Frontier of the Dark

by A Bertram Chandler

  With the tip of her pointer, the cartographer indicated a big patch of blue over which was a stippling of brown dots.

  “This is the … pond,” she said, raising her voice so that she could be heard over the shrill gabble from the speaker. “No. Lake. The lake in the … cave. Where our people were killed … .”

  “And where the Lady Linda was injured,” said the captain mildly.

  The cartographer scowled, went on, “And yet the bio-sensitive radar life does not show in the cave. There is no sci … sci … ?”

  “Scintillation,” supplied Falsen helpfully.

  “What you say,” she snapped. “But. But look. You see the blue line … .”

  There was a sharply defined edge to the azure patch that represented the subterranean lake, but from it extended a line of the same color, almost straight at first, then meandering. The other patterns on the screen swung and shifted as the airship’s pilot attempted to follow this road to …

  Where?

  Or what.

  “Still,” said the specialist, “there is no life. No scintillation.” As she produced the final word triumphantly, she glared at Falsen.

  “But,” said the Lady Mother, “we know that whatever made the first attack on the watchkeepers outside the ship came from the cave … ” But you don’t know, thought Falsen. You only suppose. “And we know that there was something in the cave that killed people. And we know that last night’s attackers, killers, headed back to the cave … .”

  “That is so, Lady Mother,” agreed Carlin.

  “Now,” the captain went on, “we may suppose that the beasts are … amphibious, capable of swimming underwater for long distances. Lady Linda, did you get the idea that the thing which attacked you last night was so capable?”

  “It … it was all very confused, Gracious Lady,” said Linda. “But on Earth practically every land animal can swim if it has to.”

  “It is so on Dorala,” said the captain. She returned her attention to the screen. “Look! Another lake, in another cavern.”

  “No, Gracious Lady,” said the cartographer. “Yes, it is a lake — but not under the ground.”

  “But there is life in the lake,” the Lady Mother said.

  Yes, there was life. There were bright points of electric scintillation moving through the deeper blue that indicated water. Two of these, a large one and a smaller, merged, became one. Something must have eaten something.

  “We must mount an expedition,” the captain said. “We must wipe those things out.”

  An officer, another specialist with golden flowers on her tunic collar, protested. Falsen did not know what she was saying, but the exchange of words was heated. After a sharp order from the captain she repeated herself in English.

  “Gracious Lady, as your ecologist I must object. We must not tamper with the natural order of things on this world.”

  “It is the natural order of things.” said the captain, “that the stronger kill the weaker. The … things were stronger than my people when it caught them unprepared. When we are prepared we shall be the stronger. Besides, do not forget that it was my people who were killed. By my oath of high office I am bound to exact vengeance. I have the means at my disposal to turn that lake into a glowing, radioactive crater.”

  “Gracious Lady, you would not. You must not.”

  “Lady Dimilin, I give the orders aboard this ship.”

  Orders, thought Falsen, might be legally correct but morally wrong and, although he was coming both to like and respect the Lady Mother, he sympathized with the stand that the ecologist was making. He recalled the histories of one or two Earth-colonized planets where the conservationists had been shouted down. The flame trees on Austral, the water dragons on Cruxhaven, the first destroyed because their pollen caused some distress to certain asthmatics — among whom were the governor and his wife — the second wiped out because they made an occasional meal from the herds of Terran cattle grazing on the river banks. When the flame trees were all gone, the musk moths changed their feeding habits and their larvae wiped out crop after crop of honey fruit, one of Austral’s major exports. When the water dragons were almost extinct, the barbed-wire weed got out of control, choking many navigable river channels. The water dragons had been mainly herbivorous, eating meat only now and then.

  He wondered if, at some time in the future, an alien conservationist would rush to the protection of Linda and himself, trying to have them classed as members of a protected species … .

  The Lady Dimilin used these very words.

  “Gracious Lady, it is not only you who have authority. I was enjoined by the Council to, at my discretion, declare any life forms discovered on this world members of protected species.”

