"Wow! So they sicced the Hunters on you!" I said. "But why did they
hang around at Stonehenge all this time?"
"There was a trickle of power feeding the screens," said Foster. "They
need a source of electrical energy to live; until a hundred years ago
it was the only one on the planet."
"How did they get down into the shaft without opening it up?"
"Given time, they pass easily through porous substances. But, of
course, last night, when I came on them after their long fast, they
simply burst through in their haste."
"Okay. What happened next--after you buried the man?"
"The journal tells that I was set upon by natives, men who wore the
hides of animals. One of their number entered the ship. He must have
moved the drive lever. It lifted, leaving me marooned."
"So those were his bones we found in the boat," I mused, "the ones with
the bear's-tooth necklace. I wonder why he didn't come into the ship."
"Undoubtedly he did. But remember the skeleton we found just inside the
landing port? That must have been a fairly fresh and rather gory corpse
at the time the savage stepped aboard. It probably seemed to him all
too clear an indication of what lay in store for himself if he ventured
further. In his terror he must have retreated to the boat to wait, and
there starved to death.
"He was stranded in your world, and you were stranded in his."
"Yes," said Foster. "And then, it seems, I lived among the brute-men
and came to be their king. I waited there by the landing ring through
many years in the hope of rescue. Because I did not age as the natives
did, I was worshipped as a god. I would have built a signalling device,
but there were no pure metals, nothing I could use. I tried to teach
them, but it was a work of centuries."
"I should think you could have set up a school, trained the smartest
ones," I said.
"There was no lack of intelligent minds," Foster said. "It is plain
that the savages were of the blood of the Two Worlds. This earth must
have been seeded long ago by some ancient castaways."
"But how could you go on living--for hundreds of years? Are your people
supermen that live forever?"
"The natural span of a human life is very great. Among your people,
there is a wasting disease from which you all die young."
"That's no disease," I said. "You just naturally get old and die."
"The human mind is a magnificent instrument," Foster said, "not meant
to wither quickly."
"I'll have to chew that one over," I said. "Why didn't you catch this
disease?"
"All Vallonians are innoculated against it."
"I'd like a shot of that," I said. "But let's get back to you."
Foster turned the pages of the journal. "I ruled many peoples, under
many names," he said. "I traveled in many lands, seeking for skilled
metal-workers, glass-blowers, wise men. But always I returned to the
landing-ring."
"It must have been tough," I said, "exiled on a strange world, living
out your life in a wilderness, century after century...."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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