When Hendig had first turned Number Two shuttlecraft inland, Pike’s initial reaction was one of amused curiosity. After all, even if the odds of finding this mythical navigator alive after twenty years were one in a million, Hendig, for all his dubious reasoning, had so far been surprisingly accurate in his predictions. Accurate enough, that is, so that Pike began to wonder if, in fact, he knew what he was doing.
Within a few minutes of flying time, the mountain range loomed large and
blotted out the western sky. Hendig turned parallel to the range, flew
north, then south again. After several sweeps he slowed the plane and
nudged Pike. Look there.
Pike strained his eyes as Hendig pushed the button that froze the video. High up on the mountain rested a village whose buildings were colored only a little differently from the mountain itself and set into the rock.
Are you telling me that’s where we’re going? How are
we supposed to land?
No, it’s just a landmark. That village is
deserted. But look here.
Pike’s eyes followed Hendig’s finger to the altimeter, and he didn’t like
what he saw. How could they live up there? It’s eight
or nine kilometers at least.
Hendig shrugged. My bronze is not to explain those
things. Now Hendig takes us down.
Pike watched with relief as the altimeter dropped several kilometers as they descended through a new layer of clouds. The airspeed indicator was slowing, and after a moment more of flying south, Hendig pointed out the cockpit.
Massarat ahead. We can land on the plateau.
Pike saw the plateau and the cleft simultaneously. It took him a few more moments to pick out the buildings. As if a giant had cut a shelf into the mountain, the plateau extended outward from the range until it abruptly terminated in a drop of at least a hundred meters before the mountain’s outward slip caught it once again. On the inner edge of the plateau, into the mountain itself, was cut a giant gorge running almost due west and losing itself in the shadows. The city: clusters of buildings hanging precariously on the side of the cleft, others built on the plateau, and still more cut into the mountain face. Even as the plane began settling, Pike could see the giant staircase hewn out of rock that led from the plateau to an unseen termination within the gorge. A strange place to eke out an existence, he thought.
Number Two was almost at a dead standstill now, hovering above the plain. The dust sprayed up by the engines obscured their vision below. Pike heard a soft thump and knew they were on the ground.
Immediately Hendig walked back to the weapons cabinet and began arming
himself with knife and graser. Hendig may not be
wanted here.
Pike, thinking there was more to this than met the eye, followed suit, strapping a holster across his chest. He stepped to the hatch, unlocked it, swung the door wide, and jumped out.
A blast of hot, damp air hit him in the face at the same time that a great whirring sound struck his ears. The crowd was already growing as Pike stepped away from the hull. People ran across the plain toward the shuttle, others climbed down from their cliff dwellings, and more emerged from the darkness in the cleft. The whirring grew louder and louder. Were they making this sound?
We’re safe,
shouted Hendig from behind him, over
the rising pulsations. This sound is good.
Now the crowd was upon them, and they were surrounded on three sides by people who, at first glance, might have been mistaken for humans. Suddenly, within a moment, the sound level died away, suddenly enough so Pike thought something was wrong. He stood there, rigid, watching the crowd part in peristaltic waves. The center of the disturbance could only be the wide-brimmed hat floating toward them above the sea of hands. Finally, after endless moments of expectation, the nearest spectators shuffled aside, and a gaunt, weatherbeaten man, who at once reminded Pike of a bird, stepped forward.
Pike turned toward Hendig and saw that he held his graser outstretched, pointed at the newcomer. The silence was complete but for the intrusion of the wind that whistled through the gorge, showering dust upon them all, and for the intense hatred that arced across the space between the two men. Pike immediately convinced himself of the reality of the hatred. This was not a superficial hatred such as that which Stringer bore for Hendig, whom he regarded as no more than an oaf and a braggart, but a hatred that had been carefully nursed and stoked for over two decades by a man who had nothing but memories of a life that might have been.
A moment later Pike was wondering if his analysis was correct because he
saw Hendig lower his graser when the newcomer appeared to be unarmed, and
even begin laughing. Look at this.
Hendig
pointed. Look at this.
