Trapped on Venus

by Carl Conrad

  Chapter 8 – Fixing the Ship

  Only fifteen minutes passed before Marty regained consciousness. His head cleared slowly, and he was able to push himself upright. He recognized the cabin, then the gauges and dials surrounding him, the slight buzzing in his head, the coolness of his suit, the gloves bloated full of air on his hands, then his eyes focused on Scott stretched limply in the chair, sleeping.

  “Scott?” he said. “Scott, can you hear me?”

  His voice was soft, almost humble as he spoke, but it was enough to awaken him. “Scott? Wake up, it’s me, Marty. We’ve got a lot to do, yet. Have you contacted Stimson?”

  “Huh?” Scott stirred. “What? Oh, no... no, I didn’t.” He raised up to look at Marty. “I must’ve fallen asleep. I was going to see if I could fix the hook-up, but I never got to it. Too tired, I guess.”

  “Well, give me a hand, then,” Marty said, “and I’ll see if I can get it fixed. I think it’s the relay, again. The thing never worked right after I fixed it the first time. Maybe it’s gone for good. I’ll give it a try, though.”

  “Right,” Scott answered. He placed his feet on the floor of the cabin and looked over at Marty beginning to remove the panel from the receiving unit. It was only a short time ago that Marty was sprawled across the cabin, nearly dead, Scott remembered. “Are you all right, Marty?” he asked, hesitantly. The question was almost too obvious, but he had to ask it.

  Marty turned. “Yeah, I’m all right. I was a little scared for a minute there, but then I must’ve blacked out. I don’t remember anything after that. Just sleep... a dream or something. I’m all right, now, though. By the way,” he went on, turning back to the panel, “since I didn’t get a chance to thank you before, let me thank you now. If it hadn’t been for you, I’m afraid I might’ve been the first man to die on Venus. Thanks, Scott. I mean that.”

  “Don’t thank me, Marty. It was just a matter of self-preservation. You don’t think I could fly this thing alone, do you?”

  “Well, thanks, anyway. I appreciate it, whatever your reasons!” He smiled back over his shoulder at Scott, then resumed his work. They were both grateful just to be alive.

  As they talked, Marty had removed the cover of the audio relay receiving unit, and now stood hunched over the circuits looking for the problem. It wasn’t long before he found it – a small circuit board had shorted out just as it had in space.

  “I’ll have to bypass this relay again, Scott,” he said, poking inside the unit. “That means we might lose the cabin lights if this thing blows again, but it’s the only way we’ll be able to reach Stimson and Grayson. I’m not sure if it will even work, but I’ll give it a try. What do you think? Should I go ahead?”

  “Sure. We can do without the lights, but we’ve got to have the receiver. Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  “All right. Cross your fingers.”

  Marty delicately fished through the wires of the electronic cabinet, rerouting the circuit with careful and meticulous precision. It was not an elaborate patch job, but he was hopeful it would at least provide them voice communication with Earth Control One and Grayson orbiting overhead. He withdrew his hands.

  “Try it, Scott.”

  With that cue, Scott flipped several switches on the guidance panel in front of him, diverting power back to the receiving unit. Several lights glowed brightly, and the green indicator light blinked on showing that the system was operational. He activated the transmitter.

  “Earth Control One... Earth Control One, this is Venus twelve. Earth Control One, do you read me? Over...”

  There was a lag, then the receiver snapped to life.

  “Scott! Fisk! Yes, yes, we read you, Probe!” Stimson was ecstatic. “We read you loud and clear! We’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour. Are you all right? What happened? What were those things out there? Did you...”

  Scott interrupted the transmission with the flip of a switch.

  “Earth One... Earth One, this is Probe ...” He paused, waiting for Stimson to pick up the broadcast. There was a metallic click over the unit. “John, you’ve got to slow down,” he kidded. “You’re going to overload our receiver! Take it a little slower. We’ve got time. We’re all right now. Over.”

  “Jennings, what was going on out there?” he asked with some irritation in his voice. “We could hear everything, but couldn’t get through to you. What were they? What was going on?”

