Edmund Cooper

by Transit

SEVEN

  Nobody felt like champagne. But they sat down and ate the sandwiches and drank the milk. It seemed to be the most sensible thing to do.

  When he began to eat, Avery discovered that he was actually hungry. Eating was a practical operation: it inspired practical thoughts. While he disposed of the sandwiches he glanced through some of the plastic pictures.

  There was a fruit like a pear which, according to the caption, was palatable and rich in food value. There was also a sort of six-legged rabbit which was supposed to taste like lamb. And another animal that seemed like a cross between a wild boar and a miniature rhinoceros. This was reported as being both dangerous and edible. It looked to Avery like the sort of animal it would be wise to avoid completely.

  Altogether, there were about fifty pictures. Presently they would have to be classified. Presently everyone would have to memorize them as completely as possible— especially the ones of the dangerous creatures...

  He glanced at the shore which had seemed so friendly and now looked so desolate. It was a surprisingly even strip of whitish sand, varying between about thirty and about seventy yards wide. The high-water mark was easily discernible by a ragged line of sea-debris—weeds, driftwood and even a few entire tree trunks. About ten yards behind this the trees and forest began—the great green enigma of land.

  Soon they would have to explore, thought Avery. He did not relish the prospect. On earth, anywhere on earth, one might form a rough idea of what to expect. But here, on a planet where two moons and one sun swam lazily through a sky that was tremendously and intensely blue —here, after a star voyage that defeated the imagination and that had been made for a purpose completely outside the range of human experience—here it would be suicidal to expect anything less than the unexpected.

  However, the first thing to do was to establish a temporary camp, to make a secure base—or, at least, a base that was as secure as possible, bearing in mind that nothing at all was known about the place. Apart from the fact that it contained some rather unusual flora and fauna----

  He became aware that Barbara was talking to him.

  ‘In the cereal packets that used to grace my breakfast table back in the dear dead days of sanity,’ she said, ‘they used to give away model spacemen. They all wore armoured suits with goldfish bowls on top.’

  He smiled. ‘Fortunately, we don’t need space suits here. The air is a darned sight more breathable than it is—or was—in London. And it’s a lot warmer, too.’

  ‘The point I’m making,’ went on Barbara, ‘is that all the spacemen were different types. There was a geologist, an engineer and a lot of others. I tried to collect the set, but there was always one that evaded me. It said on the packet that he was the vital one—the leader of the expedition. ... I’ve an idea that’s what we could use here.’ ‘Be adult,’ said Tom gloomily. ‘There isn’t any expedition. Only four displaced people.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘And I mean displaced.’

  ‘For better or worse,’ retorted Barbara, ‘we’re the expedition. And somebody has to be responsible for us, otherwise we’ll go round in ever-decreasing circles.’ ‘Barbara is right,’ agreed Mary. ‘Somebody has to make the decisions.’

  ‘A man,’ added Barbara.

  Avery said: ‘That narrows the field somewhat.’ Barbara grinned. ‘Perhaps more than you might think.’ Tom didn’t seem to care for the idea. ‘We don’t need a fuehrer. As mature people—I hope—we ought to be able to discuss problems and work them out together.’

  ‘A committee of four,’ observed Barbara, ‘is not going to be much use in an emergency.’

  ‘We don’t have any emergencies yet. Meanwhile, why not be entirely democratic?’

  ‘Because, my dear Tom, the emergency is of now—for indefinite duration.’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s right,’ said Avery. ‘One of us is going to have to be a benevolent despot, at least for a while. K you’d like to take on the job, you are welcome. I imagine whoever has it is going to be rather unpopular at times.’ ‘Just a moment,’ said Barbara. ‘You’ve forgotten the electorate. Mary and I ought to have a say in this.’

  Tom sighed. ‘Let’s not make it too much like Gilbert and Sullivan.... What about a trial period for the dictatorship—says three days?’

  ‘That sounds reasonable,’ said Mary. ‘If we don’t like the way it works, we can try something else.’

  Avery smiled. ‘That’s fine. The only point is that we don’t know how long a day is—by our standards.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mary was puzzled.

