Storm on Venus

by R. A. Bentley

  'What's that going to be?' asked Charles.

  'A breech-clout. I am not decent.'

  'Why, the man's a regular tailor!' enthused Freddy.' You can make one for me next.'

  The Tuuntu sighed longsufferingly. 'First you must catch me another beast.'

  'We must do that anyway, if we want to eat tonight,' said Charles, poking thoughtfully at their fire. 'I suggest we try that patch of woodland in the hollow to our left, unless anyone's got any better ideas.' He was about to elaborate on his plan when his voice tailed off and he pointed skywards. 'Here it comes again!'

  Since emerging from the darkness of the jungle they had found themselves no longer quite alone, for they had twice seen in the distance the slow-moving shape of an aircraft. On those occasions it had been too far off to make out much detail, but this time it was about to pass over their heads. It was quite unlike the plumply rounded Venusian spaceships, instead resembling a crude box. It had no wings but appeared to be a type of autogyro, driven and held aloft by an assemblage of rotors. The only sound it made was a low hiss.

  They are the Hakiid,' said the Tuuntu. 'Slavers and traders.'

  'How do you know?'

  'No-one else uses such craft.'

  'Do you think they'll see us?' asked Agnes anxiously.

  'I suppose we ought to douse our fire,' grumbled Freddy, mindful of the toil involved in starting another.

  'Too late for that, I should imagine,' said Charles, continuing to gaze upwards. He turned to the Tuuntu. 'I presume they're human? What house do they belong to? Whom do they serve?'

  'Yes, they are human,' replied the Tuuntu, but in a tone that implied some room for doubt. 'They belong to no house and serve only themselves. They are a race apart.'

  'What if we were to approach them for help?'

  The Venusian shook his head. 'That would be unwise. They would not hesitate to profit from us if they saw an opportunity.'

  'Would they sell us to the Purples?' asked Charles. 'Is that what you mean?'

  The Tuuntu smiled sadly. 'You forget, Mr Prendergast, that you are in the presence of a renegade noble. I almost certainly have a price on my head.'

  But if the slavers had seen them, they gave no sign of it, passing slowly by before dropping into the valley below. There they hovered for a while before landing near some peculiar dark mounds.

  'What do you make of that?' said Freddy. 'They surely can't be after slaves, so far from a river.'

  'They appear to have lowered their ramp,' said Charles.

  'Yes, they are disembarking. There are thaalid among them I think.'

  So interested were they in these mysterious activities that they failed to notice until the last moment a small animal slowly meandering towards them.

  'Food!' whispered Agnes urgently, and reminded of their empty stomachs the others prepared themselves for the chase.

  Alas, their appetites soon waned, for it appeared to be the Venusian equivalent of an ant. Typically, it was absurdly large, standing ten or twelve inches at the shoulder and perhaps a yard long. Quite unafraid of them, it appeared to be foraging in the leaf-litter under some nearby bushes. Soon it was joined by another, then by a third.

  'I shouldn't think boiling water would have much effect on those chaps,' observed Freddy. 'Look. Here come some more.'

  They're repulsive!' said Charles, visibly shuddering.

  'I think they are foormid,' said the Tuuntu. 'I have never seen them but the grubs make fine eating and are often collected.'

  'Perhaps that's what the slavers are after,' suggested Agnes.

  The Tuuntu nodded. 'I should think that very likely. They would certainly fetch a good price.'

  By now a great number of ants had appeared, scuttling by in a seemingly endless column, just as some species did on Earth. Many were carrying scraps of vegetable matter and even small animals in their powerful-looking jaws. At first they didn't seem to pose a threat, but then a sizeable number suddenly broke away and began to head straight for them.

  'I don't care for this,' said Freddy. 'Let's get out of here.'

  But run though they might, they could not outpace the scuttling horde, and – not for the first time – were obliged to seek sanctuary in a tree. Thus thwarted, most of the creatures turned away, but some attempted to climb up after them and had to be kicked off or stabbed at with their bayonet. Unfortunately the tree they had chosen was a thorny one and by the time they were able to scramble to the ground they were all well supplied with bloody pricks and scratches.

