Donald A. Wollheim (ed) (15 page)

"Where?"

"Latitude 78° 43'
28" south, longitude 24° 18' 27" west.
SOS started with something about
twin mountains
. Know where it is?"

"Minerva's Breasts, in
the middle of Despondency.
I camped near the north breast. Worst spot on Venus, that isn't too hot
for life."

"Exactly.
We radioed Hellas, but in that jungle it may
take weeks to find them. So there's a million in it for you—
and
my place in New Hampshire where your darned luck won't bother anyone but
yourself—but not Anne, definitely
notl
"

But Jerry was dead to the world, and
Ignatz
,
curled up in his lap, was deciding to sleep while he could, now that everything
was
setded
.

They
were only eight hours out from Hellas when
Ignatz
stirred and looked up. The Old Man was a frenzy of action, a scowl of
concentration etched across his forehead, but he was still doggedly at the
controls. Again the
zloaht
prodded his Master awake, and Jerry sat up,
some of the bleariness gone from his eyes. He reached out for a caffeine and
strychnine capsule, to help him stay awake, and tapped Barclay's shoulder.

"You
should have dug me up hours ago, sir. I'll take over now; fresh as a
daisy." That was a lie and the other knew it. "You've done a
beautiful job, but I know the controls better."

The O.M. mustered a smile and looked up
casually enough —even patted
Ignatz
—but he
relinquished the job gratefully. "I couldn't have held on much
longer," he agreed. "These controls are beyond me. Have to extend the
navigator's knowledge in the future."

Jerry
looked his thanks. "I didn't expect the relief, you know. But don't think
what you said about Anne means anything to
mel
"

"So you did hear that? Look, son, I
don't hold anything against you, personally—always liked you. But unless you
give up that animal and get rid of your hoodoo—"

Jerry's backbone stiffened
visibly. "
Ignatz
stays."

"I thought so. In that case, I don't
want you around. Nothing personal, you understand, but I'm not taking
chances."

"Nothing personal, of
course, sir."
The door closed softly as the O.M. slipped out, and Jerry chuckled. For
a second there was a sparkle in his eyes before the ache in his body cut it
off. "Imagine the old boy taking over that way.
Some
father-in-law, eh, fellow?"

They hadn't landed yet,
Ignatz
thought, and
Anne might have something to say. There was heavy doubt in his grunt, which
Jerry interpreted
correcdy
. But the Master was busy with
his own thoughts.

Now that the fingers of Venus' gravity were
reaching out harder for them, the lack of full efficiency from the stabilizers
made itself felt. The long, cigar-like shape put the center of gravity above
the rockets and the old ship suggested that it would be so much nicer to turn
over and let gravity do its work; the suggestion was mild at first, but the
freighter grew more positive with each mile, shimmying sidewise toward the
planet like a girl edging toward her first crush.

"Easy, old girl," Jerry pleaded.
"We've got to swing you in line with Venus' rotation and let you ride down
with her." He babied the ship along, coaxed her into the new path, and
performed mathematical magic in his head as the plot of the new orbit came down
with corrections. The navigators were taking half-hour turns now, with the
captain overseeing their work. Fast talk and absolute accuracy would have to be
continuous until the tugs took over.

But she came down smoothly, arcing in toward
the
south pole
, held up by sheer nerve and stimulants.
A thousand miles up, relative speed was nine miles a second, fall-rate three.
Five hundred up, frontal speed checked to coasting, fall-rate down to normal
landing curve. And then they hit the mythical cushion height, where the air was
thick enough to support her on her fins, and the stabilizers purred pleasantly
again. From there on they would coast into Hellas and let the tugs snag her.

"
Your
damned
luckl
" The O.M. cut in crisply. "Just got
a
radio that tugs are on strike at Hellas,
You'll have to coast to Perdition on North Venus instead of Hellas. Can you
hold her up?"

"I'll ride her. Navigator, I want
co-ordinates for latitude 78° 43' 28" south, longitude 24° 18' 27"
west."

"But Perdition—" The navigator was
cut short by
a
burst of language from Barclay.

Jerry barked wearily. "Shut up I
We're
not going to
Perdi-nition
—nor
Hellas! Navigator, you heard my orders. Give me data, and see that it's right.
Get scared and
blunder,
and you'll never know what
happened."

"But the tugs are in Perdition."

"To hell with the
tugs!
I'll set her down on her tail!" Gulps came over the phone, and
Ignatz
could hear the teeth of the navigator chattering.
The O.M. was yelling about insanity, but he checked his raging and there was a
muttered consultation too low to hear. Then Barclay's voice cleared.

"You're all in the hands of
a
lunatic, but your only chance is to give him his data. We'd be dead by
the time we could dig him out. Take orders from
Lordl
"
He spoke directly into the phone. "Jerry, I'll break you like a dry stick
if I live. Not one tail landing out of three works with whole controls. Listen
to reason, man! We can't help her if we're dead."

The junior navigator seized the phone, his
nerves steady with desperation,
his
voice crisp and
raw. Slowly the ship settled down, driving forward through the heavy air.
Finally the navigator reported destination, and Jerry tipped the ship up
cautiously. She protested at such unorthodox treatment, but, reluctantly
answered her controls.

