Journey to the Seventh Planet Page #3

We accomplish nothing by staying put.

The answers we're looking for

are beyond that wall, not here.

And just how do you know that?

How do you know the solution

isn't right here, right in front of us?

Because nothing in front of us is real.

It doesn't exist.

Doesn't exist? What do you mean?

What we see cannot possibly be Uranus.

It's as if we're in the middle

of a weird hallucination.

It's weird, all right. So what's your point?

Everything we see has been taken

out of our minds.

Svend's forest stream, the apple tree...

something, someone,

has brought them to light.

But who?

Some power or some alien being

we cannot understand.

The lad is resting fine now.

Strange.

His arm is completely healed.

It should have been frozen off.

I don't get it.

There's a lot of things we don't get.

But I'm glad Karl's all right.

Do you not find it right pleasing to be here,

Commander?

It is like a beautiful spot

on the Emerald Isle.

Complete with Uranian leprechauns.

Now, me lad, a body shouldn't

make fun of the little people.

Am I right, Commander?

Or do city people like yourself

not believe in such matters?

Faith and begorra, we do.

Anyway, I'm not real city people...

I was raised in a small village in Scone.

Whitewashed houses and barns

with straw-thatched roofs.

And we had our own little people

at Christmas time, Barry.

The Yuletonte.

We used to put some rice pudding

out for them on Christmas Eve.

It was always gone the next morning.

There were two beautiful birch trees

right outside our house.

And I could see the old windmill

from my room.

And on Saint Lucia's Day,

the prettiest girl in the village...

would bring around her special little cakes.

I remember one girl. Her name was Ingrid.

She looked like a queen.

A goddess.

What's the matter?

Don, Barry, get your guns.

Svend, go back to the ship.

Tell Karl everything and stay on the ship.

Aye, sir.

We're going to pay that mirage a little visit.

This is my father's barn.

I thought you said it was an illusion.

That door should lead to the house.

Come on.

Ingrid!

Welcome, Eric.

Barry, take a look through

the rest of the house.

Don, stay here.

Yes, sir.

You are Ingrid?

I am Ingrid.

Where did you come from?

Here.

Who else lives here?

No one.

No one you don't wish to be here.

- Nobody.

- All right. Back to the ship.

- Wait a minute, sir.

- That's an order.

Yes, sir.

I'll be here, Eric...

when you want me.

Why the hasty retreat, sir?

It was just getting interesting.

Don't you realize what's going on?

- Ingrid?

- Yes.

Well!

Whoever thought her up

really knows his business.

We should have stayed, Eric.

At least we could have talked to her.

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