Echoing his words, Pink heard the first throbbing murmur of the activated piles. He looked without conscious volition at Circe, and they exchanged smiles of vast relief.
“You’ll be popping out that air-lock sooner than I’d hoped,” said Pink to the giant. Then he was startled by a great peal of harsh laughter.
“Oh, you pigmy!” shouted the alien. “You flea-brained besotted fool! Your ship is out of control even now, and your hours are numbered on one hand. You’ve lost, and haven’t the brains to see why!”
And, thought Pink, listening to the mirthless laugh while a chill sought out his belly, the monster’s words did not sound remotely like a bluff.
He knew something hidden from the captain, and even in his captivity he felt himself master of the Elephant’s Child.
Why? Why? Why?
Then Pink turned and looked at Circe.
CHAPTER XIV
Pink woke from a sweating nightmare. He rolled over and his bandaged ribs creaked with a twinge. He had slept nearly a round of the clock; the other ships must be nearing the asteroids. He got up and dressed quickly, wondering who was watching Circe now, holding the revolver on her, praying that if she should change form, the old-fashioned gun would paralyze her as it had the giant.
The giant. He had to check on that devil immediately. He called his quarters on the intercom, and Lieutenant Daley’s image waved at him reassuringly. The monstrous entity had not moved; its eyes still gleamed with malevolence.
“Your hours are numbered on one hand,” said Pinkham to himself. “How many fingers on that mitt, I wonder?”
And even yet he did not believe the thing had been bluffing.
He ate a brisk breakfast in the mess hall, then stalked off to his own room, trying to analyze what he now knew of the giants’ nature; but Circe’s face intruded in his mind. He was in love with her. If she were an alien, then he was in love with the remarkable illusion she had created, of beauty and something more: of a deep integrity of soul that shone in her eyes and touched every word she uttered. And if that were an illusion, then he was a cynic and quite likely a positive misanthrope from this day forward.
“Get a slug of coffee,” he told Daley. “Then hare back and we’ll have some brandy. It looks like a busy day.” Daley went out, giving him the Colt as he left.
Sparks reported the Cottabus and Diogenes had joined their routes and would be alongside within half an hour. Pink sat down and looked at Circe, asleep on the couch. He switched his gaze after a while to the enemy, who watched him steadily. It said, “A favor, Captain.”
“No,” he told it.
“Only a sip, a drop of brandy to wet these cold lips!”
“Cold lips, cold heart: old proverb.” For the first time in his life, Pinkham wanted to torture someone. “You bastard,” he said grimly, “you murdered eleven men, eleven good officers, and spoiled Kinkare’s face for him. And you want a drink of brandy.”
“Rubbing alcohol, then. Only a touch on my mouth. Drop it in my eye if you wish,” said the thing pitifully.
“No—hey, wait a second. You told me your breed doesn’t eat or drink. You don’t need any outside element. Why the alcohol?”
It heaved what was possibly a sigh. “I can absorb certain portions of the carbon atoms of al-kuhl,” it said. “It is the greatest pleasure known to my race. And, save for the paltry drops of gin in that bottle yesterday, I have not—let us say ‘tasted’—it for some hundreds of years!”
“Al-kuhl?” repeated Pinkham.
“The Arabic slips easily from my tongue after all those years,” said the thing, half to itself.
Arabic! “You weren’t lying,” said Pink, “when you told us you came from Earth, then.”
“I was not lying. Give me some alcohol, Captain.”
“No. How do I know it won’t revive you?”
“My word on it.”
Pink gave the hardest and briefest bark of laughter ever heard on the spaceways. It became silent. Finally he leaned forward to stare at it. “Your eyes have faded,” he said. “By God, I think you aren’t paralyzed. I think you’re dying!”
After another silence it said, “Yes. I am dying.”
“I couldn’t be happier,” said Pinkham viciously. “I even hope it’s painful.”
“It is not. The only pain came with the passage through my molecules of the l—” it halted abruptly.
