Storm on Venus

by R. A. Bentley

  Slightly to his surprise, Daphne had borne up well. She seemed better able to cope with the vicissitudes of shipwreck than her hated studies, and managed to lift all their spirits by looking cool and lovely in her safari-suit. There being no sunshine to worry about, the accompanying pith helmet had been pressed into service as a bucket, something that no-one had thought to bring with them. Returning to the riverbank, he was just about to scramble out of the water when the object of his reverie appeared above him.

  'Oh my goodness!' cried Daphne. 'You gave me quite a start.'

  'Sorry,' said Wilfred.

  'I must say, I'm rather envious. Is it nice and cool?'

  'Yes, it's wonderful.' He glanced nervously down at himself, wondering how far she could see into the murky water. A bathing costume had not been on his shopping list for Venus.

  Daphne followed his gaze, her already huge eyes widening in surprise. 'Gosh, all those little fish!' she exclaimed. 'Why, there must be hundreds.'

  'Yes, they've taken to following me around. They tickle a bit but they seem harmless enough. They're actually more like tadpoles than fish. Some even have legs. I haven't seen any real fish yet. Maybe they don't have them here.'

  'Aren't you worried about the krit?'

  Wilfred shook his head. 'I should think they must be fairly rare — top predator and all that. Besides, Uncle will see it off with his cricket bat.'

  They laughed.

  'I'd better let you get out,' she said, and casting a last little sidelong glance wandered away along the bank to wait for him.

  Scrambling through the reeds, Wilfred swiftly towelled himself dry and got dressed. He was just about to join her when he saw her turn and put a finger to her lips.

  'Shush,' she warned, 'Don't frighten him.'

  Coming closer, Wilfred discovered a tiny dugout canoe, decorated fore and aft with flowers. Sitting in it, gazing solemnly up at them, was a miniature version of Hawghi.

  'It's a little boy one, I think,' whispered Daphne.

  Wilfred squatted down and reached out a hand. 'Hullo young fellow. Don't be afraid; we won't hurt you.'

  But at this, the creature gave a sudden, high-pitched whistle and began to paddle swiftly away from them, heading upstream.

  Back at the camp an argument was in progress.

  'We clearly can't stay here,' said Charles. 'For one thing, we're nearly out of food. From what we've seen so far, there seems little prospect of our living off the land.'

  'I agree,' said the Professor. 'We should at least make some attempt to extricate ourselves from our predicament, even if we risk travelling in the wrong direction.'

  The Tuuntu sadly shook his head. 'It would be pointless,' he said. 'Even if we were to escape the jungle we could never hope to pass over the mountains. We shall remain here until we are too weak to defend ourselves and then we shall die.'

  'Come now, let's not have that defeatist talk,' chided Freddy. 'While there's life, there's hope, you know. Here, have another cup of tea; it'll put hairs on your chest.'

  The Tuuntu grimaced in disgust. 'No thank you; I do not like your tea, it tastes of tist. Our Venusian beverages are vastly superior.'

  'Well, that's fine by me, because there's not much left.'

  'May I make a suggestion, sir?' asked Simms. 'If the jungle is so dangerous, why not try the river? We could perhaps build a raft of some kind.'

  'I wondered about that,' said Charles. 'We have axes and a little rope, or we might be able to salvage something from the ship, if it's still there.'

  'And what will happen when it rains?' asked the Tuuntu.

  'Well obviously we'd stop and tie up somewhere; or even allow ourselves to be swept along, provided there are no more waterfalls. Heavens, I don't know. It's either that or start walking.'

  'It's worth a try, surely?' said Freddy. 'I don't fancy staying here to starve. I'm just about ready to spit-roast one of these confounded lizardy things, though they'd scarcely make a mouthful. Here, get out of my pocket, you nosey little beggar, or you'll be first! Hullo, what's got young Wilfred so excited?'

  'We've seen a thaal!' cried Wilfred, dashing up to them. 'A child. Daphne found him.'

  'Where?' demanded the Tuuntu, jumping to his feet

  'On the river, in a little boat. We tried to make friends but I'm afraid we frightened him off.'

  'Then we must hide, quickly!'

  'But why? They may be able to help us.'

