The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell ssr-10

by Harry Harrison

  “Highly interesting,” I said, dazed by her logic. “But how did it get to build the first one in the first place—and how does it build a pyramid from the inside?”

  “You can’t expect me to know everything,” she said, with impeccable logic. “Let’s get back to the path.”

  “Let’s not quite yet,” I said pointing. “Isn’t that something following the path and moving towards us?”

  “Some things not a thing.”

  “You’re right. Any reason we shouldn’t stay out of sight until we see what they are?”

  She nodded and we stepped into the shadow of the largest pyramid where we might see and possibly not be seen. Angelina cocked her head, then pressed her ear to the side of the pyramid. “Listen,” she said. “Isn’t there a kind of crunching sound coming from inside?”

  “Please, not now. Possibly later. One alien mystery at a time if you don’t mind.”

  The marching file of creatures was surely mystery enough. There were eleven of them and they were roughly man—size. But the resemblance ended right there. A fringe of legs or tentacles or something twitched quickly against the ground and carried each creature along. These moving parts supported a solid trunk the color and texture of tree bark—it could be a tree trunk for all we knew. A single stalk, very much like the one on the creature that had tried to eat me, emerged from the top of the trunk with what looked like a bulbous eye at the end. The eyes bobbed and looked about, apparently not seeing us pyramid lurking in the shadow.

  They shuffled by in silence, stirring up a quickly settling cloud of dust, climbed over the rim and vanished down the ridge on the other side.

  “Now will you listen to the pyramid?” Angelina asked.

  “Yes, of course, sure.” I listened and perhaps I did hear a distant crunching. “I can hear something…”

  “They’re coming back,” she said.

  And so they were. Whether it was the same bunch or a different lot it was of course impossible to tell. Different ones, surely, because in the brief time they had been out of sight they had changed completely. The ribbed trunks had become globeshaped and transparent, expanded from within so the ribbing now formed irregular stripes on the surface.

  “They’re filled with water,” Angelina said, and I nodded dumb agreement.

  “Possibly, possibly,’ I muttered.

  “They march out of the desert and fill with water from a spring or from the ocean. Then march back with it. Why?”

  “There is only way to find out—follow them.”

  Perhaps it was not wise. Possibly dangerous. But there were too many curious and unsolvable puzzles on this planet. We both had the desire to see if we might possibly solve at least one of these. When they were out of sight we followed them down the path.

  Nor did we have far to go. The path led to a row of large boulders and vanished between two of them.

  “Suspicious,” I said. “Those rocks have been placed there.”

  ~’It could be a natural formation.”

  “It could, but the problem is the same. Do we stay out—or go in to investigate. And you will recall what happened the last time I got nosy..

  “Behind you!”

  I took one look and jumped aside. Another string of water carriers was approaching—and they were almost upon us. We stood by the path tense and ready to fight.

  And while they were aware of us, our presence was completely ignored. The string shuffled on by in silence, each eye focusing on us in turn as they passed.

  “They don’t seem too interested in us,” I said.

  “Well I’m interested in them. Let’s go.”

  We did. Slipping between the large boulders, then following the path between a second row to walk inside a circular, rock—girt area. Where we stopped—and did our best not to gape and bulge our eyes as though we had a joint IQ about that of body temperature.

  It was so alien that it was hard to make out just what was happening here. One thing at least was certain—we knew where the water was going. The creatures we had been following wandered through a green labyrinth spraying water and shrinking their bodies at the same time. When this was finished, one walked away from the growth, then another and another. They milled about in a little group until, with sudden decision—or obeying some unseen signal—a line formed and they shuffled through the exit and were gone.

  We walked closer to the confused growth, stopped when we saw movement under the broad, leaflike structures. In the semidarkness, spiderlike creatures were climbing about, apparently tending the growth. Fragments of green fell down to the ground where other creatures cleaned them up. Another dropped down on the end of a cord or tentacle clutching something red.

  “Very much like that fruit you got your neck squeezed for,” Angelina said.

  “Could be, could be—and look where it’s going.”

  A tall opening in the rock led to some kind of cavern beyond. I bent to try and look inside when there was a light pulling at my leg, a feathery touch.

  “What is that?” Angelina asked.

  As always on this world there was no easy answer. It was like a soft bundle of sticks, or a complex insect made of twigs. Whatever it was it was plucking at my trouser leg. Then it stopped and shuffled towards the cave. Stopped and waited. Then returned and rustled the fabric once again.

  “It’s trying to communicate,” I said. “I think it wants me to follow it. Well—why not?”

  “No arguments. We’ve come this far.”

  When we started forward it scurried ahead. Stopped and waited, then moved ahead again. Sunshine filtered through the mouth of the cave, more than enough to see the sprouting creature that sprawled inside.

  That was the only way to describe it. It was covered with complex structures that were apparently growing from its green hide. Some I recognized; there was the top half of a water carrier. Another was a bristle of growths bundled together like our guide. And there were others that were totally incomprehensible. Then one of the working creatures hurried by with a red globe which it dropped into an opening in the thing’s side.

