Sargasso of Space (Solar Queen Series) (5 page)

“Planet routine—” Jellico’s voice gathered volume.

Dane unstrapped and headed for Van Rycke’s office to get his orders. But he had hardly reached the door when he bumped into Dr. Rich.

“How soon can you get the supplies moving out?” the archaeologist demanded.

Van Rycke was still unfastening his shock belts. He looked up in surprise.

“You want to unload at once?”

“Certainly. As soon as you unseal hatches——”

The Cargo-Master settled his uniform cap on his light hair. “We don’t move quite that fast, Doctor. Not on an unknown world.”

“There are no savages here. And Survey has certified it fit for human exploration.” The Doctor’s impatience was fast becoming open irritation. It was as if during their time in space he had so built up his desire to get to work on Limbo that now he begrudged a single wasted moment.

“Brake your jets, Doctor,” the Cargo-Master returned tranquilly. “We move at the Captain’s orders. And it doesn’t pay to take chances—whether Survey has given us an open sky or not.” He touched the ship-com board on the wall by his elbow.

“Control here!” Tang’s voice came through.

“Cargo-Master to Control—report all clear?”

“Report not ready,” was the return. “Sampler still working——”

Dr. Rich slammed his fist against the door panel. “Sampler!” he exploded. “With a Survey report you want to play around with a sampler!”

“We’re still alive,” was Van Rycke’s comment. “In this business there are risks you take and those you don’t. We take the proper ones.” He lowered himself into his desk chair and Dane leaned against the wall. The indications were that they were not going to be in a rush unloading.

Dr. Rich, reminding Dane of the Captain’s caged Hoobat—though, of course, the archaeologist had not reached the point of spitting at them—snarled and went on toward the cabin where his men were waiting.

“Well,” Van Rycke leaned back in his seat and flipped a finger at the visa-screen, “we can’t call that a pleasant vista—”

In the distance were mountains, a saw-toothed chain of gray-brown rock crowned in some instances with snow. And their foothills were a ragged fringe cut by narrow, crooked valleys, in the mouths of which a pallid, unhealthy vegetation grew. Even in the sunlight the place looked dreary—a background for a nightmare.

“Sampler reports livable conditions—” the disembodied voice from control suddenly proclaimed.

Van Rycke touched the com-call again. “Cargo-Master to Captain, do you wish exploring parties prepared?”

But he had no answer for that as Dr. Rich burst in upon them again. And this time he pushed past Van Rycke to shout into the com-mike:

“Captain Jellico—this is Salzar Rich. I demand that you release my supplies at once, sir, at once!”

His first answer was complete silence. And Dane, awed, questioned within himself whether the Captain was simply so angry that he couldn’t reply coherently. One didn’t demand that a star ship captain do this or that—even the Patrol had to “request.”

“For what reason, Dr. Rich?” To Dane’s surprise the voice was quiet, unruffled.

“Reason!” sputtered the man leaning across Van Rycke’s desk, “why, so that we may establish our camp before nightfall—”

“Ruins to the west—” Tang’s calm announcement cut through Rich’s raised voice.

All three of them looked at the visa-screen where the mountains to the north had disappeared, to be replaced by the western vista as the Com-tech swung the detector from one compass point to the next.

Now they were gazing out over the burnt ground, where the unknown weapons of the Forerunners had scored down to rock and then scarred the rock itself with deep grooves filled with a glassy slag which caught and reflected the sun’s rays in bright flashes. But beyond this desolation was something else, a tumble of edifices which reached on into the undevastated circle of vegetation.

The ruins were a blotch of bright color in the general somberness, spilling in violent reds and yellows, strident greens and blues. They were, perhaps, some twenty miles from the
Queen
, and they were spectacular enough to amaze the three in the Cargo-Master’s office. Perhaps because Dr. Rich was now treading on familiar ground he was the first to regain speech.

“There—” he jabbed an impatient finger at the screen, “that’s where we’ll camp!” He whirled back to the mike and spoke into it:

“Captain Jellico—I wish to establish my camp by those ruins. As soon as your Cargo-Master will release our supplies—”

His vehemence appeared to win, for a short time later Van Rycke broke the seals on the cargo hatch, the Doctor impatient beside him, the three other members of his expedition lined up in the corridor behind.

“We will take over now, Van Rycke—”

But the Cargo-Master’s arm was up, barring the Doctor’s advance.

