20 Million Miles to Earth

by Henry Slesar

  “Looks good,” Mason drawled. “Now we can find the ship fine, Colonel. Only question is—now anything on Venus can find us.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Calder said. “If there was intelligent life on the planet, we’d have heard from them by now. We didn’t exactly sneak in, you know.”

  “Well, suppose it’s unintelligent,” Mason said. “But mean.”

  Calder laughed, and returned to work.

  It was on the second day of cautious exploration, when the ring had been widened to include some fifty yards around the ship, that the short-circuit occurred.

  Four men were guarding the XY-21 while the others went about their varied duties. None of the four realized what was happening until the sparks began to fly from the power lines outside, and the strangled, terrorized shriek came to startle them into action.

  “Holy catfish!” Shuster said, looking at the victim of their unwitting trap. “Get a look at that baby! Must be eight feet tall!”

  “And ugly,” Bailey said. “Look at that tail—absolutely prehensile. And that face—”

  “Must have been electrocuted,” another crewman suggested. “Wandered into the power lines; might have been trying to eat the damn things. But the voltage wasn’t very high—”

  “Wait until the Colonel gets a load of this. Hey—do you suppose the thing’s intelligent?”

  “I doubt it,” Shuster said, shaking his head. “It’s too damn ugly.”

  “Oh, I dunno, Shuster. You’re no beauty, but I hear you’re pretty smart.”

  “Knock it off. Hey, let’s get the circuit fixed before our boys get lost in that crazy desert. We’ll worry about our monster friend later.”

  Later, it was Dr. Sharman who was most concerned with the examination of the alien beast who had stumbled into the camp. His excited study of the creature occupied their attention for the next five hours on the planet. But their attention was diverted shortly afterwards, when young Bailey fell in a dead faint.

  Calder had him brought into the ship, assuming that the fever had come upon him again. But there was little fever. Bailey’s breath was labored, his voice choked, his pupils dilated. And there was an odd tinge to the sputum and blood samples that Dr. Sharman took from the youth’s body.

  He drew Colonel Calder aside.

  “I don’t like this color-change, Bob. I can’t explain it, but I suspect some kind of poison in Bailey’s system.”

  “Poison? Maybe he’s eaten some spoiled ration. Maybe he got careless and sampled some of the local vegetation—”

  “I don’t think so. But we’ll run a check on the food stores. If there’s something wrong with it—” He looked grim.

  A thorough check was made of the food supplies, and no trace of contamination was detected.

  The exploration went on.

  Twelve hours after Bailey’s faint, the boy gasped out something about his family, and died in Shuster’s arms.

  They buried him in the spongy sands of Venus. Colonel Calder presided at the burial ceremony, and consecrated Bailey’s remains to God and to Man’s aspiring spirit.

  Then the poison spread.

  It seemed to come upon the men all at once. Almost within an hour of each other, the crew felt the sudden surge of dizziness and nausea; the strange combination of exhilaration and depression; the clutching pain at their hearts and lungs. One by one, the stricken men were led back to the ship by those whose attacks had been mild.

  And one by one, in as many hours, eight men of the XY-21 died, twenty million miles from home.

  “That settles it,” Calder told the numb group of survivors inside the ship. “We’re going to have to cut the voyage short. There are only nine of us left now; that means each one of us will have to perform extra duties on the return voyage. We can’t risk losing another man. I know there’s still a lot we want to do here—I know that Dr. Sharman is hardly satisfied with the small amount of territory we’ve been able to cover. But for the good of this entire enterprise, I’m ordering this ship back.”

  Dr. Sharman stood up.

  “We will not use the word failure. We have collected many samples. We have mineral, botanical, and geological specimens. And we have the egg of the creature that stumbled into our power lines. We will not use the word failure, Colonel.”

  Glumly, they set about their duties, readying the XY-21 for the return journey.

  No one looked back at the eight unmarked graves, already blanketed by the mist and shifting sand. But Shuster said:

  “I wonder if God knows where Venus is?"

  “Sure he does,” Calder answered. “He’ll know they’re there. And they’ll get special attention. Take my word for it.”