  “But you are not the captain, Lady Dimilin.” She turned to the Terrans. “Mr. Falsen, Miss Veerhausen, how is it in your ships?”

  “In both the Survey Service and the Merchant Service the captain is the captain. He makes the decisions. Of course, in serious cases his officers may lay complaints against him … .”

  “And what happens then?”

  “If the allegations are really serious there will be a court of enquiry.”

  “A risk that I should be prepared to take. That I am prepared to take. Our general regulations are modeled very closely on yours.”

  Dimilin made herself heard again.

  “Gracious Lady, you spoke of your oath of high office. But my understanding of it is that it empowers you to take punitive action only against intelligent beings. How can you punish an animal that does only what its instincts make it do? An animal that, in all probability, plays an important part in the ecology of this planet.”

  The Lady Mother sighed.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “We will evaluate the reports received from the air-reconnaissance parties. And then, Lady Dimilin, we will endeavor to obtain a specimen predator for you to dissect, evaluate and do to what you will.” She turned to the officer standing by the radar display. “Lady Kurrajong, while we have been … arguing have you heard anything of importance?”

  “Only this, Gracious Lady. The Lady Pansir insists that there are living beings of some kind in the lake. Of that we are already aware. There is the scintillation. Many are small, but some are large. The water is … murky.”

  “And nothing has come up to breathe?” asked Falsen. “Those things last night, and the other times, have to be air breathers.”

  “On your world, perhaps, they would have to be,” said the ecologist. “But on our planet we have animals that can exist, and function, either in air or in water. With … gills? Is that the word? And lungs.”

  “Large animals?” Falsen asked.

  “The dolisen is. It is a herbivore that comes out of the rivers when the flaren trees bear their fruit. It is then that the females give birth. If, for some reason, the dolisen became extinct there would be no more fiaren trees. The droppings of the animals are essential to fertilize the plants. And should the flaren trees be … exterminated, there would be no more dolisen. The fruit, chewed and … and … ”

  “Regurgitated,” supplied Falsen.

  “What you say. The chewed fruit is what the dolisen young live on until they are old enough to follow the adults back to the water, where they live on weeds.” She turned to the captain. “So you see. Lady Mother, how important it is that we do not remove as much as one link from the chain of life on this world.”

  “The dolisen,“ said the captain, “do not kill and eat people. But if it is possible, you will have your specimens before I take strong action.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Finally the airship returned and was moored close by the space vessel. It would not lift off again until the following morning; its next expedition could, possibly, occupy all the daylight hours.

  Linda and Falsen were left to their own devices for most of what remained of the day, while the Lady Mother conferred with her senior officers and her specialists. For much of the time they stayed in
Linda’s cabin, discussing in low voices how best they could make this menace from outside the ship, this attack by indigenous predators, work in with their own plans. The girl said that if they, whatever they were, killed off all the Doralans, it would be so much the better. Falsen found it hard to agree with her. He knew that his was a chauvinistic attitude; as far as he was concerned, it was wrong that a mindless carnivore should kill and eat a thinking being. He was the sort of man, Linda sneered, who would risk his own life to save his worst enemy from a shark and then, only minutes later, find some excuse to slip a knife between that person’s ribs.

  Falsen did not agree. “When you’ve saved somebody’s life,” he said, “you have an obligation to them.”

  “You might,” she told him. “I wouldn’t.”

  They took their late afternoon meal in the officers’ mess, ignored by those Doralans who were eating there. They toyed with a succession of dishes that were pretty to look at but insipid in flavor and utterly unsatisfying. They visited the big common room but, although nothing was said, it was obvious that their presence was unwelcome. Some sort of funeral service — or was it more of a wake? — was in progress. There was dismal, wailing music from the snythesizer. There were, Falsen thought, eulogies to the dead spacewomen being delivered by an officer wearing a somber gray uniform instead of the usual scarlet.

