The mountain chain lifted abruptly from the plains, buttressed by long ridges thrusting out upon the flatland. Trees climbed halfway up the ridges; above the treeline the dull reds and ochres of the mountains glowed in the sunlight. But it was the view of the seemingly endless plains below that evoked an "ohh,” from Karen.
It looked like some vast zoological park that stretched from mountains to horizon, accented here and there by streambed and mesa. The predominant color was the beige of grass with accents of red rock and soil and olive-brown trees. There were herds of animals scattered over the plains. Gliders, both furred and leather-winged, floated on the updrafts that carried with them the delicately sweet scent of the grass and the endless song of insects.
Karen sat and drank it all in silently, but her face told Theo all she wished to know. It was a look of appreciation of something near to the reverence the biologist felt for this land. The face had all the benign intensity, the relaxed absorption of the religious.
Theo unhooked her pack straps and swung the pack to the ground. She searched out a couple of protein bars and handed one to Karen.
"I didn’t know this was out here,” the girl said after a few swallows. "So big. So . . .” She could find no words for it. "It’s like we—you and I and all the Expedition—could come and go, or stay. It wouldn’t really matter. ...”
"No,” agreed Theo. "It wouldn’t matter at all. Not to this world. But if you and I don’t start walking, we’re not going to make camp until after dark. And that inconvenience matters very much to me. Eat up!”
They spent the next three hours slipping and sliding and hugging belly-tight to rock faces as they negotiated the way down off the plateau. Theo kept thinking that it wasn’t hard coming up, but reminded herself that coming up she hadn’t been able to see quite so clearly just how far one could fall if one slipped.
At one point she removed her backpack and lowered it by rope from one ledge down to the next, then lowered Karen the same way. There was nothing on which to anchor the rope to support her weight, so she inched her way down by precarious toeholds.
Karen seemed oblivious to the danger; she was still enthralled with the view of all the animals.
By the time they reached the treeline and could walk switchbacks at a steep downhill pace, both of them were tired. It was warmer down here, almost hot in the midafternoon sun. Sweat ran down their faces, and they stopped to rest more often. Each time they stopped, Theo checked Karen’s feet for blisters. So far the specimen bags made admirable socks.
"Can you swim?” Theo asked her, and when Karen said yes, "You’ll like our camp tonight then. It has a lovely deep pool.”
"I would like any camp tonight,” said Karen and wiped away the sweat. "I would like any camp right now. How much farther is it?”
"About three miles. Tired?”
"Not yet.”
"Well, I am.” And she was. She had forgotten how much energy nerve strain consumed. The events of the past few days had cost her not only extra physical effort and loss of sleep but the peace of mind found in solitude—and so quickly taken for granted.
Animals became more plentiful on the lower slopes. Wherever there was heavy vegetation, there would be a small herd of creatures scattered about, feeding or resting in the shade of trees. None showed any fear of these two strange animals walking through their domain. Several approached to view them more closely.
"Are they hostile?” Karen said nervously as a rather sturdy-looking creature, taller than she was and rust-furred with white spots, came loping up the hill toward them.
"No. Just curious,” said Theo. "The total absence of predators has made them quite secure.”
"What keeps their population under control?”
"Most of them are hermaphroditic. They are born male. In an adolescent stage they mate with mature animals, females, and after mating their endocrine system stimulates their maturation. It’s very efficient since it eliminates the necessity of large quantities of nonproductive feeders. Or large males hostile or indifferent to infants and therefore dangerous to them. The great swamp browsers are totally hermaphroditic and impregnate themselves. When there is a shortage of food or water, these creatures simply remain in immature form. In this stage they age very quickly and die.”
"That doesn’t seem quite fair,” said Karen. "It’s not their fault.”
"Fair has nothing to do with it,” said Theo. "Those are rules of this world. It’s what keeps those gliders alive. They are the vultures of Eridan.” The word "vulture” had no meaning for Karen, and so Theo explained it. After that Karen viewed the gliders rather skeptically, regardless of how beautifully they might soar on the winds.