The other man stepped up to Hendig with a wide grin on his lips, wide enough so that Pike thought it would split his face in two. But it was a skewed grin, cockeyed, only a poor approximation of pleasure. The two men were now face to face, staring one another in the eyes. Suddenly, the newcomer grasped Hendig’s graser arm, simultaneously pulled out a knife which he had held concealed, and thrust it through Hendig’s neck. There was not the time for Pike to react; there was not even the time for Hendig to frown, and with his laugh still frozen on his lips, he slumped to the dust-covered rock of the plateau.
Now the stranger began to shake convulsively from head to toe. He stared blankly at the body for a long time and then at Pike without saying a word, only shaking.
Pike knelt by Hendig and confirmed the absence of a pulse. Pike screwed up
his lips and worried for a long moment that this unfortunate incident might
bring the mission to a premature termination. Then the obvious occurred to
him: the newcomer was, in all probability, the navigator for which they had
come. Now, my good man, why don’t you tell me who you
are?
he asked, thinking the question an eminently reasonable way to
find out.
The stranger started, sighed, then suddenly regained total composure. Now that seems like a reasonable thing to ask. The
name is Paddelack.
He held out his hand, palm up, in the Bitter
fashion, but Pike was too startled by the sudden change of bearing to
respond. And who are you, my gaping friend?
Paddelack asked. I’d suggest you close that mouth
of yours instead of leaving it open for the sting flies to populate.
Pike clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure about this Paddelack fellow; he
talked too much like himself. Pike, the name is
Pike.…Tell me, Paddelack, did I detect some antipathy between you and Master
Hendig?
Antipathy? Why use fancy words when simple ones
will do? Hate, pure distilled hate is what it is. Nothing fancier than
that.
Pike was at least glad to learn his initial observation had been
accurate. And although I gather that you were once
navigator for my colleague, why don’t you explain the cause of this falling
out.
Paddelack’s response was forestalled by the arrival of mats and containers of food brought by the cliff dwellers. The entire settlement seemed to burst into celebration and the noise was deafening. Paddelack motioned for Pike to sit down as a young creature proffered food.
Paddelack said something to the child in a totally alien language, then
spoke to Pike directly. This is my friend
Mith.
Pike didn’t hear what Paddelack had said because he now noticed
that aside from the very dark and leathery skin, the child also had six
fingers on his hands, two of which may have been opposable thumbs. I see you are surprised at how human they look. So
was I. But then I found out the differences. You’ll find out if you are
idiotic enough to stay here that long.
Pike leaned back in the shade of the shuttlecraft. It was very hot, in fact
hotter than any time or place he could remember. But
back to your story, please,
he said, speaking over the background
noise. Please tell me how you came to this place that
would have the crabs screaming for mercy.
Paddelack spat on the ground and waved a finger at Hendig’s body. When I ran into that renegade, he souped up some
story that he was contracted with Two-Bit Transportation to do some
prospecting. Said he was making a run to Barythron because some astrometric
evidence showed that something peculiar was going on. Imagine he wasn’t
working by the books just running off like that, doubt he had a contract at
all—
Correct.
Anyway, I hopped on as
engineer, navigator, whatever. I pretty much flopped as an engineer, never
even got halfway through school. But nine out of ten men are suicides,
anyway, so it doesn’t bother me too much. Certainly didn’t bother that
idiot.
Trip took about three years,
proper time. Woke up, and what did we see? Strangest planetary system I’ve
ever heard of. Just the sun and this giant, six hundred thousand kilometers
across if it’s a centimeter. The only other thing is a little ball of rock,
half the size of Two-Bit and half as far out. What it’s doing here I don’t
know. What this monster is doing here I don’t know, either. Something’s
mighty peculiar, although I’ve never been able to test my suspicions,
sitting up here on this mountain.
Anyway, we impacted down here, right into the
soup, to see what we could see. Didn’t find much, that’s for sure. No
evidence of anything except the usual metals. So we about gave up. Then we
found the city.
Daryephna,
they call it in these parts. Such a sweet
sound for Palace of Fear
—
But Hendig told me the natives didn’t know anything
about it.