“Ah,” said Pink, hefting the Colt. “Of the lead. It had to be that, of course; but thanks for reassuring me. Your tribe’s allergic to lead in a rather high degree.”
* * * *
The flames leaped in its eyes. “I haven’t told you anything so valuable,” it said, with a kind of weak bravado. “There are too many of us, too few of you, and not enough lead in this whole system to conquer us. You have found the secret, but you’ll never carry it back to Earth. My people shall go there instead, when they have sucked the methods from your broken body.”
“When will you die?” he asked it. In spite of his hatred, humanity was rising in him. It was beaten and he was too much of a man to crow for long.
“I hear remorse in your tone,” said the alien. “For the love of God, then, give me some alcohol.”
He remembered the headless corpse of Wright. He said, “No.”
Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed. It began to talk to itself in a monotone, a sort of feverish delirium.
“I never thought of it, at least not often, for I steered my mind away from it; but once a decade or every thirty years I would remember, perhaps one of us would say, ‘Oh, to have a flagon of palm wine,’ and then the agony of desire would wrack me until I must fight my body and tear it proton from proton so that I hurt badly and the remembrance would leave me. Al-kuhl, al-kuhl! Why in all the universe must there be this one combination of stupid elements which drags every fleck of yearning from me like water wrung from a cloth? My race needs nothing, nothing—we long for nothing—we are the only self-sufficient beings in creation—why do we remember the al-kuhl?”
“Like a keef-smoker,” said Pinkham quietly. “You don’t long for anything else.” After a little he added, “And you fear nothing save lead.”
“True,” said the being distractedly. “If it were not for lead and alcohol we would be perfect gods.”
“Who are you?” Pink asked, conscious that his throat was constricted with excitement. “When did you leave Earth? Why don’t I recognize you, out of history? What are you called?”
He had tried too hard. The alien rolled its dimmed eyes at him. “I wish I could smile now,” it said through motionless lips. “Ah, if I could only smile knowingly! You will die today with that curiosity unslaked.”
He was balefully angry at that; he leaped to his feet, thrusting out the revolver. “If I throw another slug into you, it just might hurt some more,” he roared.
“I would rather die in pain than see your questions answered. I know well that curiosity is the worst torment to an Englishman.”
“I’m not English,” said Pink.
“It’s all the same. I might as well have said ‘human.’”
Pink recalled that he had the Colt, and so could take a few chances. “I’ll trade you. One drop of brandy for each answer.”
It considered. Then, without budging, it gave the effect of a shrug. “Why not? You’ll be dead soon.”
“You’re so sure,” said Pink.
“Look at your scanner.”
There was something in the words that sent Pink racing. He was only just in time to see the finish of all his new-born hopes.
The Cottabus and Diogenes were approaching at a slowing pace; the Elephant’s Child had deactivated her drive to wait for them. Whether the captains of the sister ships saw them or not, Pink could not tell; but a number of the space giants, so reduced in size as to be mere blots on the screen, hovered in the area.
As the ships gradually lost speed, a giant appeared atop each, growing rapidly from eight feet to a thousand, till they straddled
the great ships like riders on Shetland ponies.
The thing on the floor chuckled. “We are much more comfortable at that size, you see, Captain. We don’t like to cramp our molecular structure into these puny dimensions. We can get into bottles—but we prefer to expand as you see.” Then it laughed. “Yes, there is one of us on your own flagship at this instant, where he has been waiting, compressed, till the others caught their seats. Your ships are captured as surely as in a net. You cannot dislodge them, as you know. You must carry them to Earth so, or capitulate and let them inside.”
There was no scrap of fear that he would carry these devils to Earth, naturally. But for the moment, Pink could see no sure way to escape the doom that now lay over him and all his men. They would have to remain in this asteroid belt ... perhaps forever.
CHAPTER XV
The three spaceships lay together in the void.
In the Elephant’s Child, 57 men, seven officers, and Circe Smith were seated in the demolished recreation room, which was the only place besides the mess hall with enough chairs to accommodate them all. Radio communication with the other ships was handled over an extension set connected to the main radio room by a triple quancord laid down with furious energy by Sparks.
