If intelligent life was to be found in the system, this seemed the most likely place to find it. Slim was on fire with the thought that he might be able to communicate with the denizens of this planet, and learn from them the reason for their sun’s peculiar actions.
AS THE ship approached, the planet’s resemblance to earth became even more marked. There were mighty oceans, vast forests and even greater areas of arid desert. The proportion of water to land was somewhat less, indicating greater age; but it was still a fair substitute for Mother Earth.
“There’s one thing missing,” Slim noticed.
“Cities,” supplied Ham. “I’ve been looking for them.”
“Wait’ll we get closer. Maybe they don’t live in cities.”
“Maybe they don’t. And then again, maybe there aren’t any ‘they’.”
But there were. As the ship neared the planet it became evident that some sort of a civilization was flourishing below them. Scattered widely over the surface of this world, were hundreds of large buildings of peculiar construction.
There seemed to be no system to their distribution, for they were situated in the most unusual spots. Invariably dome-shaped, and of a grayish-white color, the structures were just as likely to be seen in the middle of a desert, or perched precariously on the side of a mountain, as in a more conventional position.
“Look at that one!” Slim pointed. “Tilted on its edge, and half buried in the side of that hill!”
“Looks like the inhabitants of this sphere are among the dear departed,” Ham guessed. “It’s a cinch they didn’t build those things in such dizzy places. More likely they’ve been there for thousands of years, and the topography of the land has altered.”
“I guess so,” admitted Slim, gloomily. “They weren’t built for human use anyway. I haven’t seen a window or door in any of them.”
“Well, let’s land, get into one of them, and take some pictures.”
It was several minutes before they decided on one of the structures, situated in a desirable spot. The one selected lay almost in the center of a broad, grassy plain, and they picked it because a clear view was to be had for miles in all directions. If there happened to be any dangerous animal life on the planet they wouldn’t be caught unaware.
The ship landed about a hundred yards from the curious structure.
Slim turned off the gravity controls, and they took a few cautious steps.
“Don’t notice any difference,” Ham remarked. “Should be heavier.”
“Maybe this planet is composed of lighter materials,” Slim hazarded, busy with the analysis of a sample of the outside air. “You can’t always depend on size. Look at that little baby that balances Sirius. Smaller than the earth, and heavier than the sun.”
“You look at it. How’s the air?” piped Ham.
“Nineteen percent oxygen, and three percent carbon dioxide. The rest is helium, except for small quantities of some of the rarer gases found in our own atmosphere. Pressure, about seventeen pounds.”
“Ought to be breathable,” decided Ham. “Bring the torch.”
HE RELEASED the latches on the inner airlock door, while Slim produced the torch from a locker. The outer door followed, and in a minute they had jumped to the ground and were breathing the air of the new planet.
They wasted no time looking around them, but set out immediately to cover the short distance to the hive-like building. Slim was carrying the torch, with which they intended to burn their way inside; Ham was lugging a camera and a few dozen flash bulbs. They were about half-way to the structure when involuntarily both stopped dead in their tracks.
Chapter 3
“I THOUGHT that was a rock!” exclaimed Ham, gazing in consternation at an object slightly to the right of their path. The object, about three feet in diameter and smoothly rounded, when they first sighted it, was now about five feet long and as thick through as Ham’s thigh.
“Looks more like a worm to me,” said Slim, judiciously, “Except that it’s brown — although that could be sun-tan.”
“Which end is which?” inquired Ham.
“Neither. A worm’s the same on each end. You have to wait until it moves, and even then you might be fooled. It might be backing up.”
But it became immediately apparent that this system, admittedly unreliable, was less than useless in the case at hand. For the worm moved, and in a quite unpredictable manner. Its opposite sides bulged and kept bulging until it resembled a four-pointed starfish.
“It’ll never get anywhere that way,” was Ham’s comment.
“Maybe it’s not going anywhere. Maybe it wants to hear you make some more silly remarks. Come on.”
“But suppose this is an intelligent creature?” suggested Ham “Maybe we should try to communicate with it.”
“Phooey! That’s an amoeba-like animal on the order of those creatures that infest the marshes of Venus, except for the healthy color and the larger size. They live sluggishly by ingesting nourishment from the grasses and other vegetation with which their bodies come in contact. Reproduce by fission.”
“You seem well acquainted around here,” Ham murmured.
But inasmuch as the strange creature seemed satisfied to retain his star-fish shape, and made no further effort to be entertaining, Ham decided that Slim was probably right, and the two resumed their former course.
They had taken only a few steps, when they were again brought up short. They both distinctly heard the word, “Wait!” They looked at each other, each thinking for a brief instant that the other had spoken. Then the answer dawned on them.
“It was the worm!” Slim exclaimed.
“You mean the ameba-like creature,” corrected Ham, sarcastically.
“Which is correct,” informed the starfish. “My composition is very similar to the picture your mind gives me of the amoeba.”
The two voyagers looked incredulously at the astounding creature. Their astonishment was due to the fact that they now realized the thing was causing the words to be formed in their minds, and making no audible sound while doing it.
