It was just at this point that they really became aware of the dust.
Tony chewed an unusually gritty mouthful of rations cursing under his breath because there was only a mouthful of water to wash it down with. He swallowed it painfully then looked around the control chamber.
“Have you noticed how dusty it is? he asked.
“How could you not notice it? I have so much of it inside my clothes I feel like I’m living on an anthill.
Hal stopped scratching just long enough to take a bite of food.
They both looked around and it hit them for the first time just how much dust was in the ship. A red coating on everything, in their food and in their hair. The constant scratch of grit underfoot.
“It must be carried in on our suits,” Tony said. “We’ll have to clean them off better before coming inside.
It was a good idea-the only trouble was that it did not work. The red dust was as fine as talcum powder and no amount of beating could dislodge it; it just drifted around in a fine haze. They tried to forget the dust, just treating it as one more nuisance Stegham’s technicians had dreamed up. This worked for a while, until the eighth day when they couldn’t close the outer door of the air lock. They had just returned from a sample-collecting trip. The air lock barely held the two of them plus the bags of rock samples. Taking turns, they beat the dust off each other as well as they could, then Hal threw the cycling switch. The outer door started to close, then stopped. They could feel the increased hum of the door motor through their shoes, then it cut out and the red trouble light flashed on.
“Dust!
Tony said. “That damned red dust is in the works.
The inspection plate came off easily and they saw the exposed gear train. The red dust had merged into a destructive mud with the grease. Finding the trouble was easier than repairing it, since they had only a few basic tools in their suit pouches. The big toolbox and all the solvent that would have made fast work of the job were inside the ship. But they couldn’t be reached until the door was fixed. And the door couldn’t be fixed without tools. It was a paradoxical situation that seemed very unfunny.
They worked against time, trying not to look at the oxygen gauges. It took them almost two hours to clean the gears as best they could and force the door shut. When the inner port finally opened, both their oxygen tanks read EMPTY, and they were operating on the emergency reserves.
As soon as Hal opened his helmet, he dropped on his bunk. Tony thought he was unconscious until he saw that the other man’s eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. He cracked open the single flask of medicinal brandy and forced Hal to take some. Then he had a double swallow himself and tried to ignore the fact that his partner’s hands were trembling violently. He busied himself making a better repair of the door mechanism. By the time he had finished, Hal was off the bunk and starting to prepare their evening meal.
Outside of the dust, it appeared to be a routine exercise. At first. Surveying and sampling most of the day, then a few leisure hours before retiring. Hal was a good partner and the best chess player Tony had teamed with to date. Tony soon found out that what he thought was nervousness was nervous energy. Hal was only happy when he was doing something. He threw himself into the day’s work and had enough enthusiasm and energy left over to smash the yawning Tony over the chessboard. The two men were quite opposite types and made good teammates.
Everything looked good - except for the dust. It was everywhere, and bit by bit getting into everything. It annoyed Tony, but he stolidly did not let it bother him deeply. Hal was the one that suffered most. It scratched and itched him, setting his temper on edge. He began to have trouble sleeping. And the creeping dust was slowly working its way into every single item of equipment. The machinery was starting to wear as fast as their nerves. The constant presence of the itching dust, together with the acute water shortage was maddening. They were always thirsty and there was nothing they could do about it. They had only the minimum amount of water to last until blast off. Even with drastic rationing, it would barely be enough.
They quarrelled over the ration on the thirteenth day and almost came to blows. For two days after that they didn’t talk. Tony noticed that Hal always kept one of the sampling hammers in his pocket; in turn, he took to carrying one of the dinner knives.
Something had to crack. It turned out to be Hal.
It must have been the lack of sleep that finally got to him. He had always been a light sleeper, now the tension and the dust were too much. Tony could hear him scratching and turning each night when he forced himself to sleep. He wasn’t sleeping too well himself, but at least he managed to get a bit. From the black hollows under Hal’s bloodshot eyes it didn’t look like Hal was getting any.
On the eighteenth day he cracked. They were just getting into their suits when he started shaking. Not just his hands, but all over. He just stood there shaking until Tony got him to the bunk and gave him the rest of the brandy. When the attack was over he refused to go outside.
“I won’t … I can’t!
He screamed the words. “The suits won’t last much longer, they’ll fail while we’re out there … Hell with the suits - I won’t last any longer … We have to go back … .
Tony tried to reason with him. “We can’t do that, you know this is a full-scale exercise. We can’t get out until the twenty eight days are up. That’s only ten more days, you can hold out until then. That’s the minimum figure the army decided on for a stay on Mars - it’s built into all the plans and machinery. Be glad we don’t have to wait an entire Martian year until the planets get back into conjunction. With deep sleep and atomic drive that’s one trouble that won’t be faced.
“Shut your goddamned mouth and stop trying to kid me along,” Hal shouted. “I don’t give a fuck what happens to the first expedition, I’m washing myself out and this final exercise will go right on without me. I’m not going to go crazy from lack of sleep just because some brass-hat thinks superrealism is the answer. If they refuse to stop the exercise when I tell them to, why then it will be murder.