  An hour later, the rockets of the XY-21 were exploding again.

  And a few weeks later, crippled by a meteor strike, the ship returned home—only to disappear forever into the sea and with it untold months perhaps years of progress.

  CHAPTER V The Empty Cage

  THE day broke, serenely as ever, over Sicily.

  Marisa listened to the familiar sounds of bird and animal chatter, as her grandfather’s specimens he had collected greeted the day.

  Then:

  “Marisa! Marisa!”

  It was Dr. Leonardo’s voice, calling excitedly but without alarm. She got up quickly and opened the door of the trailer.

  “Yes, grandfather?”

  “Come here!” She stepped out of the trailer and followed her grandfather to the truck. He was pointing to the cage that had received the creature from the egg the night before.

  “Observe, mi cara,” he said. “Observe our friend this morning.”

  She looked, and the sight startled her.

  The creature had grown.

  “It’s impossible!” she gasped. “He—he’s twice the size. He’s almost three feet tall!”

  “Yes. And in a few hours ...”

  “It’s unbelievable!”

  The creature hissed at them, its reptilian tail swishing against the soft cloth at the bottom of the cage. Its ugly eyes were fixed on the girl.

  “Just think!” Dr. Leonardo said. “This is a genuine phenomenon. Something suis generis. Think what will be said when I bring this strange creature to the Museo Zoologico in Roma!”

  He started to move away. Marisa said: “Where are you going?”

  “To the village. To learn from the fisher-boy where in the sea it was that he found our friend.”

  “Grandfather—”

  “Yes, my child?”

  She shook her head, her eyes still adhered to the dragon-like head of the creature.

  “Nothing ...”

  The fortress was a masterwork of the pioneer’s art. Built sturdily of sand near the prow of an overturned fishing boat, and at least two feet high, it was perfect for defending. the plainsmen against Indian attack. Especially when its chief (and only) occupant was so skilled with the six-shooter, and wore such an awe-inspiring cowboy hat.

  “Pow! Pow!” Pepe’s wooden gun picked off another savage. “Pow! Pow! Pow!” They were biting the dust all around him. He turned towards the beach where Verrico, Mondello and the others were preoccupied with the hanging of the nets, wanting them to notice his talent and bravery.

  But what he saw caused his face to change. Dr. Leonardo! His hand went anxiously to the cowboy hat on his head. Was the old man coming to ask for his two hundred lira ? Had he been disappointed with his purchase?

  Pepe didn’t wait to find out. He crawled around the other side of the boat’s hull, holding fast to his hat from Taixas, ducking out of sight.

  The Doctor was speaking.

  “Salutos, Verrico, Mondello. You can perhaps inform me of the whereabouts of the boy, Pepe?”

  “Pepe?” Mondello snorted. “He is over there, playing like a Taixas cowboy—” He looked at the fortress, now deserted to the Indians. “Ah, he has gone! Yet he was here a moment ago.”

  Verrico said: “I shall see him tonight, Doctore, and tell him to seek you
out tomorrow.”

  Dr. Leonardo shook his head. “No. Tomorrow I shall not be here. Today, Marisa and I are on our way to Roma. Bene grazie. Addio. Do not trouble any more.”

  “Addio, Doctore.”

  From his hiding place, Pepe watched with satisfaction as Dr. Leonardo strode sadly away. Now his hat was safe! He touched it admiringly, and was about to return to his fortress, when the sound of airplane motors in the blue sky caught his ears.

  He looked upwards, and his mouth opened in wonder at the sight of the Navy seaplane dropping gracefully to the water, landing in a wash of white foam.

  How wonderful life was becoming! Pepe thought. In so few hours, he had seen an amazing giant aircraft dive forever into the sea. He had seen real flying men from the great United States Air Force, and had recovered one of their jackets for his very own. And most important, he had found a treasure in the sea worth two hundred lira, the price of the cowboy hat from Taixas. And now—

  From the direction of the town, a dust-caked jeep was driving swiftly towards the shoreline. The Commissario of Police was sitting stiffly beside the driver. When his jeep halted, he got out and looked towards the landed plane.

