Space Cadet

XIV "THE NATIVES ARE FRIENDLY ..."

WITH THUHLOW at the controls and Matt in the co-pilot's seat the jeep started down. It started with an orbital speed of better than four miles per second, the speed of the AeS

Triplex in her tight circular orbit around the equator of Venus. The lieutenant's purpose was to kill this speed exactly over his destination, then balance the jeep down on its tail. A jet landing was necessary, as the jeep had no wings.

He needed to do this precisely, with the least use of fuel. He was helped somewhat by riding "with the current" from west to east; the 940-mile-per- hour rotational speed of Venus at her equator was profit rather than loss. However, exact placement was another matter. A departure time was selected so that the entire descending curve would be on the day side of the planet in order to use the Sun as a reckoning point for placement in longitude; placement in latitude would have to depend on dead reckoning by careful choice of course.

The Sun is the only possible celestial body to use in air navigation at Venus, and even Sol is lost to the naked eye :is soon as one is inside the planet-wide blanket of cloud. Matt "shot the Sun" by keeping one eye glued on the eyepiece of an infra-red adapter which had been fitted to the ship's octant, and was enabled thereby to coach his skipper from a prepared flight plan. It had not been considered practical to cut a cam for the automatic robot; too little was known about the atmospheric conditions to be expected.

When Matt informed his pilot that they were about thirty miles up, by radar, and approaching the proper longitude, is given by the infra-red image of the Sun, Thurlow brought I lie jeep down toward their target, ever lower and slower, and finally braked her with the jet to let her drop in a parabola distorted by air resistance.

They were enveloped in the ever-present Venerian clouds. The pilot's port was utterly useless to them. Matt now larded watching the surface under them, using an infrared-sensitive "cloud piercer."

Thurlow watched his radar altimeter, checking it against 1110 height-time plan for grounding.

"If we are going to dodge around any, it's got to be now," he said quietly to Matt. "What do you see?"

"Looks fairly smooth. Can't tell much."

Thurlow sneaked a look. "It's not water, anyway-and it's not forest. I guess we'll chance it."

Down they dropped, with Matt watching the ghostly infra-red-produced picture narrowly at the end, ready to tell Thurlow to give her full power if it were a meadow.

Thurlow eased off his jet-and cut it. There was a bump as if they had fallen a couple of feet. They were down, landed on Venus.

"Whew!" said the pilot and wiped sweat from his forehead. "I don't want to have to try that every day."

"Nice landing, Skipper!" called out Oscar.

"Yea boy!" agreed Tex.

"Thanks, fellows. Well, let's get the stilts down." He punched a stud on the control board. Like most rockets built for jet landings, the jeep was fitted with three stabilizing jacks, which came telescoping out of the craft's sides and slanting downward. Hydraulic pressure forced them down until they touched something solid enough to hold them, whereupon the thrusting force was automatically cut off and they locked in place, propping the rocket on three sides, tripod fashion, and holding it erect.

Thurlow waited until three little green lights appeared under the stud controlling the stilts, then unclutched the jeep's stabilizing gyros. The jeep held steady, he unstrapped. "All right, men. Let's take a look. Matt and Tex, stay inside. Oscar, if you don't mind my mentioning it, since it's your home town, you should do the honors."

"Right!" Oscar unstrapped and hurried to the lock. There was no need to check the air, since Venus is man-inhabited, and all of them, as members of the Patrol, had been immunized to the virulent Venerian fungi.

Thurlow crowded close behind him. Matt unstrapped and came down to sit by Tex in the passenger rest Oscar had left. The space around the lock was too limited in the little craft to make it worthwhile to do anything but wait.

Oscar stared out into the mist. "Well, how does it feel to be home?" asked Thurlow.

"Swell! What a beautiful, beautiful day!"

Thurlow smiled at Oscar's back and said, "Let's get the ladder down and see where we are." The access door was more than fifty feet above the jeep's fins, with no convenient loading elevator.

"Okay." Oscar turned and squeezed past Thurlow. The jeep settled suddenly on the side away from the door, seemed to catch itself, then started to fall over with increasing speed.

"The gyros!" yelled Thurlow. "Matt, clutch the gyros!" He tried to scramble past Oscar; they fouled each other, then the two fell sprawling backwards as the jeep toppled over.

