of Jupiter. This is my wife—known as the Golden Amazon, of the planet Earth. Here is our daughter, Viona, and her husband, Mexone, of a world many light years from here.”
“What do you seek here?” This time the voice was high and hard. It grated on the senses of the travelers, even though it was intensely distinct. Obviously it had come from the being who was scarlet.
“Nothing more than your friendship, and perhaps an exchange of information,” the Amazon responded, staring at the blazing color of the creature and trying to weigh him. “We have traveled countless light years and were resting in space when we saw a queer thing—or at least my daughter did. This world of yours apparently jumped from one position in space to another and yet was not in the space between at any time.”
Silence. In fact, more than silence. There was a curious impression of deep menace which each of the travelers felt at the same moment.
“Perhaps,” Abna ventured, “it was just an illusion—a trick of the light.”
“It wasn’t!” Viona protested heatedly. “I tell you—”
“No, it was not an illusion,” came Vashon’s deep voice, and he sounded strangely resigned. “This is a misfit planet, my friends, mysteriously cursed by not conforming to natural law. It is a world that doesn’t evolve naturally from birth to death, and enjoy the happiness or sorrow that lies in that path. Instead, it is out of step with the universe. It leaps ahead into time at unexpected moments, thereby suddenly accumulating many years of age and ruin—and killing tens of thousands of people, because old age and death catch up on them during the transition. Such a leap did happen a little while ago. At any moment another leap might come—and it would involve you, too. You would die, because you would abruptly leap ahead beyond the span of your life.”
“You were here when this last leap occurred?” the Amazon asked presently.
“I was.”
“Yet you did not die? Or evolve?”
“I am the ruler,” came the tired response. “Because of that I must be—and am—preserved. Sazner here, with his scientific skill, is always able to forecast when a leap will come. He then hurries me and certain other important dignitaries to his laboratory, where we are isolated until the leap has come and gone. The forces he controls prevent the time-leap affecting us. He himself travels into space to investigate.”
The Amazon’s violet eyes turned to the scarlet-colored adviser.
“I am surprised, Sazner, that a being of your scientific skill—who can evidently make time stand stíll for your king and his contemporaries—cannot overcome the main fault in the planet itself. Surely it is only a question of cosmic mathematics.”