“No, thank you, Doctor. No load goes out of the
Queen
unless my department oversees the job.”

And with that Rich had to be content, though he was fuming as Dane operated the crane swinging out and down the ship’s radar controlled crawler. And it was the apprentice who supervised the unloading. The Rigellian climbed up on the crawler, using its manual controls to guide it to the ruins. Once unloaded there it could return by itself, guided by the ship’s beam, for a second cargo.

Rich and two of the others rode away on the second trip and Dane was left with the silent fourth member of the expedition to wait for the crawler. The last load was a small, miscellaneous one, mostly the personal baggage of the men.

Over the manifest disapproval of the expedition man the Cargo-apprentice piled the bags up ready for a quick packing. But it was the other who dropped a battered kit bag. It fell heavily, its handle catching on a spur of rock, ripping it open.

With a muffled exclamation the man sprang to stuff back the contents, but he was not quick enough to hide the book which had been wrapped in an undershirt.

That book! Dane’s eyes narrowed aganst the sun. But he had no time for a second glance at it—the man was already strapping shut the bag. Only Dane was sure he had seen its twin—sitting on Wilcox’s flight desk. Why should an archaeologist be carrying an astrogator’s computer text?

5
   
FIRST SCOUT

D
USK ON
Limbo had an odd, thick quality as if the shadows were of a tangible dimension. Dane saw to the closing of the outer cargo hatch, leaving the crawler, which had returned empty from its last trip across the barrens, parked on the scorched earth under the fins of the
Queen.
They bad taken all the other precautions of a ship on an unknown planet. The ramp had been warped in, the air locks closed. To Limbo at large the
Queen
presented sleek smooth sides which nothing outside of some very modern and highly technical weapons could breach. No star Trader ever took to space except in a ship which could serve as a fort if the need arose.

Intent on his own problem Dane climbed from level to level until he reached Rip’s confined quarters on the fringe of control territory. The astrogator-apprentice was huddled on a snap-down seat, a T-camera in his hands.

“I got a whole strip of the ruins,” he told Dane excitedly as the other paused in the doorway. “But that Rich—He’s a free-rider if I ever saw one. Wonder Sin-bad didn’t hunt him out with the rest of the cargo gnawers and turn him in as legitimate prey——”

“What’s he done now?”

“With the biggest thing yet in Forerunner finds out there,” stabbing a finger toward the wall, “he’s sitting on it as if it is his own personal property. Told Captain Jellico that he didn’t want any of us going over to see things—that ‘the encroachment of untrained sightseers too often ruined unusual finds’! Untrained sightseers!” Rip repeated the words deep in his throat, and, for the first time since Dane had known him, he registered real resentment.

“Well,” Dane pointed out reasonably, “even with four to help him he can’t cover the whole planet. We’re going to send out a scouting team after the regular system, aren’t we? What’s to prevent your running down some class-A ruins of your own? I don’t think Rich’s found the only remains on the whole planet. And there’s nothing in the rules which says we can’t explore the ones
toe
find.”

Rip brightened. “You’re blasting with all jets now, man!” He put the T-camera down.

“At least,” Kamil’s carefully enunciated words cut in from the corridor, “one can never accuse the dear Doctor of neglect of duty. The way he rushed off to the scene of his labors you’d think he expected to find some- one there cutting large slices out of the best exhibits. The dear Doctor is a bit of a puzzle all around, isn’t he?”

Rip voiced his old suspicion. “He didn’t know about Twin Towers—”

“And that red-headed assistant of his carries an astro-gator’s computer text in his kit bag.” Dane was very glad to have information of his own to add to the discussion, especially since Kamil was there to hear it. The quiet with which his statement was received was flattering. But as usual Ali provided the first prick.

“How did that amazing fact come to your attention?”

Dane decided to ignore the faint but unpleasant accent on “your.”

“He dropped his kit bag, the book rolled out, and he was in a big hurry to get it out of sight again.”

Rip reached out to pull open a cupboard. From within he produced a thick book with a water-and-use-proof cover. “You saw one like this?”

Dane shook his head. “His had a red band—like the one on Wilcox’s control cabin desk.

Kamil whistled softly and Rip’s dark eyes went wide. “But that’s a master book!” he protested. “No one but a signed-on astrogator has one of those, and when he signs out of any ship
that
goes into the Captain’s safe until his replacement comes on board. There’s just one on every ship by Federation law. When a ship is decommissioned the master book for it is destroyed——”

Ali laughed. “Don’t be so naäve, my friend. How do you suppose poachers and smugglers operate? Do they comb their computations out of the air? It wouldn’t surprise me if there was a brisk black market trade in computer texts, long since supposed to be burnt.”