At the pilot's yell Matt tried to comply-but he had been sprawled out, relaxing. He grabbed the sides of the rest, trying to force himself up and back to the control station, but the rest tilted backwards; he found himself "skinning the cat" out of it, and then was resting on the side of the craft, which was now horizontal.

Oscar and Thurlow were the first things he saw as he untangled himself. They were piled up on the inner wall of the ship, with Oscar mostly on top. Oscar started to get up-and stopped. "Eeeyowp!"

"You hurt, Oz?"

"My arm."

"What's the trouble?" This was Tex, who appeared from behind Matt, apparently untouched by the tumble.

Oscar helped himself up with his right arm, then tenderly felt his left forearm. "I don't know. A sprain-or a break, maybe. Eeee-ah! It's a break."

"Are you sure?" Matt stepped forward. "Let me see it."

"What's the matter with the skipper?" asked Tex.

"Huh?" said Matt and Oscar together. Thurlow had not moved. Tex went to him and knelt over him.

"Looks like he's knocked out cold."

"Throw some water over him."

"No, don't do that Do-" The craft settled again. Oscar looked startled and said, "I think we had better get out of here."

"Huh? We can't," protested Matt. "We've got to bring Mr. Thurlow to."

Oscar did not answer him but started climbing up toward the open lock, now ten feet over their heads, swearing in Venerian as he struggled painfully and awkwardly, using one hand, from strut to brace. " 'S'matter with old Oz?" asked Tex. "Acts like he's blown his top."

"Let him go. We've got to take care of the skipper." They knelt over Thurlow and gave him a quick, gentle' examination. He seemed unhurt, but remained unconscious.; "Maybe he's just had the breath knocked out of him," suggested Matt. "His heart beat is strong and steady."

"Look at this, Matt." It was a lump on the back of the; lieutenant's head. Matt felt it gently.

"Didn't bash in his skull. He's just had a wallop on his! noggin. He'll be all right-I think." I

"I wish Doc Pickering was here." '

"Yeah, and if fish had feet, they'd be mice. Quit worrying, Tex. Stop messing with him and give him a chance to come out of it naturally."

Oscar stuck his head down into the open door. "Hey, you guys! Come up out of there-and fast!"

"What for?" asked Matt. "Anyhow, we can't-we got to stay with the boss, and he's still out cold."

"Then carry him!"

"How? Piggy-back?"

"Any way-but do it! The ship is sinking!"

Tex opened his mouth, closed it again, and dived toward a small locker. Matt yelled. "Tex-get a line!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Ice-skating?" Tex reappeared with a coil of thin, strong line used in warping the little craft in to her mother ship. "Easy now-lift him as I slip it under his chest."

"We ought to make a proper sling. We might hurt him."

"No time for that!" urged Oscar from above them. "Hurry!"

Matt swarmed up to the door with the end of the line while Tex was still fastening the loop under the armpits of the unconscious man. A quick look around was enough to confirm Oscar's prediction; the jeep lay on her side with her fins barely touching solid ground. The nose was lower than the tail and sinking in thin, yellow mud. The mud stretched away into the mist, like a flat field, its surface carpeted with a greenish-yellow fungus except for a small space adjacent to the ship where the ship, in failing, had splashed a gap in the surface.

Matt had no time to take the scene in; the mud was almost up to the door. "Ready down there?"

"Ready. Ill be right up."

"Stay where you are and steady him. I think I can handle him." Thurlow weighed one hundred forty pounds, Earth-side; his Venus weight was about one hundred and seventeen. Matt straddled the door and took a strain on the line.

"I can give you one hand, Matt," Oscar said anxiously.

"Just stay out of my way." With Matt pulling and Tex pushing and steadying from below, they got the limp lieutenant over the lip of the door and laid out on the rocket.

The craft lurched again as a tail fin slid off the bank. "Let's get going, troops," Matt urged. "Oz, can you get up. on that bank by yourself?"

"Sure."

"Then do so. Well leave the line on the skipper and chuck the end to you and you can hang onto it with your good hand. That way, if he goes in the mud, we can haul him out."

