“No. We are trying to find the entrance to the mines and it is somewhat difficult to do in the darkness.”
Blufore tried to peer through the black port, but could see nothing. Yet Stewie was flying at full speed and without a sign of caution.
“You’ll be all right soon,” said Gedso sympathetically.
. Blufore moaned, “I’ll never be-all right again. Never.”
Hours later, in his quarters, Gedso hunched over a Black Nebula pilot, entrenched by stacks of transmographs and log tables, eating abstractedly upon an apple. Stewie sat in the comer on his black convict blankets, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, worn out, but not admitting anything of the kind. He would partially wake each time Gedso muttered into his study and then, hearing phrases meaningless to him, would relapse into his semi-slumber. Finally Stewie fell out full length and began to snore gently. When he awoke again he was completely refreshed—and Gedso, even more deeply entrenched in scratch paper and reference books and apple cores, was still working.
“You got an idea?” said Stewie.
“Perhaps,” said Gedso. “But if we can get permission to go where we have to go, the recent excursion will be mild by comparison. Are you sure you wish to accompany me?”
“Don’t gimme that,” said Stewie, and he tagged the towering Gedso out across the parade ground.
Drummond was at his desk, drinking thick, green britt and waiting for a target upon which he could vent his frustrations.
“No!” said Drummond. “I have already heard in full how you went about your last trip. This is all complete nonsense! You have abused one of my very best combat engineers and you have overreached the authority you were given!”
“I accumulated certain data,” said Gedso hesitantly. “Perhaps I may be able to do something if I am allowed to have a company of troops.”
“You know as well as I that technicians have no power to command troops.”
“But I want a company of engineers,” said Gedso. “Just one company of armament engineers. This area has never been examined properly. We have gone outside and now we must go deeper into the tunnels.”
“Nonsense. You would be engulfed by the ‘things’ before you had reached a point thirty kilometers hence. This is folly and stupidity! We must have a weapon and you have only two days left! The complaint has been transmitted and I intend to follow it with all vigor. Divise that weapon and I will do what I can to mitigate the severity of the reprimand you will certainly receive.”
“Then you refuse to give me any further help?”
“I refuse to let you command this post, sir!”
Gedso looked uncomfortable and unhappy. He finally turned to the door and laid his hand on the knob. He was trying to think of something further to say, but failed. The door stuck and came off its shattered lunges before he could lessen the slight jerk he had given it. Amid the ruins of glass he looked apologetically at the apoplectic general.
Stewie got up from the orderly bench. “Did he refuse?”
“Yes,” said Gedso.
“You got any further ideas?” said Stewie.
“I can appeal to my superiors—but they dislike technicians who have to resort to them.”
‘Well,” said Stewie, wrinkling up his stub of a nose, “all I can say is that one way or the other I’ll get it. I never did like those acid baths they use. How bad do you want to go on past the mines?”
“Unless we do, there won’t be any mines within the year.”
“And there won’t be any Stewie in two days. Didn’t you show him any facts?”
“He wouldn’t look at my data. These military men can think only in terms of weapons and he has been angry from the first. He says I’m stalling.”
“Uh-uh,” said Stewie with a thoughtfully half-closed eye upon a cargo ship which was landing. The ship was disgorging new tanks of the latest pattern. Soldiers were rolling them into line and, as fast as they were started up, were driving them toward the shops. Stewie grinned.
Gedso followed Stewie’s gaze and then understood. Together they walked toward the ramp down which the tanks were being disgorged from the ship.
“Are they what you want?” said Stewie.
“They will do very well,” said Gedso.
Stewie took a position at the bottom of the ramp and the next tank which came down stopped rolling just beside him. He climbed quickly to the turret and in an officious voice, began to give directions for its alignment in the column. Caring very little, the convicts pushed.
Gedso climbed through the portway and, glancing over the rocket turbine, threw the fuel feeds and switches on. Stewie dropped down and into the driver’s seat and touched the throttles, letting the tank creep forward. At the machine and fuel shops, Stewie paused beside the crystal chutes and the automatic loaders crammed the storage compartment full. At the armament shed a bundle of electric cartridges rattled into the magazine.
Then a footfall sounded upon the slope of the metal giant and the hatch was jerked open. A pair of officers’ ironplast boots dropped into sight and a familiar face was thrust, with startled expression, into Gedso’s. And before a word had passed, General Drummond, inspecting new equipment as a good officer should, dropped down beside his trusty Blufore. Drummond was not as quick in sensing the situation.
“Very good, very good. Perhaps they appreciate us just a little after all, eh, Cascot? These seem well built and well armed. Far too comfortable, though, for their ere—Saints!”
Blufore had been trying to say something for seconds, but he had an abnormally strong hand over his mouth.
Drummond was thrust into a seat by Gedso’s other hand and the hatch above slammed shut, leaving the place lighted only by the sparks which escaped the rocket turbines.
“What is this?” cried Drummond.
“I don’t know,” said Gedso, “of two officers who could be of more help. I hope you won’t mind. I’m sorry, in fact. But the Scienticorps appropriated and commandeered this tank before it was receipted into your command. Therefore it is technically my command. I am sorry, but we have too much to do to be stopped. Please pardon us.”