  ‘Depending on the rotation of the planet, it could be quite a bit longer than twenty-four hours or even less. We’ll have to time it.’

  ‘Since we’re playing games,’ said Tom drily, ‘you can be the leader of the expedition. I hope you brought your cereal packet complete with printed instructions.’ ‘That’s settled, then,’ said Barbara. ‘Now we’re in business.’

  ‘One moment.’ Avery was by no means sure it was settled. ‘You’d better know what you are in for. Ij I take on any responsibility, I expect you all to do what I ask you to do—and do it willingly. You may think I’m asking you to do the wrong thing. Then say so. But if I still say you do it, then it has to be done.... I’m sorry, but I don’t think that we can play it any other way at this stage. Is that understood?’

  ‘Sieg Heil!’ said Tom. Nevertheless, he seemed relieved.

  Avery smiled. ‘The concentration camps will come later Now, here is the first edict: nobody is to go out of sight. Is that clear? The reason is obvious. We don’t know what dangers there are, so we expose ourselves to the minimum risk until we find out.’

  Barbara said: ‘There are certain things that ladies— and gentlemen—have to do out of sight.’

  ‘Not any more, there aren’t,’ said Avery emphatically. ‘At least, not yet. We’ll get a latrine going as soon as possible. Meanwhile just find your own piece of sand and stay in view.’

  Barbara grinned. ‘I’m afraid this little piggy can’t wait any longer. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She retreated about thirty yards, took off her slacks and knickers and calmly squatted on the sand.

  The others pointedly ignored her; but they were conscious that the act itself—though trivial and entirely natural—had somehow demolished in a single moment all the accepted and sophisticated habits of civilization. It was oddly and incongruously symbolic.

  When she came back, she said rather bravely: ‘That feels better, I must say.’

  Tom looked shocked. So did Mary. Avery felt that the gesture needed to be underlined. There was no room for coyness now. They were going to have to live in close proximity and get used to it.

  ‘I could do with a good piss myself,’ he remarked deliberately. Then he, too, walked a few yards away. He unbuttoned his trousers and urinated vaguely towards the sea.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Tom brightly, when he returned to the group, ‘since we’re getting so broad-minded, how about a general sex orgy just to pass the time?’

  ‘There is no time left to pass,’ remarked Avery, unsmiling, ‘because everyone is about to go to work.’ He surveyed the Utter of camping equipment. ‘Priority number one—weapons. Let’s see what we can find in this jumble.’

  ‘Weapons?’ Mary seemed confused.

  ‘Yes, anything—knives, clubs—anything. We may just possibly have to defend ourselves at short notice. So we’ll need to have something handy. Later, no doubt, we can devise a few gadgets of our own.’

  ‘In my little box,’ said Tom, glancing at the pile of cabin trunks, ‘there is a thirty-eight revolver and fifty rounds.’ He seemed embarrassed. ‘Don’t know how it got there. I used to keep it in the flat.’

  ‘Excellent!’ said Avery. ‘Which is your box?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the question.’ Tom stared at the pile. All the trunks were identical. ‘It’ll be the bottom one, I expect. ... Finagle’s Second Law.’

  It was indeed the bottom one. The trunks were heavy, and it was all th
at Tom and Avery could do to lift them.

  ‘Just what is Finagle’s Second Law?’ asked Barbara, as Tom knelt down and rummaged for the revolver and ammunition.

  He looked up at her and grinned. ‘Fingale’s Second Law states that if anything can go wrong in a given situation, it invariably will Ah, here’s the cannon.’ He handed it and the box of ammuntion to Avery.

  Avery inspected the gun, broke open the box of ammunition and inserted six shells in the chamber. He snapped the chamber back into position. ‘Hang on to your hats. I’m going to test this thing.’ He fired out to sea. The report was flat, almost muffled, but it made everyone jump a little. ‘That’s O.K., then.’ He broke the chamber out, and replaced the round he had used. Then he gave the revolver back to Tom. ‘Hang on to this for the time being I’d be glad if you’d make a sort of preliminary reconnaissance, just around where we are. Don’t go out of sight or shouting distance. Take a look at the vegetation and see what you can make of it. Come back in about quarter of an hour.’