"Quit talking and get busy." Oscar trotted the length of the craft, taking the end of the line with him. He made it to the bank by stepping from a tail fin.

Matt and Tex had no trouble carrying Thurlow as far as the fins, but the last few feet, from fins to bank, were awkward. They had to work close to the jet tube, still sizzling hot, and balance themselves in a trough formed by a fin and the converging side of the ship. They finally made it by letting Oscar take most of the lieutenant's weight by hauling from the bank with his one good arm,

When they had gotten Thurlow laid out on the turf Matt jumped back aboard the jeep. Oscar shouted at him. "Hey, Matt-where do you think you're going?"

"Back inside."

"Don't do it. Come back here." Matt hesitated, Oscar added, "That's an order, Matt."

Matt answered, "I'll only be a minute. We've got no weapons and no survival kits. Ill duck in and toss them out."

"Don't try it." Matt stood still a moment, balanced between Oscar's unquestioned seniority and the novelty of taking direct orders from his roommate. "Look at the door, Matt," Oscar added. "You'd be trapped."

Matt looked. The far end of the door was already in the mud and a steady stream was slopping into the ship, like molasses. As he looked the jeep rolled about a quarter turn, seeking a new stability. Matt made it to the bank in one flying leap.

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.

Mart'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 post- mortem."

"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!" j

"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 "me." 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." t

"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 usu-1 ally 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 friend 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." 1

"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, j thou whose mother was my mothers friend." |

The Venerian turned her attention to Oscar. "May thy'^ mother rest happily." She surface-dived and disappeared al- I most without a ripple. 1

"That's a relief," said Oscar. "Of course they say this I 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; 1 say 'she.'" ^

"It's a difference that could only matter to another Venerian." j

"Well, it's a bad habit, anyway." Oscar squatted down 1 and waited. j

After a time made longer by insects, heat, and sultri-1 ness the water was broken in a dozen places at once. One 1 of the amphibians climbed gracefully up on the bank and | stood up. She came about to Mart's shoulder. Oscar re-| peated 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 Ul, '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 j to relax and stop fighting it. I

After a while it even began to seem pleasant, once he 1 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 Mai 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 01 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 scab," 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."

"I hadn't thought of that angle-say, that's bad." Tex studied the ceiling as if wondering when it would give way. "Look, Oz, I don't, think we're under the lake, or the walls of this dungeon would be damp."

"Huh uh, they're good at this sort of thing."

"Well-okay, so they've got us. I'm not beefing, Oz-your intentions were good-but it sure looks like we should 'a' taken our chances in the jungle."

"For Pete's sake, Text-haven't I got enough to worry about without you second-guessing me? If you're not beefing, then stop beefing."

There was a short silence, then Tex said, "Excuse me, Oscar. My big mouth."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper. My arm hurts."

"Oh. How's it doing? Didn't I set it right?"

"I think you did a good job on it, but it aches. And it's beginning to itch, under the wrappings-makes me edgy. What are you doing, Matt?"

After checking on Thurlow's condition-unchanged-Matt : had gone to the door and was investigating the closure. The curtain he found to be a thick, firm fabric of some ; sort, fastened around the edges. He was trying his knife on it when Oscar spoke to him.

"Nothing," he answered. "This stuff won't cut."

"Then quit trying to and relax. We don't want to get out of here-not yet, anyway."

" 'Speak for yourself, John.' Why don't we?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell Tex. I won't say this is a pleasure resort but we are about eight hundred per cent better off than we were a couple of hours ago, in every way."

"How?"

"Have you got any idea of what it means to spend a night in the jungle here, with nothing at all to shut it out? When it gets dark and the slime worms come up and start : nibbling at your toes? Maybe we could live through a night of it, or even two nights, by being active and very, very lucky-but how about him?" Oscar gestured at Thurlow's still form. "That's why I made it our first business to find natives. We're safe, even if we are locked up."

Matt shivered. The slime worms have no teeth; instead they excrete an acid that dissolves what they wish to sample. They average about seven feet long. "You've sold me."

Tex said, "I wish my Uncle Bodie was here."

"So do I-he'd keep you shut up. I'm not anxious to get out of here until we've had something to eat and some sleep. Then maybe the boss will be back on his feet and will know what to do next."