  Pepe crouched behind the boat, which had suddenly become a huge boulder in the middle of Death Valley. A villainous snarl crossed his sun-browned face, and he loaded his wooden gun from an imaginary gunbelt. He lifted it, took careful aim at the seaplane, and—

  “Pow! Pow!”

  It was a direct hit, although the two men climbing out of the plane and onto the wharf ladder, didn’t seem effected by Pepe’s bullets. Nevertheless, the boy was satisfied with his day’s work. He stuck his gun into his holster, hitched his pants, and walked off.

  The Commissario stepped forward.

  “May I introduce myself, General. I am Signore Unte, Commissario of Police in Gerra. From the Governo in Roma, I have received a telegramma. I am to cooperate with you, and assure you that my facilities are yours.”

  General McIntosh put out his hand. “Thank you, Signore Unte. And this is Dr. Uhl.”

  “How do you do,” the Doctor said.

  “The honor is mine.” The Commissario seemed to bow to the General. “If you will but accompany me, I will take you to your Colonel Calder.”

  McIntosh couldn’t conceal the quick look of worry that crossed his square, heavy-jawed face.

  “Is he—he’s not badly hurt, is he?”

  “Pray rest assured, General. He recovers rapidly.”

  They drove off in the jeep while the fishermen on shore stared after them. Dr. Uhl said:

  “You think a lot of Colonel Calder, General. Perhaps a little more than most commanding officers.”

  McIntosh stared straight ahead. “He’s a valuable man. We need more like him.”

  “I didn’t quite mean that.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “Nothing,” Dr. Uhl smiled. “I have a son myself, General. He’s only eleven, but he has dreams too.”

  McIntosh looked thoughtful. “It’s not that simple, Doctor. About my feelings towards Calder. I can’t explain it myself. But you know— sometimes I am Calder.”

  Dr. Uhl looked at him, and his face was understanding.

  A few minutes later, the jeep was pulling up in front of the Commune di Gerra, and the tall figure of the Colonel was stepping forward with a crisp salute.

  General McIntosh returned it hastily, eager to grasp the Colonel’s saluting hand in congratulation.

  “You made it,” he said, his voice choked. “You made it, Bob. The first man in history ? How does it feel?”

  “Fine, General McIntosh.” Calder grimaced. “In a way . . .”

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking of the crew. It’s tragic that they died just in the moment of their glory. But still, the ship was brought home, Bob. The world won’t forget that—”

  Dr. Uhl put out his hand and grinned. “It was a great job, Bob. A really great job.”

  “Look,” the General said.

  “Is there someplace private where we can talk?”

  “My office is yours,” the Commissario said graciously. “This way, gentlemen.”

  “Good. We’ve got a lot to talk about, Bob. I want to hear everything—every single minute of it.” He gripped Calder’s arm and led him into the building.

  On a mountainous highway not many miles from the Commune di Gerra, the truck and trailer of Dr. Leonardo moved cautiously over the narrow road.

  Night was falling slowly, the sun descending in a spectacular splash of color into the Mediterranean.

  On the seat beside the old man, Marisa dozed.

  A wind came up from the south, and Dr. Leonardo pulled his collar around his throat.

  In the rear of the truck, the wind caught the loose edge of the tarpaulin, and it flapped in uneven rhythm against the cage inside.

  But the flapping didn’t disturb the cage’s occupant.

  The cage was empty.

  The Alfa Romeo, long and shining, its black body like mirrors in the night, drew up before the Commune di Gerra, its official flags fluttering from the front fenders. The villagers who were still lingering outside gaped at the magnificence of this vehicle. Never had such a splendid automobile stopped in the village of Gerra, and with such a distinguished passenger.

  When the elderly gentleman, with his fine white hair and mustachios, stepped forth from the car, a murmur of awe came from the onlookers. They did not know this Signore Contino by name, but they could tell from his stance, his carriage, his clothing, his automobile, that he was a government official of dignity and importance.