  The Tuuntu stared at him. 'No, Mr Carstairs, they will not help us. These are not docile slaves but wild animals. They will kill us if they can.'

  'Surely not?' said Daphne. 'He had such a gentle little face.'

  'Voorni, it is true; a thaal in its natural state is savage and cruel. The tribes are constantly at war, and it is said they eat their captives; not all at once but a little at a time and keep them alive for later. I should rather face a krit. Where is the Migraani? We must flee.'

  But it was too late for that. From around a bend in the river there now appeared three long canoes, each packed with a double row of thaalid. The rising breeze already carried upon it their fierce, grunting chant as they plied their paddles in perfect unison.

  'I doubt they've come to present their cards,' observed Freddy. 'Bags I'm last for the pot.'

  'Simms, fetch the guns,' said Charles. 'This seems as good a place as any to make a stand. Will they have seen rifles before, Tuuntu?'

  'Neither they nor I,' said the Tuuntu. 'We do not have such things on Venus.'

  'Good, then a deal of noise and a few corpses might make them a bit less eager. Ah, Agnes, there you are. You'd best pass out the ammunition. You too, Daphne. Keep behind us and be ready to fall back into the trees. Where is the Migraani?'

  'She's in the tent, sir,' said Agnes. 'She wants Miss Daphne.'

  'What, now? Doesn't she know what's happening?'

  'Yes sir. That's why she wants her. She says to come quick. I really think you ought to, Miss.'

  The canoes were now approaching at speed, their rippling wakes widening and overlapping behind them. One by one they ploughed into the reeds, their fearsome occupants instantly leaping ashore. Soon there were scores of the creatures, capering and posturing and pointing up at the encampment, though they seemed disinclined immediately to press an attack. Each still carried his narrow, pointed paddle, which appeared to double as a spear.

  'It could just be bravado,' said Wilfred. 'I've met this sort of thing before. See how they spend more time shaking their weapons at each other than at us? They're keen to impress their pals but no-one wants to make the first move. One shot over their heads and they may well disperse.'

  'Perhaps,' said Charles. 'Who knows what they might do? These are not your precious Africans, who are at least human.'

  'They will come,' said the Tuuntu. 'Make no doubt about it.'

  'The funny-looking cove in the frock seems to be directing operations,' said Freddy. He was referring to a striking individual brandishing a wand or medicine-stick, decorated with bright orange feathers. Instead of the usual breechclout, he had on a colourful, calf-length skirt, and on his head was a peculiar straw bonnet, furnished with holes for his long ears. The general effect was of a donkey dressed for a carnival.

  'Probably the local witchdoctor,' opined Charles. 'Quite a specimen.'

  Even as they watched, the thaalid began to form themselves into loose ranks, about twenty individuals wide. The chanting now started up again, the leading row of warriors advancing with a queer, sidling gait, their spears raised to shoulder height. They were now perhaps a hundred yards off and moving steadily but unhurriedly forward, the hatted one slightly ahead, dancing and whirling like a thing possessed.

  Forming a line of their own, the five men raised their weapons.

  'Hold your fire until I give the word,' cautioned Charles. 'If we miss on the first volley, they may think us harmless.'

  We would do better to shoot ourselves,' muttered the Tuuntu, 'We cannot kill them all.' Nevertheless he looked
resolute enough, awkwardly holding his Earthling weapon.

  'You should brace yourself and put the butt more firmly against your shoulder, sir,' said Simms, demonstrating. 'The recoil, you know.'

  'Let me see if I can frighten them,' said Freddy. 'We've nothing to lose after all.' Aiming carefully at the tempting target of the witchdoctor's wand, he fired, neatly smashing it from its owner's hand. The thaalid abruptly stopped, gazing in apparent disbelief at the orange feathers scattered on the ground. Then, with a howl of rage, they broke ranks and charged.

  'Bad idea,' said Charles dryly.

  They barely had time to loose-off a couple of rounds before the creatures were upon them – a great, overwhelming mass – their smell as rank as an ill-kempt zoo. Wilfred was standing over the fallen Professor, using his rifle as a club, when there came from somewhere behind him a strange, shrill cry, cutting through the din of battle like a knife. Everyone, friend and foe alike, stopped what they were doing and looked round.

