by Various
"You mean--"
"The field envelopes their ship and trails out behind it like an invisible chain. They couldn't possibly have shoved us hard enough to get us clear of it. So when they pulled out, the Space Queen nosed right around and followed them." Mike grinned. "We're on their tail right now, just as surely as if they had us on a tow-rope."
"Then we can still help father!"
Mike sobered. "We don't know what we can do. We're still not out of the woods. There's a little problem of landing a dead ship on that planet after we come within range of its gravity. Then, too, heaven only knows where we'll set down. If it's a big planet--"
Instead of wincing before this new peril, Doree stiffened against it. "I'm sure you'll do all that any man could do."
"I'll do my best."
"And so long as the whole disaster was our fault--"
"Forget it." Mike conscious of a warmth rising within him, took his eyes quickly from her face and went to check ship....
* * * * *
The slow passage of time was the most difficult factor to contend with. Mike wracked his brain for a means of speeding up the Space Queen. He was confident that the craft was moving straight and true in the wake of the other ship and that unless drastic adjustments were made in the course, she would continue to do so. But so slowly--so very slowly. Acceleration caused by the magnetic field had long-since reached its apex and now the Space Queen moved at a steady unchanging pace.
He achieved a little more speed by taking charges from three of the primers, placing them in the pile head, and igniting with the fourth primer. He picked up possibly two Gs before the power burned out.
He and Nicko donned space suits, magnetized themselves aft, and opened the suit's drive plugs to the maximum. The resulting force smashed them against the hull, almost breaking their ribs. Some additional acceleration was achieved but pathetically little.
Who would have thought, Mike pondered bitterly, that I'd land out here pushing my own ship through space? What a laugh the wits at Outer Port would get when and if this little adventure was sounded around. If--that was the big word that stuck in Mike's mind.
An important facet of the problem was keeping Doree's morale high. Mike enjoyed this. He learned all about her and there came a sudden dizzy moment when he found himself kissing her. After that he was more careful.
Then, at the last came the great thrill--abruptly, as all such things come. Mike was puttering with the radio when Nicko turned from the port to say, "Indescribably beautiful land ho! Luscious round planet dead ahead at five o'clock!"
Mike leaped to the port. Smaller than Terra and with different continental markings, but in other respects, quite similar. Nicko jumped up and down clapping his four hands. Mike grabbed him and lifted him in a bear-hug, scratching himself unmercifully on the little Martian's sharp scales. Then he bolted aft to tell Doree.
There was no restraint in his kiss this time and for a few moments the ship and the landfall vanished from their minds. They did not know where they were; nor did they care.
Then Mike jerked himself back to the business at hand and rushed to the pilot cabin; the dangerous business ahead of them.
* * * * *
They were already in range, being gripped and dragged down by the planet's pull. Mike ordered Nicko and Doree into straps and buckled himself into the pilot's chair.
He surveyed the fast-greatening planet. There would be no choice of landing fields. Mike could only hope to bring the Space Queen down on dry land rather than in the center of an ocean.
She was responding to her fins now and Mike put her into a long glide. Below, the land and the water separated themselves and Mike studied the gray expanse below. Ocean.
Mike leveled out and struggled for altitude. There was minor response as the atmosphere outside clawed at the hull, dragging it down, heating it a dull red.
All during the trip he had fought inertia. Now his problem was reversed, rapid acceleration being the demon of the moment. A helpless shell rocketing toward a solid obstacle.
Mike felt a surge of relief as the streaming gray below turned to racing green. At least they would not finish up trapped in a submarine. But the land could be as lethal as the sea and now the moment was at hand.
Mike angled the fins to their maximum. He yelled. "Contact!" Then he prayed.
There was a great crash--and oblivion.
* * * * *
Pain brought back Mike's consciousness. Without opening his eyes, he analyzed the pain. It was in his shoulder. He tried the muscles gingerly and decided it wasn't broken. If that was the case the others could have come through also. The results of crashes of this kind were usually extreme one way or another. Either the passengers came through unhurt or they were mangled into stew meat. Mike opened his eyes.
