John Racham Read online

  "Eh? Swim? Yes, a bit. Not very good at it. Never had much time . . . eh? Oh! By God! See what you mean. Duck under and swim clear, eh? All right, it's the only way. Hot as hell in here. Be a relief to get in the open. Off you go, Christine. Get well clear, mind. There'll be a hell of an undertow when this thing goes under."

  But she hung back, staring at the water that lapped her, breast deep, and then at the two men. "I can't swim!" she wailed. "I can't!"

  "Get a grip on yourself!" her father shouted. "You can hold your breath, can't you? Duck under, can't you?"

  "I can't!" she screamed back at him. "I can't!"

  She was almost off balance. Query could guess her panic, could see her gasping fear. Her father lurched at her, putting out his hand, and she backed, toppled and went under with a shriek and splutter, to thrash her way to the surface and shriek again in terror. Evans splashed around to glower at Query in disgust.

  "What the hell are we going to do with her?"

  "You go on ahead, sir. Let me handle it. She'll be all right. I can swim well enough for both of us."

  The old man hung on uncertainly, glancing from one to the other. She backed away again, fearfully, lifting herself up in the water as if scared to go under again, her breasts heaving violently. There was no time now for delicacy. Query could swim, had been fond of the sport ever since he could remember, but no one was good enough to dive and get out through that hole with a struggling

  30 nonswimmer to cope with. There was only one way. He moved toward her gently, held out the alloy tube in one hand. "Here," he said quietly, "catch hold of this. It will help."

  She took it suspiciously, and he pulled her to him, then swung his right fist around and over in a hard glancing blow that bounced off her jaw and put her out instantly. Carrying on the movement, he caught her and crooked his arm about her shoulders to hold her up.

  "All right, sir," he said, as matter-of-factly as he could. "Away you go now. We'll be all right. I'll take care of it."

  Evans grunted. "Damn all females. Thought she was efficient! All right, here I go!" and he sucked in a huge breath and ducked under, heading for the hole, thrashing the water with more effort than achievement. Query waited, cradling the girl against his shoulder, part of his mind marveling at the persistent effort, the instinctive struggle against the inevitable. She was quite beautiful like this, relaxed and unconscious, without those hard superior expression lines. And those ridiculous spectacles were still tenaciously there. Time enough, he thought, and the water was lapping his chin, so he drew a deep breath and took aim for the ripples, slid under and struck out with one arm, the flow serving to guide him.

  The gap was narrow and angular, but big enough to let him slip through, turn, and hook her out after him; then up to the surface with strong kicks, dragging her by the tunic collar of her suit. Once clear of the water he shifted his grip, got his arm about her waist and hugged, suddenly, driving the breath out of her mouth and nose, just to make sure she didn't choke. Shifting his grip again he grabbed her collar once more, with the tube in the same fist, and began stroking away from the canopy bubble that loomed up in the water. In a moment he raised his voice.

  "Hello! Admiral Evans! Hello!"

  "Over here, Query. Can't see a damned thing in this green soup. Here. This way. All right?"

  Query struck out steadily, was soon able to see the white hair and pale face of the old man. "We're all right, so far." He bobbed up in the water, looking about. The mist was surprisingly clear just here, close to the water surface. "That looks like darker stuff, that way," he said. "We might as

  well make for it. Take it easy now, no hurry. Save your strength."

  "In a fix!" Evans blew hard as he swam alongside. "Lost our mark . . . when that thing . . . goes down . . . can't see it . .. floating . . . can you?"

  "Doubt it. All that metal, instruments, batteries. But the trapped air should hold it long enough for us to get clear."

  "What I mean. With that gone . . . nothing to fix on . . . hell of a job . . . search party . . . finding just the three of us. Mustn't get . . . too far!"

  "Let's get ashore, anyway." Query swam easily, almost enjoying himself. The darkness ahead might be shore, it didn't much matter. The air and water were just as hot as they had been inside, hotter, if anything, yet he felt easy, almost at home. The comedy wasn't over yet, seemingly. He spent a moment wondering where they were, until he realized the question meant nothing. There was no reference except Step Two. Nothing of the rest of the planet had been researched at all.

