By the tightening of the skin on his forehead and the nervous rapping of his finger on the panel, Pike knew that he was disturbed. And that disturbed him even further. As commander, he was the first to be awakened from the net, after his bodily functions had been brought up to normal. He had exercised briefly and had opened the front panel.
What it showed him was wrong. And was Hendig right? That, too, was disturbing. Basically, Pike finally admitted to himself, he didn’t believe what he was seeing. He looked again at the two images on the screen. If not for the lower brightness, he would have accepted the fact that Hendig’s World was a star. It was nearly half the size of its own sun. It was fifty times the diameter of Two-Bit. Hendig had only been off by a factor of two; not bad for Hendig. Pike tried to imagine Two-Bit placed next to it. A child next to a skyscraper, a marble next to a basketball. Fifty times the diameter of Two-Bit was farther than the distance from Two-Bit to its own moon. Pike wasn’t aware that planets this big existed, but here it was.
And it was not a pleasant sight, this monster of a planet; no, it was not pleasant. Yet Pike could not turn away; he could only watch. The thick white clouds below him were being stirred up from a giant cauldron. The violent activity should have been accompanied by thunderous, volcanic sounds, but the silence was complete, the tumultuous churning muted by the vacuum of space. Bits of blue broke through here and there, the slightest hints of peace in a turbulent atmosphere. Night fell toward the west. He could see but a little beyond the terminator. Mountains covered with snow? That was the only picture his mind could conjure up from the uneven flecks of white dotting the blackness. Pike shivered.
Finally he became too nervous and turned away to other business. Now that they had arrived safely, it was time to awaken the rest of the crew from their chemical hibernation in the net. Within a moment Pike had started the process that would soon release Hendig, Valyavar, and Stringer from the gelatin-filled wombs in which they had, along with himself, slept for so long. Stringer, seemingly content to remain asleep, was taking a bit longer to revive than Hendig and Valyavar, and the other two were well up and about before Stringer began to respond.
Stringer, at this point, was aware of only one thing: that he felt
terrible. That was the first thing he decided as his sore elbow, stiff
neck, tingling toes, crusted-over eyelids, and aching buttocks informed him
that he was being awakened from the net. If he had known that this was the
way one was supposed to feel at that particular moment, perhaps he
would have felt better. The images of Filldirt’s body face down in a pool
of blood, Hendig’s enraged face, and a stained kalan in his hand finally
began to fade as the light penetrated his eyes. Stand
up.
Stringer cocked his head, shook it violently to clear it, and stood
up blinking his eyes. He fell back again. Ouch.
Don’t you want to take a look, my friend?
There was no need to ask who that was, as Pike’s voice accosted his ears. Not really, Stringer told himself, concentrating on his sore back.
I’d say it’s the biggest planet under Transhi I ever
saw. You really should take a look.
Ours to it is like a snallot to a craglark’s
back,
added a familiar basso profundo from the background. Stringer
smiled but wrinkled his nose when he realized that he knew nothing of
snallots—or of craglarks, either, for that matter.
And it’s all ours, my friend, all ours.
Who cares?
Stringer mumbled, but managed to
raise himself with a creak. He didn’t think he could look at anything until
his eyes could function properly. The light was very bright. But
he walked to the window to take a glance, anyway.
It was many moments before Stringer, as Pike earlier, moved a centimeter from the panel. Stringer, too, shivered.
What do you think?
It looks big.
A fine poet you are.
I never confessed to that.
Stringer wanted to wash, even though he knew he couldn’t be dirty after three years in the net. He turned away from the panel but could not help glancing back over his shoulder at the immense crescent filling the sky. Pike was leaning against the wall, observing him with a grin. Stringer gave him a slow eyeing and shook his head. Then he went to get himself something to eat.
A day later and several million kilometers closer to the planet, Pike
looked up from the console. I don’t hear anything, and
I’m afraid I don’t see much, either.
Did you expect to? We listened for a year, as per
regulations, before we were allowed to come. If we had heard anything then,
we wouldn’t even have been allowed to take off. Why do you expect to hear
anything now?
No, my friend, I don’t. But since officialdom frowns
on accidental encounters, it is required that we check. And a positive
result might have saved time. Now we must rely on our esteemed colleague
Hendig’s help.