All was quiet. Both Nicko and Doree lay motionless under their straps; still unconscious but with no visible injuries. But there was something else there in the center of the cabin floor; something Mike's dazed mind had difficulty in accepting.
A snake.
It was coiled lazily, its green and gold body the thickness of a man's arm. It had a flat, triangular head with deadliness written all over it and its eyes were upon the only moving thing in the room--Doree's rising and falling breast.
The chill that went through Mike almost paralyzed him. In hypnotized fascination he watched the sinuous uncoiling of the serpent; the gliding movement in Doree's direction.
Then the girl's eyes opened.
"Don't move!" Mike snapped. "Everything is all right. We got down. But you must stop breathing--hold your breath. Don't even move your eyes! Stare straight at the ceiling."
Doree obeyed, and thus did not see the snake. But her fright was apparent. Mike moved a slow hand toward the buckle on his chest. The serpent's head flicked around at the movement. Mike's cold hand gripped the buckle. He knew the snake's length was such that it could reach him in a single long strike. He could only hope the serpent would hesitate for a few seconds. The snake's head came around, then drew back.
At that moment a voice broke the silence. "You--beautiful serpent. Gorgeous green and gold clothes line. Over this way. Here I am." Nicko's voice and with it the little Martian unbuckled his strap and put his feet on the floor.
A hiss. The snake struck. Doree turned her eyes downward and screamed. The snake's great head slammed against Nicko's leg. The Martian laughed.
The snake ricocheted backward, dazed from the contact, two of its fangs broken off on Nicko's steel-hard scales. Nicko got up and walked over and put his heel on the serpent's head and crushed it. As the long body lashed and writhed, Nicko looked down at it with a kind of compassion. "Good-bye, little sister." Nicko looked over at Mike in assumed surprise. "Was my pretty cousin bothering you? She only wanted to say hello."
"All right," Mike barked. "You've had your little joke. Let's find out where we are."
"In a jungle I guess--from the nature of the welcoming committee."
Mike helped Doree from her couch. She had sustained no injuries other than a slightly sprained wrist. Mike got a rifle from the gun cabinet, gave another to Nicko and armed Doree with a small pistol which she tried to refuse.
Investigation showed the hull to be intact but two of the hatches had been torn off their hinges and were nowhere in sight.
"A beautiful glide," Nicko commented, looking back at the broad furrow that gave evidence of how the Space Queen had come in. It was a good thing for them.
* * * * *
"A lucky one," Mike replied. He scanned the thick tropical vegetation on every side.
"We could be down in the green jungles of Terra," Nicko said.
"We could at that. There is a river around here somewhere."
"How do you know?"
"I got a flash of a river as we glided in. Thought we were going to hit it. Then we went over. It ought to be in that direction. Let's go."
Doree, still stunned by the episode of the snake, was mute and pale as s
he followed close behind Mike. Nicko brought up the rear. The going was hard until Mike broke through into a comparatively open area. He pointed. "There it is."
A silent, ominous river, dark under the hot rays of a high sun. Around them, nothing moved; only the black waters of the river rushing onward toward some distant rendezvous with the sea. Doree shuddered.
* * * * *
Mike drew her into the circle of his arm. "Don't be afraid. This is a break--just what we wanted. All rivers go somewhere and this one saves us from fighting our way through the jungle an inch at a time."
"But we have no boat."
"We can make a boat." Nicko said. "The rubber mattresses and cushions from the ship. I'll bet no one on this planet has ever seen such a boat as we'll have."
Mike and Nicko struggled back and forth from the river bank to the ship, bringing what was needed. Doree, fearing to remain alone, trailed with them until she was exhausted, whereupon Mike began building the raft, leaving the rest of the trips to the indestructible Nicko. Mike bound the mattresses and cushions to a base of woven reeds. The reeds grew in abundance in a nearby swamp. Doree helped with the braiding and the work went swiftly.