  It was a relief when a messenger found them and told them that the Lady Mother required their presence.

  The Doralan captain was in her day cabin. Sour-faced Prenta was there, and Carlin, and the ecologist and the cartographer. Pondor was there. He was hating them, Falsen knew. He was not only hating the Terrans. He was sitting on the deck at his mistress’s feet, glaring at all the others with baleful yellow eyes.

  “Mr. Falsen,” said the Lady Mother, “do you wish to volunteer to accompany tomorrow’s expedition? It has been suggested that you, representing Earth, should be among those present.”

  “I volunteer, Gracious Lady,” Falsen said.

  “And so do I,” said Linda.

  “But, Lady Linda, you were injured last night.”

  “I heal quickly, Gracious Lady,” said the girl. “As you say, I was injured. I want to get back at whatever did it.”

  “Let her come if she wants to,” said Carlin.

  “Very well,” the Doralan captain said. She turned to the Terrans. “The Lady Carlin will be in charge of the hunting party. The Lady Dimilin” — the ecologist inclined her head as her name was mentioned — “will accompany. In an advisory capacity. She, in spite of everything that has happened, is anxious that there shall be no needless killing. Of predators, that is … .” She allowed herself a tight smile. “The plan of campaign is that the airship shall lift off shortly after dawn and proceed to the lake where the sightings were made. A depth bomb will be used either to kill or to stun one of the larger animals. The body will be brought back here for proper examination.”

  “It sounds simple,” said Falsen.

  “It will be simple,” said Carlin.

  You hope, thought Falsen.

  “Those of you who will be going out tomorrow,” the Lady Mother said, “had better get a good night’s sleep. I do not think that you will be disturbed. The ship is sealed, and every air-lock door has been secured by spot welding. Armed sentries are patroling every deck … .”

  “It is not enough,” mewed Pondor.

  “What do you know about it, cat?” asked the captain amusedly. “What would you do about it if you were in my shoes?”

  “I do not know,” admitted the animal reluctantly. “But be careful. Be very careful.”

  “I don’t think that we shall be troubled tonight,” said Carlin confidently.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was a quiet night.

  Linda and Falsen slept together on the deck of her cabin. They made love first — although love might not be the right word to use to describe their short and brutal coupling, little more than an explosive release of tensions.

  Early in the morning they were awakened by a junior officer. The little Doralan looked down in horrified disgust at their naked bodies, the fleshy tangle of bare limbs.

  She whispered, “The morning meal is waiting for you. You will, please, to hurry.”

  She left them hastily.

  Falsen went to his own quarters to make his toilet. He showered, depilated using the cream that had been prepared for him by the ship’s chemist. It worked, although it was too highly scented. He put on his uniform, which he had washed the previous night before joining Linda. He thought, as he dressed, that the maintaining of appearances was something of a bore. If — when — he and Linda were by themselves, alone together, there would be no need to bother with clothing.

  He joined Linda in the alleyway outside their cabins. Together they went down to the officers’ mess. Carlin beckoned them to her table. They sat down to a meal of some sweet mush and aniseed-flavored tea. It filled their bellies but did not satisfy. At other tables the airship pilot, the ecologist and officers who were either just coming off watch or going on watch were eating hastily.

  “Come,” said Carlin, rising from her seat.

  She led the way to the axial shaft, the waiting elevator cage. They dropped down through compartment after compartment to the stern of the ship, to the after air lock. The air in the chamber still bore acrid traces of the burning away of the’ spot welding that had secured the door. The air outside, at the head of the ramp, was chilly and dank, smelled of soggy corruption. The probing searchlights, mounted high on the towering hull, were still sweeping the plain, the harsh glare reflected by stagnant pools and the occasional outcropping of pallid rock. At its short mooring mast, like an elongated skeletal pyramid, rode the airship, a huge, silvery wind sock that swung lazily this way and that as the light, uncertain airs backed and veered.

  Apart from the floodlights and the searchlights, the morning was still dark, although low in the east was a somehow ominous band of crimson against which black hills showed in silhouette.