Where they camped that evening, a cliff stood behind them like a curtain of red stone. From high up the cliff the creek spilled over in a ribbon of white, dropping from ledge to ledge until it reached their tree-shaded pool below. That animals came there to drink was apparent from all the tracks and droppings in the sand and the fact that the grass was eaten short for acres around. Karen was not sure she wanted to live quite so intimately with these creatures.
"What if they step on us in the dark?” she said. "Or decide our hair is good to eat?”
"I stayed here a week,” said Theo. "No one bothered me. However, if you really want it, I have a tent.” She unsnapped what appeared to be the backboard of her pack, an oblong about one and a half inches thick. It flipped open and open again, revealing that it was intricately folded plastic fabric. "I never bother with this. It takes so long in the morning to get the air out of the floor. Here’s the telescoping center pole.” And that she pulled out of the pack’s base. "You want it up?”
"Will it hold both of us?”
"It’ll hold four.”
"Then let’s, please?”
"Watch this,” said Theo. She shook the rectangle of fabric as if it were a folded sheet. It opened with a snap and billowed into form. Before it had a chance to sink to the grass she caught a strategic hold and inserted the sturdy center rod.
"O.K.,” she said, handing the rod to the girl. "Hold it here with your left hand and pump with your right, like so,” and she demonstrated the air pump’s action. "In about five minutes you’ll have a house. Oh, yes, when it’s fully inflated, press this button and the rod telescopes. You’ll see the socket in the floor.”
The tent, when Karen was done, was a rimmed dome, its walls layers of fabric sandwiching air between, its door a flap that jutted out when inflated.
‘Tt looks like a giant yellow balloon cut in half,” said Karen as she stepped out to survey her work.
"It’ll blow about like one if we don’t weight it down,” said Theo. "Let’s get some rocks on that rim.”
By the time the housekeeping chores were done, they were more than ready for a swim. They fixed dinner and ate in their pajamas. For dinnertime entertainment, they watched the animals coming to the pool and stream to drink. And the animals watched them.
Or more correctly, the animals watched the tent. Theo regretted she had never used it before. It was an excellent lure; she wasn’t quite sure why. The animals would approach with great interest and then stand some distance away, eying its yellowness, occasionally making sounds to their cohorts. By sunset a great crowd had gathered.
It had all the air of an occasion. On the outer fringes of the crowd gangly bearded hexalopes forgot their elklike dignity and indulged in mad little leaps and bleatings. A creature resembling a six-legged six-toed ox with a shovel-shaped head shambled up and grunted with surprise when it saw the tent. It found Theo almost as interesting as she found it; obviously both had never seen an animal like the other. But with all the eying, sniffing, and circling, both kept their distance. Karen moved back until she was sitting beneath the door flap.
As the sun’s rays slanted more and more, the shade of the tent deepened and seemed to glow with life. Noise and activity among the animals increased. They moved in closer to the object of their admiration. Three shaggy sulfur-yellow grazers crept
forward until they were touching the rim with their muzzles, then curled up with little sighs of contentment and fell asleep, oddly endearing with their long black eyelashes and six folded knees.
As twilight came, the crowd began to disperse, some to graze, others to drink and bathe and settle to rest beneath the nearby trees. Out of curiosity, Theo turned on the torch and set it inside the tent to make it glow yellow again. The animals came hurrying back. It was the color . . . perhaps.
"You won’t mind if we go to bed in the dark?” asked Karen. “I don’t want to get too friendly with our new neighbors. They might crowd us out of bed.” Theo laughed and agreed, and turned off the torch.
VIII
WHAT IS THAT?”
Theo was wakened from deep sleep by a frightened whisper and a hand clutching her wrist. It was pitch-dark. For a second she couldn’t remember where she was or where the stars had gone. She was in a sleeping bag with a cuddling stranger. Then something brushed against the outside of the tent and she came fully awake. The squeaking sound was like that of a giant hand stroking a large balloon. She felt Karen stiffen in terror and reached over to give her a reassuring hug.
