'Until you,' corrected the Tuuntu, ingratiatingly.
The Migraani gave him a long-suffering look. 'Yes, Tuuntu, until me, and you had best not forget it.'
She turned to the Professor. 'I hope, my lord, you will see why you left me with no choice but to agree to your coming here, for simply to steal the Voorni away, which I could easily have done, would have set her forever against me. You must now hope that the Fates are yet kind, for then you may see her rule over a free and happy Venus and not dragged down into a pit of corruption as her predecessors have been. If, however, they continue against us, I can wish you no better than a swift and painless end.'
'Then I want my money back!' cried Freddy indignantly. 'This isn't what I signed up for at all! The Tuuntu said Venus was a Utopia, or words to that effect. He has entirely misrepresented this little excursion and I shall be complaining to Thomas Cook about him.'
'Would you have allowed the Voorni to come if we had told you the truth?' asked the Tuuntu. 'Yet still we are the greater race, I think.'
'Can't think why,' muttered Simms from behind them and earned a reproving glance from Agnes.
'All revolutions begin with those sentiments, or something like them,' said Charles cynically, 'However, I had rather hoped to hear how much support you command, your military strength vis-a-vis the Purple House, your assessment of the situation, your future plans.'
The Migraani shook her head. 'Mr Prendergast, you were an army officer; you must know I cannot tell you these things. Suppose you were to be captured by the enemy?'
'Then at least may we know what you plan to do with us?' said the Professor.
'We will leave you and the Voorni in the safety of Hawghi's refuge while we scout for a friendly city. There is still time,' She addressed this last remark to the Tuuntu, who looked sceptical.
'And suppose none will have us?' he asked.
'We'll salt that kraatu in the barrel,' said the Migraani.
Now Hawghi began to alter course a little and slow the ship down. But even as he did so, the steady drone of the great engine, so long a background to their lives, abruptly stopped. They waited anxiously as he made frantic efforts to restart it, but after a few moments he threw up his arms in defeat. 'Ptup,' he said. Remarkably, the damaged vessel seemed able to glide, after a fashion, though yawing alarmingly from side to side. They were perhaps five thousand feet above the ground and falling fast. There was clearly no time to effect a repair, even if it were possible.
'Can you get us down safely, Hawghi?' asked the Migraani.
The thaal shook his head. 'No engine, Migraani. Engine ptup.' It seemed that this versatile creature had at last been defeated. He turned and for the first time looked his goddess full in the face. 'Voorni help?'
'I . . .' began Daphne.
But Charles unbuckled himself and stood up. 'I have an idea,' he said. 'We can't hover, so we can't land in the normal way. I therefore suggest we aim for the nearest river. Provided this kite isn't too seriously holed, she should float, at least for a while. It must be a better bet than the treetops.'
'That is impossible,' said the Tuuntu flatly. 'It has never been done. We are going to die and would be better occupied preparing ourselves.'
'It'll be tricky but not impossible,' said Charles. 'I've crash-landed a plane or two in my time and the principle is the same. Besides, I don't give up that easily.'
'Oh, Charles, do it!' cried Daphne. 'Quickly, before it's too late.'
The thaal immediately vacated his seat and Charles took his place.
Half reclining in his chair, Wilfred could see little but the white Venusian sky. With no engine noise, there was only the clatter of the damaged plating against the hull and the muted whistling of the wind. He wondered if he should pray. Was it all right to pray lying down? Then he wondered if he should tell Daphne he loved her. Then it occurred to him that if by some miracle they survived, it might be rather embarrassing. Glancing sideways, he noticed that the Migraani had taken her by the hand and was holding it tight. He wished he'd thought of that. He also realised that he could probably trust her, at least as far as Daphne was concerned. To continue to be ruled by a scion of the hated Purple House must seem to her a most tiresome, if necessary, imposition; yet still she was concerned for her feelings, even when likely at any moment to die.
'This is it,' cried Charles. 'Hang onto your hats.' There followed a series of great, juddering thuds as he deliberately bounced the ship along the surface of the river, trying to slow her down. 'I can't see a damned thing,' he announced, as mud and spray rapidly obscured the windows.
