Planet of Death

Chapter 9 The First Victim

Crawford didn’t sleep well that night. All night long, the animals of the forest hooted and howled and screamed. The noise was so loud that it came right through the metal walls of the spaceship.

He spent a good part of the night staring out the viewscreen, looking at the dark jungle. Moonlight helped him see what was happening. World Seven had two small moons. They weren’t lovely orange-golden moons like the moons of Velliran. They were ugly little ones that cast a cold, pale white light.

By that hard white light Crawford saw strange wolf-like animals creep out of the jungle. They ringed themselves around the ship and barked at it. They tried to find some way to get inside. It was as if they knew there was food inside.

Then slinking cat-beasts slipped among the wolves and fought with them. There were screeches and high whines. When the battle was over, half a dozen animals were dead on each side. Their bodies didn’t last long. Scavengers crawled through the grass to feast on the dead.

Death never rested on World Seven. The struggle went on, day and night.

Late that evening, just before Crawford was about to go to sleep, Lazenby came to talk to him. The biologist was in a serious mood. He closed the hatch of the cabin and locked it.

Then he said to Crawford, “I’m still trying to pick up information on that murder you’re involved in.”

“How can you possibly learn anything out here, millions of miles from Velliran?”

“It’s possible,” said Lazenby. “Because one of the men on this ship is the real murderer.”

“What?”

“Shh! Not so loud!”

“How could that be? I don’t get it!” Crawford whispered.

“This ship was on Velliran when the murder happened, right?”

“Of course.”

“And you say that you blanked out strangely just before the crime was committed. Tell me, was there any strange taste or smell that you noticed when you came to?”

“A sweet taste in my mouth,” said Crawford.

“That’s it! That’s it!” Lazenby slammed his fist into his palm. “There’s a Vellirani drug that could cause a sudden blackout that way. It leaves a sweet taste afterward. I was studying it while we were on Velliran. I told three or four of the team about it. One of them must have got hold of some—and used it on you!”

“But what makes you think some member of this team framed me? It could have been anyone on Velliran,” Crawford objected.

“There aren’t many there who know of the drug. It’s rare and expensive. And it seems odd to me that right after I found out about the drug, someone would use it on you.”

“What motive would any of these men have?”

“That’s what I don’t know yet,” said Lazenby. “I’m working on it, though. First I have to find out which of the men knew about the drug, and which might have had reason to kill a native. I’ll take it from there.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Crawford asked.

“Yes. Keep out of it, and keep your mouth shut. If you started asking questions, you’d get in trouble right away. I’ll find out who the man is. Just give me a little time.”

A powerful surge of excitement ran through Crawford. The real murderer right on this ship! One of these nine men! It was all up to Lazenby, now. He would be the detective.

I hope he finds him fast, Crawford thought. I’d like to get my hands on him!

The next day, the exploration teams went out again. Although most of the men really wanted to leave, they were afraid to speak up. Captain Hendrin wanted to stay here. And Captain Hendrin was the boss of this outfit.

Crawford learned more about World Seven on the second day of exploration. The more he learned, the more he wanted to get off this world in a great hurry.

He was teamed with Lazenby again. They sliced through the jungle, collecting specimens and taking photographs. Lazenby seemed fascinated by everything. Crawford was simply disgusted.

And once they found something that even got Lazenby upset.

It happened when they came upon a huge, fat, black-and-gray animal lying on its side in a swamp. The animal looked something like a pig, except that a pig was much prettier. This animal was about eight feet long, with big, curling tusks and tiny, squinting eyes. Its skin was wrinkled and folded. Its ears were long and droopy and covered with stiff hairs. It gave off a smell that made Crawford want to hold his breath.

The animal was a mother. It had just given birth. A litter of nine baby beasts was trying to feed. They were about a foot long, and they might have been cute if they weren’t so ugly. They still looked wet and soggy, the way animals often do right after they are born.

There were nine babies, but there was room for the mother to nurse only seven at a time. Each of the seven was getting milk. The other two were left out in the cold. They lay a few feet away, making angry squealing noises.

Crawford had seen mother cats deal with this problem. First they fed some of their kittens, and then they fed the other ones.

But this beast was no cat. And she had a different way of fixing things.

She waited until the seven little ones had had their meal. Then she calmly lifted her big head and opened her huge mouth.

Snap! and one of the babies who hadn’t eaten was gone.