  "Take it easy, sir, don't rush," he advised, and left Evans to his hopes and dreams of rescue, while he cast his mind back over what he knew of the planet. It wasn't much, but it was all on record, and he had read it just from curiosity. There had been one advance research party long before the war, who had orbited awhile, measured temperatures and masses, taken probe samples of the atmosphere, and declared the planet absolutely impossible for exploration, settlement or anything else human, just a dot on a map, a curiosity. But the war had rearranged that. Logistics. The need for somewhere to break the immensely long hop between Draconis and Alkaid, a dump for fuel and spares, and patch up repairs. And GOC Evans, and his bulldozer techniques. It was all in the record as a shining example of how to overcome the impossible.

  Sling one enormous monitor tanker into orbit, her tanks full of fuel. Order four light cruisers to go down there, to jet down, tail first into the soup, and a bonus to the first one to scorch the murk down to bedrock. Bum a hole in the stuff, damnit! Do it again! Quarter the surface by numbers! There has got to be a solid surface down there somewhere! Find it! And, in time, they found it. And hung a marker above it. And then the ships went down, one

  32 after another, squandering fuel recklessly, spouting fire, hovering until their tanks were almost empty and coming back up for more, and again, and again. Until there was an area down there of more than a square mile that was blasted, cooked, fried and fused down to the virgin rock. Then it was time for the heavy gang to move in and down, to spray quick set concrete, and plastic, and more concrete, more plastic, in layers until they had a foundation. And then the bubble domes to start with, and living units, and bigger domes; and then the repair and maintenance systems, fuel dumps, spares, and men, and the beacon . . . and the base, finally. And then Earth had a second stepping-stone between Moon Base and Alkaid for the more efficient promotion of the war.

  One square mile on the whole of a planet surface that was virtually as big as Earth. The rest was dark mystery, totally unknown. Query swam on easily, trying to see some land of poetic justice about the fact that the man who had been responsible for burning that sore into the planet's bosom should now be about to die in the midst of its wilderness. But there was something wrong with that. His daughter never had anything to do with it. And Query himself, far from fearing or defying the place, had actually grown to like it. There was no justice in that, surely?

  He became aware of furtive movement against his arm, of weak struggle, and, too, of heavily 'labored breathing from his blind side. Evans panted, "Just about ... all in . . . Query! Can't. . . keep on . . . anymore!"

  "I told you to take it easy, didn't I? Hold it. Turn over on your back and float. Rest awhile. You'll be all right!" He rolled over himself and drew the girl close, passing his free arm under hers and holding her to him as she started to moan and struggle.

  "You hold still, too," he ordered, close to her ear. "You've been all right up to now. No trouble, and you're quite safe, see? Understand?"

  "Yes. I'll try. What do I do?"

  "Nothing at all, for the moment. Just lie flat and easy. Not stiff. Easy, as if you were in bed. That's right; good!"

  He smiled reassuringly down at her pale face in the water, and she tried to smile back at him.

  "Admiral! Work your way over this way a bit. Right,

  33 that's fine. Now, roll over again and float. Put your hands back under your head and feel this—the end of the pole-righ
t? Hold on. Now you do it." He smiled at the girl again. "That's right. Feel the pole? Right, now you are quite safe. Your father's on the other end, and I'm in the middle, holding it up. Just relax, both of you."

  He ducked under the pole to get himself pointed right, and used the moment to bob up high out of the water and look ahead. Distant but distinct, he saw dark columnar boles and uprights. Trees. So they were, after all, headed the right way. For what difference it made. As he sank down again his feet touched a sandy bottom.

  I wonder how long that's been there? he thought. I could have walked it, maybe. But not the others, he amended quickly. He was a good three inches taller than Evans, and his chin was barely clear. Never mind, he dismissed it. It makes it a trifle easier, that's all.

  He started to wade-walk, leaning into the water. Perhaps his vision had adapted considerably, but he felt he could see fugitive lights, veiy faintly, ahead. Possibly, or it could be the first insidious symptoms of death by poisoning. Or whatever it was that this air would do to an unprotected person. He pondered on that as he walked on. How soon would death come, and in what form? Death he could face readily, but dying was another matter, and it could be painful. But his information was scanty. That original research team had taken some samples of the atmosphere, enough to be able to say that it was literally swarming with bacteria, spores, microlife of every imaginable kind. It attacked and ate, voraciously, anything and everything they tried it on, except that one particular plastic. Query had done a few tests of his own, and could verify that. Chunks of rubber, odd bits of highly polished chrome steel and various alloys. Even glass. All rotted and crumbled before the hungry air. And it wasn't just corrosion, for a strong dose of ultraviolet was enough to destroy the effect. So it was life. Living spores.