  'That just about takes the biscuit!' declared Charles, dabbing ineffectually at his streaming wounds. 'I've had enough of this wretched business, wandering the planet like some half-naked savage. Who knows what horrors we might encounter next? I'm going to throw myself upon the mercy of those people down there and to the Devil with the consequences. I suggest you do the same. We may never get another chance.'

  The Tuuntu shook his head. 'Not I! I'd sooner starve in Dameefu than risk a dishonourable death in a jalaapa tree.'

  'Suppose that we did — what about the others?' asked Freddy. 'They may need our help, and once aboard that thing, who knows where we might end up? We are surely almost there now, and ought to continue.'

  'And where might there be?' rejoined Charles sarcastically. 'Perhaps you'd care to show me on the map? The truth is, we don't even know if this mythical Torris Verga exists. And if by some miracle we find it, what then? We're not even armed. Three men and a ragged girl — what help can we be to anyone? It's madness! My mind is made up. You must do as you think fit.' And with that he started to walk away from them.

  Agnes looked desperately from one to the other. 'You're not going to let him go are you?' she asked. But when they made no move, she began to follow after him, shouting angrily. 'I thought you were a gentleman, Charles Prendergast, but you're not; you're a bully and a coward! If you don't care about us, what about Miss Daphne? What about the Queen of Venus? Don't you even care about her?'

  Charles returned a few paces, his face like thunder and his lips silently working. But then he turned away and marched downhill towards the stationary aircraft.

  Freddy watched him go. There seemed little point in trying to stop him while in that mood. 'Man's got no bottom,' he muttered, and immediately felt a hypocrite, for he'd been close to cracking up himself often enough.

  But Charles had scarcely gone thirty yards when the ants returned. This time they came from all sides and there was no escaping them. Freddy felt a sharp stab in his calf and immediately fell among the close-packed ranks of their attackers. He must have passed out, and when he regained consciousness it was to experience the most extraordinary sensation of floating just above the ground, the trees passing swiftly over his head. He'd just decided he must be hallucinating when he caught a glimpse of the Tuuntu, carried along, stiff as a board, by several dozen ants. Freddy tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn't answer. Indeed, it was as if his body no longer existed. Neither could he find his voice to shout to the others. Then, as their hurrying captors poured down a steep slope, he could see Charles and Agnes, similarly stricken, borne aloft like coffins at a funeral. Rising ahead of them was what could only be an enormous black anthill. Then they plunged into darkness.

  It appeared to be raining. Barely conscious, Freddy could hear the far off patter and trickle of water. It was almost intolerably hot and there was a suffocating stench that made him gag. 'Is there anyone there?' he asked, but no-one answered. He seemed to be lying propped against something that pressed uncomfortably into his back. Did that mean a little sensation was returning to his body? It was still dark, but as his eyes adapted he became aware of a ghostly glow. Then he saw the grubs, far larger than the ants they would become. There seemed to be a score or more, lying all around him. It was they that were glowing – a greenish white – dimly illuminating what proved to be a large, earth-walled chamber. There were also the bodies of animals, large and small, some partly eaten. Even at that moment a grub was moving sl
owly towards him, undulating over the floor of the chamber. Filled with horror, he tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't answer.

  He heard a little cry and knew immediately who it was. With a huge effort he rolled onto his side and saw Agnes. A bloated grub had fixed onto her leg, another her face. A dark, spreading stain suggested blood. Anger did what willpower alone could not. With an immense effort, he rose and grabbed the whimpering girl, kicking away her attackers and dragging her to her feet. He found he could barely stand, both from a whirling dizziness and the lowness of the ceiling, which sloped away in all directions continuous with the walls. Freddy searched desperately above him and found a moist patch. Tearing at it, he brought down hard clods and layers of vegetation, then mud. Torrential Venusian rain suddenly poured upon them. Almost immediately he felt against him the hard, chitinous bodies of the ants. They had sensed a breach in the mound's defences and had come to repair it.

