Bolts

by Alexander Key

  Big Butch paused again. “I hate to tell you the rest.”

  “W-what happened?”

  “My imagination fails me. When I started through the air lock to get the camera, I found we’d gone adrift. Our anchor had been stolen.”

  “Stolen!”

  “And that’s not all. When I finally reached the spot where I’d set up the camera, it was gone too.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “It was,” Big Butch said gravely. “And Bingo wants it back. Your job is to sniff it out—if you can. And while you’re sniffing you’ll have a thimble-size camera strapped around your neck. It’ll be wound up and taking pictures of everything that crosses your path.”

  “Ulp!” muttered Bolts, staring at him. “You mean I gotta go all alone in the black dark, through a place like that, and tangle with a bunch of I-dunno-whats, and—and—Why, that city may be crawling with all kinds of ornery glass space varmints!”

  “It probably is,” Big Butch agreed in a sad voice. “That’s why I’m advising you to start recharging right now. Buster, you’re going to need all the juice and jump you’ve got in you or you’re a gone dog for sure.”

  Poor Bolts crawled miserably under a bunk, curled up, and instantly his circuits clicked off. He hoped, at least, to have one pleasant dream before he clicked on again. But his recharging was a long nightmare, filled with invisible glass critters that chased him endlessly through the dark.

  He awoke suddenly, twitching and groaning, to hear Pirate squawk, “Hit the deck and look alive! We’re almost there!”

  9

  He Sniffs a Strange Trail

  Bolts crawled out glumly, blinking his eye lights. He was only slightly relieved to find that the Space Jumper had slowed down, and that vision was back to normal. Bingo was busy with the buttons, his red hair in a wild tangle. Beyond, Big Butch was hurrying to place food on the cabin table, where the commander sat drumming his fingers impatiently.

  “Jiminy, Pops,” Bingo said nervously, “how can you eat anything at a time like this?”

  “At a time like this,” snapped the commander, “I’d expire if I didn’t eat. Bolts,” he demanded, “how do you feel?”

  “Kinda cautious,” Bolts admitted. “Butch gave me the low-down on that camera deal. Something as queer as that sure wrecks a feller’s gumption.”

  “But—but don’t you realize how important this is?” Bingo exclaimed. “You’ve got the chance of a lifetime. Why, if that really is a glass city, it’s the biggest discovery of the century! It—it might even have glass people in it!”

  “That’s what curdles me,” grumbled Bolts. “It’s mighty sure got something in it.”

  “Bolts,” said Commander Brown, “your job is to find that something, and find it fast. Our time is limited. The asteroid has already curved around the sun, and now it’s shooting out into space, away from Earth. This is our last chance to examine it. We’ll land in three minutes in the middle of the dark side, and you’ll start your hunt immediately. If you’re not back in six hours, we’ll be forced to abandon you. Understand?”

  “Yup,” Bolts said dolefully.

  Bingo swallowed. “Bolts, there’s no atmosphere on the asteroid, so it won’t be easy for you to pick up a trail. But you’ve got the best sniffer in the world, and I’m sure it’ll lead you in the right direction.” Bingo paused and looked at him earnestly. “Only you can find what we’re after. Cancan we depend on you?”

  “Aw, Bingo,” Bolts assured him, after giving himself a little shake, “’course you can depend on me! I’m your dawg, and I’ll find out what’s cookin’ if I have to chaw that place apart!”

  The strange asteroid was getting closer, and he was startled to see it so clearly in the forward viewing port. It did look like a blue moon. It grew larger and brighter blue second by second. Then gradually it narrowed to a sliver and suddenly vanished as they curved around to the dark side of it. Absolutely nothing could be seen as the Space Jumper slid cautiously down through absolute blackness.

  It touched the surface, bounced slightly, and steadied. Bingo strapped a tiny camera around Bolts’s neck, and Big Butch hurried to open the hatch to the air lock.

