by D. E. Ellis
The air was already much cooler. Protective clothing was put on and still they made their way onwards. Their portable floodlight, though extremely powerful for its size, did not in any way equal the sun’s light, or even the light reflected from the planet. The shadows cast by the rocks were treacherous and the pitfalls many. To make matters worse, there were several gales.
Eventually even the faint planet light faded away altogether. Sixteen hours after the sunset, the river froze and the cold became as intense as during winter at the poles on Earth.
Badly in need of a rest, they halted their journey and decided to wait for the sunrise—or, at least, until they felt fit enough to continue their journey on foot, dragged down as they were by the extra weight of their protective clothing.
Courton had by then somewhat recovered his strength, owing to more frequent rests as the lack of light made travelling more difficult. He assisted Wormald to erect the shelter they had carried on the raft. It was of an extremely tough, weather-proof material, completely insulated against heat and cold, and resembling an igloo in shape.
Reasonably comfortable and sustained by iron rations, Courton turned turned his attention to Thane’s arm. Hardened as he was, he almost shuddered. Huge lumps had appeared under the skin; and, here and there, the surface was just breaking. He probed with a sterilised knife. Thane grinned weakly.
“Don’t mind me—I can’t feel a thing. It’s almost as if all the nerves were tied up.”
He bent over to see what the doctor was doing—and was violently sick. The probing had uncovered a little dark green shoot. Suddenly the whole scene faded and he passed out. Courton turned pale as he realised that the spines Thane had mentioned, when he had found time to tell him the story his journey upriver, had been attached to seeds. Those spines pulled out immediately had come clear with the seeds, but those removed later had left the seeds behind. These were now germinating.
The thought of what was happening to Bruce Kenton did not bear contemplating.
Working swiftly and grimly while Thane was unconscious, he cut away the growth, being horrified to find their roots spreading inseparably into the tissues of the arm. Thane had almost literally spoken the truth when he said his nerves were tied up. Agonised, the doctor faced the awful decision of whether or not to remove the arm. If he decided against doing so, the roots might wither away, now that the parent growths were removed.
He calculated furiously and decided that the issue could wait a day or two before the trouble was likely to spread beyond the arm. In that time, he could hope for positive signs of it dying away. He bound up the arm and made Thane as comfortable as possible.
The next step was to contact Thursfield.
“How is Bruce?” he asked. Immediately, there was an answer: “He seems to be all right in himself now, but it’s his legs that worry me. There are five huge lumps on one leg, and two on the other. Most of the other cuts have healed up nicely, except for one or two that are are festering slightly; but I expect they’ll clear up soon. He’s still very weak, but I think he would have been able to get about by now, if he wasn’t almost paralysed in the legs. I wish you were here.”
Courton had been impatiently trying to break in on the report from the moment Thursfield had mentioned the lumps. Now he succeeded:
“Those lumps are seeds that have germinated. I’ve just cut three out of Thane’s arm. There is only on thing for it—you’ll have to operate on Bruce. It’s his only chance! It will be too late by the time I reach there. Cut out as much of the growth as you can, without cutting into any of the larger veins. In fact, it may do the trick if you just remove as much of the centre of each plant as is possible—without touching the surrounding tissues once you have made an incision to get at it. You’ll find the necessary instruments in my case. Do you think you can do it?”
“It doesn’t look as if I have much choice,” answered Thursfield, weakly. “I hope I don’t pass out while I’m doing it.”
“Get yourself a stiff drink first, and try not to let your imagination wander while you’re working. I’ve warned you what to expect, so the shock may not be so great. Give Bruce a local anaesthetic and try to stop him from looking at it. Thane passed right out when he saw what I had uncovered in his arm. I’ll keep in contact and give you instructions as you go along.”
“That is a relief.” murmured Thursfield, sarcastically. He passed on the results of his conversation to Bruce, who had heard most of it anyway.
“Just think what a pleasant chat I’ll be able to have with Thane when he gets back. We’ll be able to talk for hours about our operations and compare notes, just like the old women back home.” Bruce’s usual flippancy did not desert him.
By grimly concentrating on his task and not allowing his thoughts to wander, Thursfield manage to keep his hand steady and follow the doctor’s instructions. Only when he had finished did he wipe the sweat from his brow and collapse into a chair.
“Now, now, ‘Doc’. I thought I was the one with the bad legs. I feel fine. I bet Grant says you made a good job of it when he gets here.” There was no question of Bruce’s courage, for all his foolhardiness. Thursfield had to smile and felt better. After all, he had not shirked the task and had done his best. The rest was out of his hands.
There was nothing for the stranded party to do now but wait; watching for signs that Courton had won the fight on Thane, for Dunstable to show signs of lucidity, and finally for the sun to start the thaw. In the shelter, with nothing to occupy them, time dragged. The whole story was told in great detail, in the many conversations with Thursfield and Kenton. They were so tired that at first the hours were passed sleeping. Six of Demeter’s days passed and, at the end of that time, Courton was sure he had won the battle. The roots were withering away, being absorbed into the blood stream. Arnot could move his arm again, painful though it was, now the numbing influence had been removed. The whole party began to look and feel fit,but were rather tired of their pill diet. Their thoughts constantly stayed to a good meal aboard the Unisphere. Kenton was also progressing though more slowly; Thursfield was still worried about the condition of the wounds in his legs, although there, too, the growths had succumbed to the knife.