"What makes you think they'll feed us?"

"I don't know that they will, but I think they will. If they are anything like the same breed of cat as the natives around the polar colonies, they'll feed us. To keep another creature shut up without feeding it is a degree of orneriness they just wouldn't think of." Oscar groped for words. "You have to know them to understand what I mean, but the Little People don't have the cussedness in them that humans have." , v .

Matt nodded. "I know that they are described as being a gentle, unwarlike race. I can't imagine becoming really fond of them, but the spools I studied showed them as friendly."

"That's just race prejudice. A Venerian is easier to like than a man."

"Oz, that's not fair," Tex protested. "Matt hasn't got any race prejudice and neither have I. Take Lieutenant Peters-did it make any difference to us that he's as black as the ace of spades?"

"That's not the same thing-a Venerian is really different. I guess you have to be brought up with them, like I have, to take them for granted. But everything about them is different-for instance, like the fact that you never lay eyes on anything but females."

"Say, how about that, Oz? Are there really male Venerians, or is it just a superstition?"

"Sure there are-the Little People are unquestionably bisexual. But I doubt if we'll ever get a picture of one or a chance to examine one. The guys who claim to have seen one are mostly liars," he added, "because their stories never add up."

"Why do you suppose they are so touchy about it?"

"Why won't a Hindu eat beef? There doesn't have to be any reason for it. I go for the standard theory; the males are little and helpless and have to be protected."

"I'm glad I'm not a Venerian," Matt commented.

"Might not be such a bad life," Tex asserted. "Me-I could use a little coddling right now."

"Don't go taking me for an authority on Venerians," warned Oscar. "I was born here, but I wasn't born here." He patted the floor. "I know the polar region natives, the sort around my own home town-and that's just about the only sort anybody knows."

"You think that makes such a difference?" Matt wanted to know.

"I think we're lucky to be able to talk with them at all-even if the accent does drive me wild. As for other differences-look, if the only humans you had ever met were Eskimos, how far would that get you in dealing with the mayor of a Mexican town? The local customs would all be different."

"Then maybe they won't feed us, after all," Tex said mournfully. t,

But they were fed, and shortly. The curtain was thrust back, something was deposited on the floor, and the door was closed again.

There was a platter of some lumpish substance, color and texture indeterminate in the dim light, and an object about the size and shape of an ostrich egg. Oscar took the platter and sniffed at it, then took a small piece and tasted it. "It's all right," he announced. "Go ahead and eat."

"What is it?" inquired Tex.

"It's . . . well, never mind. Eat it. It won't hurt you and it will keep you alive."

"But what is it? I want to know what I'm eating."

"Permit me to point out that you eat this or go hungry. I don't care which. If I told you, your local prejudices would get in your way. Just pretend it's garbage and learn to love it."

"Aw, quit horsing around, Oz."

But Oscar refused to be drawn into any further discussion. He ate rapidly until he had finished his share, glanced at Thurlow and said reluctantly, "I suppose we ought to leave some for him."

Matt tried the stuff. "What's it like?" asked Tex.

"Not bad. Reminds me of mashed soybeans. Salty-it makes me thirsty."

"Help yourself," suggested Oscar.

"Huh? Where? How?"

"The drinking bladder, of course." Oscar handed him the "ostrich egg." It was soft to Mart's touch, despite its appearance. He held it, looking puzzled.

"Don't know how to use it? Here-" Oscar took it, looked at the ends, and selected one, which he placed to his lips.

"There!" he said, wiping his lips. "Try it. Don't squeeze too hard, or you'll get it all over you." Matt tried it and got a drink of water. It was a bit like using a nursing bottle.

"It's a sort of a fish's gizzard," explained Oscar, "and spongy inside. Oh, don't look squeamish, Tex! It's sterile."

Tex tried it gingerly, then gave in and tackled the food. After a while they all sat back, feeling considerably better. "Not bad," admitted Tex, "but do you know what I'd like? A stack of steaming hotcakes, tender and golden brown-"

"Oh, shut up!" said Matt.

"-with melted butter and just swimming in maple syrup. Okay, I'll shut up." He unzipped his pouch and took out his harmonica.. "Well, what d'yuh know! Still dry." He tried a couple of notes, then broke into a brilliant execution of The Cross-Eyed Pilot.