He was out of his bunk before Tony could say anything and scratching at the control board. The Emergency button was there as always, but they didn’t know if it was connected this time. Or even if it were connected, if anyone would answer. Hal pushed it and kept pushing it. They both looked at the speaker, holding their breaths.
“The dirty rotten … they’re not going to answer the call.
Hal barely breathed the words.
Then the speaker rasped to life and the cold voice of Colonel Stegham filled the tiny room.
“You know the conditions of this exercise - so your reasons for calling had better be pretty good. What are they?
Hal grabbed the microphone, half-complaining, half pleading, the words poured out in a torrent. As soon as he started Tony knew it would not be any good. He knew just how Stegham would react to the complaints. While Hal was still pleading the speaker cut him off.
“That’s enough. Your explanation doesn’t warrant any change in the original plan. You are on your own and you’re going to have to stay that way. I’m cutting this emergency connection permanently. Don’t attempt to contact me again until the exercise is over.
The click of the opening circuit was as final as death.
Hal sat dazed, tears on his cheeks. It wasn’t until he stood up that Tony realized they were tears of anger. With a single pull, Hal yanked the mike loose and heaved it through the speaker grille.
“Wait until this is over, Colonel, and I can get your pudgy neck between my hands.
He whirled towards Tony. “Get out the medical kit. I’ll show that idiot he’s not the only one who can play boyscout with his damned exercises.
There were four morphine styrettes in the kit; he grabbed one out, broke the seal and jabbed it against his arm. Tony didn’t try to stop him, in fact, he agreed with him completely. Within a few minutes, Hal was slumped over the table snoring deeply. Tony picked him up and d
ropped him onto his bunk.
Hal slept almost twenty hours and when he woke some of the madness and exhaustion was gone from his eyes. Neither of them mentioned what had happened. Hal marked the days remaining on the bulkhead and carefully rationed the remaining morphine. He was getting about one night’s sleep in three, but it seemed to be enough.
They had four days left to blast off when Tony found the first Martian life. It was something about the size of a cat that crouched in the lee of the ship. He called to Hal who came over and looked at it.
“That’s a beauty,” he said, “but nowhere near as good as the one I had on my second trip. I found this ropy thing that oozed a kind of glue. Contrary to regulations - I was curious as hell - I dissected the thing. It was a beauty, wheels and springs and gears, Stegham’s technicians do a good job. I really got chewed out for opening the thing, though. Why don’t we just leave this one where it is?
For a moment Tony almost agreed - then changed his mind.
“That’s probably just what they want. So let’s finish the game their way. I’ll watch it, you get one of the empty ration cartons.
Hal reluctantly agreed and climbed into the ship. The outer door swung slowly and ground into place. Disturbed by the vibration, the thing darted out towards Tony. He gasped and stepped back before he remembered it was only a robot.
“Those technicians really have exotic imaginations,” he mumbled.
The thing started to run by him and he put his foot on some of its legs to hold it. There were plenty of legs; it was like a small bodied spider surrounded by a thousand unarticulated legs. They moved in undulating waves like a millipede’s and dragged the misshapen body across the sand. Tony’s boot crunched on the legs, tearing some off. The rest held.
Being careful to keep his hand away from the churning legs, he bent over and picked up a dismembered limb. It was hard and covered with spines on the bottom side. A milky fluid was dripping from the torn end.
“Realism,” he said to himself. “Those techs sure believe in realism.
And then the thought hit him. A horribly impossible thought that froze the breath in his throat. The thoughts whirled round and round and he knew they were wrong because they were so incredible. Yet he had to find out, even if it meant ruining their mechanical toy.
Keeping his foot carefully on the thing’s legs, he slipped the sharpened table knife out of his pouch and bent over. With a single, swift motion he stabbed.
“What the devil are you doing?
Hal asked, coming up behind him. Tony couldn’t answer and he couldn’t move. Hal walked around him and looked down at the thing on the ground.
It took him a second to understand; then he screamed.
“It’s alive? It’s bleeding and there are no gears inside. It can’t be alive-if it is we’re not on Earth at all - we’re on Mars!
He began to run, then fell down, screaming.
Tony thought and acted at the same time. He knew he only had one chance. If he missed they’d both be dead. Hal would kill them both in his madness. He rolled the sobbing man onto his back. Balling his fist, he let swing as hard as he could at the spot just under Hal’s breastplate. There was just the thin fabric of the suit here and that spot was right over the big nerve ganglion of the solar plexus. The thud of the blow hurt his hand - but Hal was silenced. Putting his hands under the other’s arms, he dragged him into the ship.
Hal started to come to after Tony had stripped him and laid him on the bunk. It was impossible to hold him down with one hand and press the freeze cycle button at the same time. He concentrated on holding Hal’s one leg still while he pushed the button. The crazed man had time to hit Tony three times before the needle lanced home into his ankle. He dropped back with a sigh and Tony got groggily to his feet. The manual actuator on the frozen sleep had been provided for any medical emergency so the patient could survive until the doctors could work on him back at base. It had proven its value.