  The Commissario’s Carbinier! saluted as the new arrival came to the entrance of the building. They escorted him within, past the ospedale, directly to the headquarters of the Police.

  It was a bare, shabby office, an unimpressive stage for such an impressive man as the Commissario to perform upon. But the presence of Signore Contino gave it suddenly an air of prestige. The Commissario rose from behind his battered desk as the Carbinieri announced the name of the visitor from Rome.

  “Avante, per favore,” the police chief said.

  “Grazie,” Contino replied, with a slight bow.

  “I am honored.” The Commissario turned to the others. “Gentlemen, may I present Signore Contino of the Italian Department of State. The General McIntosh, Dr. Judson Uhl, Colonel Calder.”

  Contino nodded to each man in turn.

  The General cleared his throat.

  “I thank you, Signore, for coming so promptly. And I thank your Government for expressing its desire to cooperate in this matter. I must beg you however, for the moment, to observe complete secrecy.”

  “It is understood,” Contino said.

  McIntosh rubbed his chin and leaned against the edge of the desk. He folded his arms, his face grave.

  “What I have to say to you will sound incredible. But I assure you that it is true.”

  He paused and looked at the Colonel.

  “Colonel Calder here has just returned from an expedition to Venus.”

  The old man cocked his head, as if uncertain of his own hearing.

  “Eh? To, er, Venice? You mean perhaps Venetzia?”

  “To Venus, Signore,” McIntosh said grimly. “The planet Venus.”

  Contino looked around him, his eyes wary, and then he looked plainly suspicious.

  “To the planet Venus?” he repeated.

  “That is correct.”

  The State Department official flapped his arms in the air, and they landed with a thud against his side.

  “I had been informed that this matter was connected with something vast. But— the planet Venus!” He turned his eyes on Calder, looking him over as if the Colonel were an alien creature himself.

  “Man’s first interplanetary voyage,” McIntosh said, his own words awing him. “On the return trip, the spaceship was crippled by a meteor. Except for Colonel Calder, the entire crew perished.”

  “I a
m grieved,” Contino said quietly.

  “Now we are faced with a problem,” the General continued. “A problem of enormous consequence. In order for you to help us, Signore, I must explain carefully.”

  The old man sought a chair, and lowered himself without once removing his eyes from the General’s face.

  “The problem is this. The atmosphere on Venus is such that a human being cannot breathe it and survive. There is carbon dioxide in the air, but no oxygen. We believed that we could develop artificial respiratory equipment that would sustain human life, for a limited time, on this planet. We created such equipment, and after the first successful landing was made, it operated satisfactorily for some time. But it wasn’t foolproof. There were elements in the air, dust-clouds of some extraordinary nature, that suddenly poisoned our men. Several members of our expedition died there before the others realized the danger. Dr. Sharman, the chief scientist aboard, also became fatally ill. He died here after the ship’s crash.”

  Contino’s face was a study in wonder.

  “Fascinating!” he said. “Horrible—but fascinating!”

  “But this is the important part, Signore Contino. On that ship was a particular sealed metal container—” The General measured the air with his hands. “It was approximately this long, and this diameter. In it, Colonel Calder informs me, is an unborn specimen of life on this planet. Of animal life, Doctor?”

  Dr. Uhl flipped the pages of Dr. Sharman’s notebook.

  “Sharman wrote that he considered it so,” the scientist replied. “Or very nearly so.”

  “Thank you.”

  The General unfolded his arms, and his hands grasped the edge of the desk tightly.

  “It is of the greatest importance that we recover that sealed container. We must discover what physiological way of life is able to survive and flourish on Venus. Not until that secret has been learned can another expedition expect to return. With such a secret, we believe we can develop breathing equipment that will work effectively, permit man to explore this planet without danger of poisoning, and bring back the wealth that lies buried there. Yes, I said wealth, Signore. For in the few days that Colonel Calder and his crew were able to survive on the planet, they confirmed what the astronomical predictions stated. They discovered rare and precious minerals that would be of vast benefit to the security and the progress of our civilization. We must return. We have to return! Get back!” Contino bowed.