Paddelack glanced again at the body and began chewing on some tough
food. Listening to him was like
listening to a random-number generator; anything came out of his mouth.…Oh,
the natives knew something about it, or about something. It’s not clear
what they knew, how they knew it, be it by myth or Polkraitz legend, but
they knew something. None of them had ever been there, as it’s across the
ocean. And what an ocean! At least 150k kilometers across from here, if not
more.
So we went over to the
city. Even from orbit it was magnificent. Well, now that I think about it,
it could have been ugly, depending on your tastes. May as well have been a
sculpture.
We didn’t find too much and never discovered the
purpose of most of that. I couldn’t quite tell if the place had been
cleaned out or if no one had ever been there before. Like a newly built
home. Who’s to say if someone is moving out or in? But Hendig found
something; he showed me a piece of it. I never saw exactly where it came
from in that city, because he picked me to come here to recruit some
natives to help cart the stuff out. They were willing enough to help,
probably because they could hardly understand what we wanted them to
do. But after we got to Daryephna, the Fear started to set in. I don’t know
exactly what it was—never felt it myself. All I know is that shortly after
we got them in, there was quite a riot. Several people were killed. Hendig,
who swore by Jedoval, though you’d think he was reared by Sarek, sent me to
bring them back. But a storm blew up just as we were landing on the coast
of Liddlefur.…You’ve never seen a storm like the ones we get here. It’s a
bit too early in the day for them, but that sun picks up a lot of water,
and it’s got to come down sometime. So my plane crashed. Hendig never
bothered to come and find me. Maybe the Fear finally got him too. Most
likely he was afraid that the natives would rip him to shreds after what
happened at Daryephna. But soon it was too late anyway; the Freeze started
to set in. You know they call this planet Freeze-Bake. It certainly is the
most appropriate name for it I can think of. So, here I have been for more
than twenty years, almost a native by this time.
Paddelack finished
with a shiver and stared inwardly at himself.
I suppose I can understand your feelings for
Hendig,
said Pike. It is difficult to blame you
for killing him.
Paddelack just stared at the ground. I…didn’t
know what to do. There he was, after twenty years. He left me here but now
he was my way off. I didn’t know what to do. And then my body did it, by
itself, my whole body.
Well, you’re forgiven. Tell me, what happened to the
charts?
Paddelack’s attention was distracted by Mith’s insistent tugging at his
shoulder. He glanced in the direction the child was motioning and his eyes
widened. Gostum again,
he said as he pointed
out to Pike several intruders riding through the cleft atop tall, muscular
animals whose long hairs draped over the riders’ legs. They were dressed
in, of all things, black, and had a single orange stripe crossing their
chests. As they drew nearer the noise level abated and the festivities
ground to a halt. What do they want this
time?
Paddelack asked himself. More food?
Supplies? Parasites.
Who are they?
Untrusted neighbors. Whatever they want, you can
be sure your presence is now noted for future reference.
The riders were soon off without any disturbance and the celebrations
continued as if never interrupted. Back to the charts,
please,
Pike insisted.
Paddelack laughed. Lost in the crash, of
course.…Now, if you’re smart, you’ll get off this planet as soon as you
can. I don’t care how bizarre it is; it’s not worth your staying on.
Pike shook his head resolutely. No. I am afraid we
didn’t come here just to rescue you, and I won’t go until I get to that
city.
Now Paddelack began shaking again, as he had when he faced off
Hendig. Suddenly he shot himself at Pike and shook him violently by the
shoulders. You must promise to get me off this
planet! I’ll do anything you want! I’ll follow you anywhere! But you must
promised to get me off as soon as you can!
Pike gently took Paddelack’s hands away from his neck. Stop it. Stop it.
Paddelack fell back onto the mat,
still racked with sobs. The crowd around them stared curiously. Yes, of course. You’re as good as off. Stick with me and
you’ll be away from Freeze-Dried, or whatever you called it, as soon as I
am. Now, why don’t you tell me why this place is so unbearable? It might be
good information to have.
Paddelack picked up a pick of a leathery-looking vegetable and offered some to Pike. Pike refused; Mith grabbed it and ran off into the surrounding crowd.
I wouldn’t worry about them,
Paddelack said,
running a hand through his closely cropped gray hair. They’re the friendliest bunch I’ve ever met. It’s
their society that does it, I think. It’s not they who should worry you,
but this planet itself.