“What we need, and need fast, is this,” said Pinkham. “A method by which we can project lead, in pellets or spray or any damn form, with accuracy, using our platinum guns. There aren’t any other weapons that will fire from within.”
“As you know, we’ve tried a few methods. One of the gunners of the Cottabus went into an air-lock and tossed a lead ball at the giant on the Diogenes, using a sling-gun. He found the range was too long; and when the captain attempted to bring the Cottabus nearer, the thing on Diogenes simply reared his ship up by shifting his weight backward. So long as they can maneuver our ships as easily as toy boats, we can’t use that simple method.
“Then Diogenes tried to smash our giant off his perch by simply ramming him headlong. Take a look at the screen and you’ll see that Diogenes has a dented nose for her pains. Five men died in that try.”
“Captain,” said a hydroponics engineer, “isn’t it possible that, if we keep trying to oppose these aliens, they may simply tear their way into the ships and retaliate?”
“Quite possible. Their strength is equal to picking the Elephant’s Child apart, I’m sure.” He glared at the men. “Listen: I don’t have to pull punches with you. The chances of our getting rid of these giants and making it to Earth are damned remote. There may be a chance, though, so we have to keep trying for it.
“The most important thing we have to do is keep this life-form of the asteroids from going to Earth. We of the armada are a terrible danger to mankind, through no fault of ours. We’re so many Typhoid Marys, potential carriers of something worse than any disease. Even if we’re all killed, the giants might manage to learn the control of the ships, and take them to Terra alone.
“So if we can’t wipe out the enemy, our only course is to destroy ourselves and our ships. Every officer in the armada has instructions to blow up his ship if the giants should break into it. The thing is so important that I’ve issued orders to do that even though the use of lead-thrower weapons might conquer the invaders.
“If giants seize a ship and it is not destroyed within five minutes, the other two will turn their platinum guns on it.
“Any questions?”
Jackson, who was spokesman for the crew, answered promptly, “No questions, sir.”
“Okay. Now let’s have the technicians’ report.”
A lean, angular man rose. “I’ve checked all the books, Captain. There is no way to substitute a charge of lead for the war-head in the curium shells.”
There was a stillness. “You mean we can’t shoot lead at the giants except with the few handguns in my possession,” said Pink heavily.
“That’s right, Captain.”
“The giants are too alert to be caught that way,” said Bill Calico. “I have an idea—not much of a one, but it’s a try.”
“Let’s have it.”
Jerry waved a hand. “Please remove O. O. Smith first.”
Circe flared, “I think you’re just afraid I’ll get your job, you incompetent—”
“Take her out,” said Pink to Joe Silver.
Calico then outlined his plan. Pinkham said at once, “I’ll relay it to the other ships. We’ll try it immediately.” They all nodded agreement. Pink bent over the radio; he gave the co-captains instructions in an ancient language which they all knew, but which he felt sure would baffle any eavesdropping giants—an old, old tongue known as Pig Latin.
The officers and men scattered to their stations. Pink and Jerry took Circe to the captain’s quarters, where Pink took his seat for the plan’s direction, Jerry holding the Colt on Circe and the dying giant.
The space drives of the three ships were activated, and in side-by-side formation they moved slowly forward, as Pink watched keenly for a sign of objection from the gigantic “jockeys” atop them. None so far ... probably they thought Pink was under the instructions of their brother inside. Five minutes went by. Eight. Fifteen.
The largest asteroid in this part of the belt appeared ahead; it was roughly fourteen miles in diameter. The ships dipped their noses as if to pass well under it. They drew very close. Pink bent to his speaker and bellowed, “Now!”