Nicko made a half dozen more trips and returned from the last one with several scales knocked off his back. "Somebody threw a brick at me," he said.
Mike scanned the now-menacing jungle wall. "A brick?"
"That was what it felt like. It hurt like hell."
"You didn't see anybody?"
"I did not. I didn't wait long enough."
"We've got to get out of here."
"An observation of amazing erudition."
Mike lashed a long flat piece of driftwood to the raft as a steering oar, found two other such pieces to serve as unattached oars, and helped Nicko finish with loading the supplies. "All right," he said. "Let's go."
They cast loose and while Doree worked with the stern oar, Mike and Nicko paddled feverishly toward the middle of the river. With this objective achieved, Nicko took over the stern. Mike forced Doree to lie down. He put a pillow under her head, kissed her and sat beside her until her eyes closed. Then he went back and sat down beside Nicko.
The latter had not forgotten his terrifying grin. "We certainly get around, don't we?" he said cheerfully.
"I'm glad it makes you so happy."
"As a matter of fact I'm scared stiff. It is just that my sainted mother told me always to keep a brave front."
* * * * *
Mike looked at his assistant with sudden fondness. "Who was your mother, Nicko?"
Nicko shook his dragon's head sadly. "I can't seem to remember but I know I had one. And of course she was saintly."
"And your father?"
A distant sound intruded, touching Mike's ears lightly. His eyes were still upon Nicko as the latter said, "You've got me--but I have a feeling he was a gallant knight in armor who swept my beautiful mother off her fairy-like feet."
"No doubt," Mike smiled. The sound was louder now, but it still did not catch his attention. He was remembering that encounter in the polar forests of Mars; the day he found little Nicko crouching under a bush; how he'd come within an ace of putting a bullet into the hideous creature's brain. But some vagrant touch of compassion had stayed him. The little monster seemed so lost, so pathetic, so helpless. He'd taken Nicko back to camp, the Martian infant's parentage and ancestry a mystery Mike felt would never be solved.
What sort of hideous mating had occurred, he wondered, to produce this mongrel creature with the brain of a human and the body of a beast? Mike held forth his hand. "You were a vicious little devil," he said. "I'll wear that scar forever."
Nicko sighed gustily. "If you beat me unmercifully each fine morning for the rest of my miserable life, the punishment would be light for such a heinous deed."
Mike laughed and started to get to his feet. Halfway up, he paused, crouching there. Then his voice thundered. "Grab an oar! Pull for shore! Pull for God's sake!"
In an instant both of them were tearing the water in an effort to reach the nearest bank. As they worked, the current upon which they moved swept forward at an ever-increasing speed and the roar about them was like the crashing of skyscrapers under bombardment.
They came ashore a scant six feet above certain death. Fortunately the raft was light and they were able to gain a foothold and lift it from the snarling waters.
Then, gasping for breath, they moved a few feet down-stream and stood looking at the frothing cataract that dropped the great river a sheer two-hundred feet to boulders below.
"I ought to be whipped for not attending to business," Mike said bitterly.
Doree was clinging to his arm looking down at the awe-inspiring sight. "You saved us, darling. Why should you criticize yourself?"
"It was too close--far too close."
Nicko said, "It seems to me the important thing now is where we go from here."
"We carry the raft down those rocks and beyond the rough water."
"But why all that effort? Couldn't we be as happy up here as down there?"
"All rivers lead to civilization," Mike said. "Or at least, they lead to the places civilization naturally springs up."
"A logical observation."
"Also, I've got a hunch about this river. I may be wrong but I think it might take us right where we want to go. I'll bet there are interesting things ahead."