  'Well strike me pink!' exclaimed Freddy.

  It was Daphne; though not as they had ever expected to see her. Standing very calm and still, she was now quite naked from the waist up, a fact rather accentuated than otherwise by bronze arm rings and a bronze torc about her neck. Her diaphanous skirts were cut away at the front to reveal perfect legs, while spread upon the whiteness of her torso were six interlocking lines of livid purplish-red — the Holy Mark of the Voorni. On either side of her stood Agnes and the Migraani, similarly, if more modestly, attired.

  'Then it must be she,' muttered Charles cryptically. 'How very extraordinary.'

  Dragging his eyes from his love, Wilfred found he was surrounded by a sea of velvety grey bottoms. All the thaalid were now prostrated before their goddess, their arms outstretched and their faces to the ground.

  The Tuuntu shook his head sadly. 'Now Venus will burn,' he said.

  The thaal village, which was named Vanapop, was situated on what appeared to be a low island about a mile upstream. A great many thatched huts lined the water's edge, while at its centre was a much larger and loftier structure, also thatched, but open-sided. This last, somewhat resembling the communal long-houses sometimes found on Earth, was where their hosts mostly lived and worked. It also served as a dormitory for the males, their hammocks being stowed out of the way when not in use. The smaller huts seemed to be used only by the females and their young. The entire area of the village, an acre or so in extent, was floored with massive baulks of flat-hewn timber, polished to a shine by many generations of horny, six-toed feet. At first, Wilfred assumed that this was to cover the ubiquitous jungle mud, rather in the manner of duckboards, but as the afternoon deluge began and the river once again overflowed its banks, he realised with surprise that they were afloat. The whole thing was a vast raft, moored by a cat's cradle of lianas to several great trees and apparently quite secure, even in the midst of the raging torrent.

  It was at one end of the long-house that they were now sitting; transformed, as Freddy put it, from dinner to diner by the intervention of a simple strawberry mark. They had naturally dressed for the occasion and were sitting rather uncomfortably on little stools, arranged in a semicircle on either side of Daphne. The Goddess herself had been given a simple wooden throne, draped and padded with animal pelts and decorated with colourful feathers.

  Each of the visitors had around his neck a garland of wild flowers. The scent of the blooms, though not unpleasant, was rather overpowering and reminded Wilfred uncomfortably of his brush with the carnivorous creeper. Their purpose, however, soon became clear, for the stinging insects which had made life so unpleasant since they landed, now forbore to come near them. The rest of the company was ranged in two long rows down the length of the room, while between them lay a most enormous heap of cooked meats and vegetables, including several whole roast animals somewhat resembling a pig. There was not sufficient room for everyone to sit down, and many more villagers stood crowded together under the dripping thatch, eating the food passed back to them and swopping cheery badinage with their more fortunate brethren. They appeared to use no cutlery, while large, waxy leaves did service as plates.

  A problem quickly arose regarding communication, for without Hawghi they had no translator. Their master of ceremonies – the presumed witchdoctor – spoke only the local dialect of Popti, and conversation was therefore restricted to dumb-show until the arrival of a very ancient male. He had but one arm, the other having been lost in an accident, and his fur was quite missing from large parts of his body, particularly his scarred and wrinkled haunches. His name was Huft and it was plain that he was regarded with considerable respect. A stool was immediately brought for him and after a rather perfunctory and creaky obeisance to Daphne he insisted upon placing himself between her and the Migraani, necessitating a good deal of shifting about. He proved to be fluent in Venusian, albeit heavily accented, and without preamble began to talk about himself.

  He was, he said, eighty-six years old, though they might not think it to look at him, and had long ago taken the vows of a wandering popoti, renouncing his worldly life for one of solitary meditation. He had travelled much and seen many wonderful things, but now he was getting on in years he was content to live quietly among these simple people and enjoy the serenity that came with enlightenment.

  The traditional occupation of a popoti was trapping kraatuid, and it was unfortunate that he had been away inspecting his nets or he might have been able to prevent the regrettable attack on the visitors' encampment. The river folk, he assured them, were generally peaceable unless provoked, but they had been frightened by the strange hakijuk falling out of the sky, particularly as it had only narrowly missed hitting the village. It had been assumed that the newcomers were slavers, who were much hated, and the temptation to add their heads to those already hanging in the rafters had been too great to resist. It would not be so bad, he explained, if those charged with harvesting the faithful removed only the fry, who were of no account, and perhaps a few juveniles, but they often left no youngsters at all, to the great distress of the females.