  Scott paused. “I can’t say. I really don’t know, John. It... it seemed almost as if they were alive, as if they were holding us captive, or studying us. But, we couldn’t be sure. We couldn’t be sure of anything! They were just there – moving, sliding around, blocking us off.”

  “Yes, we know all that,” he responded, then turned his microphone down from in front of his mouth so they couldn’t hear him. One of the lab aides was questioning him. Stimson listened, grunted several times in agreement, then turned back to Scott. “Did you get any data on those creatures, readings of any kind?”

  “Negative, John. We didn’t have time, and didn’t have the right equipment. We even lost the photos we took.”

  “Can you give us any observational data? Anything you noticed, or remember about them – size, shape, composition, anything at all?”

  “Not much more than you probably got from listening to us. They were just pools of some heavy kind of oil or sludge. I couldn’t tell what it was. The pools were probably eight or nine feet across and just sprang up out of nowhere! No warning, no reason, just all of a sudden everything started cracking up, breaking apart. Then, these things appeared. It really surprised us!”

  “Stimson?” Marty interrupted. “John? We do think we might be able to communicate with them if we had some kind of color spectrogram. That seemed to be the most distinctive thing about them; their color, and the way it changed when they moved. But, we aren’t equipped for anything like that. Can any of your men come up with something else, maybe something we can convert? I know it sounds crazy, but I’m almost certain we can make contact with them – that is, if we even see them again.”

  “I can’t think of anything off-hand, Marty, but I’ll get some people on it right away. If you can communicate with them, this landing will be more significant than anything we ever dreamed possible.”

  Marty moved to his own chair and pushed it back, thinking more deeply about the creatures and their possible importance to science. It would be a tremendous achievement, he thought.

  “Scott,” Stimson continued. “Scott, why don’t you two take your rest period now. We’ll get back to you in a few hours after we’ve had time to go over the recordings we have of your walk. There’s a lot there. We’ll need some time. So, get some rest if you can. We’ll give you a few hours of sleep before your second excursion. Do you think you can still make it?”

  The thought of going out again was almost frightening. A chill raced through the men as they rehashed the events which had already taken place. What else could happen? they wondered. What other dangers awaited them on this desolate globe of dust and powder? Would the creatures reappear, possibly keeping them from ever returning to the ship?

  These questions plagued the most excited desires of the astronauts. Yet, it was their duty, their obligation, to offer even their lives in this quest for more knowledge, for more information if necessary. Scott tried to relax as he answered.

  “Affirmative, John. Give us a few hours and we’ll be ready.”

  “Roger, Probe. We’ll begin looking over the information right now and see what we can make of it. See if you can get a little rest in the meantime.

  Stimson finished the conversation and turned from his desk, eager to see if his men had come up with anything yet. He stalked across the room to the data banks where several engineers and chemists were conferring.

  “... I’m sure of it, Dr. Phillips,” said one of the researchers boldly. “It can’t be anything else. With the test data Fisk collected and our own readings, I’m certain it’s a strai
n of amino acids of some kind.”

  “But, if it were, why would it be so unstable?” he replied. “It can’t be. It’s more likely to be a result of the heat. Some foreign combination of chemicals bonded together for efficiency’s sake. You’re wrong, Dr. Andrews. You’re way off the mark.”

  Stimson stopped at the fringe of the debate, listening as he turned to an associate beside him.

  “What is it, Frank? What are they arguing about?”

  “Oh, they’ve been going at it for the last thirty-five minutes. Nothing serious, John. Just a difference of opinion. Blair’s convinced that the creatures – the things Fisk and Jennings saw – are intelligent life forms of some kind; still in the primitive stages of development, of course, but none-the-less alive. And, Andrews disagrees. I don’t think you can convince either of them one way or the other. They’re both bull-headed.”

  “What do you make of it? Have you formed an opinion yet?” Stimson asked.