Such an accomplishment had often been imagined, and indeed it was believed that certain men had abilities in that direction; but neither had ever encountered the phenomenon and the experience was eerie in the extreme.
“Did I hear you infer that you can read our minds?” Slim finally queried.
“NOT your ordinary thoughts,” explained the ameba. “They are not strong enough to transmit themselves. But I do receive impressions when you speak, for the effort expended makes the waves stronger. And of course I can make my own thoughts strong enough to impress them on your primitive minds.”
Slim turned to Ham. “I think he’s pulling our collective leg. What could be more primitive than an ameba?”
“But there’s nothing primitive about telepathy,” Ham reminded.
“And I didn’t say that I was an amoeba,” corrected the creature. “I merely said that I am similar to one. As a matter of fact, my people represent the evolution of that unicellular form carried out to the nth degree.”
“Then you, personally, are not unicellular?” deduced Ham.
“No more than you are.”
The starfish stretched forth one of its members for their examination. “You will notice that my skin is of a rubbery nature, and quite tangible and opaque. The unicellular creature is transparent, and the outer covering is so tenuous that it readily allows food and moisture to pass through.
“The amoeba, as such, is strictly limited as far as size is concerned. Its cell walls would break down from its own weight if it grew too much. So obviously I am constructed of many cells.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Slim admitted. “But if your skin is so tough, how do you eat? Or don’t you need nourishment?”
Again one of the pseudopodia was thrust out, this time bottom side up. There were dozens of small openings on the under side of the member, some of them gaping and closing rhythmically.
The
men shuddered involuntarily, for the whole thing looked very much like one of the arms of an octopus. Then, abruptly, all of the openings closed and the rubbery texture of the skin became smooth and unbroken.
“I was only demonstrating,” explained the evolved amoeba, apologetically. “The mouths are not there when I don’t need them to admit food. Merely a multi-celled adaptation of the unicellular form. Even my brain is but the highly evolved replica of the nucleus of a primitive amoeba.”
“If it’s not too much to ask,” ventured Ham, “do you have, concealed somewhere about your person, a pair of eyes?”
“Nothing so complicated. Instead I see with every nerve on the surface of my body. It is by far the most simple and efficient visional apparatus, for I can see in all directions. All the nerve-ends are sensitive to light.”
“Amazing,” claimed Ham. “But how about...”
“Wait a minute,” Slim broke in. “We’re forgetting what we came here for. Maybe this gent knows the answer.”
But before either man could put the question to the amoeba, a feeling of acute alarm swept into their consciousness with such intensity that both cringed as if threatened with instant extinction. They knew that the sensation was caused by a similar feeling in their new acquaintance, but it was none the less real.
“RUN!... Run!” shrilled the next mental message. And run they did. There was no time wasted in looking about for danger.
Too many times in the course of their interplanetary wanderings they had been in spots where instant flight was the only means of survival; they did not hesitate now.
But before they had covered half the distance to the space ship, an unseen blow from behind knocked them flat. Scrambling wildly to their feet, they fairly flew the rest of the way.
As they were about to leap for the edge of the airlock, Ham let out a yelp as he was again knocked down, this time more forcibly than before. But Slim made the jump, lithely pulled his lanky body up, and turned in time to lend the other a hand.
Slamming the outer door, after hurriedly noting that the amoeba was nowhere to be seen, they stood panting and trembling. Finally Ham, having caught his breath, chuckled at the ludicrous expression of fright on Slim’s face.
“Funny, eh?” Slim panted. “I suppose you know what it’s all about. What knocked us down, and what became of our pal... Come on, let me in on it.”
Ham sobered and looked out of the nearest port. An empty plain stretched in all directions. Empty, that is, except for the mysterious building and the camera, flash bulbs and torch, which they had dropped when ordered to run. There was no sign of their recent acquaintance, the high evolved amoeba.
“I’ve sort of run out of ideas,” he admitted, shakily.
It was a full hour later, and almost a full quart of Scotch whisky later, when Slim again voiced wonderment at the creature’s strange absence from the landscape.
“I wonder what became of Jasper,” said he.
Ham dwelt sadly on this mystery as he poured out the last of the Scotch. For several minutes the silence was broken only by the occasional liquid gurgle of a trickle of Haig and Haig passing an unsteady epiglottis.
Both men were mourning the disappearance, but for different reasons. Slim’s mind was wholly filled with the lost opportunity for gaining some knowledge of the strange behavior of Propus; his friend had conceived a genuine — if slightly alcoholic — affection for the missing amoeba.
“He seemed such a friendly sort of a critter,” said Ham, half tearfully. “No harm in ‘im a-tall.”
“And so darned willing to oblige,” supplemented Slim. “He was willing to tell all — if we had only been given time to ask him.”
“And not only that,” enlarged Ham, striding uncertainly toward one of the ports, “but he wasn’t impolitely asking us a bunch of questions about our origin. And he must have been very curious about it, too... Say!”
He broke off, attracted by something outside. “Come here, quick!”
