“And you can’t give me any more information than that?” Mahla Tosk demanded.
“Nothing more!” Barlor shook his head. “But tomorrow you will have first-hand experience of these creatures, and you’ll be able to experiment to your heart’s content.”
“There’s one point I would like to raise,” Simpson said. “The guard who was attacked by Sergeant Banham is still showing grave signs of mental uneasiness. Whatever attacked and entered Sergeant Banham’s mind and body must have been able to change its form at will. There’s no telling what its natural, original form is. We may not be able to recognise it as dangerous until it is too late.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Barlor said grimly. “We all know what kind of a man Sergeant Banham was. He never took a risk if it could be avoided, yet he was overwhelmed. I don’t know how we are going to proceed tomorrow, but I do know that we shall take no chances at all.”
“Do we have to enter the woods at all?” Professor Tosk demanded.
“Yes.” There was a heavy note in Barlor’s tones. “We must check out the planet completely. We cannot leave anything to chance. There is the possibility, in the future, of one of our freighters having mechanical trouble passing through this system and having to make orbit around this planet. Any attempt at landing would prove fatal.”
“And if you are successful in discovering exactly what these life forms are, what then?” Doctor Simpson asked. “Do we destroy them?”
“We will forward all data to Earth Base and let the decision come from our superiors,” Barlor said. “Happily, that decision is out of my hands.” He thought for a moment, his face tense, set in harsh lines. “Do you have any idea what chemicals these aliens require from our bodies, Doctor?” he finally asked.
“There is a certain way of finding out,” Simpson replied. “Send out a patrol to pick up the remains of the guard Banham killed before getting back into your shuttle. I can then make an examination and discover what is missing.”
“I’ll take a shuttle myself and collect the body, although there won’t be much of it left,” Barlor said. “Sergeant Banham used a high setting on his weapon.”
“I’ll be able to make an analysis, even if there’s only a fragment of the body left,” Simpson said. “Get those remains now, Captain, and by the time you want to set out tomorrow to continue your examination of the planet I ought to have some information available for you.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll get on to it at once.” Barlor suppressed a sigh. “If you’ll both leave the shuttle and send Lieutenant Franklin to me we’ll do what’s necessary.” Professor Tosk departed silently, her face still showing ill-humour, and Doctor Simpson shook his head as he met Barlor’s hard gaze.
“Good luck, Captain,” Simpson said softly.
“Thanks, Doc, and I’m sure we’re going to need it, all of us,” Barlor retorted.
CHAPTER X
Barlor took off in his shuttle with Lieutenant Franklin and two guards accompanying him. The force-field was opened to permit their exit, and sensors in Barlor’s craft indicated that the force-field was closed behind them.
“We have an unpleasant task, Lieutenant,” Barlor said. “The guard Sergeant Banham killed as they emerged from the woods was hit by a high emission from a standard sidearm. There won’t be much of the body left, but Doc Simpson needs the remains for a post mortem.”
“It’s getting dark out there, Captain,” Franklin observed, and there was a note of uneasiness in his tones.
“We’ll light up the entire area!” Barlor spoke grimly, and there was a confidence in his voice that he was far from feeling. He sent the craft over the woods, then swung around, switching on the powerful flood-lights fixed in the nose and undercarriage of the craft. The shadows on the ground were swept away, replaced by a garish white brilliance.
“Something’s moving down there!” Franklin rapped.
Barlor had already seen the movements, and he stared hard, his brows indrawn as he tried to observe details of the figures making the movements. He saw only general outlines, and realized that the Megges were present in great numbers. But the light from the ship would remove the instinctive belligerency of the massive kangaroos, Barlor knew, and he sent the craft in lower, slowing until they hovered over the spot by the tree-line where the unfortunate guard had been killed.
“There’s the body!” one of the other accompanying guards reported. “Out the starboard viewport, Captain. It’s about fifteen metres out, lying in a hollow.”
Barlor stared through his port and spotted the figure, which was unrecognisable as being of human form. It had not been torn to pieces, Barlor observed as he sent in the craft, moving it slowly to the right until they were hovering over the small hollow. It was obvious that it had been crushed by some imponderable force. Barlor could see through the tattered rags of the remnants of the guard’s uniform that the body, where it had not been seared by the shot from Sergeant Banham’s weapon, had been crunched and torn.
“What kind of a creature could have done that to a man?” one of the guards whispered.
The voice cut through the slight paralysis of shock that gripped Barlor and he turned his head.
“Doc Simpson will make a report,” he said sharply. “All right, we’ll drop down beside the hollow and erect our force-field. Then two of you take out that canvas bag and put those remains into it. Make it quick. We need to get back to the landing area before we find anything that we can’t handle.”
“I’ll go out,” Franklin volunteered. “You go with me, Jackson!”
Barlor set the craft on the ground and operated the controls. Then he cracked the seal of the hatch and Franklin and the guard departed. Barlor watched them intently, although there was nothing he could do while they were out of the craft. The force-field would prevent anything getting at them at ground level, and it was not until Franklin and the guard were scooping up the remains of the dead guard that Barlor remembered the warning he had received from the kangaroos about the Eorils coming under the ground.