It seems rather big, somewhat damp, and
extraordinarily hot, but I think one might adjust to it.
Hah!
Paddelack snorted. So you’ve noticed it’s
Paddelack pointed in the direction of the coast. somewhat damp
and
extraordinarily hot
up here. Well, then, think of what it’s like
down there—Oh, yes, we live up here in the mountains mostly
because it’s
pleasant.
But what about when you want to eat? Then
there’s the two-hundred-kilometer trek to the coast for some fish, through
the slimiest, sweatiest jungle you’ve ever seen that will, as likely as
not, kill you before you get there. But I shouldn’t complain too
much. Tomorrow will be much hotter. This is the shortest day, and except in
the middle two months or less, we can get down to the coast without serious
loss of life. Around midyear it’s impossible. Makes me wish for
nighttime. Right now there’s only a skeleton crew down at Liddlefur—
I’m not following you, Paddelack. Will you slow down?
Tell me again why you don’t live at the coast.
I told you, it’s too hot there in the middle of
the day. Next year, tomorrow, it will be too hot to go down there at all,
except for the very beginning and end of the day. So we stay up here,
getting ready for night. After all, night starts in a couple of months, and
we get ready for it early so there won’t be any foul-ups. You don’t want
foul-ups on Freeze-Bake.
Pike shook his head and asked for some water. What do
you mean,
night starts in a couple of months
? What do you mean,
today is the shortest day
? Is it winter?
In a way,
Paddelack replied, cocking his head
and pinching his nose. You really don’t
understand, do you? Well, turn around and look at that sun.
Pike, indeed, could hardly make out the yellow ball weaving its way between clouds.
Have you seen that sun move since you showed
up?
I haven’t been watching.
Well, sir explorer, take a guess why it is so hot
down here. Never mind, I’ll answer that. The sun takes so long to move,
that’s why, pure and simple. It greenhouses awful down here. I mean, they
used to tell me that ground equilibrates pretty fast and won’t get much
hotter if you heat it for a month rather than a day, but the
greenhouse—that’s what really does it. Those clouds trap a lot of
heat. Directly beneath that sun it may shoot up to several hundred, for all
I know. But that’s only half the story. When that sun goes down, it stays
down for more than six of your lousy Two-Bit months. First the rains come
when it starts getting cool enough for this supersaturated atmosphere to
begin dumping its horde. Then the winds come, winds that make a Bitter
hurricane look like a dust devil. And by the time the winds stop, the sun
is long gone. And by then it’s gotten real cold. Nobody can talk about it
much, because anyone who has so little of a brain to go out at night dies
within seconds if he isn’t dressed to the hilt. Even then you might have an
hour. Even then I imagine you can’t see anything but what the stars
permit—if the stars exist any more. Haven’t seen one in years! Been told the
oceans freeze down to who knows how far, but they do freeze, that I can
tell you, and legend even has the air freezing out on occasion. Now you
understand why I—and everyone else on this Godforsaken planet—am a fanatic
about wanting to get off.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Pike was silenced for more than a
complete second, but he soon recovered. So where can
you live at night?
he asked.
In the mountains.
How can that help?
Hot air rises, remember.
It gets that cold?
Colder than that; we live underground.
Pike shook his head and fell silent once more.
Oh, you have no idea how much that slow, slow
rotation period affects every little bit of life on this planet. Try
explaining to these people the difference between a day and a year. It just
doesn’t click in their heads, not quite. We divide up our year, one
revolution around the sun, into months and days and base our calendar on
that. But what if your day is a year long? Then what do you do? Especially
if you don’t have a moon. The calendar becomes almost arbitrary. Here they
happen to count in twelves: twelve teclads to a full
day
or
year,
which makes a teclad something over a month. Twelve beclads to
a teclad, so a beclad is about three of our days. One beclad is one hundred
forty-four telclads, making a telclad about half an hour. Each telclad is
twelve belclads, so a belclad is about two minutes. There are one hundred
forty-four clads to a belclad, giving very nearly a second for a clad. Just
remember the prefixes and you’ll stay confused. I trust I make myself
obscure.
You do.
Look, give me something to write with.