"Hey, stop that," said Oscar. "This is a sort of a sick room, you know."

Tex turned a troubled glance, at the patient. "You think he can hear it?"

Thurlow turned 'and muttered in his sleep. Matt bent over him. "J'ai soif," the lieutenant mumbled, then repeated distinctly, "fai soif."

"What did he say?"

"I don't know."

"It sounded like French to me. Either of you guys savvy French?"

"Not me."

"Nor me," Matt concurred. "Why would he talk French?

I always thought he was North American; he spoke Basic like one."

"Maybe he was French-Canadian." Tex knelt beside hiifi and felt his forehead. "He seems sort of feverish. Maybe; we should give him some water."

"Okay." Oscar took the bladder and put it to Thuflow's Korps; he squeezed gently so that a little welled out. The injured man worked his lips and then began to suck on it, without appearing to wake up. Presently he let it fall from his mouth. "There," said Oscar, "maybe he'll feel better now;

"Are we going to save that for him?" asked Tex, eyeing the remainder of the food.

"Go ahead and eat it, if you want it. It turns a few hours after it's . . . well, it turns rancid."

"I don't believe I want any more," Tex decided.

They had been sleeping an undetermined length of time when a noise awakened them-a voice, unquestionably human. "Hey!" it demanded, "where art thou taking me? I insist that thou take me to see thy mother!"

The noise was right at their door. "Quell thy tongue!" answered a native accent; the curtain was shoved aside and someone was pushed into the room before the door was again closed.

"Hello there!" called out Oscar.

The figure spun around. "Men ..." he said, as if he could not believe it. "Men!" He began to sob.

"Hello, Stinky," said Tex. "What are you doing here?"

It was Girard Burke.

There was considerable confusion for the next several moments. Burke alternated between tears and uncontrollable shaking. Matt, who had awakened last, had trouble] sorting out what was going on from the fantasy he had been dreaming, and everybody talked at once, all asking questions and none of them answering. |

"Quiet!" commanded Oscar. "Let's get this straight. Burke^ as I understand it, you were in the Gary?" (

"I'm skipper of the Gary."

"Huh? Well, I'll be switched. Come to think of it, we knew the captain of the Gary was named Burke, but it never occurred to anybody that it could be Stinky Burke. Who would be crazy enough to trust you with a crate, Stinky?"

"It's my own ship-or, anyhow, my father's. And I'll thank you to call me Captain Burke, not 'Stinky.' "

"Okay, Captain Stinky."

"But how did he get here?" Matt wanted to know, still trying to catch up.

"He's just explained that," said Tex. "He's the guy that yelled for help. But what beats me is that it should happen to be us-it's like dealing out a bridge hand and getting thirteen spades."

"Oh, I don't know," objected Oscar. "It's a coincidence, but not a very startling one. He's a spaceman, he hollers for help, and naturally the Patrol responds. It happened to be us. It's about as likely, or as unlikely, as running across your piano teacher on the downtown streets of your home town."

"I don't have a piano teacher," objected Tex.

"Skip it. Neither do I. Now I think-"

"Wait a minute," broke in Burke, "do I gather that you were sent here, in answer to my message?"

"Certainly."

"Well, thank heaven for that-even if you guys were stupid enough to stumble right into it. Now tell me-how many are there in the expedition and how are they equipped? This is going to be a tough nut to crack."

"Huh? What are you talking about, Stinky? This is the expedition, right in front of you."

"What? This is no time to joke. I sent for a regiment of marines, equipped for amphibious operations."

"Maybe you did, but this is what you got-total. Lieutenant Thurlow is in command, but he got a crack on the skull so I'm temporarily filling in for him. You can talk to me-what's the situation?"

Burke seemed dazed by the knowledge. He stared without speaking. Oscar went on, "Snap out of it, Stinky. Give us the data, so we can work out an operation plan."

"Huh? Oh, it's no use. It's utterly hopeless." "What's so hopeless? The natives seem friendly, on the whole. Tell us what the difficulty was, so we can work it out with them."

"Friendly!" Burke gave a bitter laugh. "They killed all J of my men. They're going to kill me. And they'll kill you." |