Hollis said, "The absence of e-t's is not entirely regular, sir. There
seems to be a longer absence, possibly due to a sleep period, between
every few meals. This could be an important datum in calculating the
length of their day and the rotation of their home planet."
"Personally," said Drew impatiently, "I am more interested in gathering
data which will aid our survival. For instance, if one of us should
lose his weapon, is there enough known about their physical makeup for
us to use an e-t form of karate on them? Or put another way, Doctor,
where is the dirtiest spot I can plant my boot?"
Reluctantly, McCullough told him.
They did not deliberately try to kill the aliens, doing so only when
the Twos attacked them -- which was always. Once they came on a dead
Two whose condition suggested that it had been partially eaten. This
was another important datum, Hollis said, which gave strong support to
McCullough's theory that the e-t's were experimental animals running
wild rather than sentient beings.
This did not comfort McCullough as much as it should have done, because
he was developing a new theory. It rested on the premise that the Ship
had suflered some kind of nonmaterial catastrophe -- the psychological
pressures of a too lengthy voyage, perhaps -- which had driven the crew
insane so that the Twos were either the survivors or descendants of the
original personnel, now reduced to little more than animals.
But he did not mention his new theory to the others because it would have
made them unhappy and uncertain again.
Hollis and Berryman were becoming expert at identifying and tracing
power and control lines without actually knowing what it was the lines
powered or controlled. It should be possible, they insisted, to utilize
one of these currently dead circuits to carry radio messages from deep
inside the Ship to the metal of the outer hull. In effect, the circuit
or section of plumbing would be an extension of their suit antennae and,
since the signals would be in the form of radio frequency impulses rather
than a flow of current, there was little danger of them inadvertently
switching on one of the alien controls or mechanisms.
In order to test this idea and also to get a line on the whereabouts
of the Twos' feeding place, the next base was established some forty
yards inboard.
It was a large, gray-walled compartment filled with disciplined masses of
plumbing and the usual sealed cabinets growing out from all six sides.
A quick search showed it to be empty, and McCullough guarded the only
entrance, which was a sliding door rather than the airtight seals found
under the hull area. Hollis, Berryman and Drew were bunched together
with Morrison floating close by, when they started to argue about a
Two they had killed and whether they had defended themselves before or
after it had actually attacked. They began talking loudly vehemently,
obviously feeling safe in this bright alien cupboard, when the Two which
had been hiding somewhere in the compartment landed among them.
There were shouts, curses and a scream that jerked on and off regularly,
as if someone was trying to hold a high note while his back was being
clapped. McCullough swung round and raised his weapon, but the center of
the room was a confused mass of twisting, struggling bodies which were
rapidly becoming obscured by a growing red fog and there was nothing
he could do. The Two had wrapped its tentacles around someone and was
furiously disembowelling him with its horn while the others tried to
tear it loose and kick and stab it to death.
When they finally succeeded in pulling it away, McCullough launched
himself toward the man, grabbed him around the waist and held him tightly
face to face so that he would not be able to see his terrible wounds. Then
he told the man lies in a gentle, reassuring voice until Drew separated
them, saying harshly that the colonel was dead.
Berryman, Hollis and Drew were watching him, obviously waiting for
instructions, or possibly for some indication that he was unwilling
to accept his responsibility. McCullough squeezed his eyes shut in an
attempt to obliterate the sight of Morrison's body from his mind's eye
as well as from normal vision. He tried to picture the colonel alive, as
he had been a few days or hours ago, but great soft balls of coagulating
blood like tacky grapes drifted against his face as a reminder that all
images of Morrison alive would inevitably lead to the one he was trying
to blot out of Morrison dead. It was impossible for McCullough to think
of the colonel without seeing the grisly thing which spun slowly beside
him like a bloody Catherine wheel. Because it had once been Morrison it
inhabited every second of the past as well as the present. It was only
in the future that the colonel did not really exist.
There was a feverish sort of logic about that thought, McCullough told
himself. He must think only of a time when the colonel did not exist, and
avoid bringing up memories of him; he must think only of the future. But
there were a number of futures and they began flickering past his mind's
eye like pictures from the Black Museum. A drowning man was supposed to
see his past life passing before his eyes, but McCullough was seeing an
endless succession of future deaths, so he opened his eyes and stared
back at the others.
He said, "Berryman, find an empty tool locker or something and put the
colonel's body in it. Wire or wedge the fastening so's those animals
won't be able to get at him. When you've finished, go to the nearest hull
lock chamber and report what has happened to Walters. Today we planned
to follow the Twos to their food and water supply, and that is still at
the top of our list of priorities.
"However," he concluded, "if you hear a disturbance, don't come charging
to our rescue. Stay in a safe place until the next lunch break and then
make your way back here. Understand?"
Berryman looked from Hollis to Drew and then back to McCullough. Despite
the differences in rank and the military discipline which was supposed
to bind them, this, McCullough knew, was something in the nature of an
election. From his expression it was obvious that Hollis was voting
a timid positive, Drew's features registered an angry negative, and
Walter's opinions, since he was no longer directly involved in the
Two-human running battle which was being waged in the Ship, were not
being considered. It was Berryman, therefore, who had the casting vote in
this election, and while the silence dragged on, McCullough wondered what
qualities this normally lighthearted pilot thought important in a leader,
and if his qualifications were insufficient, how exactly Berryman would
let him know about it.
