The Man From Beyond

STEALING THE SHIP

Another fortnight passed before the Nuntia at last dipped her nose into the clouds which had always made the nature of Venus' surface a matter for sur­mise. By circling the planet several times, Captain Tanner contrived to reduce our head­long hurtling to a manage­able speed.

After I had taken a sample of the atmo­sphere – (which proved almost iden­tical with that of Earth) – I took my place close beside him, gaining a know­ledge of how the ship must be handled in the air. When the clouds closed in on our windows to obscure the universe we were travel­ling at a little more than two hundred miles an hour. Despite our extended wings we required the addi­tional support of verti­cal rockets.

The Captain dropped cautiously upon a long slant. This, he told me, would be the most nerve-racking part of the entire trip. There was no telling how far the under­sides of the clouds were from the planet's surface. He could depend on nothing but luck to keep the ship clear of moun­tains which might lurk unseen in our path.

He sat tensely at the control board, peering into the baffling mist, ready at a moment's notice to change his course although we both knew that the sight of an obstacle would mean that it was too late. The few minutes we spent in the clouds seemed inter­min­able.

My senses drew so taut that it seemed they must snap. And then, when I felt that I could not stand it a moment longer, the vapours thinned, dropped behind and we swept down at last upon a Venusian land­scape.

Only it was not a land­scape, for in every direction stretched the sea — a grey, mise­rable waste. Even our relief could not make the scene any­thing but dreary. Heavy rain drove across the view in thick rods, slashing at the windows and pitting the troubled water.

Lead-grey clouds, heavy with unshed moisture, seemed to press down like great, gorged sponges which would wipe every­thing clean. No­where was there a darkling line to suggest land. The feature­less horizon which we saw dimly through the rain was a watery circle.

The Captain levelled out and continued straight ahead at a height of a few hundred feet above the sur­face. There was nothing for it but to go on and hope that we should strike land of some kind. For hours we did, and for the difference it made to the scene we might have been stationary. It was just a matter of luck.

Unknowingly, we must have taken a line on which the open sea lay straight before us for thou­sands of miles. The rain, the vast­ness of the ocean and the reaction from our journey combined to drive us into depression. Was Venus, we began to ask our­selves, nothing but a sphere of water and clouds?

At last I caught a glimpse of a dark speck away to star­board. With visibility so low I could not be certain what it was. We had all but passed it before I drew the Captain's atten­tion. Without hesi­tating he swerved towards it and we both fixed our eyes on it and anxiously watched it grow.

As we drew closer it proved to be a hill of no great size, rising from an island of some five or six square miles. It was not such a spot as one would have chosen for a first landing but he decided to make it. We were all thoroughly tired of our cramped quarters. A few days of rest and exer­cise in the open air would put new heart in us.

It would be absurd for an Earth­man to describe Venus to Venu­sians but there are diffe­rences between your district of Takon and the island where we landed which I find very puzzling. More­over, the condi­tions which I found else­where also differ from those which abide here. I know nothing about the lati­tude of these places but it seems that they must be far removed from here to be so unalike.

For instance, our island was perma­nently blanketed beneath thick clouds. One never saw the sun at all, but for all that the heat was intense and the rain, which seldom ceased, was warm. Here in Takon, on the other hand, you have a climate not unlike that of our tempe­rate regions – occa­sional clouds, occa­sional rain, warmth that is not too oppres­sive.

When I look round and observe your planets and trees I find it hard to believe that they can exist on the same planet with the queer jumble of growths we found on the island. I know nothing of botany, so I can only tell you that I was struck by the quantities of ferns and palms and the almost entire absence of hard­wood trees.

Two days were occupied in minor repairs and necessary adjust­ments, varied by occa­sional explo­ra­tions. These were not pleasure trips, for the rain fell without ceasing, but they served to give us some much-needed exer­cise and to improve our spirits.

On the third day the Captain proposed an expe­di­tion to the top of the central hill and we agreed to accom­pany him. We were all armed, for though the only ani­mals we had seen were small timid crea­tures which scuttled from our approach, there was no telling what we might encounter in the deeper forest which lay between the hill and the beach where Nuntia rested.

We assembled shortly after dawn, almost in a state of nudity. Since the heat rendered heavy water­proofs intole­rable we had decided that the less we wore the better. It would be hard enough work carrying heavy rifles and ruck­sacks of supplies in such a climate.

The Captain shep­herded us out into the steady rain, pushed the outer door to behind us and we began our tramp up the beach. We had all but crossed the fore­shore scrub which bordered the forest proper when I stopped abruptly.

“What is it?” asked the Captain. “Ammunition,” I told him. “I put it aside, ready to pack, and forgot to put it in.”

“Are you sure?”

I hauled the rucksack off my back and looked through the contents. There was no sign of the packet of car­tridges he had given me. In order to travel light we had only a few rounds each. I could not expect the others to share theirs with me in the circum­stances. There was only one thing to be done.

“I'll go back for them. It will only take a few seconds,” I said.

The Captain grud­gingly agreed. He dis­liked ineffi­ciency but could not afford to weaken his party by taking a member of it unarmed into possible dangers. I hurried back to the ship, stumbling along through the sand and shingle. As I pulled open the air-lock door I glanced back. The three, I could dimly see, had reached the edge of the forest and were standing under such shelter as they could find, watching me.

I jumped inside and threw down my rifle and ruck­sack with a clatter. First I rushed for the engines and turned on the fuel taps, then I went for­ward to the navi­gation room. Hurriedly I set the controls as I had been shown and pulled over the igni­tion switch.

With my fingers above the first bunch of firing keys, I looked once more out of the windows. The Captain was pounding across the beach, followed by the others. How he had guessed that there was any­thing wrong I cannot say. Perhaps his glasses enabled him to see that I was in the control room. Anyway, he meant business.

He passed out of my line of sight and a moment later I pressed the firing keys. The Nuntia trembled, lurched and began to slither for­ward across the sand. I saw the other two wave despairing arms. It was impossible to tell whether the Captain had managed to scramble aboard or not.

I turned the rising ship towards the sea. Again I looked back, just in time to see the others running towards a form which lay huddled on the sand. Close beside it they stopped and looked up. They shook wild, impotent fists in the direction of my retreating Nuntia.