  “Poor, poor dog,” Pirate squawked sadly as Bolts scrambled into the air lock behind Butch. “And so young and innocent. It wrings my heartstrings—”

  “Aw, shaddup before you drown in your own tears,” Big Butch grumbled, closing the hatch with a bang. “I declare if the old crow isn’t softening up! Don’t you worry, Bolts. I know you can do the job. I’ll be waiting for you right outside, guarding the anchor till you get back. Good luck, and watch the gravity!”

  Big Butch opened the outer hatch, and Bolts slid through into the strange dark world of crumbling glass.

  His night vision, with the aid of the light from the Space Jumper’s ports, showed that they had come down in a deep depression. He circled it carefully, sniffing. As soon as he was sure of his footing, he went bounding upward to the dim twisted shapes beyond. There was so little gravity that he weighed only ounces instead of pounds, and he found he could span great distances with very little effort. Almost before he realized it, the Space Jumper was hidden behind him. In this airless place there was not even a glow from its lights.

  Bolts reached a small open area, and paused to rotate his sniffer. Instantly he was aware of a familiar smell—the same frightening smell he had found in the cavern with the fox critter.

  It was the Terrible Unknown.

  Thinking he’d better tame it a bit, he opened his mouth and tried to loosen his Number Two growl. But no sound came forth.

  “By Joe!” he told himself, “I clean forgot it won’t work without air. This is bad.”

  Just to be on the safe side, he raised his hackles and snapped out his teeth. Then he plunged onward, circling and following his sniffer. It was comforting, at this uncertain time, to remember that he was no longer an inexperienced dog, green off the assembly line. Why, he’d kicked around in some tough places and tangled with all kinds of things! “Pshaw,” he told himself, “what’s a little more dark?”

  Something moved in the dimness far ahead.

  Bolts stopped, feeling his circuits squirm. Was that a glass varmint? His night vision, which grayed the blackness in front of him, couldn’t make out a thing. There were only the worn and twisted shapes that might once have been buildings, and in the dark they reminded him very much of the way the cavern had looked.

  But something had moved. He was sure of it.

  He was suddenly relieved to hear Bingo’s voice on his radio. “Have you found a trail yet, Bolts?”

  “N-not exactly,” he answered, thankful that his radio worked here, even if his growl didn’t. “B-but I’m sure getting warm. I spotted something.”

  “What was it?”

  “Dunno. But mebbe my camera caught it.”

  “Careful! Don’t get too close to it until you find out how dangerous it is!”

  Bolts crept on cautiously to the place where he had seen the movement. His sniffer was suddenly aware of a trace of something. It was so faint that he couldn’t even think of it as a smell—it was hardly even a ghost of a scent. He swung left in the direction of it, and began following it in and out among the crumbling glass shapes.

  Sometimes he lost the scent altogether, and had to spend precious time circling before he picked it up again. Finally, with his sniffer to the ground, he discovered that the scent was stronger every twelve feet, and realized with dismay that the thing was taking twelve-foot steps.

  “Great grisly grief!” he burst out, awed. “What kind of a monster critter is this?”

  “Did you find something, Bolts?” Bingo called anxiously.

  “Ain’t come face-to-face with the varmint, and I dunno as I really want to.” He told Bingo about the astonishingly long steps.

  “Maybe it’s just the gravity,” Bingo offered. “If the thing’s moving fast, it wouldn’t have to be so awfully big to take such steps. But watch yourself!�
��

  “You’re tellin’ me! I’m mighty glad I ain’t edible.”

  “Bolts,” said Bingo, in sudden concern. “I—I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Anything’s possible in a place like this. Remember, there’s no metal on this asteroid—and our anchor was stolen along with the camera. Don’t forget you’re practically all metal yourself.”

  “Ulp!” muttered Bolts, and slowed down to think things over. He could understand now how the little burro must have felt. “Aw,” he told himself. “I’ll worry about that later. Anyhow, I got teeth. If there’s any chawing to be done, I’ll do my share.”

  He went on, more cautiously than ever, pausing at every turn to examine the way before exposing himself. The critter might be lying in wait, watching for a chance to pounce on him.

  The trail was becoming very hard to follow. The critter was taking longer steps, and even making great leaps from one high spot to another. Bolts stopped at last in confusion. He had made a wide circle and he could still pick up the scent now and then—but it led nowhere. The critter had outfoxed him.