The crash, when it came, was a long, drawn-out affair, the rending, tearing sounds suggesting that they were ploughing through substantial and only reluctantly yielding vegetation. More dents appeared in the already battered hull and in one place a gnarled and lichenous branch of a tree burst in upon them, its shattered end almost impaling the Tuuntu where he lay. Then, at last, there was silence, broken only by the eerie cry of some distant creature and a gurgle of water beneath them.
'That was jolly well done!' cried Freddy. 'A textbook landing, what?' He rose to clap Charles on the back, only to stagger and grab for a handhold. 'Hullo, we seem to be listing a bit.'
'Everybody out,' said Charles.
'Come on Hawghi, you too,' said Wilfred, but the thaal sat unmoving in Charles's vacated seat, a look of what might have been bewilderment on his outlandish features.
In good order they retreated down the ever more sloping stairs to the entrance vestibule. Water was already knee-deep in the throne room and the great entrance doors were lying twisted on the floor. Of the landing ramp there was no trace; presumably it had been torn off.
'Gosh, isn't it hot?' said Daphne.
Sticky with it,' observed Freddy. 'Feels like a Chinese laundry,'
'We seem to be entangled in a tree,' said the Professor, peering out. 'An enormous, fallen tree.'
'It practically spans the river,' said Charles. 'Bit of luck that. If it hadn't stopped us, we might have hit those rocks over there.'
Wilfred looked excitedly about him, the trials of their arrival instantly forgotten. So this, at last, was Venus — the secret planet, the planet of love. The first thing he noticed, apart from the intense heat, was a subtle and interesting smell, not the familiar undertone of tropical decay but something strangely alluring, like a woman's expensive scent. Looking up, he saw a great creeper, like an enormously magnified convolvulus, thick as an arm and laden with huge, pure-white trumpet blooms. It was dangling just above him from a branch of the fallen tree.
'We seem to have stopped sinking,' said Charles. 'We ought to survey of the damage.'
The Migraani looked anxiously at the sky. 'No, we must go ashore immediately; we may not have much time.'
'It's a bit of a stretch to the bank,' said Freddy. 'I doubt the ladies would manage it,'
'We could swing from this,' said Wilfred, indicating the creeper. But no sooner had he taken hold of it than a strange thing happened. Stout tendrils, moving more like an animal than a plant, immediately snaked out and entwined themselves tightly around his wrist. Reaching up, he tried to detach them, only to find his other wrist grabbed as well. At the same time, further growths encircled his neck and chest, lifting him bodily off the ground.
'Wilfy! Mr Carstairs!' cried Daphne. 'Oh my goodness, someone help him!'
'Do not move,' said the Tuuntu. 'If you move, you will die.' Producing a small knife, he slashed, not at the throttling tendrils, but a varicose net of pinkish stems clinging to the bark of the tree. There was a piercing shriek and Wilfred was unceremoniously dropped, gasping and clutching his windpipe. 'I say, are you all right, old chap?' asked Freddy, kneeling beside him.
'Urgh,' groaned Wilfred.
'This is not Earth,' said the Tuuntu, with more than a hint of glee. 'Here, everything tries to kill you. You had best remember it.'
'Perhaps this might be more appropriate, sir?' suggested Simms, who had found from some
where a narrow grating.
'Well done, Simms. Ever the practical man, eh?' said Charles.
One by one they picked their way gingerly to the riverbank, careful to avoid the still-whimpering creeper.
'Serves you right,' Freddy told it. 'Don't come to me for sympathy.'
Wilfred didn't bear a grudge. The thing was only doing what came naturally. His neck was bruised and his throat was on fire but he was walking on air. It was not just that she had publicly called him by his diminutive; there had been something in her voice; something that told him she really cared.
'What now?' asked the Professor.
'Follow me,' said the Tuuntu. All along the shallows at the riverside was a dense thicket of translucent, reed-like vegetation and into this he plunged, shouldering aside the soft, rubbery stems.
'Ugh, they're all slimy,' complained Daphne.
