He led off to the eastward. He thought of Timmy’s girl. He’d never seen her, but Timmy was going to marry her. She was on the Cerberus. It was the job of the cops to take care of whatever dilemma that ship might be in. As of here and now, it was Sergeant Madden’s job. But besides that, he thought of the way Timmy would feel if anything happened to the girl he meant to marry. As Timmy’s father, the sergeant had to do something. He wanted to do it fast. But it had to be done the right way.
* * * *
The route he chose was rocky, but it was nearly the only practicable route away from the burned-dead landing place. He climbed toward what on this planet was the east. There were pinnacles and small precipices. There were small, fleshy-leaved bushes growing out of such tiny collections of soil as had formed in cracks and crevices in the rock.
Sergeant Madden noted that one such bush was wilted. He stopped. He bent over and carefully felt of the stones about it. A small rock came out. The bush had been out of the ground before. It had carefully been replaced. By someone.
“The rockets came this way,” said the sergeant, with finality. “Hauled over this pass to the Cerberus. Somebody must’ve knocked this bush loose while workin’ at getting ’em along. So he replanted it. Only not good enough. It wilted.”
“Who did it?” demanded Patrolman Willis.
“Who we want to know about,” growled Sergeant Madden. “Maybe Huks. Come on!”
He scrambled ahead. He wheezed as he climbed and descended. After half a mile, Patrolman Willis said abruptly:
“You figure they all left, before anybody tried to find ’em?”
The sergeant grunted affirmatively. A quarter mile still farther, the rocky ground fell away. There was the gleam of water below them. Rocky cliffs enclosed an arm of the sea that came deep into the land, here. In the cliffs rock-strata tilted insanely. There were red and yellow and black layers—mostly yellow and black. They showed in startlingly clear contrast.
“Right!” said Sergeant Madden in morose satisfaction. “I thought there might’ve been a boat. But this’s it!”
He went down a steep descent to the very edge of the sound—it was even more like a fjord—where the waters of the ocean came in among the island’s hills. On the far side, a little cascade leaped and bubbled down to join the sea.
“You go that way,” commanded Sergeant Madden, “and I’ll go this. We’ve got two things to look for—a shallow place in the water coming right up to shore. And look for signs of traffic from the cliffs to the water. By the color of those rocks, we’d ought to find both.”
He lumbered away along the water’s edge. There were no creatures which sang or chirped. The only sounds were wind and the lapping of waves against the shore. It was very, very lonely.
* * * *
Half a mile from the point of his first descent, the sergeant found a shoal. It was a flat space of shallow water—discoverable by the color of the bottom. The water was not over four feet deep. It was a remarkably level shoal place.
He whistled on his fingers. When Patrolman Willis reached him, he pointed to the cliffs directly across the beach from the shallow water. Lurid yellow tints stained the cliff walls. Odd masses of fallen stone dotted the cliff foot. At one place they were piled high. That pile looked quite natural—except that it was at the very center of the shore line next the shoal.
“This rock’s yellow,” said Sergeant Madden, rumbling a little. “It’s mineral. If we had a Geiger, it’d be raising hell, here. There’s a mine in there. Uranium. If a ship came down on rockets, an’ landed in that shoal place yonder…why…it wouldn’t leave a burned spot comin’ down or takin’ off, either. Y’see?”
Patrolman Willis said: “Look here, sergeant—”
“I’m in command here,” growled Sergeant Madden. “Huks didn’t booby trap. Proud as hell, and touchy as all get-out, but not killers. Not crazy killers, anyhow. You go get up yonder. Up where we started down. Then go on away. Back to the squad ship. If I don’t come along, anyhow you’ll know what’s what when the Aldeb comes.”
Patrolman Willis expostulated. Sergeant Madden was firm. In the end, Patrolman Willis went away. And Sergeant Madden sat at ease and rested until he had time enough to get back to the squad ship. It was true that the Huks didn’t booby trap. They hadn’t had the practice, anyhow, eighty years ago. But this was a very important matter. Maybe they considered it so important that they’d changed their policy concerning this.