Then the same unreasoning terror hit him.
If the beast were real then Mars was real.
This was no training exercise - this was it. That sky outside wasn’t a painted atmosphere, it was the real sky of Mars.
He was alone as no man had ever been alone before, on a planet millions of miles from his world.
He was shouting as he dogged home the outer airlock door, an animal-like howl of a lost beast. He had barely enough control left to get to his bunk and throw the switch above it. The hypodermic was made of good steel so it went right through the fabric of his pressure suit. He was just reaching for the hypo arm to break it off when he dropped off into the blackness.
This time, he was slow to open his eyes. He was afraid he would see the riveted hull of the ship above his head. It was the white ceiling of the hospital, though, and he let the captive air out of his lungs. When he turned his head he saw Colonel Stegham sitting by the bed.
“Did we make it?
Tony asked. It was more of a statement than a question.
“You made it, Tony. Both of you made it. Hal is awake here in the other bed.
There was something different about the colonel’s voice and it took Tony an instant to recognize it. It was the first time he had ever heard the colonel talk with any emotion other than anger.
“The first trip to Mars. You can imagine what the papers are saying about it. More important, Tech says the specimens and readouts you brought back are beyond price. When did you find out it wasn’t an exercise?
“The twenty-fourth day. We found some kind of Martian animal. I suppose we were pretty stupid not to have stumbled onto it before that.
Tony’s voice had an edge of bitterness.
“Not really. Every part of your training was designed to keep you from finding out. We were never certain if we would have to send the men without their knowledge, there was always that possibility. Psych was sure that the disorientation and separation from Earth would cause a breakdown. I could never agree with them.
“They were right,” Tony said, trying to keep the memory of fear out of his voice.
“We know now they were right, though I fought them at the time. Psych won the fight and we programmed the whole trip over on their say-so. I doubt if you appreciate it, but we went to a tremendous amount of work to convince you two that you were still in the training program.
“Sorry to put you to all that trouble,” Hal said coldly. The colonel flushed a little, not at the words but at the loosely reined bitterness that rode behind them. He went on as if he hadn’t heard.
“Those two conversations you had over the emergency phone were, of course, taped and the playback concealed in the ship so there would be no time lag. Psych scripted them on-the basis of fitting any need and apparently they worked. The second one was supposed to be the final touch of realism, in case you should start being doubtful. Then we used a variation of deep freeze that suspends about ninety-nine per cent of the body processes; it hasn’t been revealed or published yet. This along with anticoagulents in the razor cut on Tony’s chin covered the fact that so much time had passed.
“What about the ship?
Hal asked. “We saw it - and it was only half-completed.
“Dummy,” the colonel said. “Put there for the public’s benefit and all foreign intelligence services. Real one had been finished and tested weeks earlier. Getting the crew was the difficult part. What I said about no team finishing a practise exercise was true. You two men had the best records and were our best bets.
“We’ll never have to do it this way again, though. Psych says that the next crews won’t have that trouble; they’ll be reinforced by the psychological fact that someone else was there before them. They won’t be facing the complete unknown.
The colonel sat chewing his lip for a moment, then forced out the words he had been trying to say since Tony and Hal had regained consciousness.
“I want you to understand … both of you … that I would rather have gone myself than pull that kind of thing
on you. I know how you must feel. Like we pulled some kind of a … .
“Interplanetary practical joke,” Tony said. He didn’t smile when he said it.
“Yes, something like that,” the colonel rushed on. “I guess it was a lousy trick - but don’t you see, we had to? You two were the only ones left, every other man had washed out. It had to be you two, and we had to do it the safest way.
“And only myself and three other men know what was done; what really happened on the trip. No one else will ever know about it, I can guarantee you that.
Hal’s voice was quiet, but cut through the room like a sharp knife.
“You can be sure Colonel, that we won’t be telling anybody about it.
When Colonel Stegham left, he kept his head down because he couldn’t bring himself to see the look in the eyes of the first two explorers of Mars.
10:
AT LAST, THE TRUE STORY OF FRANKENSTEIN
And here, before your very eyes, is the very same monster built by my much admired great-great grandfather, Victor Frankenstein, built by him from pieces of corpses out of the dissecting rooms, stolen parts of bodies freshly buried in the grave, and even chunks of animals from the slaughterhouse. Now look!
The tailcoated man on the platform swung his arm out in a theatrical gesture and the heads of the close-packed crowd below swung to follow it. The dusty curtains flapped aside and the monster stood there, illuminated from above by a sickly green light.
There was a concerted gasp from the crowd and a shiver of motion.
In the front row, pressed against the rope barrier, Dan Bream mopped his face with a soggy handkerchief and smiled. It wasn’t such a bad monster, considering that this was a cheapjack carnival playing the small town southern circuit. It had a dead white skin, undampened by sweat even in this steam bath of a tent, glazed eyes, stitches and seams showing where the face had been patched together. Plus the two metal plugs projecting from the temples just like in the movie.
Galactic Dreams Page 12