Once they were under the trees, however, the going got easier. These slightly resembled mangroves on Earth, each rising out of the river's muddy bank as a number of shaggy aerial roots before coalescing, high above their heads, into a single, massive trunk. Tiny, multi-legged amphibians swarmed about them, looking so like their surroundings that it was easy to tread on one, while from time to time something resembling an enormous leech would drop from above with a heavy splat before undulating away. One landed on the Migraani, who shuddered and knocked it off. Meanwhile, the ground was steadily rising, becoming less slippery underfoot, until at last they came to the forest floor proper, covered in a debris of rotting leaves.
'Are we going much farther?' asked Freddy, panting. 'Only I've got the stitch.'
The Tuuntu and the Migraani wordlessly conferred. 'We should be safe enough here, for the moment,' said the Migraani. 'We must quickly fetch food, tents, weapons and fresh clothing. There may not be much time.'
'I don't understand why we couldn't have remained aboard,' said Charles, swatting at a bird-sized insect. 'It seemed safe enough to me. It's my guess she's touching the bottom.'
The Tuuntu sighed. 'This is the morning,' he explained, as if to a child. 'Soon it will rain and the river will flood. It is quite possible that the ship will be washed away. If not, it will certainly be submerged.'
'Submerged? It's thirty feet high!'
'How do you know it's the morning?' asked the Professor curiously. 'You can't see the sun and you haven't got a watch.'
'Because it is not raining,' said the Tuuntu.
'Ask a silly question,' laughed Freddy, for despite the gravity of their situation there was an air almost of levity, with everyone glad just to be alive.
For about an hour they laboured back and forth, fetching those things considered most necessary for survival and covering them with tarpaulins and oilcloths in anticipation of the deluge. It was noticeable that the Venusians did little to help, and as soon as the first tent was pitched the Migraani retreated inside, taking Daphne and Agnes with her.
The Tuuntu remained behind to criticise. 'What is this thing?' he demanded.
'Cricket bat,' said Freddy. 'Don't you remember? We showed you how to play.'
'You would save a plaything? This is not Earth, this is a dangerous place! What will you do if a krit comes? You would do better to bring one of your primitive firearms.'
'It's to maintain crew morale,' protested Freddy. 'And I have it on good authority that a thump on the snout with a cricket bat is very effective against your average krit.'
'The krit does not have a snout,' said the Tuuntu scornfully. 'He has – he searched in vain for the right word – big sucky things.'
While they worked, the sky turned from white to a deep, purplish-grey, and under the forest canopy it became almost dark. Wilfred, Charles and Hawghi were the last to leave the ship, checking that nothing important had been left behind.
Suddenly Hawghi looked up and urgently pointed. 'Go now!' he said. 'Run!'
Even as he spoke, there was a sudden zigzag of lightning and a near-simultaneous clap of thunder. In moments it was raining with such violence that it was hard even to see the riverbank. By the time they had struggled the few yards into the trees the rising water was thigh-deep.
Back at the camp they found the other tent had been pitched.
'Tea, gentlemen,' announced Simms, as they ducked inside. 'It's a bit stewed, I'm afraid.'
'Ah, wonderful,' croaked Wilfred, his throat still sore from his near-throttling. 'Is there any sugar?'
'It reminds one of the war, eh Simms?' said Charles. 'Tents, mud. That thunder could almost be an artillery barrage.'
'At least there's no Fritz to worry about, sir.'
'I almost wish there were.'
'Goodness, what a racket the rain makes,' said Freddy, gazing up at the already sodden canvas. 'How long does it last, usually?'
'Three or four hours,' shrugged the Tuuntu. With us it is a time for peaceful contemplation, or love.'
'Not in a soggy bell-tent, surely?'
'That would depend on the wishes of the lady.'
'Where is Hawghi?' asked the Professor. 'You are not making him stay out in this are you?'
'Hawghi? He's with us,' said Charles, swinging round. 'Or at any rate, he was.'
'I'll go back,' said Wilfred, pushing open the flap.
'Don't be a fool, you'll drown.'
The Tuuntu shook his head. 'The rain would not bother a thaal. You would be wasting your time in any case. He has made his bid for freedom. It was inevitable.'
It seemed a very long three or four hours. They sat on upturned boxes, a disconsolate group of shipwrecked space-mariners, gazing out at a solid wall of rain and nibbling on already mouldy-smelling paan. The thunder and lightning were almost continuous, so that they had to raise their voices to make themselves heard.