Snap! and the other one was gone.

Then she stretched out on her side again. The seven lucky little ones came close to her once more. They nestled against her warm belly.

Crawford looked at Lazenby. The biologist hadn’t enjoyed watching that.

“You see?” said Crawford sarcastically. “It’s survival of the fittest. Those two extra babies couldn’t find their way to the milk fast enough. So they were gobbled up. You ever see a mother act like that anywhere else?”

Lazenby stared at the big animal in the swamp. She was licking her chops.

“I’ve never seen a world like this,” he whispered. “Not anywhere.”

Crawford was glad to see that his friend was disturbed. Lazenby couldn’t be scientific all the time. Maybe he thought that this planet was “remarkable” and “fascinating” even now. But to see a mother eat two of her newborn babies just because they were weaklings—that was a chilling sight. And even Lazenby was chilled by it.

They tramped on through the jungle.

Crawford’s mind was on the scientific report he was supposed to file. How could he possibly fake it? This was a very complicated world. Even if Lazenby helped him, he wouldn’t be able to draw up a convincing report. Lazenby wasn’t an ecologist, either. Captain Hendrin would take one look at Crawford’s findings and know that he was a phony.

It began to occur to Crawford that he might get punished for coming on this journey. Captain Hendrin was a man who took everything extremely seriously. Maybe there were laws against posing as an Exploration Corps man. Maybe Crawford had escaped from one jail term only to get another.

He didn’t like to think about that.

Somehow he and Lazenby avoided the man-eating trees and the other toothy killers that day. They managed to make a fairly complete survey of their part of the jungle. Work was going well for the other teams, too. Murray was out flying again, collecting pictures for the maps he would draw. Chung, the geologist, had gone with him once more. Chung was studying the shape of this planet’s surface—its mountains and valleys and plains.

Dorwin, the chemist, was working on his part of the study. He was bringing samples of plants, animals, and soil to the ship’s laboratory. There, he ran tests to see what they were made of. Bartlett, the anthropologist, was helping him. There was no intelligent civilization here, so Bartlett could not perform his own job.

Everybody was working hard. Crawford hoped that they’d get the planet explored fast, so they could leave.

Then World Seven claimed its first human victim.

It happened late in the afternoon. Grover, the botanist, had gone out to study some jungle flowers. He had taken the radio operator, Evans, with him.

Suddenly there came a loud shout. “Help! Help me!”

It was Evans. He ran from the jungle. Something was in his arms.

He was carrying what was left of Grover.

Crawford didn’t get a good look at the dead man. He only got half a look, and that was enough. Grover was a frightening sight.

Fernandez, the doctor, jumped forward. A medical man doesn’t get bothered by such sights as easily as other people. But even Fernandez was shaken by the way Grover looked. He grabbed up a sheet of plastic and wrapped it around the body, fast, to cover it and hide it from view.

Captain Hendrin appeared. His lean face was grim and tense. He looked at Evans and said, “What happened to Grover?”

Evans ran his tongue nervously around his lips. He was so frightened he could hardly talk. “He—he—”

“Pull yourself together, man!” the Captain ordered.

The radio operator took a deep breath. “He—he fell, Captain,” Evans finally said. “Grover fell.”

“Fell where?”

Evans was calmer now. He said, “Grover saw a plant he wanted to examine. Something unusual. It was about three feet to the side of our path. Grover walked over to it. Then he yelled and slipped out of sight. He went right into a big hole in the ground.”

“A trap, you mean?” Hendrin asked.

“I think so. He thought he was stepping on solid ground. But it wasn’t solid. He went right through. It was about five feet deep. There was something in the hole, sir. I don’t know what it was. Whether it was a plant or an animal or what. Grover screamed a couple of times. I saw something yellow in the pit—like foam. And little thin arms waving around, a million of them!”

Evans held out his hands. They were covered with dozens of small red blisters.

He said, “I reached in and yanked Grover out. Some of the stuff spilled on my hands. It was like acid, sir. Like acid. He must have died right away.”

The Captain was silent for a moment. He looked down at the brown plastic sheet covering what was left of Grover. Then he said, “Bartlett, Murray, Markham—get a grave dug in the clearing here. And make it deep.”

Crawford and the other two got spades from the ship. They began to dig. It was hot, sweaty work. Lazenby and Chung stood by as guards, in case any animal attacked them while they dug. In an hour, there was a grave. Grover’s body, still wrapped in plastic, was lowered into it. Captain Hendrin said a few words in Grover’s memory.

