Space Cadet (23 page)

He looked back and saw that the door was out of sight; a big bubble formed and
plopped!
—and then another. “Thanks, Oz!”

They stood and watched as the tail slid away from the bank. A cloud of steam came up and joined the mist as the jet tube hit the wetness; then the tail lifted and the jeep was almost vertical, upside down, for a few moments, with only her after end showing above the slime.

She sank slowly. Presently there was nothing but bubbles in the mud and a ragged break in the false lawn to show where it had been.

Matt’s chin was trembling. “I should have stayed at the controls. I could have caught her on her gyros.”

“Nonsense,” said Oscar. “He didn’t tell you to stay put.”

“I should have known better.”

“Quit beating yourself with it. The procedures say it’s the pilot’s business. If there was any doubt in his mind he should have left her stabilized on gyro until he inspected. Right now we got to take care of him, so cut out the postmortem.”

“Okay.” Matt knelt down and tried Thurlow’s pulse. It was still steady. “Nothing we can do for him at the moment but let him rest. Let’s see your arm.”

“Okay, but take it easy. Ouch!”

“Sorry. I’m afraid I’ll have to hurt you; I’ve never actually set a bone before.”

“I have,” said Tex, “out on the range. Here you go, Oz old boy—lie down on your back. And relax—it’s going to hurt.”

“Okay. Only I thought that down in Texas you just shot ’em.” Oscar managed to smile.

“Just for broken legs. Broken arms we usually save. Matt, you whip up a couple of splints. Got a knife?”

“Yep.”

“Good thing—I don’t have. Better take your blouse off first, Oscar.” With help Jensen complied; Tex placed a foot in Oscar’s left armpit, grasped his left hand in both of his, and gave a steady tug.

Oscar yelped. “I think that did it,” said Tex. “Matt, hurry up with those splints.”

“Coming.” Matt had found a clump of grass, twelve to fifteen feet tall and superficially similar to Earth-side bamboo. He cut about a dozen lengths as thick as his little finger and around fifteen inches long, brought them back and gave them to Tex. “Will these do?”

“I guess so. Here goes your blouse, Oscar.” Tex attempted to tear strips from the garment, then gave up. “Golly, that stuff is tough. Gimme your knife, Matt.”

Ten minutes later Oscar was adequately splinted and bandaged, with what remained of his blouse rigged as a sling. Tex took off his own blouse and sat down on it, for the turf was damp and the day was hot and muggy as only Venus can be. “That’s done,” he said, “and the skipper hasn’t blinked an eye. That leaves you holding the sack, Oz—when do we have lunch?”

“A fine question, that.” Oscar wrinkled his brows. “First, let’s see what we’ve got to work with. Turn out your pouches.”

Matt had his knife. Oscar’s pouch contained nothing of significance. Tex contributed his harmonica. Oscar looked worried. “Fellows, do you suppose I’m justified in looking through Mr. Thurlow’s pouch?”

“I think you ought to,” said Tex. “I’ve never seen anybody stay out so long.”

“I agree,” added Matt. “I think we had better admit he s got a concussion and assume that he’s going to be out of the running for a while. Go ahead, Oscar.”

Thurlow’s pouch contained some personal items that they skipped over quickly, the orders to the expedition, and a second knife—which had set in its handle a small, ornamental, magnetic compass. “Golly, I’m glad to find that item. I’ve been wondering how we would ever find our way back to this spot without natives to guide us.”

“Who wants to?” asked Tex. “It doesn’t seem to have any attractions for me.”

“The jeep is here.”

“And the
Triplex
is somewhere over your head. One is about as close as the other—to a pedestrian, meaning me.”

“Look, Tex—somehow we’ve got to get that firecracker out of the mud and put her back into commission. Otherwise we stay here for life.”

“Huh? I’d been depending on you, the old Venerian hand, to lead us back to civilization.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Maybe you can walk five or six thousand miles through swamps, and sink holes, and cane brake; I can’t. Just remember that there isn’t a permanent settlement, not even a plantation, more than five hundred miles from either one of the poles. You know Venus isn’t really explored—I know about as much about this neck of the woods as you know about Tibet.”

“I wonder what in the world the
Gary
was doing here?” Matt commented.

“Search me.”