  “It’s looking at us,” Angelina said, pointing. A group of whip—like tentacles, each ending in a bulging eye, had turned towards us.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello,” it boomed out in return.

  Chapter 13

  “Talking—or mimicking” Angelina said. “Talking—talking—talking.” Which wasn’t much of an answer. The eye—stalks still swayed in our direction—as did another organ or mushrooming growth that started to form under the eyes. It began as a swelling, then opened up into a sort of trumpet—shaped flower. This moved back and forth as though searching for something, then turned and pOinted directly at me. I stepped backColor, sound. movement, terror. Pain and red sounds, sharp memories. A scream… a shout… Then it ended and I realized that the person shouting was me. Hands on my arms, I blinked my eyes clear, saw that Angelina was holding on to me.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I… don’t know. What did you see?”

  “You closed your eyes and, well, just dropped to the ground. Then you just sort of scrunched up, shouting and twisting. It only lasted a moment.”

  “That thing, I said, my breathing rough. “It was in my brain, trying to communicate or something. Big and strong—”

  “Did it try to hurt you?”

  “Not at all, quite the opposite. There was curiosity there but I had no sensation of threat or menace. Whatever it wanted it, well, didn’t find. It just pulled out. Perhaps I’m not in its intellectual league.”

  While . 1 was talking the flower growth closed and disappeared. Next to it the water—carrier that had been growing larger stopped and began a sort of twisting motion. Then, with a plopping sound, it pulled free of the surface. Jumped to the ground and hurried away.

  “It’s the queen thing.” Angelina said. “Growing parts of the colony.”

  “Or maybe it is the colony.”

  Aft
er that one attempt to communicate the creature never tried again. The eyes were withdrawn as though it had lost all interest. But it knew we were there because one of the leg creatures came hurrying into the cave with two of the red fruit we had seen growing outside. It plopped one into an opening in the giant creature’s hide—then dropped then other one in front of us before rushing outside again.

  “Thanks, Queenie,” I said. “Very kind of you. Is it chow time? Looks like the one we ate before—and our friend here just ate one. Shall we give it a try?” I squatted down to look more closely at it. I prodded it with my finger and it split open. I licked the juice from my hand. “Tastes very much like the other one we had to fight for.”

  “Why not? If that murderous thing in the clearing is offering tempting goodies I suppose they must be edible. Give me a piece, if you please.”

  We finished it between us. Then, feeling very much ignored, we went back out of the cave into the alien garden.

  “What about another One?” I asked.

  “You’re on.”

  None of the scurrying creatures came near us—nor took any notice when I reached up high and plucked another red fruit. We sat comfortably against the rock wall and ate it. It was very pulpy and liquid, food and drink at the same time.

  “Now what?” Angelina asked, licking the last drop of juice from her fingers.

  “A good question. And I suggest that we sleep on it.”

  “One of us at a time though. I still don’t trust this queen—of—the—hive creature.”

  “Then we’ll get out of here, find a secluded spot away from the path. We can always come back when we get hungry.”

  Angelina yawned gracefully. “You are on, husband mine. It certainly has been a long day.”

  We did this for two of the short days and nights. Sleeping, then going back for more fruit, mulling over our options, very limited indeed, and trying to figure out just what we should do next. With great effort at cogitation, we managed to never reach any important conclusions. Then we would sleep and start the whole process over again. On the third daylet Angelina came up with an observation that finally forced us to make a decision. She had been on this exotic world longer than I had—and had gone much longer without a decent meal.

  “You are losing weight, Jim. And so am I.” Which was true, but I just did not want to mention it to her. “The fruit is filling all right—but do you notice how quickly you get hungry again after eating?”

  “I have been thinking about it, wondering really.”

  “Stop wondering. Water is water, hydrogen and oxygen. Since we don’t get thirsty we must have been getting enough to drink from the fruit. But the food is a different matter. Who knows what kind of elements and molecules make up this fruit. I don’t think we are ingesting any nourishment at all. If we stay here and keep on eating this stuff—we are just going to curl up and die of starvation in the end.”

  I sighed unhappily. “I’m forced to agree. The idea was tickling at my brain but I thought I was being stupid. It’s been sort of fun here in a completely alien way. Back to Glass land?”

  “Nothing else to do. And you have strange tastes if you think our stay here was fun. I say back to civilization and some good food and a hot bath. Let’s head for that clearing where we arrived. We’ll see if anyone has found your message yet.”

  I waved as we left. “Bye. Thanks for the hospitality.” Of course there was no response. We went down the hill, skirted the killer angler, and swam back to the mainland.

  “Onward—to the glass forest,” I said, trying to be as cheerful as I could. “Coypu will have the machine analyzed by now and will quickly build one of his own. Which he will then use to track us down and rescue us. We’ll be settling down to a steak dinner before you know it.”

  After three more of the local days had gone by I wanted to eat those words—since there was nothing else to eat on this world of Glass. My wallet was just where I had left it, my glass arrow and message undisturbed. I ground the crystal fragments to smithereens, growling darkly.