"Eighteen thousand
feet, directly over your destination.
Weather quiet, no wind—thank God, sir!
Fourteen thousand.
You'll have to slow
upl
"

Ignatz
prayed fervently to his forest and swamp
gods, but they seemed far away. And the ground was rushing up while the ship
swayed first to one side, then the other. Jerry was dancing a war jig in front
of the balance jet bars; his eyes were glassy, his hands shook on the controls,
but he fought her down, foot by foot, while the sickening speed slackened.

"Four hundred feet, level ground. Now
the blast strikes, we can't see. Instrument at 300—2001 Slowed"

She slowed grudgingly, but listed sidewise
sharply; Jerry cut power for free fall, and she righted. Power boomed out
again.

"Forty
feet—God help us!"

That loss of power, short as it was, had been
too much. She was all out now, but falling too fast. No, she was checking it.
But another sway came.
Ignatz
groaned, saw that Jerry
had deliberately swung her sidewise to land horizontal —at forty feet! There
wasn't power enough in the laterals to hold her up. The speed picked up as she
wobbled on her axis, slowed, and she righted. Jerry cut controls, grabbed
a
girder, and slumped.
Ignatz
went flaccid.

It sounded like
a
heavy scrunch, with attendant yells. She bounced slightly before
settling. And then there was silence, and they were down. Jerry picked himself
up, felt
Ignatz
carefully. "You're tough,
fellow, not even scratched. If I hadn't been limp with exhaustion, that
ten-foot free fall probably would have messed me up a little; but the others
should be all right. This section took most of the shock."

Half a minute later there were groans and
shouts all over the ship. The Master scooped
Ignatz
up. "Come on, fellow, we've got to go down and stock up on
provisions."

The after hold was crowded with miscellaneous
items for the comfort and safety of the spore-hunters, and he located a
ready-packed kit of provisions, ample for three months' trek if the bearer
could carry the load. He adjusted it carefully, felt to make sure of the
feverin
bottle, and took down three pairs of mud hooks,
like skis crossed with canoes; the light
berylium
frames would support a man's weight on slimy mud or water and let
him
shuffle forward through the ooze of the swamps without sinking.

"
Dumall's
fool
enough to go off in the mud," the Master told
Ignatz
.
"That guy never did have good sense, so I've got to take three sets."
He swung out to the emergency port, opened the inner seal, and pulled it shut.
The outer one gave slowly, and opened—on the flat, sandy expanse of the Hellas
landing field!

The old freighter had berthed neatly in the
center of the rocket dock, and crowds, who'd heard or seen the landing, were
streaming out. Mechanics were working on the crew port, which seemed to be
giving trouble again.

Heavy hands reached up suddenly and dragged
Jerry out onto the ground.
"This way, fellow."
Three dock flunkies held him securely, grinning as they felt him over for a concealed
weapon. Then the leader motioned the others to lead him toward a waiting
spinner.

"Smart guy, eh?" He looked at Jerry
appraisingly. "You
gotta
be up early to catch
old Barclay. We got a radio you'd be coming out of the emergency, so we waited
for you.
Got a nice
litde
reception
hall fixed up for you."

Jerry stopped swearing long enough to ask the obvious.
"Where to?"
They grinned again, the three of them
holding him firmly as they seated him in the spinner. At the motion of the
leader, the pilot cut the motor in, and they rose and headed toward the
outskirts of Hellas—but in the opposite direction from the jail.

"You'll be nice and
comfortable, you and your pet," the headman volunteered. "The Old
Man's putting you in one of the private suites belonging to Herndon, our branch
manager. Says you're to have a nice long rest, where nobody'11 bother you—or
t'other
way around."

No use questioning these dock flunkies, who
probably knew less about it all than he did. Jerry
slumped
back
silendy
, and
Ignatz
curled up to wait for the spinner to meet with an accident; but even misfortune
refused to smile on them. They landed smoothly on the roof of one of the
company's apartment buildings, and the men dragged the Master down through the
roof entrance, across
a
hall, and into a well-fitted apartment.

"Make
yourself
to home," the big husky invited generously. "
Hemdon
probably won't come here, so it's all yours. You'll find the walls and doors made
of steel, the windows
transplon
, and locks that stay
locked." He pulled the
visi
-phone plug out and
picked up the instrument. "Anything you'd like?"

The Master shrugged, estimating his chances.
But they were all strong, young, and alert. He gave up any foolish ideas.
"You might send up
a
diamond mine, or a dozen chorus girls."

"That's Herndon's specialty—chorines. See him about it." The
flunkies grinned and began backing out. "The Old Man says he'll be down
tomorrow, probably." The door closed and the key in the lock made
a
positive and unpleasant click.

Jerry turned in disgust toward the bedroom.
"Sometimes,
Ignatz
," he muttered, "I
begin to think—" He cut it as he saw the
zloaht's
expression.
"Never mind, fellow.
I'll turn
the heat on low in the oven, and you can sleep there tonight. We both need
shut-eye."

Sunlight was streaking
through the translucent
transplon
windows when
Ignatz
awoke. His investigation showed that the Master was
still sleeping, and he had no desire to awaken him. Muttering in disgust at the
world in general, he turned to the library in search of information on the
peculiar disease with which humans seemed afflicted.