  “Well, they’ve both got a point. I agree, in part, with both of them. It’s still too early to tell, though. I don’t think we have enough information to pass judgment, yet.”

  “But, what about the colors and the heat? Do you think it’s at least possible to communicate with them?”

  “I’m certainly not going to rule it out, John. Sure, there’s a possibility that we can communicate with them, but I doubt it. Circumstances aren’t right for the kind of development we’re accustomed to. If they are alive, they’re certainly in the infant stages of growth. It’s beyond the wildest stretch of the imagination to think of them other than that, to think of them consciously, rationally, stalking Fisk and Jennings. It’s unheard of!”

  “Why the reaction to the heat, then? Why would they just disappear when they focused the lens on them? To have reacted like that, they must have had some sensory warning, some susceptibility to pain or discomfort. If they were just globs of protoplasm, just ‘things’, surely they wouldn’t have reacted like that. There must be some correlation, some connection between the two points.”

  “That’s what’s got us stumped, John. That’s what Phillips and Andrews are arguing about. See how it started?” He smiled generously, knowing that Stimson was as confused and full of questions as any of the rest of them. Stimson returned the smile and walked away.

  On and on the debate raged as each scientist tried to outguess and out argue his colleagues. What was the crust composed of? How was it formed? Were the conditions right for life to exist? Could they communicate with the creatures? How? When? Where? Why?... It had now nearly become a battleground for the best scientific minds of the decade – debating, arguing, challenging each other on every point, on every issue. But, one thing was emphatically decided – the mission would go on!

  Fifty-six minutes passed since Scott and Marty terminated contact with Earth Control One, and the arguments were more volatile now than when they had begun. Yet, resting peacefully in a probe 26 million miles away, the astronauts were unaware of the disagreements they had spawned. They were asleep.

  It was a struggle for them to keep their eyes closed in the early minutes of the rest period, each still deeply engrossed in the problems which confronted them – the uncertainties, the doubts, the hazards which lingered longer and with greater abundance as they sought to dismiss them from their minds. But also, the possibility of great achievements, great contributions, great strides forward for the field of science and the hope of humans loomed ahead of them. The early moments of their rest period were mixed with apprehension and excitement, fear and relief, solitude and dismay as well as a gamut of emotions reaching from disdain to triumph. Still buried beneath the overwhelming weight of confusion, silence, and uncertainty, the astronauts were able to hide their anxieties in the sanctity of sleep. They rested.

  A few more minutes passed – fifty-six... fifty-eight... seventy-two minutes into the rest period – when the scientists at Earth Control One came up with something. The long, arduous debates had finally paid off. All the data supported it, all the observations concurred; the planet could sustain life! Dr. Phillips was quick to add emphasis to the word ‘could’ when they announced their findings, but the point was really irrelevant. He, as well as the others, was finally convinced that a strong possibility existed that life – intelligent life at that – could exist under the conditions on Venus. Yet, even more startling was their proposition that the creatures could live, survive – breed! – under the Venusian crust. The planet could very well be an aquatic wonderland beneath the surface! As Dr. Daniels explained it:

  “The crust may quite easily be the result of the extremely high temperatures on the planet. Life could never survive for very long under such intense heat. But, given the shad of a crust-like layer, and the viscosity of a medium amenable to life, it could, quite conceivably, have developed over the eons of years the planet has been orbiting the Sun. Adaptation – that’s the key. Creatures, and life of all kinds, have shown a remarkable ability to adapt to nearly any kind of environment. There is certainly no reason to preclude the possibility on a planet such as Venus.”

  But, as Stimson listened, his thoughts were of how to tactfully tell Marty and Scott of the conclusion. Should they be told at all? he wondered. Yes, they have to be told. They have to be told immediately. Their lives could be in danger! He returned to his desk and prepared to awaken them early.

  In the capsule, perched vulnerably on the bleak surface of Venus, there was a gentle stirring in the cabin. An indiscreet, almost unnoticeable tremor shivered through the ship. It jostled Scott from his sleep. His eyes opened slowly at first, then wider as the shaking persisted and he realized that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong!