  ‘Aye-aye, skipper.’ Tom saluted ironically, and wandered off with the revolver held loosely in his hand.

  Avery watched him saunter leisurely along the beach. He had a feeling that, sooner or later, there would probably be difficulties with Tom. But now was not the time to anticipate possible or imaginary problems. There were quite enough real ones to be going on with.

  ‘Look what I’ve found,’ said Mary. She had been delving into the camping gear and had unearthed a bundle of four sheathed knives and a couple of light hatchets. Each of the sheaths was attached to a leather belt.

  Avery inspected them, then buckled one of the belts round his waist. ‘Daggers will be worn by everyone this season,’ he said. ‘It’s the latest fashion.’

  Barbara grimaced. ‘Don’t you think we are carrying this security ploy a bit too far?’

  ‘Possibly. I’d rather be nervous and alive than nonchalant and dead.... If you ever have to use these things for other than carving steaks, try to hold the knife like this and strike upwards. You stand a better chance of penetrating.’

  ‘Lift up your hearts,’ observed Barbara solemnly. ‘What next?’

  ‘Camp One is next. I think we ought to make it fairly near to the trees, a bit beyond that line of driftwood. We’ll find somewhere better when we know a bit more about this place. How many tents are there?’

  ‘Four,’ said Mary. ‘They look as if they will be fairly big ones.’

  ‘Good. You two stay here and try to sort out the immediate things we’re going to need—cooking utensils, blankets, if any, and stuff like that—and I’ll just take a look at that piece of high ground.’ He gestured towards a small rise about fifty yards away. ‘If it looks all right, we’ll move all the stuff there when Tom gets back.... Where is he, by the way?’

  They looked along die beach, but Tom was nowhere to be seen. They looked for about a minute, but there was only a set of footprints fading away towards the trees.

  ‘Idiot!’ said Avery irritably. ‘I told him to stay in sight.’

  ‘Ought we to look for him?’ asked Barbara.

  ‘No. At least, not yet.’

  As if to comment upon Avery’s answer, there came the sound of a single shot—not apparently very far away. Mary and Barbara looked startled.

  ‘Damn!’ exploded Avery. He was worried. Not entirely irrelevantly he found himself thinking about what Tom had called Finagle’s Second Law. But the pessimism was unjustified.

  Presently, Tom emerged from the trees and came towards them. He was carrying something. As he came closer, Avery saw that it was a six-legged ‘rabbit’ such as was illustrated in the set of plastic pictures. Tom seemed very pleased with himself.

  ‘Home is the hunter,’ he said, flinging the furry corpse at Barbara’s feet. ‘That should make the basis of a decent stew.... Shot from the hip at about ten paces. Not bad, eh?’

  ‘We now have forty-eight left,’ said Avery coldly.

  ‘Forty-eight what, old man?’

  ‘Rounds of ammunition.’

  ‘Oh.... I see.... Still, you popped one off at the ocean, didn’t you?’

  ‘Would you have preferred not to know whether the gun worked?’

  Tom ignored the question. ‘Never fired the thing before. What a wheeze! I got it for twenty-two marks fifty in Frankfurt and gave myself a rare thrill smuggling it through the Customs at dear old London Airport. I must say it’s quite a nice little toy.’

  ‘Give it to me,’ said Avery.

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Because I say so.’

  ‘Not good enough, old man. Go play fuehrer by yourself.’

  Avery hit him. He was surprised himself at the speed and strength of the blow—a hand-edge chop to the neck that brought Tom down like a sack of potatoes. Fortunately, Tom was too surprised to hang on to the revolver. Avery picked it up quickly—and at the same time cursed himself for being a bloody fool. This was a fine start to building up mutual trust.

  He wanted to apologize to Tom, who sat grunting on the sand and massaging his neck. He was on the point of helping him to his feet and finding a few conciliatory words, when Mary spoke.

  ‘Need you be so—so brutal, Richard?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, killing the apology that was almost on his lips. ‘I told him to look around, so he starts shooting things. I told him to give me the gun, but he doesn’t.... I’m just doing the job you gave me to do—my way.’ Barbara went to help Tom to his feet. ‘You’re both a couple of fatheads,’ she said. ‘But Richard is right—in a wrong sort of way. Now stop it, the pair of you.’

