by Anthology
“Wish I knew . . . exactly.” Gefty indicated the emergency panel. “Little red light there, on the storage deck section—it wasn’t showing a minute ago. It means that the vault doors have been opened since then.”
He saw the same half-superstitious fear appear in her face that had touched him. “You think he did it?”
“I don’t know.” Maulbow’s control of the guns had seemed uncanny enough. But that was a different matter. The guns were a product of his own time and science. But the vault door mechanisms? There might have been sufficient opportunity for Maulbow to study them and alter them, for some purpose of his own, since he’d come aboard . . .
“I’ve got the ship compartments and decks sealed off from each other now,” Gefty said slowly. “The only connecting points from one to the other are personnel hatches—they’re small air locks. So the janandra’s confined to the storage deck. If it’s come out of the vault, it might be a nuisance until I can get equipment to handle it. But that isn’t too serious. The spacesuits are on the second deck, and I’ll get into one before I go on to the storage. You wait here a moment, I’ll look in on Maulbow again before I start.”
If Maulbow wasn’t still unconscious, he was doing a good job of feigning it. Gefty looked at the pale, lax face, the half-shut eyes, shook his head and left the cabin, locking it behind him. It mightn’t be Maulbow’s doing, but having the big snake loose in the storage could, in fact, make things extremely awkward now. He didn’t think his gun would make much impression on anything of that size, and while several of the ship’s mining tools could be employed as very effective close-range weapons, they happened, unfortunately, to be stored away on the same deck.
He found Kerim standing in the center of the instrument room, waiting for him.
“Gefty,” she said, “do you notice anything? An odd sort of smell . . .”
Then the odor was in Gefty’s nostrils, too, and the back of his neck turned to ice as he recognized it. He glanced up at the ventilation outlet, looked back at Kerim.
He took her arm, said softly, “Come this way. Keep very quiet! I don’t know how it happened, but the janandra’s on the main deck now. That’s what it smells like. The smell’s coming through the ventilation system, so the thing’s moving around in the port section. We’ll go the other way.”
Kerim whispered, “What will we do?”
“Get ourselves into spacesuits first, and then get Maulbow’s control unit out of the ship. The janandra may be looking around for him. If it is, it won’t bother us.”
He hadn’t wanted to remind Kerim that, from what Maulbow said, there might be more than one reason for getting rid of the control unit as quickly as possible. But it had been constantly in the back of his mind; and twice, in the few minutes that passed after Maulbow’s strange weapons were silenced, he had seen a momentary pale glare appear in the unquiet flow of darkness reflecting in the viewscreens. Gefty had said nothing, because if it was true that hostile forces were alert and searching for them here, it added to their immediate danger but not at all to the absolute need to free themselves from the inexorable rush of the Great Current before they were carried beyond hope of return to their civilization.
But those brief glimpses did add to the sense of urgency throbbing in Gefty’s nerves, while events, and the equally hard necessity to avoid a fatally mistaken move in this welter of unknown factors, kept blocking him. Now the mysterious manner in which Maulbow’s unpleasant traveling companion had appeared on the main deck made it impossible to do anything but keep Kerim at his side. If Maulbow was still capable of taking a hand in matters, there was no reasonably safe place to leave her aboard the Queen.
And Maulbow might be capable of it. Twice as they hurried up the narrow, angled passages along the Queen’s curving hull towards an airseal leading to the next compartment, Gefty caught a trace of the ammonia-like animal odor coming over the ventilating system. They reached the lock without incident; but then, as they came along the second deck hall to the ship’s magazine, there was a sharp click in the stillness behind them. Its meaning was disconcertingly apparent. Gefty hesitated, turned Kerim into a side passage, guided her along it.
She looked up at his face. “It’s following us?”