“Say!” said Tex. “Maybe we can get home in the
Gary
.”

“Maybe we can, but we haven’t even found the
Gary
yet. Consequently if we find we can’t, just as soon as we carry out these orders—” Oscar held up the paper he had taken from Thurlow’s pouch, “—we’ve got to find some way to haul the jeep out of the sinkhole.”

“With our own, little pink patty-paws?” inquired Tex. “And what’s that about our orders? We don’t seem to be in very good shape to go around quelling riots, putting down insurrection, and generally throwing our weight about. We haven’t even got a bean shooter, much less a bean. Come to think about it, if I had a bean, I’d eat it.”

“Oscar’s right,” agreed Matt, “We’re here; we’ve got a mission to perform; we’ve got to carry it out. That’s what Mr. Thurlow would say. After that comes trying to figure out a way to get back.”

Tex stood up. “I should have gone into the cattle business. Okay, Oscar—what next?”

“The first thing is for you and Matt to build a litter to carry the boss. We’ve got to find open water and I don’t want to split up the party.”

The same clump of cane grass that furnished splints provided material for a litter frame. Using both knives Matt and Tex cut two seven-foot lengths as thick as their upper arms. The stuff was light and, in that thickness, satisfactorily stiff. They slipped the poles through the sleeves of their blouses, then notched in cross pieces near each end. There was a wide gap in the middle which they wound about with the line salvaged from the jeep.

The result was a sloppy piece of work, but serviceable. Thurlow was still unconscious. His breathing was shallow but his pulse was still steady. They lifted him onto the stretcher and set out, with Oscar in the lead, compass in hand.

For about an hour they tramped through swampy land, splashing through mud, getting welts from the undergrowth, and pursued by clouds of insects. At last Matt called out, “Oz! We’ve just got to have some rest.”

Jensen turned around. “Okay—this is the end of the line, anyhow. Open water.”

They crowded forward and joined him. Beyond the cane brake, perfectly flat and calm under the fog, was a pond or lake. Its size was uncertain as the far shore was lost in the mist.

They tramped out a spot to put the litter down, then Oscar bent over the water and slapped it—
Slap!
—
Slap!
—
Slap, slap, slap
—
Slap, slap!

“What do we do now?”

“We wait—and pray. Thank goodness the natives are usually friendly.”

“Do you think they can help us?”

“If they want to help I’ll lay you even money that they can snake the jeep out of that muck and polish it clean in three days.”

“You really think so? I knew the Venerians were friendly but a job like that—”

“Don’t underrate the Little People. They don’t look like us but don’t let that throw you.”

Matt squatted down and started fanning the insects away from the unconscious officer. Presently Oscar slapped the water again, in the same pattern.

“Looks like nobody’s home, Oz.”

“I hope you’re wrong, Tex. Most of Venus is supposed to be inhabited, but this might be a tabu spot.”

A triangular head, large as a collie’s, broke water about ten feet from them. Tex jumped. The Venerian regarded him with shiny, curious eyes. Oscar stood up. “
Greetings, thou whose mother was my mothers friend
.”

The Venerian turned her attention to Oscar. “
May thy mother rest happily
.” She surface-dived and disappeared almost without a ripple.

“That’s a relief,” said Oscar. “Of course they say this planet has only one language but this is the first time I’ve put it to a test.”

“Why did it leave?”

“Gone back to report, probably. And don’t say ‘it,’ Matt; say ‘she.’”

“It’s a difference that could only matter to another Venerian.”

“Well, it’s a bad habit, anyway.” Oscar squatted down and waited.

After a time made longer by insects, heat, and sultriness the water was broken in a dozen places at once. One of the amphibians climbed gracefully up on the bank and stood up. She came about to Matt’s shoulder. Oscar repeated the formal greeting. She looked him over. “
My mother tells me that she knows thee not
.”

“
Doubtless being busy with important thoughts she has forgotten
.”

“
Perhaps. Let us go to my mother and let her smell thee
.”

“
Thou art gracious. Canst thou carry my sibling?
” Oscar pointed to Thurlow. “
Being ill, ‘she’ cannot close ‘her’ mouth to the waters
.”