  The Lady Mother was waiting for them at the foot of the ramp, cloaked and cowled against the chill. Pondor was with her, his eyes glowing greenly.

  She said formally, “Lady Carlin. Lady Linda. Mr. Falsen. The airship is ready. The crew and the hunters have boarded, are awaiting you and the Ladies Dimilin and Pansir.”

  Pansir? wondered Falsen. That must be the pilot, he thought.

  The two women named hurried past, their cloaks streaming out behind them in the breeze. With the dawn the wind seemed to be rising; the crimson glow to the east was brighter now, higher in the otherwise drab sky.

  “Good hunting,” said the Lady Mother. Coming from her, the words sounded odd.

  “We shall do our best, Gracious Lady,” said Carlin.

  There was a sudden spatter of cold rain.

  “Get on board,” said the Doralan captain. “Mr. Falsen and Miss Veerhausen have no cloaks.”

  “A little rain will not hurt them,” said Carlin.

  “Get on board, I say!”

  The Lady Mother’s voice was sharp.

  “Very well, Gracious Lady.”

  Carl in led the way over the spongy moss to where a ladder hung from the control car, the end of it just brushing the surface of the ground. She was first up it. Linda was next, moving with considerably less agility. Falsen was last. Nobody offered to help him up through the door into the cabin.

  • • •

  It was a bumpy flight. The ship creaked and complained as pockets of turbulence twisted her frame, lifted her and as suddenly pulled her down. Bracing himself on the after bulkhead of the control car — there was no seat for him — Falsen watched how the ship was handled. The pilot sat behind a steering wheel, looking some of the time out through a forward window that a wiper was trying, without much success, to keep clear of streaming rain, and more often down at a dimly glowing compass card. To her right sat another woman, an enlisted woman or petty officer, staring at an altimeter dial. She, too,
had a wheel, mounted with its axis at right angles to the fore and aft line of the ship. The altitude coxswain, thought Falsen, remembering the course that he had taken on the history of aviation during his studies at the Academy. He tried to recall what he had read about such matters as aerodynamic lift, the regulation of the altitude of a dirigible without valving gas or dumping ballast.

  He looked out through a side window. There was very little to see; the rainfall was so heavy that the spray generated by its impact covered the ground like a mist. Now and again there was the violet glare of nearby lightning, diffused by precipitation but still dazzling, accompanied by detonations of thunder that were loud above the steady drumming of huge raindrops on the envelope overhead.

  He said to Carlin, who had a chair close to where he was standing, “This is not an ideal day for a hunting trip. Your meteorologists must have goofed.”

  “We had a meteorologist,” she replied, “but she is dead. Not that it would have made much difference. Meteorology is an art rather than a science — and on a new world, a strange world, it is an art that would take many years to learn.”

  But the wind seemed to have dropped, he thought. There was almost no turbulence and pilot and altitude coxswain were less tense, were no longer having to fight their controls. And the rain was easing. No longer was the ground beneath the airship obscured by spray. Ahead, the overcast was thinning and the ruddy sun was breaking through, a red ball little more than a blotch of lurid luminosity in the less luminous cloud cover.

  It’s a fine day after all, he thought. Let’s go out and shoot something.

  CHAPTER 16

  They reached the lake, an almost perfect oval of dark water rimmed by low, black hills. As they flew over it the rain started again, a steady downpour that pocked what had briefly been a mirrorlike surface. It wasn’t going to be such a fine day after all, thought Falsen, but there would still be something to shoot.

  The bio-sensitive radar indicated that the water was teeming with life. A cloud of tiny green sparks drifted slowly across the screen and then, suddenly, a much larger blotch of luminescence was among them. The little points of light scattered, their numbers diminished. It, whatever it was, was feeding, was feeding well. Yet nothing was visible from the control car. Even if the water had not been murky, the torrential rain would have reduced the possibility of subsurface sightings.