  He imagined them, by the uncountable million, passing in and out of his lungs right now, mingling with his sweat, nibbling at the soft lining of his mouth and throat, and felt a shudder of distaste. That would be a hideous way to go. Eaten alive! Forcing himself to be objective, he had to admit he couldn't feel anything yet. But that was not significant.

  Human tests, understandably, hadn't been done. But he did know of one case of two men, who, by accident and carelessness, had stepped out into the open, bent on an external welding job, with their helmets improperly set. Only for a minute or two. Someone else had spotted it and sent them back inside, fast. And those two men, anxiously watched by their fellows, had been fit and healthy for twenty-four hours, and then they had gone down with acute bellyache, vomiting, cramps and bloody discharge, to be prostrate and weak for several days, and then, by degrees, to get well again. And that after only a breath or two. He shivered again at the thought.

  The water grew steadily and slowly shallower now, and he felt his feet stirring up mud. He was on the point of suggesting that his floating burden might just as well roll over and try walking it, when he felt the water about him tremble, and from far away there came a sudden, massive, slurping sound, a bursting, a huge wet explosion that echoed across the oily water.

  "What the hell was that?" Evans grunted.

  "The last of our derelict ship," Query answered, but his gaze was ahead and suddenly intent in amazement, for it was as if the sound wave, rushing on past him, had struck a vast hillside there and set it afire with washes of faint color, muted tinges of rainbow light. He was still staring, watching the miracle fade and die, when, out of the same enigmatic loom of land came a gargantuan sound, a monstrous gargling screech that shook the air and made his spine run chill And the entire slope of land flared up in a glorious blaze of every color imaginablel

  "What the hell was that?" Evans demanded, in a totally different tone of voice, as his daughter gave a terrified wail and started thrashing in the water. Query stared breathlessly, heedless of her struggles, as the wonderful rainbow shivered and faded away.

  "That," he breathed, "was one of the local inhabitants, raising objections to our intrusion. Powerful objections!"

  "IT WAS A MONSTER!" Lieutenant Evans babbled, clutching at him so that he had to thrust her off roughly. "We'll all be killed!"

  "Hold on!" he snapped. "Get your feet on the bottom. It's not deep. You too, sir. It's shallow enough for wading. We're almost inshore."

  "What was it?" She clutched at his arm.

  "How should I know?"

  "Get a grip on yourself, Christine!" her father yapped, getting his feet down solid and peering ahead. "This is no time to go to pieces. We're not dead yet. Come on!" He started wading. "Damn this light. Can't see more than a yard or two. Need landmarks of some kind, damnit Better not get too far before daylight. Don't want to get lost. Can you see anything, Sergeant?"

  We'reback to that, are we? Query thought, and said, "No, not a thing, apart from some trees. I think they are trees, that is. That's no help. I haven't a clue where we arel"

  "That's no way to look at it, man! Keep your chin up! Did a first class job back there. Saved our lives! First class. Resourceful! Can't give up now, damnit! We need you, your experience. You know the planet, the local conditions, stuff like that. All in this together nowl"

  They waded on in sweating silence and the mud grew deeper as the water shallowed, was no more than waist deep, and the dark columns of soaring trees came slowly closer in the gloom. Not quite gloom, Query thought It was a strange light, with a curious luminosity of its own, and deceptive, so that sometimes one had the illusion of seeing a long way, and the next minute it was as if a blue green curtain hung there just beyond the nose. All at once Lieutenant Evans gave a weary wail.

  "I'm tired! How much further?"

  "Chin up, my dear. Keep on. Can't be much more of this. Soon's we're out and dry, get a little breather, take our bearings, you'll feel a lot better. Not long, now."

  "But I can't seel" she complained drearily. "It's all dark!"

  Query turned to peer at her in the gloom. The greenish glow made her skin show dead white and lost the black of her uniform altogether, so that she was just the face and bust of a woman seemingly floating in mid-air. He stooped to peer closer, and said, "You could try taking off your spectacles."