  Marty awakened. He bolted upright in his chair.

  “What’s happening, Scott? What is it?”

  Another tremor shook through the ship.

  “Scott, something’s happening! Something’s wrong!”

  Each pivoted in their chairs, straining to look out through the hazy glass of the pod windows. It was the ground beneath the ship. It was crackling, breaking up like it had when they were outside... Seams, splits, cracks spewed from around the ship’s buoy-like feet, radiating out from under them. The ship was rocking violently.

  “Probe, this is Stimson,” came the calm voice from Earth Control One over the astronaut’s radio. “Jennings... Fisk... We’ve got some information for...”

  “No time, Stimson!” Scott relayed hastily. “It’s the ground, the surface – it’s breaking up all around us! We’ve got to take off immediately or we’re going to be sucked down with it! No time to explain, just keep this channel open!”

  Marty was busy on another channel, notifying Grayson of their abrupt decision.

  “Roger,” he acknowledged. “Tracking you at 34.287. Should make hook-up in 13.246 minutes. Go on your count. Beginning take-off sequence now!”

  Scott and Marty rapidly raced through the ignition sequence.

  “Power on?” Scott asked.

  “Check!”

  “Computer?”

  “Check!”

  “Relay unit? – Check! Monitor system on? – Check! Tracking beacon? – Check and working!”

  The ground was trembling violently, splitting haphazardly in all directions. The ship rocked and jerked from the stress of the upheaval, tossing containers and loose parts across the area like a storm of hail.

  “Booster stage readied?”

  “Check – all systems clear!”

  “Marty, what’s the reading on the fuel pressure?”

  “2000 psi – not enough to...”

  “We can’t wait, Marty!”

  The ship tilted in the unstable soil, wobbling slightly as it began to sink.

  “But, Scott!”

  “No! We can’t wait!”

  “...there’s not enough pressure in the...”

  “Hit the computer alert! Hit it, Marty!”

  “But, we’ll never get off the ground! We’ll crash before w
e get off the surface!”

  “HIT IT!”

  Marty pushed the ignition disk and the rockets erupted. Ground spewed viciously beneath them, spitting fragments of crust hundreds of feet in the air. The ship moved.

  Slowly it trembled from the surface, shook, bobbed, and rattled upward as it began to stabilize. The astronauts were pushed deeply into their chairs from the force of the rockets as they were launched upward. Fire belched from the tail of the rocket, pressure choked at the lungs of the astronauts, and in a wobbling, twisting spiral they rose up and out of danger.

  “Check... check the pressure, Marty,” Scott tried to gasp from the strain of the acceleration. “Is... it holding?”

  “Roger,” he grimaced, straining to control his breathing. “Holding, but just barely.”

  Fired from the surface like rocks in a slingshot, the astronauts plummeted forward. The pressure only gradually subsided, leaving them minutes before they could regain control of the ship.

  It was tumbling erratically in space as it rose from the surface because of the angle at which they had taken off. They tried to stabilize it with short bursts from the thrusters, but these weren’t designed to overcome the acceleration of a launch into space. They remained quiet for a few minutes wondering what would happen to them next?

  Chapter 9 – Rescued In Orbit

  “Marty? Can you get us back on a course with Grayson?” Captain Scott Jennings asked his friend and very capable co-pilot, Major Martin Fisk, as they rushed to recover from their hasty and unexpected emergency liftoff from the planet Venus. Now they were attempting to link up with Col. Thomas Grayson, the third member of their team who had been circling the planet so they could head back to Earth.

  “I can’t find him yet, Scott. I’m not getting a signal. I think he might be on the other side of the planet.”

  The two American astronauts tumbled in space helplessly as their craft wasn’t designed for space travel. It was only designed to travel down and up from the planet, with slight little thrust bursts to stabilize them as they adjusted their horizontal and vertical alignment. But, to actually navigate in space would be impossible. That’s why it was so essential for them to hook up with Grayson. He was in the Command Module that would take them back to Earth.