Dunstable was the chief cause for concern. On the journey back they had been so pressed that there had been little time to examine him closely. Here, at close quarters, his helplessness was terribly pathetic. Much time was spent in trying to stimulate an intelligent response, all to no avail.
Wormald was content to let the leadership revert to Arnot, now that the latter was almost well again, but he was the first to fret against the monotonous inactivity.
“How much further have we to go?” he asked Arnot, hoping that he had over-estimated it himself.
“Now we are all fit again, when daylight comes, it shouldn’t take more than five of Demeter’s days. Possibly less.”
“Must we wait till then? Couldn’t we move very slowly with our portable light and turn the raft into a sledge. It would give fairly easily over the ice.”
“It would, if the ice were smooth,” Arnot patiently explained. “Didn’t you notice it was like a concertina? That was one of the few facts that penetrated my block of a brain at the time you were building this shelter. I was too exhausted to do anything but sit and stare at the river. Our progress would be very, very slow and uncomfortable. And we’d end up in the same condition as we were when we made camp. We would then have to rest several days before we could do anything. Besides—what’s the hurry? The planet will begin to show in about twenty-four hours. It only seems a long while measured in Demeter days.”
The other two had to admit that three days was not a long time, compared with the time it had taken the Unisphere to travel from Earth. Apart from the doctor’s desire to examine Kenton properly, it seemed the wisest course to wait. So the days dragged on.
The sight of the planet broke the monotony and almost tempted them to start at once; but the cold was still so intense that they
decided against it.
Five days more and they waited expectantly for the sun. They had already begun to pack as much of the gear as possible on to the raft. The warming rays fell first upon the opposite side of the satellite. The expanding warmth of air forced its way round in increasing gales. As the sun rose, it brought with it a howling fury of wind-lashed sleet. The shelter, which had been dismantled, was hastily erected again.
Thursfield gave his opinion, when contacted, that—following the pattern of the storms observed when circling the satellite—they could expect the gales to last for about four days.
Hours later, they became aware that the floor of their shelter was covered with water. A sudden thought struck Arnot.
“Quick—out of here! We’ve got to climb up the rocks. The river is rising with the rain and, as it thaws, it will rush down the canyon and carry us with it. We’ve got to get above water-line.”
Hustling Dunstable between them, they scrambled up the rocks. Dunstable made no attempt to escape then, and had already been left untied for several days; but he had to be pushed and goaded up the rocks by Wormald, while Arnot and Courton heaved at the rope they had tied round his waist. There was no time for them to climb up first and haul Dunstable up later. The river was rising at an alarming rate. Had they dared to stop and look, they would have seen it piling up and rushing down on them.
It hit them before they were entirely clear. A cry made Arnot and Courton look down. At the same moment there was a strain on the rope that nearly pulled them both down. Just in time, they flung themselves forward and clung to the rock face with all their might. That brief glimpse had revealed Dunstable and Wormald up to their necks in swirling water, being swept from their precarious perch. The strain slackened.
“Do you think they were swept away?” asked Courton, hoarsely.
“Hang on while I look” Thane shouted. He edged cautiously backwards and turned round. With relief, he saw Wormald clinging to a rock, supporting Dunstable. With a word to Courton to stay where he was, to act as an anchor if necessary, he slipped off the rope round his own waist, and climbed down. With his assistance, Wormald managed to climb out of the water and, together they pulled Dunstable, who was unconscious, out.
From a comparatively safe ledge, Wormald and Arnot watched the havoc below, while the doctor tried to revive Dunstable. “Look at those fish!” cried Thane, as hundreds of shining objects leapt out of the water at intervals and splashed back.
“Queer-looking fish,” was Wormald’s opinion. “They look more like frogs to me.”
“Let’s say tadpoles, half-grown ones, only monsters by comparison. These must be quite three feet long. Well, well! This place has got some kind of animal life, after all. I suppose we ought to investigate it.”
“If you mean catch a specimen, you’ll have to do it with your bare hands. Look!” Wormald pointed to where the raft and shelter had been. The water had dropped a little and the top of the shelter should have been visible, but the shelter and the raft had been swept away.
“Looks as though we’re going to have to tighten our belts and travel light,” Thane said grimly.
By midday the river was once more within its usual banks, although rushing along at a tremendous speed. It was obviously not going to help their return. By then Dunstable had come round, still dazed but physically non the worse. They decided to start for the ship immediately. With their radios still intact on their wrists and a few emergency ration pills still in their pockets the situation was not too bad.
With nothing to carry, they made fairly good progress, Dunstable surprised them by proceeding under his won power. He seemed to have little knowledge of what he was doing, or where he was going; but he managed to follow the others blindly, helped along occasionally by Wormald, who seemed to have made himself responsible for him.
