Authors: Stanislaw Lem
Before daybreak the first two cross-country vehicles rolled down the ramp. The slopes of the dunes toward the sunny side were still black, lying in the shadow of nocturnal darkness. The force field opened up, letting the machines pass through, and closed once more with blue lights twinkling in the night. On the posterior running board of the third vehicle, directly beneath the tail end of the space cruiser, sat Rohan, wearing a spacesuit, but without his helmet and goggles, only with the small oxygen mask before his mouth. He clasped his knees with his hands, for this way it was easier to observe the jumping second hand of his watch.
In the left breast pocket of his protective suit he had stashed away four vials, in the right pocket thin wafers of concentrated food, and the pockets of his knee protectors held small instruments: a radiation counter, a small magnetic watch, a compass, and a microphotogram map of the terrain, smaller than a postcard, which could be read only with a strong magnifying lens. Wound around his waist was a six-ply roll of the finest nylon rope. All metal parts had been removed from his clothing. He could not feel the wire netting hidden in his hair, unless he moved his scalp on purpose. Neither could he feel the current flowing through the net, but he was able to control the micro-sender, sewn inside his collar, by placing his finger on that spot. The small, hard cylinder kept ticking evenly, and he could feel it throb clearly when he touched it.
There was a red streak in the eastern sky. A strong breeze had sprung up. The wind whipped the sandy crests of the dunes. The low-lying, jagged crater rims on the horizon seemed gradually to dissolve in a flood of red. Rohan lifted his head. There was to be no two-way communication between him and the spaceship, since a sender would have given away his presence at once. However, inside, in his ear, was a tiny receiver, no larger than a cherry stone. The
Invincible
could send him signals, at least for a while. Now words came from the receiver; it was almost as if he were hearing a voice inside his head.
“Rohan, this is Horpach speaking. Our instruments on the ship’s nose have noted increasing magnetic activity. The two vehicles are probably already under attack by the cloud… I am dispatching a probe.”
Rohan looked up into the brightening sky. He failed to see the start of the rocket which suddenly rose vertically like a flare, leaving in its wake a thin, white streak of smoke, which fogged in the spaceship’s nose. The teleprobe raced off with tremendous speed in a northeasterly direction. Minutes went by. By now half the disk of the bloated old sun sat astride the crater wall.
“A small cloud is attacking the first car,” said the voice inside Rohan’s head. “So far, the second vehicle is advancing undisturbed. The first car is approaching the rock gate … attention! We have lost control over the first car. No visual contact—it is covered by the cloud. The second vehicle is approaching the turn near the sixth narrowing of the road. No attack yet. Now it’s got it too! We have lost control over the second car. They have surrounded it already… Rohan! Your car will leave in fifteen seconds. From now on you’re on your own. I’m activating the automatic starter. Good luck!”
Horpach’s voice was suddenly gone. In its stead came a mechanical clicking, ticking off the seconds. Rohan settled in a more comfortable position, planted his feet firmly on the running board and slipped his arm through the elastic loop that had been fastened to the railing of the car. The light machine began to vibrate and drove off.
Horpach had given orders for all men to stay inside the
Invincible…
Rohan was almost grateful; a farewell scene would have been unbearable. Clinging to the bouncing running board of the vehicle, he saw only the giant pillar of the spaceship which gradually grew smaller. At first, the blue glow that flickered over the slopes of the dunes told him the car was just crossing the border of the protective energy field. Soon after, the speed increased, and the reddish dust cloud whirled up by the huge tires obstructed his view. Only dimly could he see the gray skies above. How unfortunate, he thought. He might be attacked without even realizing it. Instead of remaining seated, as planned, he turned around and stood up on the running board, holding tight onto the railing. Now he could direct his glance over the flat back of the unmanned vehicle toward the desert, which kept rushing toward him. The car drove at top speed, jolting, bouncing and lurching, forcing Rohan frequently to press himself with all his might against the body of the car. He could hardly hear the engine; the wind whistled past his ears, fine grains of sand bit into his eyes. On either side of the car fountains of sand sprayed into the air, forming a high and impenetrable wall. He did not even notice when he left the circle of the crater. Apparently the vehicle had wiggled out of it over a flat indentation on the sandy north rim.