But Rip still shook his head. “They wouldn’t have the new data—that’s added on each planet as we check in. Why do you suppose Wilcox goes to the Field control office with our volume every time we set down on another world? That book is sent straight to the local Survey office and is processed to add the latest dope. And you couldn’t present anything but a legit text—they’d spot it in a minute!”

“Listen, my innocent child,” drawled Kamil, “for every law the Federation produces in their idealist vacuum there is some bright boy—or boys—working day and night to break it. I’m not telling you how they work it, but I’m willing to wager all my cut of this particular venture, that it’s being done. If Thorson saw a red badge text book in that fellow’s possession, then it’s being done right here and now—on Limbo.”

Rip got to his feet. “We should tell Steen—”

“Tell him what? That Thorson saw a book which looked like a text fall out of that digger’s personal baggage? You didn’t pick it up, did you, Thorson, or examine it closely?”

Dane was forced to admit that he had not. And his deflation began. What proof had he that the man from the expedition possessed a forbidden master text? And Steen Wilcox, of all people, was the last man on the ship to approach with a story founded on anything but concrete evidence. Unless Dane had the volume in question in his hand and ready to show, he would have little chance of being believed.

“So you see,” Kamil turned back to Rip, “we’ll have to have much better proof in our hot little hands before we go bursting in on our elders in the guise of intrepid Fed Agents or Boy Patrolmen.”

Rip sat down again, as convinced of the reasonableness of that argument as Dane was. “But,” he pounced upon the bit of encouragment in that crushing speech, “you say ‘we’ll have to have’—Then you
do
believe that there’s something wrong with the Doctor!”

Kamil shrugged. “To my mind he’s as crooked as a Red Desert dust dancer, but that’s just my own private and confidential opinion, and I’m keeping it behind my nice white teeth until I can really impress the powers that be. In the meantime, we’re going to be busy on our own. We’re drawing for flitter assignments within the hour.”

The small flitters carried by the
Queen
for exploration work held with comfort a two-man crew—with crowding, three. Both of the planes had been carefully checked by the engineering section that afternoon while Dane had been busied with unloading the expedition supplies. And there was no doubt that the next morning would see the first of the scouting parties out on duty.

There were no lights to break the somber dark of Limbo’s night. And then men of the
Queen
lost interest in the uniformly black visa-screens which kept them in touch with the outside. It was after the evening meal that they drew for membership on the flitter teams. As usual the threefold organization of the ship determined “ the drawing; one man of the engineers, one of the control deck, and one of Van Rycke’s elastic department being grouped together.

Dane wanted to be teamed with Rip if he had open choice. He thought rather bitterly afterward that maybe it was because of that strong desire that he was served just the opposite. For, when he drew his slip, he discovered that his running mates were Kamil and Tang. A re-arrangement by the Captain left him in the end with the Medic Tau in place of the Com-Tech who—for some purpose of his own—Jellico decreed must remain with the
Queen.

More than a little disgusted at such luck he moved back into his old cabin. Curiosity led him to a minute search of the limited storage space, in a faint hope that perhaps he could find some forgotten possession of the enigmatic doctor. Now if this were a Tel-Video melodrama he, as the intrepid young hero, would discover the secret plans of—But that thought led him to remember Kamil’s common sense appraisal of their position with regard to unsubstantial suspicions.

And then he was thinking of Kamil, trying to analyze why he so much disliked the engineer-apprentice. Ali’s spectacular good looks and poise were part of it. Dane was not yet past the time when he felt awkward and ill at ease on social occasions—he still bumped into objects—just as on the parade ground at the Pool the instructors had used him as an example of how not to execute any maneuver. And when he looked in the small mirror above him on the cabin wall, his eyes did not observe any outward charm. No, physically Kamil was all Dane was not.

In addition the Cargo-apprentice suspected that the other had a quickness of wit which also left him at the post. He, himself, was more of the bulldog type, slow and sure. While Kamil leaped ahead with grasshopper bounds. The right sort of bounds, too. That was the worst of it, Dane had argued himself into a rueful amusement. You wouldn’t dislike the engineer so much if he were wrong just once in a while. But so far Ali Kamil had proved to be disgustingly right.