They rested in the heat of the following day and those succeeding it, as they had done when they first started out. Radio contact with the ship was maintained so Thursfield and Kenton were aware of the situation. Their protective clothing now became a problem. It was impossible to wear it in the heat, and none of them relished the thought of carrying it either. Eventually, they reluctantly decided to abandon it, hiding it and marking its location by building a cairn, in case there was a possibility of returning to reclaim it.
“That’s the last of the pills,” remarked Courton, with a grimace.
“Thank goodness,” cheered Thane. “I never want to see another as long as I live. It won’t hurt us to starve a couple of days. We should be there by then.”
Their next call was answered by Bruce. “The old boy is on his way to meet you. He’s bringing some more supplies.”
“Not pills!” howled Thane.
“That’s right, you ungrateful so and so. You can’t expect him to carry more. I wish I could have come but this wretched leg won’t bear my weight for long. I suppose I’m lucky to walk again at all.”
“You’re dead right there,” Thane answered with feeling. “When I saw my arm …” he shuddered. “Anyway, it seems perfectly all right now, so I don’t suppose it will be long before your leg is all right too. Grant will be able to see it soon, now.”
They met Thursfield before noon the next day. By then the pills were quite welcome. Water was no problem with the river so close at hand. There had been no ill results through drinking it.
The remainder of the journey back to the shop produced no further troubles, and it was accomplished within the next eight hours. It was only three weeks since they started exploring, but it seemed more like three months.
Chapter 5
Relaxing after their meal since they had left the ship, they discussed the results of their explorations.
We don’t seem to have accomplished much,” remarked Kenton ruefully. He was reclining on his bunk, still weak but feeling better than he had done for days. This was largely because of the doctor’s reassurance that even the worst places on his leg were beginning to heal, in spite of Thursfield’s rough and ready surgery. A slight stiffness would be his only permanent disability.
“Yes, I’m afraid our collection of specimens is rather small. Although, perhaps, after all, it is just as well it wasn’t larger—otherwise they might have been left behind when we retreated so hurriedly on the raft.” replied Arnot.
“Perhaps we have accomplished more than you think,” interrupted Thursfield. “While I’ve had to stay put with the ship, I’ve had the time to sort the facts out, and put together they make quite a logical natural history. The specimens of trees are small, but adequate to give a good idea of the type of flora that has evolved to survive the enormous changes of climate. If you could supply me with a few sketches to supplement the micro-film, I can build up quite an account of it from what you have told me of your observations.
“It’s a pity the raft was washed away. We could have taken back part of it as an example of the peculiar hardness of the trees. Still, perhaps we can propagate some of the seeds under artificial conditions, once we get back to Earth. As for the rest of the vegetation, we must assume it to be somewhat similar. We have already observed that our chances of landing elsewhere are extremely small, so we can’t check it. If we had the raft it would be possible to explore further upstream. But since we haven’t, it means starting from scratch if we wish to explore further. However, the downstream trip produced some interesting clues to the life cycle of the fauna.”
“You mean those frog things?” interrupted Courton.
“Yes, and also your experience at the lake. My theory is they are drawn to it by some irresistible force at spawning time, this being the thawing of the river. The gas Dunstable inhaled probably has something to do with it. Its effect probably covers a wider area than is noticeable to us. Disseminated, it may have no effect on us, but acts as some kind of preparatory call to the creatures over a considerable distance.”
“What a pity we haven’t a specimen. It would be most interesting to dissect,” Courton Exclaimed.
“That depends upon whether it was alive, or already dead, when we acquired it. I certainly would not wish to kill anything intelligent with the sole idea of finding out what makes it tick. If they have any intelligence it might be possible to communicate and find out what we wish to know that way.”
Thursfield had been smiling faintly while the others spoke. Now, with the air of a conjurer, he laid a bundle on the table.
“I trust this will settle the problem without recourse to our consciences. I found it stranded on a rock, quite dead,” he added by way of explanation. “As a matter of fact, I took several feet of film of them inaction while the river was in flood. That’s how I came t be out of the ship and near the river at the crucial moment.”
Gasps from the others more than rewarded his stage management of the situation. They examined the creature closely and found their first impression to have been correct. It was definitely frog-like in its characteristics; but it was impossible to tell, from just looking at it, whether or not it had been intelligent. Courton pounced on it as soon as the others had finished. He was about to bear it off to examine it, when Thane stopped him.
“Hang on a minute, Grant. We had better have a council of war about our future programme before you desert us.”
“I suppose you’re right,” agreed the doctor, reluctantly. “But it seems to me that the programme may be influenced by whether or not these creatures are intelligent.”
“We must take the possibility into account certainly, but this is the situation as I see it! It will take us another summer period to reach the trees and build another raft. Then we shall have to return, owing to the impossibility of transporting protective clothing and equipment, until we have the raft near the ship. We should have to devise some kind of motor to carry us against the current, if we are to make any further explorations. We have been here less than a month—a little more than a month if you count the time since we entered the system—and we allowed six months for exploring. We can leave now and spend the time exploring the two other possible satellites, or we can take home more thorough account of this one. There is a third course open—that of returning home in a few days, once we have collected the facts we have gathered into some sort of order. But perhaps we are hardly justified in considering that,” Thane ended, half wistfully.