  There was no knowing how long he might have continued this rambling monologue, had not the Migraani impatiently interrupted. Where, she wanted to know, had he learned his Venusian? Was he an escaped slave?

  The ancient creature turned to stare at her. 'A slave!' he cried indignantly. 'I am Huft!'

  'Then where?'

  But rising to his feet he angrily stalked from the room.

  'He is ijaanu,' sneered the Tuuntu, and putting his finger to the side of his head, twisted it suggestively.

  Wilfred wished he could have talked to the eccentric old fisherman himself. He was used to dealing with native people and felt he could have elicited some useful information. Now that the Migraani had upset him with her hastiness it might be more difficult. It already seemed clear, however, that with their generous hospitality and wonderful floating community, the much-feared Dameefuan thaalid, were not quite the feral and brutish creatures the Venusians had made them out to be.

  'Our hosts seem to make a pretty good living for themselves,' he observed. 'Quite a menu, and all at short notice too. I wonder how they do it?'

  Freddy, talking with his mouth full, agreed. 'Manna from heaven! I'd seriously contemplated eating my boots. I'd avoid those shellfish though; one of them just gave me a nasty nip. I say, are you all right Prendergast? You look a bit green, old chap.'

  Charles, who had eaten almost nothing, was looking about him with an expression of undisguised disgust. 'Look at those things, swarming over everything,' he complained. 'I daresay they're the Venusian equivalent of mice or rats.' He was gesturing at a group of tiny creatures, about the size of a human thumb, that were squabbling over a scrap of meat.

  'They seem to be everywhere,' agreed Wilfred. 'I was wondering if they might be the fry that Huft was talking about.'

  'Do you mean, they're the thaalids' young?'

  'They are, sir,' said Agnes, who was sitting beside th
em. 'Hawghi told me. They hatch out in the river and then come ashore. The lucky ones are taken up by a female but most starve or get trodden on. Isn't that awful?'

  Bending, she fearlessly picked up one of the little combatants. It was not a very attractive creature, being a blotchy grey in colour with its hairless skin hanging loose on its bones, rather like a young nestling. Closer examination, however, showed that she was right; it was undoubtedly a tiny version of an adult thaal, perfect in all respects save for an apparent lack of ears. To their amusement, it stood up unsteadily on her cupped palm and observed them with tiny, curious eyes before losing its balance and comically sitting down. As it did so, its ears suddenly popped out of its head, unfurling like squeakers at a children's party and causing them to laugh out loud.

  That explains what they do when they're swimming,' grinned Wilfred. 'I've often wondered.'

  Next moment, however, an arm appeared and the nearest adult female snatched the little creature away, a look of what might have been maternal disapproval on her whiskery face. She immediately clapped it to one of her double row of nipples and returned to her meal, leaving it to cling on as best it could.

  'Revolting,' muttered Charles.

  In all his time on Venus, Charles never overcame his aversion to the thaalid, though hunger eventually drove him to eat the food they so copiously provided. As for the others, their initial fascination with those ingenious and complex creatures rapidly grew into respect. They had discovered a common interest; one which was to have far-reaching consequences.

  'Owsat?' cried the wicketkeeper, and Wilfred marched ruefully back to the others.

  'Out for three, sir,' said Simms, rather superfluously.

  They had now been at the village for nearly a month, in which time the young males had not only learned the arcane rules of cricket but most of the terminology that went with it. Alas, in the irritating manner of other races introduced to the game, they almost invariably won. Admittedly a pair of outsized webbed hands could only be an advantage, and they were, in the interest of fairness, playing five to a side, requiring a good deal of running about from the Earthling fielders, two of whom were in advanced middle age. Then there was the humid, enervating heat, the uneven surface of the wicket and the aerodynamic uncertainties of a wet ball, newly retrieved from the river. When all that was taken into account, however, the fact remained that even Charles and Wilfred found themselves out-batted and out-bowled.