Wheezing a little, Sergeant Madden pulled away large stones and small ones. An opening appeared behind them. He grunted and continued his labor. Nothing happened. The mouth of a mine shaft appeared, going horizontally into the cliff.
Puffing from his exertions, Sergeant Madden went in. It was necessary if he were to make a routine examination.
* * * *
The Aldeb came in a full day later. It descended, following the space beacon the squad ship sent up from its resting place. The Aldeb was not an impressive sight, of course. It was a medium-sized police salvage ship. It had a crew of fifteen, and it was powerfully engined, and it contained a respectable amount of engineering experience and ability, plus some spare parts and, much more important, the tools with which to make others. It came down in a highly matter-of-fact fashion, and Sergeant Madden and Patrolman Willis went over to it to explain the situation.
“The Cerberus came in on rockets,” rumbled the sergeant, in the salvage ship’s skipper’s cabin. “She landed. We found signs that some of her people came out an’ strolled around lookin’ for souvenirs and such. I make a guess that there was a minin’ man among them, but it’s only a guess. Anyhow somebody went over to where there’s some parti-colored cliffs, where the sea comes away inland. And when they got to that place…why…there was a ship there. Then.”
He paused, frowning.
“It would’ve been standing on an artificial shoal place, about thirty yards from a shaft that was the mouth of a mine. Uranium. And there’s been a lot of uranium taken outta there! It was hauled right outta the mine shaft across the beach to the ship that was waitin’. And there’s fresh work in that mine, but not a tool or a scrap of paper to tell who was workin’ it. It must’ve been cleaned up like that every time a ship left after loadin’ up. Humans wouldn’t’ve done it. They wouldn’t care. Huks would. There’s not supposed to be any of them left in these parts, but I’m guessing the mine was dug by Huks, and the Cerberus was taken away by them because the humans on the Cerberus found out there was Huks around.”
Patrolman Willis said: “The sergeant took a chance on the mine being booby-trapped and went in, after sending me out of range.”
The sergeant scowled at him and went on.
“How it happened don’t matter. Maybe somebody spotted the ship from the Cerberus as it was comin’ down. Maybe anything. But whoever run the mine found out somebody knew they were there, so they rushed theCerberus—there prob’ly wasn’t even a stun-pistol on board to fight with—and they put new rockets on her.”
* * * *
The skipper of the salvage ship Aldeb nodded wisely.
“A ship comin’ to load up minerals where there wasn’t any spaceport,” he observed, “would have a set of rockets to land on, empty, and a double set to take off on, loaded. Yeah.”
“They must’ve figured,” said Sergeant Madden, “that we just couldn’t make any sense out of what we found. And if we hadn’t turned up that mine, maybe never would. But anyhow they sent the Cerberus off and covered everything up and went off to stay, themselves, until we gave up and went home.”
“I wonder,” said the skipper of the Aldeb, “where they took the Cerberus? That’s my job!”
“Not far,” grunted Sergeant Madden. “They had to be taking theCerberus somewhere. If they just wanted to wipe it out, after they rushed it, they coulda just set off its fuel like it’d happened in a bad landing. And that landing was bad! If there’d been a fuel-explosion crater at the end of that burnt line on the ground, nobody’d ever’v
e looked further. But there wasn’t. So there’s a place they’re takin’ theCerberus to. But it’s got a brokedown drive. It can only hobble along. They can’t try to get but so far! What’s the nearest sol-type star?”
The Aldeb’s skipper pushed a button and the Precinct Atlas came out of its slot. The skipper punched keys and the atlas clicked and whirred. Then its screen lighted. It showed a report on a solar system that had been fully surveyed.
“Uh-uh,” grunted the sergeant. “A survey woulda showed up if a planet was Huk-occupied. What’s next nearest?”
* * * *
Again the atlas whirred and clicked. A single line of type appeared. It said, “Sirene, 1432. Unsurveyed.” The galactic co-ordinates followed. That was all.