Suddenly Rohan heard a singing signal coming nearer. The sender of the teleprobe must have been activated. He could not locate it in the sky, although he strained his eyes to look for it. Probably it had climbed up very high to avoid attracting attention and discovery by the cloud. At the same time, the probe was indispensable, for without it the crew back at the
Invincible
could not have guided the vehicle. A special odometer had been attached to the rear wall of the car to facilitate orientation. So far he had traveled more than eleven miles, and any moment now the rocks should come in view. But the disk of the sun, which had remained on his right and low over the horizon all along, barely visible through the whirling sand, now moved a bit behind him. That would mean that the car was turning to the left. In vain, he tried to find out if the angle of the turn coincided with the predetermined course, or whether it was wider. That would have indicated that the men back at the navigational controls in the spaceship had noticed an unforeseen maneuver of the cloud, and therefore wanted to remove him from its range. Soon the sun disappeared behind the first long rocky outcrop; then its dim light returned. Bathed in the sun’s slanting rays, the landscape presented a wild appearance and looked quite different than he remembered it from his last expedition. Still, at that time he had regarded it from a greater height, from the tower of the transporter. All of a sudden the vehicle was violently rocked about, throwing Rohan’s chest several times quite painfully against the body of the car. Now he had to muster all his strength to keep the furious jolts from shaking him from his perch on the narrow running board. The wheels danced across the rocks and boulders, hurling the gravel high up into the air. Sometimes they stuck and spun crazily in the same spot. Rohan was sure this hellish ride was making enough noise to be heard for miles around, and he considered seriously whether he shouldn’t stop the car and jump off—close below his shoulder he could feel the handle of the brake that had been purposely placed on the outside. But then he would have to face a march of several miles, and the prospect of swiftly reaching his goal, slim as it was to begin with, would have diminished even further. With clenched teeth, his hands frantically clutching the handles which now no longer seemed to offer a secure hold, with blinking eyes he looked over the flat top of the vehicle, up along the slope. Occasionally the singing of the radio-probe grew weaker, but it was still above him, no doubt, for the cross-country vehicle maneuvered skillfully and dodged the piled-up debris and boulders on the huge rocky talus. Once in a while the car leaned to the side and slowed down, but soon afterwards it raced up the hill with full speed.
The odometer showed the number of miles he had traveled so far: sixteen. On his map his path had been marked as thirty-six miles, but in reality it was surely much longer, considering the differences in altitude and because of the meandering road. Not a trace of sand could be found here. The sun hung threateningly in the sky, heavy, gigantic and almost cold, and still touching the jagged teeth of the rocky crest. As if racked by a violent fever, the machine doggedly shook its way through the rubble. Sometimes it would slip when the rocks underneath it would work loose with a gnashing sound. The tires would rub helplessly against the stones and make a screeching noise. The incline grew steeper. Almost eighteen miles—he heard nothing aside from the singing signal of the probe. Nothing from the
Invincible.
Why? Rohan could vaguely recognize a steep wall, outlined in indistinct black lines below the sundisk. This might be the upper rim of the ravine into which he was supposed to descend—not here, though, but much farther north. Eighteen miles now. In any event, nothing was to be seen of the black cloud. It had probably already disabled the other machines by now. Or had the cloud given up after cutting them off from the spaceship by blockading radio communication? The whole vehicle threw itself from side to side like a desperate animal. Once in a while the roaring of the motor, which was running at full speed, hit Rohan right in the gut. The vehicle kept losing speed, but against all expectations it made headway. Maybe he should have taken along a car with air-cushioned drive? But it would have been too large and heavy; there was no use now wasting a thought in that direction, since nothing could be changed anyhow.
He wanted to look at his watch but could not manage to hold his hand up to his eyes for even a second. He bent his knees, trying to soften the impact of the tremendous blows which shook all his insides. All of a sudden the vehicle reared up like a horse and then slipped sideways, down the hill. The brakes were squealing, but the pebbles and boulders gave way and slid down from all directions, rattling and clattering on the metal body of the car. The vehicle turned frantically, began to spin and skidded for a while on its side through the rocky debris. Then this movement came to a halt…
Slowly the car righted itself and crawled stubbornly up the slope again. Now Rohan could see the ravine. He recognized it by the black patches of underbrush, resembling crook-timber, which covered the steep rocks. About half a mile separated him from the edge of the ravine. Twenty miles…
The slope that lay before him looked like an ocean made up of chaotically tossed-about rocks and boulders. It seemed impossible that the vehicle would ever pave a way through this. He had already given up searching for passable spots, since it was not his job to steer the car. Instead he concentrated on not losing sight, even for a single moment, of the two rock walls on either side, that rose steeply from the bottom of the valley. Any second now, the black cloud might well up from these walls.
“Rohan… Rohan…” he heard suddenly. His heart began to beat faster. He recognized Horpach’s voice.