“Let us out of here this instant!” brayed Drummond. “I’ll have my guard tear you to bits! Ill get you a court martial that they’ll talk about for years. This is kidnapping!”
“This is necessity,” said Gedso. “I am sorry. Drive, Stewie.”
An astonished patrol on the outer wall gazed upon the spectacle of a charging tank which swiftly burned its way through the spun silica and raced into the rocky distance to be lost in the immensity where no tank or ship or division had ever ventured before.
At the far end of the vaulted chamber, Technician Brown, deaf to the violent stream of objection which stormed about him, consulted a chart of his own drawing.
“Ahead, over that hump,” said Gedso, “there should be another tunnel, probably not more than two kilometers wide. You will need much power for the going will be very rough and the grade very steep.”
“Aye, aye,” said Stewie. “Why don’t you bat those guys one and make ’em shut up?”
This speech from a convict gunner was entirely too much for General Drummond. His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared like those of a battle horse of Gerlon about to charge. Thus, Stewie had the desired quiet long enough to get the tank through a particularly rough area and climb the indicated hump.
There ahead was the passage which Gedso had predicted and Stewie spent a little breath in admiration. “Gee, how’d you know that that was going to turn up right there? You act like you’d been here before.”
“No man has ever been here before,” mourned Blufore, a-wallow in self-pity, “and no man will ever be again.”
Drummond was given much satisfaction as soon as they started down into the mouth of the ascending tunnel for, in a space of instants, a weaving mass threw itself in their way. The “things” choked the channel and then swept back along its sides until both the advance and the retreat of the tank w
ere covered. It was impossible to clearly make out their maneuvers or numbers, for one received only an impression of vague hugeness on the march as though mountains were moving.
Stewie looked alertly to Gedso for orders.
“Transfer gravity,” said Gedso. “Perhaps they won’t be able to rush across above for a moment!”
A new whining note cried through the ship, and the gymbals in which the control room was suspended creaked as they allowed the room to invert. With a crunch the tank struck against the upper side of the tunnel and, scrambling for traction, began to run there. Below, the moving horde flowed ominously along, joined every moment by additional thousands.
“You’ll never make it,” said Drummond. “This crackpot craving to explore will cost all of us our lives.”
“Please,” pleaded Stewie, “can’t we jettison that Jonah?”
“There’s a fork in the tunnel just ahead,” said Gedso, studying his chart. “We go to the right.”
“Right or left,” said Drummond, “you’ll never make it, you clumsy lout!” He got up. “I order you to return instantly. If you do not obey, I’ll… I’ll have you shot!”
“Please,” said Stewie, “can’t I spring that under hatch and let him out?”
“We turn into the main tunnel here,” said Gedso, pointing.
They entered a cavernous place, larger than the mines, larger than any interior so far seen. The weirdly glowing walls curved down to a crystal-strewn floor forty-three kilometers below them. Moving on the debris were the legions of “things,” augmented in number until they congested the tunnel.
“Thank Jala they don’t fly,” said Stewie. “How much farther do we have to go?”
“About seventy kilometers,” said Gedso.
“And then what do we do?”
“Then we’ll probably run into the main body -of the ‘things.’ ”
Stewie frowned for a short time, trying to figure out if Technician Brown meant to attack the main army with one flimsy tank. But thought was irksome to Stewie over a certain duration and he lost himself in the management of the tank.
After a little, the passage ahead became blocked, at least so far as Stewie could tell.
“Keep going,” said Gedso. “There may be a narrow space at the top. That stuff up ahead will be moving and so don’t lose control.”
Approaching closer, the movement was perceptible, resembling a slow-motion avalanche. Reaching the upper rim and perceiving an opening, Stewie tried to make the tank climb straight up. But the traction was bad and with a lurch it fell backward to strike heavily upon the rocky slide. It spun on one track, fell over and, with racing turbines, clawed upward over the treacherous ground. Drummond dabbed at a cut on his forehead and glared in a promising way at Stewie’s back.
At the top they found themselves in close confines and had to pick their way through passes in the rock. They traveled several kilometers before they could again find clear travel and then only by using a steep wall as their roadway.
The “things” had been left behind for some little time, but now they came upon an isolated beast which scuttled down at them like a mountainous spider.
Stewie pressed the electrode triggers and the arc licked thunderously out to lock through the body. The “thing” closed over the tank, engulfing it and tearing it away from the wall. A gigantic maw was opened and they were sucked into it on the rush of air which, hurricanelike, spun them and toppled them down.
Gedso flashed on their flood lamps and the interior of the “thing” showed about them in dirty confusion. The tank settled to its gravity side and the tracks churned in the soggy morass.
With a swift change of fuel feeds, Gedso brought the reactionary tubes into play and the tank slammed itself against the inside wall which indented and then snapped back into place, hurling them across to the far side.
“Hold on and try it again,” said Gedso.
This time the reactionary blast let them gather momentum. There was a roaring sound as the inner lining of the “thing” ripped. The sides of the wound clamped down and held the tank fast. Stewie shortened the arc to minimum range and played it full blast upon the outside scale wall. Smoke obscured their vision through the ports.