* * * *
As one, the auxiliary jets of each ship roared into life. Cottabus and Diogenes leaped out beside their flagship, and like three hotshot pilots buzzing an airdrome, the captains took the enormous spacecraft hurtling for the surface of the asteroid. Passing beneath it—or, thought Pink irrelevantly, while every nerve and sinew concentrated on the dangerous task, perhaps they were flying over it upside down—they brought their years of training and experience to bear on the problem of missing that knobbed gray surface by the smallest margin possible. Diogenes actually scraped her superstructure, with a noise that made every hair on her captain’s neck stand upright; the others missed the planetoid by no more than a foot or two. Then they were clear and again in the void.
According to orders, they slowed at a distance of four hundred miles, and eagerly scanned one another in their viewscreens for signs of the giants.
Pink gave a loud shout of relief, and took a second to realize that his co-captains had each groaned....
The riders on Cottabus and Diogenes had vanished, and were undoubtedly back there by the asteroid, reconstituting their bashed-up bodies angrily. But Pink now heard, with a sinking heart, that his giant was still with him. It had leaned backward from the knees, lying flat on the hull which it had gripped with legs and arms. Somehow it had grasped Pink’s plan in time to prepare itself. The asteroid had flattened its face and chest like a plane smoothing wood, and it was now forming itself anew, with, so they told Pink, a truly malicious scowl on its reformed lips.
Jerry was standing with a hand on Pink’s shoulder; he had forgotten Circe in the tenseness of the bid for freedom. She came up on the other side and put her own hand on the captain’s other shoulder. He was startled, and realizing that she could have killed or captured them both, had she wished, chalked up another doubt in his mind against the theory of her alienness.
“Please come outside,” she said urgently. “I want to suggest something to you.”
He rose at once and followed her to the door, while Jerry frowned and the dying giant watched him out of faded red eyes. In the hall, she said, “You’re almost licked, Captain. It’s time for desperation measures.” Pink laughed, but before he could ask her what the hell they had been trying, she hurried on. “Find out where the home of these monsters is; it must be an asteroid. Then go there. Land and get out with your guns. They will think our friend in there brought us to them—and you’ll have the advantage of surprise. You have about a dozen firearms that will take lead bullets. That’s enough for twelve of us. I think we’d stand a chance of success.”
“And if they murder us all? What ab
out the ship?”
She said, “Leave orders to blow it up if we fail.”
Pink scratched his jaw. The girl had something, or the nucleus of something, there. He saw other possibilities in it—it was tantamount to suicide, but there was nothing else left to try. He said, “If we live through this, Circe, I’ll see you make lieutenant!”
“I’d rather make ... well, never mind.” She turned to go into the room. He wondered if she had had Joe Silver in mind.
CHAPTER XVI
He said to the alien, “Where’s your home planetoid?”
“Why?” it asked, mockery still in its weak voice.
“I’m capitulating. I want to make a deal with your people.”
It said, “Ah, the human has sense after all. Our home is the largest of the asteroids, as you call them. The one you said at supper last night had a diameter of 440 miles. We call it Oasis—and a poor one it is, when we remember Earth.”
Jerry said, astounded, “What?” His narrow face worked with surprise.
“Shut up, Jerry.” Pink still had things to find out. “Can you tell your race, telepathically, what we’re doing? I don’t want them to lose patience and tear up the hull. We have a very angry gent atop us.”
“It’s the girl,” snarled Jerry, before the alien could answer. “She’s got you fooled like a—like a—good Lord, Pink, are you so crazy about her you can’t see she’s been waiting to put this idea in your head all this time?”
“Jerry,” he said through his teeth, “shut your damn mouth. I’m captain of the Elephant’s Child.”
Jerry was aiming the Colt at him; accidentally, Pink hoped. Then the O. O. said, “If I have to blow out your guts to save us, Pink, I will.” His tortured features writhed with pain. “Oh, hell, boy, wake up!”
“Give me one more minute, before you fly off the handle and make an ass of yourself—and a mess of me.” Pink had to have that minute. It was so vital he couldn’t save himself from the angered Jerry with the one phrase that would explain everything. “Jerry, one lousy minute.”
The 53rd Golden Age of Science Fiction MEGAPACK; Geoff St. Reynard Page 40