  After that—it was just waiting. The crystal glade in the forest remained empty. No one came, nothing happened at all. We stayed there, making only the briefest of forays back to the ocean to drink. Time dragged by so sluggishly that we felt we were making about the same progress as the crystalline carnivore. It was catching up on its fleeing prey, but so slowly, slowly. Another night fell and was followed by another sunny day. And another. I took a second notch in my belt and tried to ignore the growing thinness of Angelina’s face. By the fifth day I began to worry.

  “There must be something else we can do,” I complained.

  “I don’t see what. You’re the one who told me that all we had to do was wait. You must be patient.”

  “I’m not!”

  “You never were. But you must make the effort or you will worry yourself into an ulcer.”

  “I would rather drink myself into an ulcer!” The thought of strong spirits and cold beer got my spittle flowing. I spat into the forest and watched a stem of grass dissolve. Good thing it never rained here.

  I awoke with the sun on the morning of our sixth day of waiting, watching its green—striped disk shining through the multicolored foliage. It was no longer exciting to look at, nor did I wonder anymore what made the stripes. Angelina was pale and drawn, moaning under her breath as she slept. I didn’t want to wake her; sleep was our only escape from hunger. And the endless waiting. I walked down the path a bit and looked out over the ocean. The waves surged turgidly against the cliffs; nothing else moved. Depression struggled onto the back of depression. I sighed mightily and went back to the clearing.

  When Angelina did wake up we talked a bit. I was thirsty but she wasn’t, so I walked down to the beach to drink. There was nothing that we could carry water in. Therefore we took turns drinking so that someone would always be in the clearing. Waiting.

  The walk was tiring—but it had to be done. I drank my fill, then a little more. Filling the stomach helped for awhile with the hunger. The walk back, uphill part of the way, was particularly exhausting. And I had to walk slowly or I would have an oxygen jag.

  “Home is the drinker, home from the sea!” I called out. A feeble attempt at humor. “Hello!”

  Maybe she was asleep again. I shut up but walked faster. Stopped. Frozen. The cleared area was empty. “Angelina!”

  This was the blackest of blackest moments that I had ever experienced. If Coypu had his machine working—he could have saved her. That had to be it. Coypu had done this, not Slakey. Could that be it? But Coypu was an unknown. If the marines had grabbed a machine, and if it were intact, and if Coypu had built a machine An awful lot of ifs. But Slakey had plenty of machines and knew that we were here. He could have returned and seized Angelina and left me here to starve quietly. Was it Slakey who got here first and grabbed her off this world?

  “Who did this? Where are you?”

  I shouted aloud, brimming over with frustration and anger. And fear. It must be Coypu. It had to be him.

  I hoped. But if it had been him why had he taken just Angelina and left me here? There should have been a message, at least a message. I frantically kicked about among the broken crystal. No note, no traces of anything.

  For a very, very long time nothing happened. I was giggling with fear. Too much oxygen. Slow down, Jim, take it easy. I sat in the cleared area where we slept and breathed more slowly. With one last snicker the laughter died. Depression took over.

  The days on Glass were short—but this was the longest one I had ever lived through. It was growing dark and I must have nodded off with my head slumped on my chest. Fear, worry, hunger, everything. Too much, far more than too much.

  “Dad—over here!” Bolivar said. I blinked my eyelids, still half asleep, dreaming.

  “Are you all right? We have to move fast.”

  No dream! I set a new record for the broken glass sprint. Slammed into him and almost knocked him from his feet. We were falling—
backward into a brightly lit hotel room, onto a soft, carpeted floor. I just lay there, looking up at Professor Coypu seated before a great mass of bread boarded electronics.

  And Angelina smiling down on me.

  “I hope they gave you something nice to eat,” I said, inanely, still not believing that it was all over and she was all right. She knelt and took my hands in hers.

  “Sorry it took so long. The professor says that he has trouble aligning the machine.”

  “Calibration errors, cumulative, entropy slippage,” Coypu said. “Gets better each time though.”

  “Something to eat, Dad,” Bolivar said, helping me to my feet and handing me a giant roast meat sandwich. Saliva sported as I growled and tore off an immense bite, chewed, paradisical. I took the proffered beer bottle by the neck and drank and drank until the back of my nose hurt from the cold.

  “Here, sit at the table,” Angelina said, pulling out a chair. “And don’t eat so fast or you’ll make yourself sick—”

  “Warfle?” I said.

  “—and don’t talk with your mouth full. Eat slowly, that’s better, while I tell you what happened. It was Bolivar who came for me. No time to wait, he said. The alignment was difficultjust seconds. I held back but he grabbed me and that was that. It took so long to get through to you again, I knew what you were feeling. But it is all all right now. We are all together this time. The end of worrying.”

  “The beginning of a lot of big worrying for some of us,” Inskipp snarled in his friendly and ingratiating way as he walked into the room. He dropped into a chair and glared menacingly.

  “All right for you people to relax and cheer each other up with stories of your strange adventures. You forget that the rest of us are weighed down with responsibilities. Since this whole mess began we have been behind the eight ball, stuck in the mud, up the creek paddleless and getting nowhere as fast as a turgid turtle.”

  Instead of pointing out the tangled syntax of his mixed metaphor I reached for another sandwich. Priorities exist. He chuntered on.