Stairway to the Stars | Page 4

Larry Shaw
state of nudity. Farmer shivered.
It was Ray who brought the conversation back to earth--or sea--again. He asked Garf, directly, exactly where he did come from.
Garf looked hesitant, then waved the two to the rail with him. "See those?" he asked. They looked, and saw what seemed to be a flight of steps, carved from stone, old, and worn, starting abruptly just below the water level and leading downward. There was nothing on either side of the steps, or underneath them as far as could be seen, but ordinary ocean. "I came up those," Garf said.
Farmer stared, and Ray stared. The stairway shouldn't be there--it certainly hadn't been there before. Garf's explanations, it seemed, only compounded the confusion caused by his presence.
Farmer, muddled, looked again at the nonapus, which had apparently gone to sleep. Even so, it looked deadly.
Something bit him on the arm. He discovered Ray's fingers, in the diving glove, digging into his flesh in an amazingly powerful grip. Farmer hunched his shoulders, trying to break loose, and then he saw what Ray was staring at.
Garf had left them, and was strolling around the launch as if he had just bought it--looking down his nose at it; at the same time, acting as if he could afford not to give a damn how badly he'd been stung. But the startling thing was that he had picked up the boathook and was twirling it unconcernedly. He had not only picked it up, however--he had also tied it in a knot.
It should have splintered in his hands, assuming he was strong enough to bend it at all. It hadn't; it was in perfect shape, except for the knot. Or so it seemed, at least, for even as Ray started forward with outstretched hand, obviously hoping to examine the thing, Garf gave it a final twirl and scaled it carelessly overboard.
John Andrew began to feel quick-frozen again. Being alone at sea in a rickety craft with a possible madman had been bad enough. To have a weird creature with superhuman powers, and an impossible pet monster, added to the crew was a little too much.
* * * * *
Garf turned his attention to the television set, which was still presenting its hysterical vaudeville. "Great-uncle's gills!" he exclaimed, and lapsed into a fascinated silence. He studied the proceedings carefully, holding the arms-crossed pose again. Finally he turned to Ray.
"Weren't you saying something about civilization a while ago, finless?" he asked. His voice was sneering.
Ray frowned, and said something about mass-appeal. "Pay no attention to that," he continued. "Just listen to me. I'll tell you about our civilization, and our science, and...."
His voice broke off as if he had been struck in the face. In a way, he had; Garf had deliberately turned his back on the old fellow. The Judge's bloodshot little eyes darted about as if he wanted to pick up something heavy and hit Garf on the crest with it.
John Andrew's brain had finally resumed normal operations; he was thinking slowly, but clearly. He examined the evidence with care. He decided that Garf's superior attitude and powers boded no good; that if the fishman once became slightly irritated he would sic the nonapus on Ray and himself. (Probably, in fact, Garf would try to conquer the world anyway; that was how it went in stories as corny as this situation.) Farmer further decided that Ray was too egocentrically eccentric to be trusted to get them out of this fix; he decided he'd have to do something himself.
Having decided all this, Farmer went back over the territory to see if he could find any flaws in it--or any other way out. It still made sense, and he added a decision to get the boat back to shore as fast as possible. He approached the engine.
As he did so, the engine melted into a solid, irregular lump of metal. John Andrew gulped, and put out a tentative hand toward the fused mess. It was not particularly warm--but it had melted.
Farmer looked at Garf again with fear and awe, and the fishman looked back with cold amusement. But not for long. Garf turned to the Judge's invention--and started to show some genuine interest for the first time since he had showed up.
He stood over the thing, webbed hands on scaly hips, peering at it intently. After a long silence, he knelt, and started feeling over the machine with his webbed hands. Finally he placed his fingers on the largest of the control switches--then changed his mind and gestured imperatively to Judge Ray.
"You--the 'intelligent' one," he said. The quotes around 'intelligent' were clear in his intonation. "Explain this to me. It's obviously what reactivated the gate--but whoever made it did a screwball job. There are all sorts of things that don't seem to belong, and
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