* * * * *
Mike turned and directed his words to Doree. "That papyrus your father translated said the forefathers of the Egyptians sought a planet similar to their own. Perhaps the similarity had to be more than general. Such a thing is indicated by their traveling around for several lifetimes. Anyhow, except for the tropical climate, this river bears a great resemblance to one of the tributaries that feeds the Nile back on Terra."
"You're quite right," Doree marveled.
"And this could well be Victoria Falls. I wonder if another Egypt doesn't lie below."
There was awe in Doree's voice. "Before Egypt--"
"What did you say?"
"An Egypt--a great civilization that flourished on this planet before Egypt--before the Terran Egypt was even dreamed of."
Mike smiled fleetingly. "That's what you and your father have believed, isn't it? So why be surprised?"
"It's just that--well, being so close to it--realizing it might really exist--"
Mike laughed. "I understand. But we're still a long way from it." He turned to the Martian. "Come on, Nicko, let's get busy with this stuff."
The portage was laborious and dangerous. It took the balance of that day. Even when the sun set they had still not reached the termination of white water.
They found an open area beside the racing river that would have been covered during high water and Mike decided it would be a good place to camp. While Mike broke out the supplies, and Doree prepared the meal, Nicko stood on the alert with a rifle over his arm scanning the line of undergrowth at the edge of the forest.
After all three had eaten, Mike directed Nicko to bed down in order to be ready for the second watch. He urged Doree to sleep also, but she insisted on sitting with him during his watch. And though her head drooped several times, she remained with him and refused to sleep.
When Nicko took over the watch, Mike stretched out under his blanket near Doree. He dozed off and was then awakened by a pressure against his back. Doree, snuggling close. "It's cold," she murmured, and drifted to sleep with a contented sigh. It was a calm, restful slumber.
* * * * *
The sharp bark of Nicko's rifle awakened Mike after what seemed to him only a few moments of sleep. He sprang up to find dawn breaking and Nicko sending another shot into the undergrowth.
Mike grabbed his own rifle and ran to the Martian's side. "What's wrong?"
Nicko lowered his weapon. "I saw four platoons of infantry charging out of the brush--I think."
"In other words you think maybe you saw something. You don't know what it was. It could have been nothing at al
l."
"All right. Have it your way," Nicko said serenely.
"Come on. Let's get going. We'll eat something on the raft."
* * * * *
But they never reached the raft. Mike's words had hardly been spoken when the forest erupted with a mass of savagery. Several hundred tall, screaming black men clad sketchily in brilliantly colored feathers and paint.
Both rifles barked. Nicko's shot was high, but Mike brought the foremost of the black warriors skidding forward on his face.
Maybe that will stop them, Mike thought desperately. Maybe they've never seen firearms before. He held up his second shot for the briefest moment hoping the savages would be awed into retreat.
But this was not the case. They charged forward in renewed fury and Mike again went to work. He dropped three more of the charging maniacs while Nicko, probably the poorest shot who ever lifted a rifle, accounted for one unfortunate warrior with a twenty-shot spray of atomic pellets.
The black men, who had had only a scant fifty yards to cover, were now upon the three. Two of them seized Doree, an act which turned Mike into a terrible fighting machine.
Not able to fire the gun effectively at such close range, he reversed it and created bloody havoc, using the butt as a club. Two skulls cracked sharply under its impact and as he fought, Mike saw Nicko go down. He couldn't reach him.
Several warriors raised the iron-toothed clubs they carried and crashed them down upon Nicko's unprotected body.
The result would have been comic under less grim circumstances. The clubs of the warriors caused Nicko's almost indestructible hide to ring like a great bell. The handle of one warrior's lethal bludgeon snapped and the attacker stared at it in amazement. The rest beat down again upon the prone Nicko, their clubs bouncing off and resounding in a sort of anvil chorus.
The attention of the warriors bent upon annihilating Mike was diverted by the intriguing spectacle of this strange four-armed creature refusing to be clubbed to death. So Mike was able to get in some telling blows that felled three more of the terrible warriors.