“Try her traction now,” said Gedso.
The turbine sparked and spewed out ozone. Slowly and then with a charging rush, the tank blasted through. Stewie steered for the high wall without a backward glance at the death agonies of the “thing.”
Drummond was shaking and glassy-eyed, but he held to his nerve. “If you’ve learned enough,” he said with acid-dripping words, “perhaps you might make it back.”
“Too many waiting for us back there now,” said Gedso. “There are smaller tunnels they can block completely.”
“Then what do you mean to do?” flared Drummond.
“Up this incline and through that slit,” said Gedso to Stewie.
The tank scrambled up the wall and darted through.
It was as though they had come upon a conclave of the “things.” Or an ambush. The place was packed with them and the walls were less than a thousand meters apart and not eighty meters high.
“Up!” said Gedso. “Reverse your gravity!” And then, “Hold on at the top here.”
Below the “things” had awakened to the presence of the interloper and now began to tumble over one another and climb on backs to strike at the object above them. Other “things” poured into the cavern and, by sheer volume, the height steadily decreased.
Gedso was staring anxiously around the interior of the place into which they had come. Here the walls were not flat, but arranged in a regular pattern of hummocks. And at the end was one particular knoll, much bigger than the rest. The range to it was about two hundred and twenty meters.
With powerful hands Gedso poised the arc cannon and let drive at the hummock. The green-yellow streak lit up the crawling scene below.
“Advance on that target,” said Gedso.
Stewie eased the tank forward, trying not to look at the thickening multitude which was coming up to them. Smoke was flying from the hummock and the top of it was becoming charred. As they approached they could see that it was a nub of something which, in gigantic volume, reached out beyond. The arc cannon ate steadily into it, biting off dozens of cubic meters a second, for the stuff appeared to be very soft and highly inflammable.
A feeler was touching the tank now and then, with decreasing intervals and increasing force.
The arc cannon had started the hummock burning and now it began to char under its own combustion, disappearing in smoke in cubic kilometers. Then the smoke volume was so great that not even the arc was visible in it.
A heavy blow against the tank knocked it loose. It was knocked about with swift ferocity in the sea of angry “things” until a maw spread apart and dashed them in.
They tumbled down a passage much larger than that of the “thing” which had taken them before and a bony structure, t visible to their floodlights, reacted upon three of the occupants of the tanklike steel bars upon a prisoner.
Finally, bruised and shaken, they came to rest, half sunk in mire.
With a final sob of despair, Blufore hid his head in his hands and cried. Drummond looked steadily at Gedso.
With a shrug, Stewie said, “Well, we sure gave them a hell of a time while we lasted. There’s enough air in the containers for maybe a day and after that—well, maybe he can digest armor plate.”
Gedso sat down in the engineer’s seat and stretched out his legs. He took an apple out of his pocket, polished it upon his sleeve and took a soul-satisfying bite. “I wouldn’t worry if too much,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Well probably be out of here before that day is up.”
“A lot of good that will do,” said Drummond. “We’ll never get back.”
Gedso finished his apple and then composed himself. In a little while he was asleep.
Some time later, at Gedso’s order, the tank moved slowly up the way it had come a
nd, much to everyone’s—save Gedso’s—surprise, there was no resistance to their return through the maw which gaped stiffly and made no effort to close even when they churned out over the lower jaw.
Although some smoke remained in the small cavern, only charred ruin marked where the hummock had been. And there were no “things” to bar their way, only sodden lumps strewn about in stiff attitudes.
Stewie guided them along the return route, but nowhere did they find anything alive. The contrast of this with their recent difficulties made even Drummond forget his quarrel, and Blufore gazed hopefully about.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Drummond, pointing out yet another vast pile of motionless “things” which lay open-mouthed in a tunnel, not even moving when run over by the tank.
“That’s the way things are,” said Gedso indifferently.
“I … I’d like to know how they are,” said Drummond. “You’ll probably get a copy of my report,” said Gedso. “To the left here, Stewie.”
“I probably won’t get that for a long time,” said Drummond, pouting. “I ought to know so as to regulate the activities in my command.” He looked pleadingly at Gedso. “What did going ‘outside’ have to do with this?”
“Had to find out about the Black Nebula,” said Gedso matter-of-factly. “Right, Stewie. Right and down.”
‘Well, damn it, what about the Black Nebula?”
Gedso turned toward him patiently in surrender. “The Black Nebula isn’t a barrier in the sky. I’m not sure what it is. A fold, perhaps. I don’t know. I had to get pictures of this area from out there.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a photomontage. “Reduced the pictures after they were taken with an inverted telephoto. Got this.”
“Why, that looks like a leaf,” said Drummond. “And what is that on the leaf?”
“A leaf,” said Gedso, “and on the leaf, to you, a caterpillar worm.
“You mean this is a picture of the ‘outside’?”
“Yes. The Crystal Mines are in the liver of that worm and the crystals are so valuable because they are, of course, highly condensed cellular energy.”
Adventures in the Far Future Page 30