  She raised her hand to grasp them, to lift them away, and the stem came off in her hand, the rest of it falling in pieces to splash into the dark water. "They're, broken!" She held out the ear hook stem, and he took it from her, feeling the fragility of it even as his fingers touched it.

  "Optical plastic," he murmured, "most probably vitreous carbon. And not broken, not as you mean it. Rotted. Eaten away." He held the stem to let Evans see, and rolled it in his fingers. The stuff crumbled and fell in damp flakes. "It's the effect of the atmosphere."

  "Hah!" the old man barked. "I remember that. When we were putting the base down. Technical section tested it out. Biological activity. Only one thing proof against it. Special plastic. Right?"

  "That's right, sir. Any time we have to go outside the Domes, and that's not often, we have to wear special protective suits made of that stuff. The Domes are made of it. Any time we have to make external ship repairs we mount a battery of ultraviolet floodlights. It's the only way. This stuff eats anything."

  "Anything?"

  ■"That's right, sir."

  They slopped on in silence for a while, until they came at last to a huge blue black tree trunk that stood up out of the water and towered away up into the mist overhead. The water was only knee-deep now, and not water any longer but hot squishy mud. Query pressed his palm to the trunk as they went by. It had a rubbery feel; it was the very first time he had ever felt one with his bare hand. Their feet made glutinous sucking sounds as they plodded on.

  "Sergeant Query?"

  "Sir?"

  "We're in a worse fix than I thought." "Yes, sir."

  "You say this atmosphere eats anything? Including us?"

  "I suppose. As far as I know, nobody ever stayed out in it long enough to find out!"

  "I suppose not. Hmm!" Evans slurped on, scowling into the gloom. "But that can't be right, da
mnit! I feel fine! Wet and weary, yes. Stinking hot. Bruised. Smothered in this blasted mud. Getting a bit peckish, too. But fine, otherwise. Not sick!"

  "No, sir. For what it's worth, I feel all right, too." Query took in a deep breath of the steamy, hot air, thick with unidentifiable smells, and said it again. "I feel all right!"

  And then he froze into petrified stillness as that monstrous screech came again, only a lot closer now, and enormous, like a vast cavern of echoing noise, shaking the moist air with its fury. Lieutenant Evans hurled herself at him, clutching, frantically trying to burrow right into him, almost knocking him over. He put an arm around her, grasped his pole, and stared over her head, past the bole of a tree. From over there, a lot too close to be happy about it, came a sudden and growing barrage of wet, slapping, splash-plop impacts like huge boulders falling into the mud, but too regular to be anything like that. A galloping army?

  "Good God, would you look at that!" Evans breathed, as the glowing miracle of the lanterns was repeated; a great wash of blue and green and scarlet lights spread out, like noise made visible. And there, at the heart and origin of the noise-color and making more, came a monstrous creature that sent his mind spinning for appropriate terms. At the front end was an enormous, slobbering wet, toothless gape of a mouth, and trailing it came a lumpy, round, wormlike body, spotted with peacock eyes all the way along its vast barrel girth. And under each "eye" stood a crooked leg with a flat and flipperlike foot on the end. The legs moved and slapped the mud like some set of crooked oars in a fiendish goblin galleon, slurping the gross body steadily along at a fair speed. Query could actually see the sluggish bow wave of mud being thrown up by its passage.

  Accurate estimate was out of the question in the circumstances, but the blaze of witch fire made it possible for him to guess that the thing had to be at least ten feet

  thick, or through, or high, and certainly something like seventy or eighty feet long. And if those spots along its flanks were eyes, then it couldn't see very well, only when it made a noise and so lit up the magic of the surrounding vegetation. And then only if it was something moving. And the lights! After that first petrifying moment, he felt only intense curiosity. Lights and noise interlinked, that was obvious. For now that the splattering barrage of sound was passing, going away as the monstrous creature headed for the water, the panoply of burning color was fading, dwindling away in the inrushing silence, closing in like the echoes of the uproar. Even this tree where they stood had taken on a faint red glow as if it had been infused with inner heat. His mind itched to follow up the speculation about ecological balance and survival factors. Noise and visibility. You could move silently and blind, or noisily and see—and be seen, too! Which was best, presumably, would depend on what you were, predator or prey. Then, as the last faint glows dwindled, he saw, or fancied he saw, furtive pale shapes standing well back in the painted undergrowth. They were gone like shadows before he could be sure.