“Seems to be.” No time for the spacesuits in the magazine now—something had just emerged from the air lock through which they had entered the second deck not many moments before. He helped the girl quickly down a section of ladderlike stairs to the airseal connecting the second deck with the storage, punched a wall button there. As the lock door opened, there was another noise from the passage they had just left, as if something had thudded briefly and heavily against one of the bulkheads. Kerim uttered a little gasp. Then they were in the lock, and Gefty slapped down two other buttons, stood watching the door behind them snap shut and, a few seconds later, the one on the far side open on the dark storage deck.
They scrambled down another twelve feet of ladder to the floor of a side passage, hearing the lock snap shut behind them. As it closed, they were in complete darkness. Gefty seized Kerim’s arm, ran with her up the passage to the left, guiding himself with his fingertips on the left bulkhead. When they came to a corner, he turned her to the left again. A few seconds later, he pulled open a small door, bundled the girl through, came in himself, and shut the door to a narrow slit behind them.
Kerim whispered shakily, “What will we do now, Gefty?”
“Stay here for the moment. It’ll look for us in the vault first.”
And it should go to the storage vault first where it had been guarding Maulbow’s machine, to hunt for them there. But it might not. Gefty eased the gun from his pocket on the far side of Kerim. Across the dark compartment was another door. They could retreat a little farther here if it became necessary—but not very much farther.
They waited in a silence that was complete except for their unsteady breathing and the distant, deep pulse of the Queen’s throttled-down drives. He felt Kerim trembling against him. How did Maulbow’s creature move through the airseal locks? The operating mechanisms were simple—a dog might have been taught to use them. But a dog had paws . . .
There came the soft hiss of the opening lock, the faintest shimmer of light to the right of the passage mouth he was watching through the door. A heavy thump on the floor below the locks followed, then a hard click as the lock closed and complete darkness returned.
The silence resumed. Seconds dragged on. Gefty’s imagination pictured the thing waiting, its great, wedge-shaped head raised as its senses probed the dark about it for a sign of the two human beings. Then a vague rushing noise began, growing louder as it approached the passage mouth, crossing it, receding rapidly again to the left.
Gefty let his breath out slowly, eased the door open and stood listening again. Abruptly, there was reflected light in the lock passage, coming now from the left. He said in a whisper, “It’s moving around in the main hall, Kerim. We can go on the other way now, but we’ll have to be fast and keep quiet. I’ve thought of how we can get rid of that thing.”
The cargo lock on the storage deck had two inner doors. The one which opened into the side of the vault hall was built to allow passage of the largest chunks of freight the Queen was likely to be burdened with; it was almost thirty feet wide and twenty high. The second door was just large enough to let a man in a spacesuit climb in and out of the side of the lock without using the freight door. It opened on a tiny control cubicle from which the lock’s mechanisms were operated during loading processes.
Gefty let Kerim and himself into the cubicle from one of the passages, steered the girl through the pitch blackness of the little room to the chair before the control panel and told her to sit down. He groped for a moment at the side of the panel, found a knob and twisted it. There was a faint click. A scattering of pale lights appeared suddenly on the panel, a dark viewscreen, set at a tilt above them, reflecting their gleam.
Gefty explained in a low voice, “Left side of that scr
een covers the lock. Right one covers the big hall outside. No lights in either at the moment, so you don’t see anything. Only way the cargo door to the hall can be opened or closed is with these switches right here. What I want to do is get the janandra into the lock, slam the door on it and lock down the control switches. Then we’ve got it trapped.”
“But how are you going to get it to go in there?”
“No real problem—I’ll be three jumps ahead of it. Then I duck back up into this cubicle, and lock both doors. And it’ll be inside the lock. You have the picture now?”
Kerim said unsteadily, “I do. But it sounds awfully risky, Gefty.”
“Well, I don’t like it either,” Gefty admitted. “So I’ll start right now before I lose my nerve. As soon as I move out into the vault hall, the lighting will go on. That’s automatic. You watch the right side of the screen. If you see the janandra coming before I do, yell as loud as you can.”