Then the surviving Earthmen went into the ship and shut it tight for the night.

No one spoke much that evening. Everybody was stunned by Grover’s death. The worst part was not that he was dead, but the way he had died. It was one thing to be killed by a wild animal. It was something else again to be eaten alive by a pool of acid. What kind of creature lived in that pool? No one knew. No one felt like finding out.

The two moons had risen. Their cold white light glittered on Grover’s grave. The men spent their time filing reports and doing other scientific work, just to keep their minds off what had happened to Grover.

Crawford pretended to be hard at work on his report, too. But actually he did not know what to write. So he simply wrote down his descriptions of the animals he had seen in the jungle. At least that way he looked busy.

He had not given up trying to guess which man aboard was the murderer. But he didn’t have a clue. And Lazenby hadn’t found out anything, either.

Crawford was starting to think Lazenby’s idea was wrong. If the murderer was aboard this ship, Crawford asked himself, wouldn’t he have attacked me long ago? He’d want to get me out of the way in case I might recognize him. Unless he doesn’t know who I am, that is. Maybe he didn’t get a clear look at me in the street, the day of the frameup. It would come as a big surprise to him if he knew that his framed victim was on this very ship!

But Crawford couldn’t imagine why any of these men might have wanted to frame him. Chung? Dorwin? Evans? Who could tell? It didn’t make any sense.

Late that night Fernandez came over to where Crawford was typing. The doctor tapped gently on his shoulder. Crawford looked up, surprised.

“Markham?”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to come to my cabin for a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”

“All right,” Crawford said. He carefully put away what he was writing so nobody could see it. Then he followed the beefy-looking doctor through the ship to Fernandez’s cabin. They went inside. Fernandez clicked the lock closed.

“What’s this all about?” Crawford asked.

Fernandez held up one fleshy hand. “Have patience, friend. All in good time.” He went to his closet and took out a bottle containing a sparkling liquid. He handed it to Crawford. “Have a drink, friend.”

Crawford’s eyes opened wide. This was Vellirani whiskey, one of the finest drinks in the universe. He hadn’t drunk much, because he wanted his aim to be good when he hunted yangs. But he had come to like this stuff a lot. And he had missed it since leaving Velliran.

“I didn’t think liquor was allowed on the ship,” Crawford said.

Fernandez laughed. He said in his deep rumbling voice, “I put it down as medicine. Nobody can argue with me. Have all you want.”

Crawford put the bottle to his lips and helped himself.

Then he said, “You didn’t invite me here just to drink up your liquor, Doc. What’s on your mind?”

“Captain Hendrin’s on my mind.”

“Eh?”

Fernandez said, “Grover’s death this afternoon could have been avoided—if we had left this planet yesterday. I don’t know how you feel about this, Markham. You’re new to the team. The rest of us have been together a long time, and Grover’s death hurt us. It hurt us hard. So we’ve got a plan. You want me to tell you about it, or should I just stop talking right here?”

“Go on talking,” Crawford said.

“Okay. You know about the replacement clause in the rules? We can replace the Captain with another member of the crew, if we feel the Captain isn’t capable of commanding.”

“Of course,” said Crawford. “That’s true on any ship. If the top officer isn’t fit to run things, he’s got to be replaced.”

“Well, then,” Fernandez went on. “Some of us—mainly Bartlett, Murray, and me—have decided that we ought to leave this planet. It’s for our own good. We aren’t equipped for a world like this. It’s suicide to keep wandering around on foot in that jungle. This ought to be a three-ship job, with armored tanks and heavy guns. You were the first one of us to be attacked by native wildlife. You know what it’s like.”

“You bet I do.”

“In my position as doctor,” Fernandez said, “I can declare that Hendrin is temporarily insane. It’s legal for me to do that. We’ll remove him from command and put him down below, where he can’t interfere with things. And we’ll get off World Seven. But I won’t do it unless a majority of the men support me. That’s why I have to know where you stand, Markham.”

Crawford frowned. “It sounds like mutiny to me.”

“No. Legal removal of a temporarily insane commander is not mutiny. And we’ll all die if we stay here much longer. Well, Markham? Are you with us?”

Grinning, Crawford said, “Of course I am! I like staying alive just as much as the next man!”