Well, even though the Psycho fitted you to a ship and its crew—you couldn’t be expected to like everyone on board. Machines had their limitations. He could rub along with most people, that was one good and useful thing he had learned at the Pool.

Deciding there was no profit in seeking trouble before it sneaked up to use a blaster on one, Dane went to sleep. And in the early dawn of the next day he was eager for the adventure of a scout.

Captain Jellico respected the wishes of Dr. Rich to the extent of not setting any course toward the ruins. But on the other hand he made his instructions plain to the crews of both small ships. Any signs of new Forerunner finds were to be reported directly to him—and not on the broadcaster beam of the flitters—a broadcast which could be picked up by those in Rich’s camp.

Dane strapped on his helmet with its short wave installation, fastened about his waist an explorer’s belt with its coil of tough, though slender rope, its beam light, and compact envelope of tools. Though they did not expect to be long from the
Queen
, into the underseat storage place on the flitter went concentrated supplies, a small medical kit, and their full canteens, as well as a packet of trade “contact” goods. Not that they would have any use for that in Dane’s estimation.

Ali took the controls of the tiny ship while Dane and Tau shared a cramped seat behind him. The engineer-apprentice pushed a button on the board and the curved windbreak slid up and over, enclosing them. They lifted smoothly from the side of the
Queen
, to level off at the height of her nose, swinging north for the route Jellico and Van Rycke had charted them.

The sun was up now, striking fire from the slag rivers on the burnt land, bringing to life the sickly green of the distant vegetation which formed tattered edging on the foothill valleys. Dane triggered the recording camera as they winged straight for the northern range of mountains.

As they crossed into the sparse clusters of brush, Ali automatically lost altitude and slowed pace, giving them a chance for a searching examination of what lay below. But Dane could see no signs of life, insect or animal, and no winged things shared the morning air with them.

They followed the first narrow valley to its end, combing it for anything of interest. Then Ali turned to the right, zooming up over a saw-edged ridge of naked black rock, to seek the next cut of fertile soil Again only scant brush and scattered clumps of grass were to be seen.

But the third valley they explored was more promising. Down its center coursed a small stream and the vegetation was not only thicker but a darker, more normal shade of green. Dane and Tau sighted the first find almost together and their voices formed a duet:

“Down!”

“There!”

Ali had swept over the spot, but now he cut speed and circled back while the other two plastered themselves against the transparent windbreak, trying to sight that strange break in the natural spread below.

There it was! And Dane’s excitement grew as he knew’ that he had been right at his first guess. That pocket-sized, regularly fenced space was a field under cultivation. But what a field! The enclosure, with its wall of pebbles and brush, couldn’t have been more than four feet square.

Growing in straight rows was a small plant with yellow, fern-like leaves, a plant which trembled and shook as if beaten by a breeze—when none of the neighboring bushes moved at all.

Ali circled the spot twice and then coasted down the valley toward the devastated plain. They passed three more separate fields and then a larger space where the valley widened out and accommodated three or four together. All of them were fenced and bore evidence of careful tending. But there were no pathways, no buildings, no traces of who or what had planted and would harvest those crops.

“Of course,” Tau broke the perplexed silence first, “we may have here a flora civilization instead of a fauna——”

“If you mean those carrot-topped things down there built the walls and then planted themselves in rows—” began Ali, but Dane could think of an answer for that. As a Cargo man he had been too firmly indoctrinated with the need for keeping an open mind when dealing with X-Tee races to refuse any suggestion without investigation.

“This could be the nursery—the adults could have planted seeds——”

Ali’s answer to that was a snort of derision. But Dane did not allow himself to show irritation. “Can we set down? We ought to have a closer look at this——”

“Well away from the fields,” he added that caution a moment later.

“Listen, you bead merchant,” Ali snapped, “I’m not green and rocket shaken——”

He’d deserved that, Dane decided honestly. This was
his
first field trip—Ali was his superior in experience. No more backseat flitter control from now on. He shut his mouth tight as Ali spiraled them down toward a space of bare rock well away from both the stream and the fields it watered.

Tau made contact with the
Queen
, reporting their discovery, and orders came that they were to explore the valley discreetly, seeking any ofher signs of intelligent life.

The Medic studied the cliffs near which they had landed. “Caves—” he suggested.

But, though they walked for some distance beside those towering reaches of bare black rock, there were no hollows nor crevices deep enough to shelter a creature even the size of Sinbad.