Pike, not understanding exactly what Paddelack was up to, fished a never-absent note pad and stylus from his belt and handed them over.
Paddelack began writing. These values are only
approximate and not to be taken as God’s word. Here.
Pike glanced at the paper and saw:
1 clad | ——— | 1 second |
1 belclad | ——— | 2 minutes + |
1 telclad | ——— | 30 minutes − |
1 beclad | ——— | 3 days − |
1 telclad | ——— | 1 month + |
What am I going to do with this?
he asked.
You’ll need it if you’re fool enough to stay here
any longer,
said Paddelack. Look, what I was
trying to tell you is that there is incredibly little external basis for
their calendar here. They seem to have an internal cycle, inherited from
their original planet, no doubt, which makes the beclad a natural
period. But that doesn’t mean day to them at all. When you say
day
you are implying a relationship that doesn’t exist here. Day tells you when
to get up and go to bed and when it’s dark and light. That’s a year
here. You get up and go to bed on your own. Not only that, but we expect
that after a year, everything starts over again the way it was: stars,
calendar, seasons, everything. Stars. Do they exist? Seasons? They’re
buried under the days. Seven days before everything starts over
again. Seven cockeyed days of varying lengths. Is that seven seasons? If
so, I suppose that means this planet must be tilted to produce such an
insane effect. I don’t know. Don’t you understand?
Pike was getting very confused. I’m afraid I will just
have to see for myself.
You will if you are stupid enough to stay here
another clad. I was hoping my little talk would have dissuaded you.
No,
Pike said crumbling up the table Paddelack had
written, I am afraid I am going to Daryephna
first.
Ahh, idiot.
Paddelack got up then.
Pike couldn’t help staring at this man. He was a peculiar sight. Though he must have been around fifty, owing to the time dilations involved in getting to and from Hendig’s Freeze-Baked planet, and his hair was gray and his skin worn, Paddelack’s taut muscles and bony frame were plainly visible through the featureless suit that covered his entire body save for his hands and his face.
Don’t you get hot in that thing?
Pike asked.
Paddelack laughed. Insulation. Made from
plants. Protects you from the heat. Also sort of a natural desiccant. Dry
it out over some coals and it will suck up a lot of water—your sweat. You
see, down below the mountain, it’s too humid for you to sweat freely. Your
pores get clogged, your skin infected, and you rot. So you wear a
diaper—all over. Of course, you don’t want to suck up the atmosphere, too,
so the outer surface is waxy with enough holes to breathe. You have to be
zero-defects on Freeze-Bake or you don’t survive. These suits aren’t
strictly necessary up here but they help you from getting too burned.…Now,
let’s join the celebration of your arrival.
The natives were in a festive mood, exactly why Pike never found out. The pulsating roar that had greeted him and Hendig upon their arrival had hardly abated since. Dancing, singing, playing, all at once struck Pike as contradictory to the environment Paddelack had described. The Liddlefurans, named for the city on the coast, were fascinated by Pike’s sidearms and amazed when he blasted away a boulder from the edge of the plateau to help clear a new path for them. They insisted that Pike take them for shuttle rides, and he obliged, giving each group a quick trip to the coast and back.
Well,
Paddelack said after half a dozen
trips. You’re a hero. Enjoy it.
I will. Of that you can be assured.
Finally, after hours, Pike sought out Paddelack to ask him if they could put a halt to the merriment. Just as he approached the older man, Paddelack glanced into the gorge.
Gostum! Back again! This can’t be good.
Pike saw a dozen men and women galloping through the cleft, scattering the crowd in all directions.
I told you your presence would be noted. I
suggest you use that graser of yours, and use it well.
Pike drew his graser, took quick aim, and fired at the nearest rider. The Gostum fell, but Pike didn’t have time to fire again. He stood up quickly and just as quickly saw a flash in the hands of a second rider, a whiz through the air, and a wound open on his arm. He looked pleadingly toward Paddelack, whose arm was in the midst of hurling a knife. But the hand jerked backward just before release and the knife clattered to the ground, far short of its target. Pike felt dizzy and tumbled toward the ground. He did not see what happened to Paddelack, nor did he expect to see him again.