“This looks likely!” said the sergeant. “Unsurveyed, and off the ship lanes. It ain’t between any place and any other. It could go a thousand years and never be landed on. It’s got planets.”
It was highly logical. According to Krishnamurti’s Law, any sol-type sun was bound to have planets of such-and-such relative sizes in orbits of such-and-such relative distances.
“Willis and me,” said the sergeant, “we’ll go over and see if there’s Huks there and if they’ve got the Cerberus. You better get this stuff on a message-torp ready to send off if you have to. Are you going to come over to this—Sirene 1432?”
The skipper of the Aldeb shrugged.
“Might as well. Why go home and have to come back again? There could be a lot of Huks there.”
“Yeah,” admitted Sergeant Madden. “I’d guess a whole planet full of ’em that laid low when the rest were scrapping with the Force. The others lost and went clean across the galaxy. These characters stayed close. I’m guessing. But they hid their mine, here. They could’ve been stewing in their own juice these past eighty years, getting set to put up a hell of a scrap when somebody found ’em. We’ll be the ones to do it.”
He stood up and shook himself.
“It’s not far,” he repeated. “Our boat’s just fast enough we ought to get there a couple of days after the Cerberus sets down. You’d ought to be five-six hours behind us.” He considered. “Meet you north pole farthest planet out this side of the sun. Right?”
“I’ll look for you there,” said the skipper of the Aldeb.
Sergeant Madden and Patrolman Willis went out of the salvage ship and trudged to the squad ship. They climbed in.
“You got the co-ordinates?” asked the sergeant.
“I copied them off the atlas,” said Willis.
Sergeant Madden settled himself comfortably.
“We’ll go over,” he grumbled, “and see what makes these Huks tick. They raised a lot of hell, eighty years ago. It took all the off-duty men from six precincts to handle the last riot. The Huks had got together and built themselves a fightin’ fleet then, though. It’s not likely there’s more than one planetful of them where we’re going. I thought they’d all been moved out.”
He shook his head vexedly.
“No need for ’em to have to go, except they wouldn’t play along with humans. Acted like delinks, they did. Only proud. Y’don’t get mad fighting ’em. So I heard, anyway. If they only had sense you could get along with them.”
He dogged the door shut. Patrolman Willis pushed a button. The squad ship fell toward the sky.
Very matter-of-factly.
* * * *
On the way over, in overdrive, Sergeant Madden again dozed a great deal of the time. Sergeants do not fraternize extensively with mere patrolmen, even on assignments. Especially not very senior sergeants only two years from retirement. Patrolman Willis met with the sergeant’s approval, to be sure. Timmy was undoubtedly more competent as a cop, but Timmy would have been in a highly emotional state with his girl on theCerberus and that ship in the hands of the Huks.
Between naps, the sergeant somnolently went over what he knew about the alien race. He’d heard that their thumbs were on the outside of their hands. Intelligent nonhumans would have to have hands, and with some equivalent of opposable thumbs, if their intelligence was to be of any use to them. They pretty well had to be bipeds, too, and if they weren’t warm-blooded they couldn’t have the oxygen-supply that highgrade brain cells require.
There were even certain necessary psychological facts. They had to be capable of learning and of passing on what they’d learned, or they’d never have gotten past an instinctual social system. To pass on acquired knowledge, they had to have family units in which teaching was done to the young—at least at the beginning. Schools might have been invented later. Most of all, their minds had to work logically to cope with a logically constructed universe. In fact, they had to be very much like humans, in almost all significant respects, in order to build up a civilization and develop sciences and splendidly to invade space just a few centuries before humans found them.
But, said Sergeant Madden to himself, I bet they’ve still got armies and navies!
Patrolman Willis looked at him inquiringly, but the sergeant scowled at his own thoughts. Yet the idea was very likely. When Huks first encountered humans, they bristled with suspicion. They were definitely on the defensive when they learned that humans had been in space longer—much longer—than they had, and already occupied planets in almost fifteen per cent of the galaxy.