  Avery held out his hand. Surprisingly, Tom took it. Then he pulled Avery forward and hit him in the stomach. Winded though he was, Avery didn’t let go of the gun. He buckled up, gasping.

  ‘Two can play at this game,’ said Tom. ‘How does it feel to be on the receiving end?’ He seemed rather pleased with himself.

  ‘Not nice,’ panted Avery. But oddly he was glad. It had restored Tom’s self-respect. They were equal once more.

  ‘I’d like my revolver back,’ went on Tom. But he sounded more like somebody who was making a point rather than a request.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Avery, scrambling to his feet. ‘You’re not getting it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have hit you, but that doesn’t alter matters. You don’t get the gun until I know I can rely on you.’

  Tom grinned. ‘You may not live that long.’

  Suddenly Mary spoke. ‘You’re behaving like spoiled children. Heaven knows what Barbara and I are going to j do if we have to rely on people like you.’

  Avery shrugged. ‘Well said.... Now let’s get on with the job. Tom, you and I must find a spot suitable for pitching camp while they sort out the necessary gear.... Do you know anything about camping?’

  ‘Used to be a scout, old man.’ The ‘old man’ was emphasized.

  ‘Fine, you’ve just been appointed camp-maker extraordinary. Come on.’

  The piece of high ground that Avery had noticed was ^ not suitable. Tom pointed out its flaws, chief of which was the problem of drainage. But about a hundred yards farther along the beach there was a hillock with a flat, almost circular top covered by fine grass. It also had the advantage of being close to a small stream.

  ‘This will do,’ said Tom, after a critical inspection. ‘For a start, anyway. We can find somewhere better in the fullness of time.’

  Avery gazed back along the way they had come. ‘I suppose we ought to begin the business of fetching and carrying, then.’

  EIGHT

  The day grew warmer. Presently, the two men stripped to the waist. Despite its weight and the fact that it was rubbing a raw patch on the side of his leg, Avery kept the revolver in his trousers pocket. Tom carried one of the sheath knives.

  Avery, conscious of the fact that it was necessary to reduce the hostility between them, took care to consult Tom on all aspects of camp making, and deferred to most of his suggestions—though it soon became clear that Tom’s c
amping lore was hardly any better than his own.

  Although the two women helped as much as possible, it took nearly a couple of hours before the tents, equipment and cabin trunks had been moved to what was beginning to be called Camp One. The trunks were the hardest to move. In the end, the men were reduced to dragging each one, yard by yard, across the soft sand and shingle.

  Camp One, thought Avery, as they began to put up a couple of tents, was a good and symbolic title. It indicated the possibility of Camp Two, and so on. In short, the inference was that they were not just going to sit down—a static group of castaways—and consider their grievances. Of course, there was nothing at all that could be done about the most important problem—getting back home. But it was just possible, if contact could be established with the people—or creatures—who had brought them here, that some kind of solution could be worked out. So far, all the evidence seemed to indicate that the kidnappers—whoever or whatever they were— had pretty important reasons for engaging in such an elaborate project. One of the first steps, decided Avery, when he had time to think would be to try to work out intelligently what those reasons were. If that could be done, it might lead to a way of frustrating the project and/or striking a bargain. The possibility looked rather remote, but at least it was a possibility. Meanwhile, there was no time to think things out carefully. There was too much work to be done.

  The tents were each large enough to accommodate two people in reasonable comfort; and so Avery decided that for the time being only two of them would be used domestically—one for the women and one for the men. Another tent would be used as a shelter for the supplies, and the remaining one would be kept in reserve.

  Having erected the tents—again a symbolic as well as a practical operation—Avery left the task of sorting out the stores and making the accommodation as comfortable as possible to Mary and Barbara. The next problem was what to do about defence. Although the only wild life in evidence so far had been the six-legged ‘rabbit’ shot by Tom, the set of little plastic pictures indicated the existence of several dangerous creatures. It would certainly not be pleasant, for example, to wake up one night and find one of those miniature pig-like rhinoceros things poking its nose into a tent....