The Venerian agreed. She called one of her followers to her side and Oscar joined the consultation, illustrating how Thurlow’s mouth must be covered and his nose pinched together “—
lest the waters return ‘her’ to ‘her’ mother’s mother’s mother
.” The second native argued but agreed.

Tex was getting more and more round-eyed. “See here, Matt,” he said urgently in Basic, “surely you’re not figuring on going under water?”

“Unless you want to stay here until the insects eat you up, you’ve got to. Just take it easy, let them tow you, and try to keep your lungs full. When they dive you may have to stay under several minutes.”

“I don’t like it either,” said Matt.

“Shucks, I visited my first Venerian home when I was nine. They know you can’t swim the way they do. At least the ones around the colonies know it,” he admitted doubtfully.

“Maybe you had better impress them with it.”

“I’ll try.”

The leader cut him short with assurances. She gave a sharp command and six of her party placed themselves by the cadets, two to each man. Three others took over Thurlow, lifting him and sliding him into the water. One of them was the one who had been instructed.

Oscar called out, “Take it easy, fellows!” Matt felt little hands urging him into the lake. He took a deep breath and stepped off into the water.

The water closed over his head. It was blood warm and fresh. He opened his eyes, saw the surface, then his head broke water again. The little hands grasped his sides and propelled him along, swimming strongly. He told himself to relax and stop fighting it.

After a while it even began to seem pleasant, once he was sure that the little creatures did not intend to pull him under. But he remembered Oscar’s advice and tried to watch out for a dive. Luckily, he saw the trio of which Tex was the middle go under; he gulped air just in time.

They went down and down, until his eardrums hurt, then forward. By the time they started up the pains in his chest were almost unbearable. He was fighting a reflex to open his mouth and breathe anything, even water, when they broke surface again.

There were three more of the lung-searing passages under water; when they broke water for the last time Matt saw that they were no longer outdoors.

The cave—if it was a cave—was about a hundred feet long and less than half as wide. In the center of it was the water entrance through which they had come. It was lighted from above, rather dimly, from some sort of glowing, orange clusters.

Most of this he noticed after he pulled himself up to the bank. His first impression was a crowd of Venerians surrounding the pool. They were obviously curious about their guests and chattered among themselves. Matt picked up a few words of it and heard a reference to “—
slime spawn
—” which annoyed him.

The three with Thurlow broke water. Matt pulled away from his custodians and helped drag him onto dry land. He was frantic for a moment when he could not find the lieutenant’s pulse; then he located it. It was fast and fluttery.

Thurlow opened his eyes and looked at him. “Matt—the gyros…”

“It’s all right, Lieutenant. Just take it easy.”

Oscar was standing over him. “How is he Matt?”

“Coming out of it, it looks like.”

“Maybe the immersion did him good.”

“It didn’t do me any good,” asserted Tex. “I swallowed about a gallon of water on that last one. Those little frogs are
careless
.”

“They’re more like seals,” said Matt.

“They’re neither one,” Oscar cut in sharply. “They’re
people
. Now,” he went on, “to try to set up some friendly relations.” He turned around, looking for the leader of the group.

The crowd separated, leaving an aisle to the pool. An amphibian, walking alone, but followed by three others, came slowly down this aisle toward them. Oscar faced her. “
Greetings, most worthy mother of many
.”

She looked him slowly up and down, then spoke, but not to him. “
As I thought. Take them away
.”

Oscar started to protest, but it did him no good. Four of the little people closed in around him. Tex yelled at him. “How about it, Oz? Let ’em have it?”

“No!” Oscar called back. “Don’t resist.”

Three minutes later they were herded into a small room that was almost completely dark, the gloom being broken only by a single sphere of the orange light. After depositing Thurlow on the floor the little people went away, closing the door after them by drawing across it a curtain. Tex looked around him, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light, and said, “About as cozy as a grave. Oz, you should have let us put up a scrap. I’ll bet we could have licked the whole caboodle of ’em.”

“Don’t be silly, Tex. Suppose we had managed it—a possibility which I doubt, but suppose we had; how would you like to try to swim your way out of here?”

“I wouldn’t try it. We’d dig a tunnel up to the surface—we’ve got two knives.”

“Maybe you would; I wouldn’t attempt it. The Little People generally built their cities underneath lakes.”