  “Anything wrong, Bolts?” Bingo asked.

  “Plenty! I can’t figger whether I got the varmint treed or not. I’ve lost him—but he’s somewhere close.”

  “Look around you carefully. He may be hiding overhead. You don’t want him to jump on you!”

  “He ain’t overhead, Bingo. And he ain’t behind nothing. I been watching mighty sharp.”

  “Then he’s gone underground,” said Bingo.

  “Can’t find a hole no place.”

  “But there must be a hole!” Bingo insisted. “Unless he’s fooled you and gotten away.”

  “He can’t fool my sniffer, Bingo. He’s somewhere within fifty feet of me. Either he’s turned invisible, or—by Joe! What’s that?”

  “D-do you see him?” Bingo asked excitedly.

  “Naw, but I can’t believe what I do see!” Bolts trotted forward into a slight hollow. At the foot of what may have been a wall lay a very strange object.

  “What is it?” Bingo cried.

  “Flowers—a bouquet of ’em!”

  “Impossible!” It was Commander Brown on the radio now. “Bolts, have you lost your reason?”

  “Nope. Reckon I know flowers when I see ’em. This is a mighty pretty bunch-looks like they’re fresh out of the garden. Can’t tell the colors in the dark, but—”

  “I still say it’s impossible. Flowers can’t grow in a place like this!”

  “Mebbe they don’t—but they’re here. And don’t ask me what they’re doing here—unless that critter dropped ’em. By Joe, I gotta look into this! Hold everything a minute.”

  Bolts moved the bouquet of flowers out of the way, and turned his sniffer on the wall. The scent was strong here, stronger than it had been anywhere. The wall seemed to be of solid glass, crumbly on the surface, but when he examined it more carefully he discovered that there were long cracks in it—long, deep cracks about two feet apart. Was this a door of some kind?

  He placed his flexible paws against it and pushed hard. Something gave a little. It was a door!

  Suddenly Bolts paused. What kind of critter was this that went hopping around a glass asteroid with a bouquet of flowers in his claws? A critter that probably ate anchors and cameras, as well as tin dogs if he could get his nippers into one.… But no, that didn’t make sense. It sure didn’t go with flowers.

  “Bolts,” came Bingo’s voice in his radio. “What are you doing now? Watch it—those flowers may be a trap!”

  “Ulp!” said Bolts, backing away from the door. “I didn’t think of that! Bingo, these flowers were right in front of his den. There’s a kind of a door here, and I can sniff him strong on the other side. Reckon he’s trying to bait me in so he can grab me?”

  “I don’t know what to think! I just wish there was some way you could communicate with him.”

  “By Joe, I’m gonna try it! If I can talk to Earth critters, mebbe I can get myself across to a space varmint. If he tries any tricks, I got my teeth ready to chaw him.”

  Bolts faced the door again. In his fiercest voice, which naturally made no audible sound in this airless place, he demanded, “Hey, you! Come out and show yourself!”

  There was no answer.

  He moved closer to the door, and sang forth with all the threat he could muster, “Come out, you ornery varmint—or I’ll bust the door down and give you a good chawing!”

  Bolts hoped he had made it strong enough, for a tin dog on the smallish side couldn’t take chances with a monster that took twelve-foot steps and probably fed on anchors.

  He was astounded, therefore, when a small timid voice replied in fright, “Go away, invader! Go away! I’ve nothing you want!”

  10

  He Becomes a VID

  Bolts stood blinking at the door, hardly believing what he’d heard. Then he cried, “Hey, you’ve got me wrong! I’m no invader!”

  “You are too an invader!” replied the timid voice. “Only invaders chase and threaten. And I’ve seen you—you’re utterly horrible!”

  “Aw, I can’t help my looks,” Bolts grumbled. “I know they ain’t much, but I was made this way. Sorry I put you in a tizzy—I was only aiming to get acquainted.”

  “I want nothing to do with you! You’re a monster with strange powers. You don’t even speak a proper and understandable language—yet I can understand you when speech is impossible. Go away and leave me in peace!”