"How long has it been out there?” Theo whispered.
"I don’t know. It woke me up. It was licking the roof . . .”
"Shhh ...” Theo had a sudden uneasy impression that they were being listened to. Other than the distinct hissing of the waterfall, it was still outside . . . except for the sound of breathing—great slow breaths. And then the thing snuffled, and her heart changed its pace. The snuffle was the deep, moist, inquiring sound of a large hunting animal, and in the darkness it seemed to come from treetop height. Noiselessly she reached for her stun-gun, just as the tent was flooded with light.
"Turn it off!” Theo sat up, half blinded, and grabbed for the torch Karen held.
"I’m scared.”
"Turn it off!”
There was a startled scuffling sound, a pause, and then deep pounding shook the ground as the thing fled.
Karen let out a long sigh of relief. "The light scared it! It probably never saw a light in the dark in its whole life!”
"Turn it off!”
"What if it comes back ?” said Karen, but she obeyed.
Theo did not want to frighten her more, but if that big thing came back, she didn’t want them to be trapped in a flimsy tent. For the first time since she had been left alone, she felt uneasy. She blamed her unease on the tent. It shut the world out, made them alien to the night.
It was very dark outside. She could dimly make out the trees, and the white of the waterfall, the outline of the mountains. But she couldn’t see any animals.
"Pass me the torch,” she whispered, and when she held the cold plastic in her hands, she hesitated to turn it on for fear of what the light might reveal. But there was nothing there. In a 360-degree circle not one animal remained. Just tent, trees, and water.
Set on long beam, the light reached to the cliff face. She swept the half circle behind the tent, moving the beam slowly over the distant rocks. The eyes of a large animal caught the passing light and flashed. She moved the beam back, but whatever it had been was gone. There was a smear of wetness on the tent. Like saliva.
The grass around the tent was crushed but so thick and wiry that it held no tracks.
"There’s nothing out here,” she announced and turned off the light.
"Where are the other animals?”
"Gone.”
"Why?”
"Probably had better things to do.”
"Or they got scared off.”
"Maybe.”
"It’s so dark,” Karen complained as she crawled out.
"That’s because the torch was so bright.”
"No. You can’t see any stars.”
Theo looked skyward. Karen was right. A cloud layer shut out all the sky.
"Is it going to rain?” The excitement in Karen’s voice was surprising.
"Maybe. Why? What’s so special about rain?”
"Well, when you spend your life on starships you don’t get to see much rain. Have you ever seen snow?”
"When I was a child.”
"You’re lucky,” Karen said wistfully.
“Well, let’s go back to sleep and maybe you’ll get lucky and wake up to the sound of rain on the roof.”
Neither slept much for the rest of the night. It was cloudy in the morning, but no rain had fallen. Nor was there any dew. The animals had returned. Some of them became agitated when Theo let the air out of the tent and trampled it down to fold and pack. "It’s not a living thing,” she kept assuring them. They didn’t believe her and followed as the pair set off.
It began to rain around midmorning, a soft steady drizzle. Theo made Karen an inelegant poncho out of a plastic bag; she wore her waterproof suit, but there was nothing she could do about their footgear. By midday both had wet feet. A chilly wind began to blow, and the sound of the stream made them feel colder.
The soil, dry for so long, absorbed this gentle rain. Theo wondered if it was raining harder in the mountains behind them. There, with nothing to soak up the water, runoff would be fast. She kept a wary eye on the creek and, after an hour or so of drizzle, led them far enough away to keep it in sight but enable them to outrun it should there be a flash flood.
"You know what?” Karen said after a long, silent hike. "It’s nice to read about, but walking in the rain is not too much fun.”
"No,” agreed Theo. She wasn’t feeling communicative. The pack was beginning to rub on her wet shoulders. Her feet hurt.