Hendig had been sitting quietly all this time at the console, refreshing
his memory with the details of his sole surviving chart from the previous
voyage. Finally he stood up and showed the map to Pike. It was north, near a coast.
There’s a coast,
Stringer said, pointing to a
vast expanse of blue painted next to a strip of brown that emerged from
white clouds near the top of the panel.
But is it north?
Valyavar asked.
It is if Hendig came this way,
Hendig said.
And what if he was upside down?
Look, my boys, the size of this planet is unexpected
and will make discovery difficult. I suggest we get to work and see if we
can pinpoint Hendig’s landmass. Tell me, Hendig, how big an area does this
map cover?
Pike asked.
Hendig shrugged. More than Two-Bits. Maybe four
bits.
Peanuts!
Stringer grumbled. A snallot to a craglark’s back.
We’ll begin photographing the surface and see if we
can identify Hendig’s chart. That will save some time, don’t you think?
It might have saved some time, but they were still at it a week later. The
automatic cameras snapped thousands of photographs, and each was
contour-fitted by the computer against Hendig’s map for a possible
location. The cloud cover was generally so thick that radar often gave more
reliable results, but nothing came up positive. Finally, at the end of the
week, Hendig was staring out a port at a small patch of the huge planet
when he suddenly exclaimed, That’s it! By Jedoval,
I’d swear to it.
The other crew members clustered around the port as
Hendig pointed.
So much for our wonderful instrumentation.
Jedoval, the god of jokes. A fine one to swear
by.
Are you certain that’s the spot?
Do you doubt Hendig?
There was no answer to that question. Well, then,
Pike said, I’d say we should get a closer orbit and
then be on our way.
Might it be to split up?
Valyavar asked. We still have a lot of ground to cover.
A superb idea. We’ll take two of the shuttles and
travel in pairs.
Stringer took one look at Hendig and Pike and sided with Valyavar. There
were no arguments. Valyavar and I will take
Number One.
Many hours later, they had readied the ship for shutdown and turned all the life-support systems to standby. The four men walked into the elevator, which took them aft to the shuttle hangar. The four craft rested silently in their berths, waiting to be released. Their huge wings were swung close, folded to their sides, waiting for an atmosphere in which to function. The room echoed slightly, Stringer noticed. He remembered that he had noticed the same thing three years earlier. Three years. They had been the swiftest years of his life. He hadn’t even noticed their passing, asleep in the net while the Crimson, propelling itself through space by the energy of suns, accelerated to near-light velocities, then slowed to rest once more. And, reflected Stringer, it was a good thing they had been cushioned in the womb of the net. The high acceleration would have been difficult to adjust to, but perhaps possible. Three years of boredom might have been coped with. But he was certain that the crew would not have survived the trip before they killed themselves off altogether. However, six years round trip was better than twenty years on Two-Bit, and Stringer almost laughed aloud when he realized that on his return all those left behind would have a minimum of fourteen extra years added to their lives. But he didn’t laugh aloud, and silently crossed the hangar deck to open the hatch on Number One shuttlecraft.
’Ts time to depart, I’ll say,
said
Valyavar. We know where we’re about?
Stringer nodded. Do you know something,
Valyavar?
What’s that?
I’m a little scared.
Good for you. ’Tseems to me that’s the usual rule,
saints and maniacs excepted.
Valyavar pressed a button. The ramp opened
below, taking Number One with it. The plane slide noiselessly away
and left the mother ship behind.
They were silent as Valyavar took the craft out of orbit. Nothing much seemed to be happening. Then Stringer began to understand how far they must still be from the planet. After a long while Stringer realized that the only thing he could see were white clouds. After another long while—hours? days?—they were immersed in them. Stringer’s breath now came in quicker gasps. He looked rapidly in all directions and saw nothing but white.
It’s being blind with your eyes open, yuh?
Stringer nodded. He could see only the haze swirling around him, not quite solid. Each moment became unbearably longer, until Stringer was on the point of screaming. And then the clouds broke. Reflexively, Stringer jumped back in his seat, and Valyavar pulled up on the controls. Hendig’s World lay beneath them.
Valyavar had done an expert job of finding the coast. Well done,
Stringer said as he surveyed the vast
expanse of blue that stretched flat to the horizon.