  “I ain’t no monster!” Bolts snapped. “I’m a tin dawg with a trimmed brain, and I can talk to any kind of a critter.” He explained about his trimmed brain. “I came a long way to meet you. I was made special so I could track you down and find out about you, and I ain’t leaving till I do. Now open up the door and let’s get acquainted!”

  There was a silence. Then the thing behind the door said slowly, “Who sent you here to track me down and threaten me?”

  “I wasn’t sent here to threaten you! But I had to get a rise outa you somehow—and I sure wasn’t taking no chances with something I never seen before. The first time my people came here you stole their anchor and their camera, and that kinda worried ’em. By Joe, when a critter—”

  “They worried me! I took the objects, hoping they might be presents—I did need them badly for their metal. But before I could offer anything in return, your people were gone. Why do you call them people? Surely there are no real people in this empty corner of the universe!”

  “Then you don’t know from nothing! By Joe, my people are real, and they don’t come better!”

  “I find that hard to believe,” the timid voice replied. “Good people would never send a horror like you on a friendly mission!”

  “Aw, come off it!” Bolts pleaded impatiently. “I can’t yak forever through a closed door. Time’s running out, and I’ll have to go soon. I dunno how reliable you are, but if you’ll let me in, I’ll promise not to tangle with you if you don’t tangle with me. Is that a deal?”

  “My honor is unquestionable,” the hidden critter retorted, somewhat miffed. “Furthermore, I find violence deplorable. I—I suppose I’ll have to face you, for I have no way of keeping you out. You have my permission to enter—but please do so slowly. The sight of you is almost more than I can bear.”

  “O.K.,” said Bolts. “I ain’t looking forward to this no more than you are—but here I come.”

  He had kept his radio on all during the conversation, and he knew that Bingo could at least hear his own part of it, if not what the other critter said. Now suddenly Bingo called worriedly, “Careful, Bolts! You don’t know what you’re getting into!”

  “Sure don’t,” he said glumly. “But I gotta do it.”

  He put his paws upon the door again, and slowly, carefully, began to push. The worn section of glass between the cracks swung inward, and all at once Bolts found himself staring into a dimly lighted workroom.

  In his wildest dreams he could never have imagined such a place. Flowers and parts of
flowers were everywhere—on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, spilling from vases, overflowing cubbyholes and shelves, and littering the workbench. There were great glowing blossoms of all kinds and colors, delicate flowers of incredible shapes, clumps of flowers bursting into gorgeous bloom …

  Bolts gaped, blinking his eye lights forty to the second before he saw a movement in the far corner. Cringing there, half hidden by the flowers, was a wispy, spindly robot who seemed to be half flower himself. The robot had a big head not unlike an unopened bud, and under it a body so slender it might have been a flower stem. Bolts saw two big frightened eyes staring back at him, and instantly two pairs of slender hands shot up and covered the eyes.

  “O-o-o-oh!” cried the spindly robot. “I can’t bear the sight of you! Go away! Go away!”

  “Aw, for the luvva Pete!” Bolts grumbled. “I know I ain’t no blooming rose—but I ain’t no creep either! Why, I’ve been told I’m right personable!”

  “Personable!” screamed the robot. “Did—did you ever see yourself?”

  “Why-why, no,” Bolts admitted. “Ain’t never been around a mirror.”

  “Then take a good look!” The robot lifted a square of polished glass from the wall and, carefully averting his eyes, held it in front of Bolts.

  “Ulp!” he gasped, backing away from the awful thing with gleaming teeth and raised hackles that glared back at him from the glass. He’d entirely forgotten he was still rigged for combat.

  Quickly he lowered his hackles and slid his teeth out of sight. “By Joe!” he exclaimed, secretly pleased with his formidable appearance, “I bet I could curdle milk if I put my mind to it. Do I look better now?”

  “I—I can hardly believe the difference!” the spindly robot exclaimed. “It’s incredible. Why, I do believe you are rather personable.”

  “Natch,” said Bolts. “Now mebbe we can yak a bit. You got a name?”