She was thinking longingly of her comfortable, warm, dry carpeted quarters in the living dome of Base Three, a hot bath, a glass of wine, dinner. If she had been alone, she would have signaled the Base to come get her hours ago.
If. If there had been no fear. If Base One had not mutinied. If that aircraft had landed twenty miles north of her mountain. If she had been ignorant of all that. When had that deadly dawn been—two days ago, three? It seemed a long time past. If she had ignored Karen’s fear of total mutiny and signaled immediately for help. If they had never set out walking, they wouldn’t have found that cave and the odd creature . . . but maybe that would never matter now. Mud clung to her feet, and she scraped it off against a rock.
If the Expedition Commander was missing and his Vice Commanders dead, then who was in charge of the expedition? Were the Base Commanders on their own? And who had enough influence or power to lead a mutiny against an Expedition Commander . . . ? No, that didn’t bear speculation. Could she and Karen survive out here in the rain, wandering aimlessly? If they . . .
It occurred to her that Karen had asked her a question. "I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
"Do you think it’s raining on ... up where your favorite camp was?”
Theo understood the question—was it raining on the grave? "Yes,” she said. "I think it’s raining for hundreds of miles. We knew this world had a rainy season. We just didn’t know when or how often.”
When the rain had begun, the animals had responded like children to the first snowfall, running and frisking, alternately dancing stiff-legged or rolling on the ground for the sheer joy of it. But now, like Karen, they had had enough. They stood in the open, tail to the wind, head down, gathering in groups for warmth, and waiting for it to end. Gliders sat in flocks, great wings like wet leather.
But the rain did not end. It grew heavier, and by midafternoon both people were cold, wet, and exhausted. Rain in the face kept them blinking; it was difficult to breathe without choking on droplets, and the ground was turning to mud. Karen was obviously struggling, but she never complained.
"Let’s look for a camping place.” Theo had to speak loudly to be heard over the downpour.
"Are there any caves around here?”
There were none. They were almost down on the flatland now. There was no shelter down there but trees. And if there were lightning storms on this world, camping beneath a tree was not wise. In fact
, camping at all in this rain was not wise.
She chose a spot on a rocky hollow where the ground sloped enough for runoff and the tent would sit below the highest trees and rocks. Just setting up the tent was almost all they could do in the wind. By the time it was inflated and the rim weighted down, they had lost their hats so often that their hair was as soaked as the rest of their bodies. They crawled into the shelter, dragging the pack after them, wet and bedraggled.
"Don’t open the sleeping bag until the fuel cell dries this out.” Theo nodded at the tent floor made wet by splashing and their own entrance. Rain was pelting down on the dome above their heads and running in twin rivulets off the open dome flap. "Just sit and listen to the rain on our roof.”
"It’s like sitting inside a drum,” said Karen, "or a surface-to-ship shuttle on take-off. But this is the longest take-off. . .’’She died away to silence and sat cross-legged, watching Theo set up the little heating unit. It wouldn’t stay level, and Theo went back outside to find some flat rocks to use as a base. When she came back, she closed the tent flap.
For the next two hours they were busy with housekeeping chores. The fuel cell on high quickly made the dome cozy. A washline was strung on the dome hooks provided for that purpose and their wet clothing hung to dry. Their freeze-dried food for dinner was put in to soak. Their hair slowly dried and, in spite of the closeness and the roar of the rain on the dome, they were comfortable again.
Karen was stretched out on the floor, chin pillowed on her hands. Theo used the pack as a backrest and was writing notes of the day. For minutes they were silent, each lost in her own thoughts.
Finally Karen said, "How long will the rain last? If it’s the rainy season?”
"Maybe a month. Maybe longer.”
Karen’s sigh couldn’t be heard over the rain, but Theo saw it and waited and pretended greater attention to her notes. Karen rolled over on her back and stared up at the vibrating dome. "We can’t travel in it, can we?”
"No. Not very far. Not without risking illness or accident.” "What happens if we just stay here?”
H. M. Hoover Page 4