A little help from the radar isn’t to be
denied.
Valyavar smiled as he glanced to the left and saw land. The
coastal area was thickly green, but in the distance—
Look at those mountains!
Pike’s
voice boomed over the radio, signaling their arrival.
Running parallel to their course of flight were mountains. It was difficult to judge their height or distance. Valyavar was sure they were not far and not tall, but Stringer disagreed.
We can’t see beyond them and look at our
altitude. They must be tens of kilometers high.
Stringer took a range
fix and confirmed his suspicions.
Is it to north?
Valyavar called to Number
Two.
Yes. It is hit right on the thumb,
Hendig
replied. You’ll be sorry you doubted Hendig yet.
To north, then,
Valyavar muttered, but it could be forever.
Despite the gloomy
forecast, Valyavar was smiling and excited. Stringer scowled and took a
berth for the first shift.
They flew up the coast for hours, one sleeping, if he could, while the other sat at the controls. Although Stringer knew they were traveling at hypersonic speeds, the planetscape changed only slowly.
The radio blared again. It was Pike. Though it is
difficult to say at this altitude, the atmosphere seems normal, though very
dense for this height, and a little high on the trace elements, especially
helium.
You’re sounding professional,
Stringer said.
I can read a printout as well as the
next man. It means, no doubt, that we can breathe, and that’s all I’m
interested in—
I breathed last time I was
here,
Hendig said.
—but let us be sure to check on the
ground, shall we?
Okay,
Stringer mumbled, flipping off the
set. More hours went by, with only the faint whistle of the wind as it sped
past the hull to keep them company. More hours went by, with only the faint
whistle of the wind as it sped past the hull to keep them company. Stringer
was standing in the cockpit behind Valyavar, getting something to eat, when
Valyavar shouted and the radio blared simultaneously.
Ahead on the coast!
Do you see it?
Look at that clearing inland!
It’s a city!
Clearly it was. Valyavar dove in for a closer view. The ground became a
blur of green and brown, indistinguishable. The city was behind them. To take another look?
He pulled back on the
controls and they circled in a wide arc over the ocean. This time they
could see the settlement more clearly. Yes, settlement it was. No towering
buildings or great monuments. The structures were low, arranged along a
hillside, and blended in with the surroundings.
So Hendig has found it,
came
the gruff voice over the radio.
Suddenly Stringer and Valyavar saw Number Two turn inland and begin speeding straight for the mountains.
Where are you going?
Stringer shouted.
To pay a visit,
Hendig
replied. The quickest way to find
the city we came for is to find a certain colleague of Hendig’s who may be
here.
That stranded navigator? Oh, come on.
Stringer
turned to Valyavar and whispered in his ear, He’s
out of his mind.
Pike must have overheard. Don’t
worry, my boys, I suggest you proceed north while I take a slight detour to
check this out. After all, our Hendig has been accurate so far.
Well, the hell with them.
Stringer shut down
the radio.
Come, let’s get on,
Valyavar said. It will save some time, mayhaps, and help us find
what we’ve come for.
Stringer remained silent.
You don’t understand?
No.
Marauders always have to be first. You’ve not been
trained to be a pilot, nor an aeronautical engineer, but ’tseems to me, a
marauder. So ’tis time to act like one.
Stringer shook his head. No. You’d think that
after a year of preparation we would have come prepared. But we
didn’t. We’re expert pilots, fighters, can operate spacecraft, computers,
anything, but we don’t have the faintest idea of what we’re doing. Knowing
Hendig, that city could be anywhere on this planet. We could be here for
decades. A fine bunch of marauders we’ve turned out to be.
You don’t have the right spirit. Look at Pike to
example—
He knows what he wants, that man. He just plunges
in, reckless. Look at him going off with Hendig just like that. But he
knows he’ll win, too. He won’t leave Hendig’s World without something.
When you fight with the kalan, any observer would
think that you’re the most reckless killer on Two-Bit. Where is that spirit
now?
That’s different.
How so?
Stringer’s eyes gleamed. There’s nothing
really at stake here. When something’s at stake, then there’s the
tension. That’s when I feel finely tuned. With a kalan in my hand I am
relaxed.
Valyavar sighed and shook his great bearded head. Indeed, it is difficult to distinguish between saints
and maniacs.