'What do you suppose the Migraani intends to do next?' asked the Professor.
The Tuuntu shrugged. 'I cannot imagine. With the thaal to guide us we might have stood a chance; without him we will surely die.'
'Perhaps he'll come back,' said Wilfred. 'I can't believe he'd abandon his goddess.'
'And if he does, what then? We are lost forever in this place.'
At last, as quickly as it had begun, the rain stopped. Peering outside they found a changed world. Their little hillock was now an island, the river having swollen to become an immense lake whose far bank they could no longer see. Every passing log and mass of floating debris was a small ark, alive with strange-looking creatures large and small, while diving upon them was a multitude of the rainbow-coloured birds they had seen when they dropped out of the clouds over Eriju. The ship, which had been clearly visible from where they sat, was quite gone, though whether submerged or swept away it was impossible to tell.
Night, when it came, fell swiftly. Venus has no moon, and with the stars forever hidden by dense cloud, the Earthlings had expected it to be profoundly dark. They were therefore enchanted to discover that every leaf in the forest now began to emanate a soft, nocturnal glow. Even the hollow sijndu reeds along the river were suffused with an inner light, while beneath its now calm waters there burned a bluish fire.
'Bioluminescence!' cried the Professor excitedly. 'I must investigate immediately.'
But he had scarcely left the sanctuary of their tent when he was driven back by heavy crashing in the nearby undergrowth and a terrible, bloodcurdling scream. Soon the jungle, that had seemed during the day to be almost deserted, was filled with a cacophony of roaring, screeching and strange, panting howls, but no-one dared go outside to see what was making them. At one point a warty, questing nose appeared under the tent wall and a substantial bulge appeared in the fabric. Charles reached for his rifle, but Freddy shook his head.
'You don't even know what size it is! Suppose it's got armour-plating and a nasty temper?'
'All right, who's got the torch then?'
'No! You might stir it up. I vote we follow the Tuuntu's example and go to sleep.'
'Would that I could,' sighed the Tuuntu, from beneath his mosquito net.<
br />
'Do you know what it is, Tuuntu?' asked Charles.
'I have no idea; neither do I care,' said the Tuuntu. 'Venus is full of strange things.'
Chapter 12
After swimming back and forth for a while, Wilfred lazily trod water, floating out near the centre of the river. It felt wonderfully refreshing, the coolest he'd been since they arrived. He'd taken to rising early, leaving his companions snoring in their tent, for he had quickly discovered that dawn was the best time here. The swarms of insects that so plagued them during the day would not appear for a while yet, and the light had a soft, pearly quality that reminded him of misty mornings on Earth. It was hard to believe that in only a few hours this tranquil stream would once again be a raging flood, capable of sweeping away not only huge trees but a great spaceship, weighing hundreds of tons. They had searched for it, of course, hacking their way along the riverbank for a good half-mile until a distant roar told them they were nearing a waterfall. A hundred feet below them in a drifting mist of spray were its shattered remains, its fins crumpled, its back broken. Bobbing about in the swirling water was the pathetic residue of their belongings, including pieces of Daphne's piano.
'So much for the Chopin,' the Migraani had sighed. 'Just when I was getting the hang of it.'
Scrambling down the slippery rock, Wilfred and Charles had found little to salvage, returning with their forgotten shaving things, Agnes's hairbrush and, by request, a large bag belonging to the Migraani, containing what looked like clothing. Though appearing little moved by the loss of her ship, she had seemed remarkably pleased to get it. Clambering over the debris in his cabin, Wilfred had been saddened to discover that the exercise books in which he wrote up his poetry were quite ruined. He'd taken away a few blank ones to dry out in the hope of reproducing some of his better work, but could find only a single pencil with which to write in them. He doubted, anyway, if he would be able to remember more than the odd stanza or two. So much had happened in the last few days that anything as rarified as poetry had been quite driven out of his head. Perhaps, he thought, he should write up a journal instead, like Robinson Crusoe. All in all, they were rather in the same case, though with considerably less hope of being rescued. He wondered why he did not find the prospect more dispiriting. Perhaps that would come later.
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