Sergeant Madden found his mind obscurely switching to the matter of delinks—those characters who act like adolescents, not only while they are kids, but after. They were the permanent major annoyance of the cops, because what they did didn’t make sense. Learned books explained why people went delink, of course. Mostly it was that they were madly ambitious to be significant, to matter in some fashion, and didn’t have the ability to matter in the only ways they could understand. They wanted to drive themselves to eminence, and frantically snatched at chances to make themselves nuisances because they couldn’t wait to be important any other way.
Sergeant Madden blinked slowly to himself. When humans first took to space a lot of them were after glamour, which is the seeming of importance. His son Timmy was on the cops because he thought it glamorous. Patrolman Willis was probably the same way. Glamour is the offer of importance. An offer of importance is glamour.
The sergeant grunted to himself. A possible course of action came into his mind. He and Patrolman Willis were on the way to the solar system Sirene 1432, where Krishnamurti’s Law said there ought to be something very close to a terran-type planet in either the third or fourth orbit out from the sun. That planet would be inhabited by Huks, who were very much like humans. They knew of the defeat and forced emigration of their fellow-Huks in other solar systems. They’d hidden from humans—and it must have outraged their pride. So they must be ready to put up a desperate and fanatical fight if they were ever discovered.
* * * *
A squad ship with two cops in it, and a dumpy salvage ship with fifteen more, did not make an impressive force to try to deal with a planetary population which bitterly hated humans. But the cops did not plan conquest. They were neither a fighting rescue expedition nor a punitive one. They were simply cops on assignment to get the semi-freighterCerberus back in shape to travel on her lawful occasions among the stars, and to see that she and her passengers and crew got to the destination for which they’d started. The cop’s purpose was essentially routine. And the Huks couldn’t possibly imagine it.
Sergeant Madden settled some things in his mind and dozed off again.
When the squad ship came out of overdrive and he was awakened by the unpleasantness of breakout, he yawned. He looked on without comment as Patrolman Willis matter-of-factly performed the tricky task of determining the ecliptic while a solar system’s sun was little more than a first-magnitude star. It was wholly improbable that anything like Huk patrol ships would be out so far. It was even more improbable that any kind of detection devices would be in operation. Any approaching ship could travel several times as fast as any signal.
Patrolman Willis searched painstak
ingly. He found a planet which was a mere frozen lump of matter in vastness. It was white from a layer of frozen gases piled upon its more solid core. He made observations.
“I can find it again, sir, to meet the Aldeb. Orders, sir?”
“Orders?” demanded Sergeant Madden. “What? Oh. Head in toward the sun. The Huks’ll be on Planet Three or Four, most likely. And that’s where they’ll have the Cerberus.”
The squad ship continued sunward while Patrolman Willis continued his observations. A star-picture along the ecliptic. An hour’s run on interplanetary drive—no overdrive field in use. Another picture. The two prints had only to be compared with a blinker for planets to stick out like sore thumbs, as contrasted with stars that showed no parallax. Sirene I—the innermost planet—was plainly close to a transit. II was away on the far side of its orbit. III was also on the far side. IV was in quadrature. There was the usual gap where V should have been. VI—it didn’t matter. They’d passed VIII a little while since, a ball of stone with a frigid gas-ice covering.
Patrolman Willis worked painstakingly with amplifiers on what oddments could be picked up in space.
“It’s Four, sir,” he reported unnecessarily, because the sergeant had watched as he worked. “They’ve got detectors out. I could just barely pick up the pulses. But by the time they’ve been reflected back they’ll be away below thermal noise-volume. I don’t think even multiples could pick ’em out. I’m saying, sir, that I don’t think they can detect us at this distance.”
Sergeant Madden grunted.
“D’you think we came this far not to be noticed?” he asked. But he was not peevish. Rather, he seemed more thoroughly awake than he’d been since the squad ship left the Precinct substation back on Varenga IV. He rubbed his hands a little and stood up. “Hold it a minute, Willis.”
The Murray Leinster Megapack Page 169