  Freddy lifted Agnes and thrust her out into the rain before scrambling after her. They half fell, half rolled down the steep, slippery slope, perhaps fifty feet to the ground. Picking her up, he staggered away through the downpour. She was stick-thin and weighed almost nothing, or he could not have found the strength to do so. Somehow he got as far as a thicket of thorny scrub, where he lay her down and covered them both with leaves.

  When he awoke, the rain had stopped. Soaked and aching in every limb, Freddy sat up and gazed blearily about him. Through the sparse vegetation he could clearly see the mighty anthill, scarcely a hundred yards away. Fighting the urge to go back to sleep, he tried increasingly desperately to rouse the little maid. The wound to her poor face was terrible to behold, and he could find no pulse, though he fancied she was still breathing. He knew he should try to rescue the others, however futile that attempt might be, but he could not bear to go to what would almost certainly be his own death until he was sure Agnes' spirit had flown.

  Suddenly he heard a voice. Struggling to his feet, he pushed through the undergrowth to discover the slavers' aircraft, its rotors idling and its ramp down. Freddy crept closer. There was no way of telling what his reception would be if he approached them. It might be his last opportunity to save Agnes' life and the lives of the others, but equally he might be carried off without them or even murdered on sight. All the while he could feel himself lapsing back into unconsciousness.

  As he watched, a column of thaalid appeared, each bent under the weight of a giant ant grub. They were supervised by a single human, a thickset, brutish-looking man, who would occasionally encourage one of the unfortunate creatures with his whip and a curse. On reaching the aircraft's landing ramp, he gave a piercing whistle, gesturing behind him, and Freddy saw that some of the thaalid were carrying not grubs but the inert bodies of Charles and the Tuuntu. More humans came from the aircraft, and after some discussion, everyone began to return aboard, taking his companions with them. Not knowing quite what he intended, Freddy cried out and began to stagger towards them.

  Chapter 18

  Lit only by a reddish glow from its four engines, the sweltering cargo deck of their captors' aircraft could readily have understudied for Hell. One of the pulsating, vaporous contraptions stood at each corner, fed by a hose from a central tank, while in the space remaining was arranged a double row of substantially built cages, each so tightly packed with captive thaalid of every age and sex that they could scarcely sit or lie down. The stink from the unfortunate creatures was an almost tangible thing, seeming to coat the roof of the mouth with a foul-tasting skin, while the continuous wailing of the juveniles for their lost foster-mothers provided the authentic sound of souls in torment.

  The only cage containing no thaalid was their own, though little more comfortable, since they were sharing it with a dozen other human prisoners, several of them injured and wearing filthy, bloodstained bandages. They had greeted the half-naked newcomers with undisguised curiosity, with one of their number, clearly the comedian of the group, making incomprehensible but apparently hilarious remarks at their expense.

  'Tuuntu, for goodness' sake, wake up!' demanded Charles, shaking him vigorously. 'Drat the fellow. Do you suppose he's in a coma? His physiology may be different from ours.'

  'He seems to have received more than one sting,' said Freddy. 'See how swollen his arm is.'

  But at length the Venusian stirred and opened one eye, only to swiftly close it again. 'Leave me alone,' he groaned. 'I wish to sleep.'

  'Oh no you don't,' said Charles, shaking him again. 'We need you to translate.'

  'Why? Where are we?'

  'We've been captured by the slavers,' explained Freddy. 'How do you feel?'

  'Head-sick, like after bad pijtaal,' complained the Tuuntu. He struggled upright, gazed around him and sighed heavily. 'Perhaps I preferred the ants. Where is Agnes?'

  Freddy fought back the tears. 'We think they left her behind. She was almost certainly dead, but I couldn't be sure . . .'

  'Never mind that now,' said Charles, irritably. 'We can fill him in later. Who are these men? We've been waiting for you to tell us.'

  The Tuuntu regarded them with indifference. 'They are common ishtaarid of the Blue. They are not interesting.'

  'Not to you perhaps. Kindly ask them how they got here and if they know where we're going.'