“The car probably won’t get you to your destination. From where we are, we cannot make out the exact angle of the slope, but you only have a few more miles to go. In case the car gets stuck, you will have to proceed on foot. Repeat…”
No more than twenty-six miles … that means I have another ten miles to go. That could take at least four hours in this type of terrain, maybe even more, Rohan calculated quickly. Let’s hope they’re mistaken and the car makes it after all.
The message ended and once again he could hear nothing but the rhythmical singing of the probe, Rohan bit down harder on the mouthpiece of his oxygen mask. The mouthpiece had chafed his lips during the violently bouncing ride. The sun no longer touched the nearby mountain crest but it had not climbed any higher either. Before him lay boulders and rocky ledges of all sizes; sometimes their old shadow seemed to reach out for him.
The car had slowed down. Rohan lifted his eyes and saw tiny feathery clouds sailing across the sky. Suddenly a strange thing happened to the vehicle: it reared up like a shying horse. Another second and the car would have plunged down the slope, trapping him underneath, if Rohan had not jumped off. He fell on his hands and knees, hitting the ground hard and feeling it right through his thick protective gloves and shin-guards. He skidded about six feet across the rocky rubble before he recovered his footing.
“Rohan, this is Horpach calling! The car can’t go on. You must continue on foot… Use the map for orientation. The car will remain where it is, in case you aren’t able to make your way back otherwise. You are now at the intersection of coordinates 46 and 192…”
Rohan got to his feet slowly. Every muscle in his body was aching. But only the first few steps were difficult. He quickly found his stride. He wanted to get away as fast as possible from the vehicle, which was stuck between two rock ridges. He sat down at the foot of a tall rocky obelisk, pulled the map out of his pocket and tried to adjust it. That was not so easy. Finally he determined his location. He was more than half a mile, as the crow flies, away from the upper rim of the ravine, but descending was out of the question at this point, A solid layer of low metal growths covered the slopes. So he climbed uphill, wondering whether he should risk the descent into the ravine at a spot nearer than the one they had chosen previously. For it would take at least four hours to reach that place. Even if he could use the car to drive back, he would have to reckon another five hours for the return trip, and how much longer would he need to climb down into the gorge, let alone the time needed for the search? Suddenly the entire plan seemed to contain not even a single grain of common sense. The whole enterprise was nothing but a vain and heroic gesture devised by Horpach, who was willing to sacrifice him in order to soothe his own conscience.
For a while he was so furious—he felt he had been tricked like a silly schoolboy by the astrogator, who had planned everything in advance—that he barely noticed his surroundings. Gradually he got hold of himself. There is no way back, he kept repeating to himself, I have to try it. If I have no luck climbing down, if I haven’t found anyone by three o’clock, then I’ll turn back.
It was a quarter past seven. He tried to walk with long, even, but not too rapid strides, because his oxygen consumption would rise steeply with any exertion. He fastened his compass to his right wrist to avoid deviating from the direction he had to follow. Several times, though, he had to walk around deep crevices with steep walls. Fortunately, gravity on Regis III was considerably less than on Earth. This fact allowed him relative ease of movement, despite the difficult terrain. The sun stood higher in the sky. His sense of hearing—used to the constant accompaniment of all the sounds which encircled him like a sheltering barrier laid down by the machines on his previous expeditions—this sense now felt exposed and supersensitive. Only occasionally would he perceive, now much weaker than before, the rhythmical singing of the probe. On the other hand, each gust of wind hissing around the jagged edges of the boulders, attracted his attention, for he believed he recognized in it the familiar, delicate hum which he remembered so well. Gradually he became accustomed to the vigorous stride. While mechanically clambering from one rock to the next, he could give free rein to his thoughts. He carried a pedometer in his packet. He did not want to check the distance he had already traversed yet, and was determined to wait until an hour had gone by. But he could not stand it so long, and he pulled out the small instrument before the hour was up. He was sorely disappointed. He had not even covered two miles. True, he had to overcome considerable differences in altitude. This had slowed him down. This means not three, not even four hours, but at least another six, he thought to himself. He took out the map again, knelt down and adjusted it once more. To the east he could see the crest of the ravine. All this time he had been marching in a direction nearly parallel to it. In one place the dark bushes covering the slopes were divided by a long, thread-like gap, probably the dried-up bed of a little brook. He tried to get a better look at it. Kneeling down, with the wind whistling around his ears, he experienced a moment of indecision. As if he did not know too well what he was doing, he got to his feet and mechanically tucked away his map, made a ninety-degree turn from his previous direction and marched toward the steep wall of the gorge.