You were a priest. Why?
Valyavar shrugged his huge shoulders. ’Tseems to
me I wanted to find God.
Any success?
Absolutely none. God may be interested in truth
but isn’t in a hurry to admit it, that’s for certain. If such a thing as
truth exists, trying to find it through God will only lead to indigestion
with every sermon. ’Tseems to me that the sum of all religion is that the
lovers of God are the haters of men. Man is more interesting to man,
’tseems to me.
And yet you’ve charged me with finding God,
huh?
Valyavar grinned. I thought you needed something
to do.
Stringer laughed. He liked Valyavar.
They changed controls and continued flying up the coast. Within a few hours
word came from Pike. Things are fine
at this end. Keep exploring. I’ll call you back when I need you.
Stringer shrugged at the lack of content in the message and paid attention to his piloting. As the hours went by he became half-consciously aware that the coast was becoming less densely green and was curving to the east. Although their altitude was above twenty kilometers, where no weather would be experienced on Two-Bit, the frequent tug on the controls told Stringer that Hendig’s World had a lot of air on it, and moving air at that.
The mountain range that had been following their path gradually withered to foothills and then dropped away altogether. They changed controls numerous times, taking turns sleeping. This time, however, Stringer could not sleep. He tossed in his berth, told himself to stand up, and returned to the cockpit.
Anything?
Hills, water, lots of haze. Can’t see the ground
too well sometimes. ’Tis a planet all right, even if it is too big to be
believed.
The light from the sun was entering the right window and heating up the
cabin. Stringer squinted. How long have we been
up?
Let’s see here. About sixty hours.
Has it been light all that time?
To be sure, little Stringer, awfully bright.
Stringer reflected. It’s a long day on Hendig’s
World.
Very long indeed. We’ve come about one hundred
thousand kilometers from where we left Pike.
One hundred thousand! Has Pike called?
Not since the first.
We’re stupid. Marauders or not, we should have
turned around long ago. Do we have enough fuel to get back?
I’ve been mindful. And we have his beacon. No
problem to worry your head, little Stringer.
I don’t care, we should have turned around.
Stringer wasn’t sure if he was concerned about Pike or Hendig, but he did
think it a good idea to fly back. He did not have much time to think,
however. It was merely a flash in the corner of his eye, but it was
enough. Did you see it?
This one’s ours, I’d say!
Valyavar cried, and
he put the craft into a steep dive. Krek tu
Dai!
Hold on!
Stringer shouted as he was pushed
back into his seat with a jerk. What do you think
you’re doing?
Don’t go nonlinear. Remember, you’re Bitter.
Valyavar continued the downward plummet in apparent glee.
Pull up! Are you trying to get us killed?
Something’s at stake here. You should feel
relaxed.
Only when the stick’s in my hand.
Valyavar pulled into a shallower dive several kilometers above the ground. The plane responded instantly and the ground leveled.
The wind. Stringer’s head hit the ceiling with a jolt. His head reeled and
he grabbed for his own set of controls. Again the craft bucked and Stringer
was afraid that the wings might snap off. Valyavar fought with the
controls, trying to make amends for his marauder’s enthusiasm. One draft down there to make Sarek wince. When he
made Two-Bit, he couldn’t have had more malice than this wind.
Get it down!
Valyavar tried to slow the plane and headed in for a clearing near the
shore. It’s to be tight, no question.
The
shuttle shook again. The clearing was now almost right under them.
Watch the cliff there! On the left! You’ll hit the
wing.
Stringer gritted his teeth as he saw the hill rising next to him
with an eastern face of bare rock.
Yes, it’s to be tight. We can’t slow enough for a
vertical.
This time Stringer squeezed his eyes shut.
The giant nudged the plane forward, slowing it as much as he dared. By this time he was closing in on the tree tops. Number One was now sinking into the clearing.
Jedoval help us—
Stringer said, forcing a
smile.
Remember, first dress warmly—
—then rely on God, I know.
The turbulent wind struck again. Valyavar was not prepared for the violent shove. Number One smashed into the cliff, little more than ten meters above the ground. But it hit hard, the left wing crumbled and broke off.
Stringer grabbed his seat as the plane slid down the rock wall with a horrifying screech and crashed into the ground.