Slim bounded to his feet, almost folded up, but managed to reach the bullet-like window. He arrived just in time to see a small rabbit, or something that looked like a rabbit, come to an untimely end. The animal had been chased, and overtaken, by a shadow.
At least it had seemed to be a shadow while it was in motion, but now as it stopped and engulfed the rabbit in its indefinable blackness, it looked more like a hole in the ground. It was impossible to focus the eyes on the thing.
SLIM blinked several times, thinking of the pernicious effects of alcohol on the optic nerve, but was still unable to determine anything about the blob of darkness other than the fact that it appeared to be about the size of the vanished creature he had called Jasper.
“I’ll bet that’s the jigger that bowled us over,” he finally said, turning to Ham, who was futilely trying to coax a few more drops from the bottle.
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” sighed Ham, returning to the port for another look. “What do you think we should... Hey! It has went! What became of it?”
Slim again looked out, but saw nothing of the shadow and no sign of the unfortunate rabbit, if that’s what it was.
He explained patiently that he had no part in the phenomenon and that the shadow had certainly been there when he looked away, and followed this intelligence with the suggestion that inasmuch as Propus was getting ready to set, it might be a good idea if they both sought relief from the harrowing memories of the day’s happenings, by catching a little sleep.
Ham, with a solemn gravity reminiscent of the bottle, agreed wholeheartedly. Tomorrow, he averred, was another day.
TOMORROW, indeed, was another day; although as events progressed, it turned out to be quite as harrowing as the one it followed.
It was a good twelve hours after the setting of Propus that the first ruddy rays of the morning entered a port and moved to the point where they shone directly on Ham’s face. He opened slitted eyes, sat erect and groaned.
But there was no time for him to collect his sense and realize to the fullest how terrible he felt, for a diversion occurred immediately. The light which had awakened him was shut off abruptly; and, quite startled, he got up to investigate.
The port in question was a good ten feet above the ground, and the ship was still situated in the middle of a treeless plain. That he was startled is easy to understand.
For nothing — except a cloud, which would have made the light dim gradually — should have been there to cast that shadow. Uneasy thoughts of the rabbit-killing menace of the night before coursed through his head as he peered through the little window.
“Good morning,” greeted a familiar voice.
“It’s Jasper!” he muttered, incredulously. And then he saw the obstruction. It was, indeed, Jasper. And that personage was hovering, quite nonchalantly — as if such doings were a regular thing with him, which, of course, was altogether possible — a short distance above the window.
“I don’t wish to disturb you,” came the emanation. “But will you please let me come inside?”
Ham thought he detected a note of urgency in the message. He seemed to be experiencing, in a slighter degree, the same feeling of horror and fear that had preceded the attack of the day before. He made record time of opening the airlock, admitting the amoeba, who floated eerily past him, and shutting it again.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t awake in time,” said Jasper, gently settling to the floor. “I was about to be attacked by one of the Mad Ones.”
“Why didn’t you wake us? Your thoughts seemed to penetrate the walls of the ship easily enough.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have considered it! We Jaspers are very considerate of each other’s privacy.”
Chapter 4
HAM’S slightly blood-shot eyes widened perceptibly. Slim had referred to the amoeba by that name Jasper, not knowing his real one, and now the critter had evidently accepted it for his own.
No... that wasn’t it. The amoeba hadn’t used a name at all. He was using thoughts. And Ham’s
mind was automatically translating the thoughts into words, without even realizing it. And the word his mind had given him for the highly evolved amoeba, and all of its kind, was naturally the same one he had mentally been using to designate him.
Further deductive reasoning along those lines was abruptly interrupted by a minor explosion from the direction of Slim’s bed. That gentleman had begun to squirm and thrash about as the sound of the conversation penetrated his dim consciousness.
Suddenly he yelled in a fear-filled voice, “Get him off a me!” and sat up, looking a bit sheepish.
“Musta been something I et,” he explained, looking with pleased surprise at Jasper. “What became of you last night?”
“I rose in the air, out of harm’s way. My people utilize the principle of levitation as a normal function of our bodies.”
“Amazing!”
“If you’ll remember,” suggested Ham, “this is your week to get the meals. Suppose you break out the tomato juice while I converse with our guest. By the way Jasper, is there anything my friend can prepare for you? I don’t know whether our sort of food would agree with you.”
“Nothing, thank you. I have eaten my usual meal of grasses and require no more.”
“Well — in that case let’s get back to where we left off. You were about to be attacked by one of the Mad Ones. And what might they be?”
“They are really Jaspers like myself,” informed the guest. “Except that they are changed in a horrible and irreversible way. I’ll tell you about it. A few hundred years ago, there was a very adventuresome Jasper who wanted to explore into the outer gaseous envelope of our luminary. He protected himself with very strong walls of force surrounding his body, and set out to do this very thing.
“For ordinary travel in space he had taken more than sufficient precautions, for the force-screen he set up about himself was several times the intensity of the ones we Jaspers have been using for millions of years.
The Best of Argosy #2 - Minions on the Moon Page 14