  'I could do that,' agreed the Tuuntu, 'but they would naturally wish to know about us in return, and can we trust them not to talk? If the Hakiid are taking us to Faluaan, which seems likely, they will probably attempt to sell us to the Purples. Our only hope lies in anonymity. We should first agree on some story to tell these fellows, and stick to it.'

  At this there came a deep chuckle from a corner of the cage. A man sitting a little apart from the others had appeared to be dozing, but on looking up he revealed an officer's pips on his high-necked doublet. 'Had it not occurred to you, Vantijmo Haramu, that one of us might speak English?' he asked.

  The Tuuntu stiffened and for a moment appeared to reach for his lost knife. 'Noblemen usually have the courtesy to reveal themselves,' he snapped. 'You have the advantage of me, sir!'

  Unperturbed, the officer – a big, powerful-looking man – smilingly bowed from the waist. 'I am Veldo Borsu, Tuuntu of the Blue and Captain of Ships. I am your slave and prostrate myself. No, we have not met. Unlike you I do not spend my time at Court, sucking up to princes. Tell me, how is my lovely and intrepid cousin, or have you already succeeded in losing her?'

  'I might equally enquire how you lost your liberty to these slavers!' rejoined the Tuuntu indignantly. 'And I do not suck up to princes, as you so crudely put it. I am a courtier; I serve them!'

  'Excellent!' laughed the Captain of Ships. 'A man who can stand on his dignity while clad only in green furry drawers is not to be underestimated. You might be interested to know that we have been combing Dameefu for you. Or were, before the Fates intervened.'

  'Why?' asked Charles.

  The Venusian turned to him delightedly. Everything seemed to amuse him. 'So! You must be the strange humans the drums speak of, the ones with the marvellous game of stick and ball. I fall! However, in answer to your admirably succinct question: it is necessary to establish if our new-minted Voorni is still alive, else there would be little point in dying for her. She and my cousin will also wish to know that our fortunes have improved somewhat. Many houses have come over to us and everywhere battle rages.' He turned back to the Tuuntu. 'But in all this the Yellows cleave firmly to their mountaintops. What say you to that, my friend?'

  Interesting beggar, thought Freddy. Handsome too. He had a few questions of his own, but before he could ask them they saw approaching a bent and shambling thaal, dragging behind him a basket of paan. He was accompanied by the brutish-looking man whom Freddy had seen near the anthill. Leaving the thaal to distribute the hard little loaves to his incarcerated brethren, the slaver made straight for the humans' cage and stood silently observing them, his arms folded and an expression of contempt on his hideously tattooed features. Eventually he s
pat out a few words in an oddly guttural accent.

  'He notes that we are awake now, and asks how are the wild-men today,' translated the Tuuntu. 'No doubt he is referring to our unkempt appearance.'

  'Om tasit gijamid ommo,' quipped the resident joker, to the accompaniment of the usual laughter.

  'The foolish fellow says it takes one to recognise one,' said the Tuuntu, adding dryly, 'He will suffer for that, I think.'

  Retribution was not long in coming. With a snarl the slaver took up his whip and began to lambast the young soldier between the bars of the cage, drawing blood from his hands and arms as he tried to defend himself. But lunging forward, the Captain of Ships reached out and grabbed the thin, plaited leather, jerking the whip from the startled man's hand and almost bringing him to his knees.

  For a tense moment the two glared fiercely at each other, then the Captain laughed. 'Tasitat grij,' he said, and folding the whip, politely handed it back.

  'Ira danim puusht,' sneered the man, and scooping up the basket of paan he stalked away, followed by the cringing thaal.

  'So much for our dinner,' sighed the Tuuntu.

  'Perhaps we're intended to eat out tonight,' suggested Charles, and after a well-timed pause held up a shiny key. 'The thaal slipped it to me. What do you make of that?'

  The response was not what he might have expected. All the Venusians, including the Tuuntu, stared at the key in dumb amazement, even shock.

  The Captain was first to recover. 'He who questions the Fates shall die for an answer,' he said gnomically. 'Irama ishtaa!'

  But they had merely exchanged a small prison for a larger one. The sturdy metal hatchway to the navigation deck appeared to be firmly bolted on the other side and try as they might, they could not shift it.