He shifted the two inner door switches to the right. A red spark appeared in the dark viewscreen, high up near the center. A second red light showed on the cubicle bulkhead beside Gefty. Beneath it an oblong section of the bulkhead turned silently away on heavy hinges, became a door two feet in thickness, which stood jutting out at a right angle into the darkness of the cargo lock. A wave of cold air moved through it into the control cubicle.
On the screen, another red spark appeared beside the first one.
“Both doors are open now,” Gefty murmured to the girl. “The janandra isn’t in the vault hall or the lighting would have turned on, but it may have heard the door open and be on its way. So keep watching the screen.”
“I certainly will!” she whispered shakily.
Gefty took an oversized wrench from the wall, climbed quickly and quietly down the three ladder steps to the floor of the lock, and walked across it to the sill of the giant freight door, which now had swung out and down into the vault hall, fitting itself into a depression of the flooring. He hesitated an instant on the sill, then stepped out into the big dark hall. Light filled it immediately in both directions.
He stood quiet, intent on the storage vault entrance far up the hall to his left. He could see the vault was open. The janandra might still be inside it. But the seconds passed, and the dark entrance remained silent and there was no suggestion of motion beyond it. Gefty glanced to the right, moved a dozen steps farther out into the hall, hefted the wrench and spun it through the air towards the ventilator frame on the opposite bulkhead.
The heavy tool clanged loudly against the frame, bounced off and thudded to the floor. Gefty started slowly over to it, heart pounding, with the vault entrance still at the edge of his vision.
Kerim’s voice screamed, “Gefty, it’s—”
He spun around, sprinted back to the cargo lock. The janandra had come silently out of the nearest side passage behind him, was approaching with the remembered oiling swiftness of motion, its great head lifted a yard from the floor. Gefty plunged through the lock, jumped for the top of the cubicle door steps, came stumbling into the cubicle. Kerim was on her feet, staring. He swung the cubicle door switch to the left, slapping it flat to the panel. The door snapped back into the wall behind him with a force that shook the floor.
On the screen, the janandra’s thick, dark worm-shape was swinging around in the dim lock to regain the open hall. It had seen the trap. But the freight door switch went flat beside the other, and the freight door rose with massive swiftness. The heavy body smashed against it, went sliding back to the floor as the door slammed shut and the screen section showing the cargo lock turned dark.
“Got it—got it—got it!” Gefty heard himself whispering exultantly. He switched on the lock’s interior lights.
Then he swore softly, and, beside him, Kerim sucked in her breath.
The screen showed the janandra in violent but apparently purposeful motion inside the lock . . . and it was also apparent now that it was a more complexly constructed creature than the long worm-body and heavy head had indicated. The skin, to a distance of some eight feet back of the head, had spread out into a wide, flexible frill. From beneath the frill extended half a dozen jointed, bone-white arms, along with waving, ribbonlike appendages less easy to define. The thing was reared half up along the hall door, inspecting its surface with these members; then suddenly it flung itself around and flashed over to the outer lock door. Three arms shot out; wiry fingers caught the three spin-locks simultaneously, began to whirl them.
Gefty said, staring, “Kerim, it’s going to . . .”
The janandra didn’t. The motion checked suddenly, was reversed. The locks drew tight again. The janandra swung back from the door, lifting half its length upwards, big head weaving about as it inspected the tool racks overhead. An arm reached suddenly, snatched something from one of the racks. Then the thing turned again; and in the next instant its head filled the viewscreen. Kerim made a choked sound of fright, jerking back against Gefty. The bulging, metal-green eyes seemed to stare directly at him. And the screen went black.
Kerim whispered, “Wha . . . what happened, Gefty?”
Gefty swallowed, said, “It smashed the view pickup. Must have guessed we were watching and didn’t like it . . .” He added, “I was beginning to think Maulbow must be some kind of superman. But it wasn’t any remote-control magic of his that let the janandra out of the vault, and opened the intership locks when it came up to the main deck and followed us down again. It was doing all that for itself. It’s Maulbow’s partner, not his pet. And it’s probably got at least as good a brain as anyone else on board behind that ugly face.”