He would be an extremely tactful and kindly mutineer, McCullough thought.
Finally Berryman nodded and said drily, "The Colonel is dead. Long live
the Lieutenant Colonel . . ."
It had been Morrison's intention to probe the Ship as deeply as possible
today, and to follow the aliens to their feeding place, despite the risk
of the Earth party ending up being surrounded by practically every Two
in the Ship. McCullough's instructions were not unexpected, and they
probably thought he was carrying on as planned out of respect for their
dead colonel, or if they were feeling cynical, because he could think
of nothing better to do.
As he led them into the corridor, McCullough wondered why it was so
important to him that he should get as far away from the colonel's body
as possible. In the past he had treated automobile accident cases and
examined the pulverized remains of jet pilots who had hit the deck
at close to Mach One, so that Morrison's body was not by any means
the worst sight he had had to witness in his life. He had even seen a
matador gored repeatedly by a bull on one occasion, and while he had
felt clinical concern for the unfortunate man, some detached portion of
his mind -- a group of rebel brain cells, perhaps, which had abstained
when the majority were taking the Hippocratic Oath -- had been glad
that on this occasion the bull had been able to hit back. It was just
that in some obscure fashion the colonel's had been such a dirty death,
and McCullough did not want to think about it at all.
They spotted a Two about ten minutes later and trailed it at a distance of
twenty yards or less, depending on the turns and twists of its route.
At intervals they wrapped pieces of paper around the netting so that they
would be able to find their way back again. But the Two ignored them,
either because it did not see them or because it had something more
important on its mind. A few minutes later it was joined by another of
its kind, then three more, none of which showed any interest in their
pursuers. The men were pushing deeper and deeper into the Ship now, and
large stretches of the corridors were permanently lit -- they did not
have to switch on the corridor lighting here and could not even see the
switches which controlled it. They also became aware of a low, moaning
sound which rose and fell and changed pitch constantly but erratically
and grew steadily louder as they went on.
Suddenly there were three aliens following them and gaining steadily.
Before they became sandwiched too tightly between the two groups of e-t's,
McCullough led his party into the next empty compartment. Its sliding
door had a large window, so he did not switch on the room lights. While
waiting for the second group to pass, he had a few minutes to look around,
and he discovered something which almost made him call off the search
for a water supply.
This compartment was different from the others they had examined. Even
the light which filtered in from the corridor made that very plain. The
cable runs and ducting were absent or hidden behind flush wall panels
and the objects occupying the room had the unmistakable, finished look
of items of furniture. In the center of the room there was suspended a
long, cylindrical shape which could very well be a free-fall hammock.
"They've gone past," said Drew, opening the sliding door. "We'll have to
hurry -- they're turning into an intersection . . ."
Very carefully McCullough marked the position of the compartment on his
map, then left with the others. He still felt that he should have made
them stop until they had examined and considered all the implications
of the room they had just left.
A lab animal would not require a furnished room, which meant that there
were intelligent extraterrestrials on the Ship.
He needed time to think. The search for water could be postponed for a few
hours or days while they decided what was the best thing to do. McCullough
was the boss and he would order a return to base.
But McCullough did not give the order because everything began happening
at once.
They turned into a corridor unlike any they had seen before. One wall
was made up of heavy wire mesh through which they could see a large
compartment filled with Twos, while other Twos fought and wriggled their
way through gaps in the mesh. Inside the enclosure the fighting and
jockeying for position was so vicious that several of the e-t's were
dead. The object of the fighting seemed to be to gain a position near
a long plastic panel running along one wall of the enclosure. From the
panel there sprouted a large number of open, small-diameter pipes and
a similar number which terminated in rubbery swellings. The fighting
which was going on made it difficult to see exactly what it was that
was oozing out of them.
"Semiliquid food from the pipes, I think," said Hollis excitedly,
"and what looks like water from the nipples!"
He broke off as a single, deafening chime reverberated along the corridor
and they heard their first alien voice.
It could have been his imagination, but McCullough felt sure that the
sound was subtly unlike the alien gobblings of the Twos. The word-sounds
seemed more complex and meaningful somehow, and there was almost a
quality of urgency about them. He knew that it was ridiculous to read
meanings into a completely alien sequence of sounds, but his feeling of
being warned remained strong. Each time the voice paused, the single,
tremendous chime was repeated -- or perhaps the voice was speaking
quickly between chimes.
The Twos on the other side of the mesh became more agitated when a chime
sounded, but they did not stop either eating or fighting each other.
Drew said something about Pavlov to Hollis, and McCullough unstrapped
his tape recorder. Drew swung his weapon to point at a nearby speaker
grill, where it would be possible to get a recording without too much
interference from the feeding animals, but he never completed the
movement. There was a blinding double flash as the spear touched the
mesh and the corridor. Drew jerked violently, then became motionless
except for a slow, lateral spin.
A second alien voice joined the first one and the moaning sounds increased
in intensity.
The new voice seemed to be speaking the same language. Very often it
repeated the same word-sounds as the first voice, but it spoke over
or around it and did not pause for the chimes. Sometimes it spoke
quickly and at other times the words were dragged out and their pitch,
volume and inflection varied so widely that it seemed to be trying to
sing. McCullough felt confused and stupid as he blinked away the green
afterimage of the flash and tried to make some kind of sense out of what
was happening. He needed time to think.