Kerim moistened her lips. “Can it . . . could it get out again?”
“Into the ship?” Gefty shook his head decidedly. “Uh-uh. It could dump itself out on the other side—and it almost did before it realized where it was and what it was about to do. But the inner lock doors won’t open until someone opens them right on this panel. No, the thing’s safely trapped. On the other hand . . .”
On the other hand, Gefty realized that he wouldn’t now be able to bring himself to eject the janandra out of the cargo lock and into the Great Current. Its intentions obviously hadn’t been friendly, but its level of intelligence was as good as his own, and perhaps somewhat better; and at present it was helpless. To dispose of it as he’d had in mind would therefore be the cold-blooded murder of an equal. But so long as that ugly and formidable shipmate of Maulbow’s stayed in the cargo lock, the lock couldn’t be used to get rid of the control unit in the vault.
A new solution presented itself while Gefty was making a rapid and rather desperate mental review of various heavy-duty tools which might be employed as weapons to force the janandra into submission and haul it off for confinement elsewhere in the ship. Not impossible, but a highly precarious and time-consuming operation at best. Then another thought occurred: the storage vault lay directly against the hull of the Queen—
How long to cut through the hull? The ship’s mining equipment was on board, and the tools were self-powered. Climb into a spacesuit, empty the air from the entire storage deck, leaving the janandra imprisoned in the cargo lock . . . with Maulbow incapacitated in sick bay, and Kerim back in the control compartment and also in a suit, for additional protection. Then cut ship’s power to this deck to avoid complications with the Queen’s involved circuitry and work under space conditions—half an hour if he hurried.
“Shouldn’t take more than another ten minutes,” he informed Kerim presently over the suit’s intercom.
“I’m very glad to hear it, Gefty.” She sounded shaky.
“Anything going on in the screens?” he asked.
She hesitated a little, said, “No. Not at the moment.”
Gefty grunted, blinked sweat from his eyes, and took hold of the handgrips of the heavy mining cutter again, turning it nose down towards the vault floor. The guide light found the point he was working on, and the slice beam stabbed out, began nibbling delicately away to extend the curving line it
had eaten through the Queen’s thick skin. He had drawn a twenty-five foot circle around Maulbow’s battered control unit and the instruments attached to it, well outside the fragile-looking safety field. The circle was broken at four points where he would plant explosives. The explosives, going off together, should shatter the connecting links with the hull and throw the machine clear. If that didn’t release them immediately from its influence, he would see what putting the Queen’s drives into action would do.
“Gefty?” Kerim’s voice asked.
“Uh-huh?”
He could hear her swallow over the intercom. “Those lights are back now.”
“How many?”
“Two,” Kerim said. “I think they’re only two. They keep crossing back and forth in front of us.” She laughed nervously. “It’s idiotic, of course, but I do get the feeling they’re looking at us.”
Gefty said hesitantly, “Everything’s set but I need another minute or two to get this last connection whittled down a little more. If I blow the charge too soon, it mightn’t take the gadget clean out of the ship.”
Kerim said, “I know. I’ll just watch . . . they just disappeared again.” Her voice changed. “Now there’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“You know you said to watch the cargo lock lights on the emergency panel.”
“Yes.”
“The outer lock door has just been opened.”
“What!”
“It must have been. The light started blinking red just now as I was looking at it.”
Gefty was silent a moment, his mind racing. Why would the janandra open the lock? From what Maulbow had said, it could live for a while without air, but it still could gain nothing but eventual death from leaving the ship—
Unless, Gefty thought, the janandra had become aware in some way that he was about to blow their machine out of the Queen. There were grappling lines in the cargo lock, and if four or five of those lines were slapped to the circular section of the hull he’d loosened . . .