“Quick,” he rapped at the guard. “Get in the hatchway and watch the ground around the Lieutenant and Jackson. Some of these aliens can burrow, and they may attack under our force-field.”
The guard drew his weapon and moved to the hatch. Barlor watched the figures outside with a sense of urgency growing in his mind, and impatience began to fill him. The brilliant white lights flooding the area created black shadows, and although the brightness was more intense than daylight, its artificiality gave a nightmarish aspect to the scene.
Suddenly the guard in the hatchway uttered a curse. Barlor went to his side, peering out at the ground.
“I saw a movement in the ground, Captain,” the man reported. “It was like a mole pushing up earth. But nothing has shown itself. I can’t see anything now.”
“These aliens are attracted by our life force,” Barlor explained in hushed tones. He was holding his sidearm now. “If you see anything that looks like trouble then don’t hesitate to shoot.” He raised his voice and called stridently. “Lieutenant, make it fast, and watch out for those burrowing aliens. We have no underfoot protection here.”
His voice echoed, but even as the echoes died the guard in the hatch was firing his weapon, the crackling sound of it sharp and incisive in the night. Barlor started, his gaze sweeping around, and he saw something shrivelling up where the point of the shot struck the ground.
“I saw something, Captain,” the guard reported in tight but controlled tones. “It wasn’t very large, but it was queerly-shaped.”
“You watch the surrounding area and I’ll keep an eye on our men,” Barlor retorted. He narrowed his eyes as he probed the ground about the two crouching men.
Franklin was holding his breath and trying not to look at the human remains that he and Jackson were shovelling into the canvas bag. They had to use metal scoops to get the body up off the ground, and Franklin got the impression that the remains were like jelly. There didn’t se
em to be an unbroken bone in the body, and the horror of tattered flesh and blood made Franklin’s stomach heave.
“All right,” he said finally. “That will do. Let’s get back to the ship. Keep watching the ground for trouble.”
Jackson nodded, and they lifted the canvas bag by its handles, but as they turned to move back to the ship Jackson put his left foot into a hole that was invisible. It was barely large enough to permit his foot to enter, and he could feel the earth around his boot as he plunged in as far as his knee. He went sprawling sideways, uttering a curse as he did so, and Franklin was pulled off balance, for the shapeless body in the bag was heavy, deadweight.
“Are you all right, Jackson?” Franklin demanded anxiously as he recovered his balance.
“Yes, sir!” Jackson started to tug his foot from the hole. “I stepped into a hole, that’s all.”
His foot began to withdraw as he drew up his leg. He was crouching on the ground, both hands pressed against the hard earth as he used his strength to free his foot. He was worried for a moment, for something seemed to be preventing his withdrawal, and then he arose, his leg coming up as his foot returned to the surface. Then he felt a nerve-shattering spasm of agony in his foot. It seemed to stab upwards through the heavy sole of his boot. He fell to the ground again, his fingers clenching convulsively in the earth as he fought against the pain, and a hoarse scream of agony burst from his compressed lips.
“What the hell is it?” Franklin demanded as the echoes of the scream died away.
“Something’s got my foot!” Jackson screamed again as the pain returned, spearing upwards through his leg in ever increasing waves.
Franklin moved to Jackson’s side, bending to seize hold of the imprisoned foot. The leg was clear to the ankle.
“Hold still,” Franklin commanded. “Let me pull you free.”
Jackson was rolling around in his agony, and Franklin tightened his lips as he seized the man’s knee and jerked sharply with all his strength. The brilliant light surrounding them was blinding if one happened to look into its source, and Franklin was facing the craft as he staggered backwards, for Jackson’s foot came free of the hole with surprising ease.
Franklin fell to the ground under the force he exerted, and he stared at Jackson’s foot. Horror spilled over in his mind when he saw that the man’s foot was missing. The heavy boot was also gone, and blood was pumping out of the severed limb. Without pausing to think, Franklin grasped the still screaming Jackson and ran the few yards to the craft. He felt his right foot begin to sink into a hole that had not been there a few minutes before, and he lurched in the opposite direction and dragged himself clear. Reaching the hatch, he almost threw Jackson into Barlor’s ready arms, and grasped the side of the hatch as seemingly solid ground underfoot began to open up.
“We’re under attack from the ground, Captain!” Franklin gasped. “They’re opening up holes for our feet to fall into.”
“Get into the craft!” Barlor ordered, dumping the now silent Jackson on the floor of the cabin. He turned and grabbed at Franklin’s arms as the Lieutenant turned to go for the canvas bag. “Forget that. I can’t afford to lose you. We can collect that bag later.”
Franklin felt the earth dissolving under his feet, and he sprang upwards with a strength born of desperation as he began to sink into the ground. He grasped the edge of the hatch and levered himself into the cabin, and as he rolled onto his back to look at his feet a gasp of horror escaped him, for a strange-looking creature was clinging to his right boot.
“Captain, my foot!” Franklin cried out in revulsion.
Barlor saw the alien creature and swung his right foot, his boot catching the side of Franklin’s right foot. The impact dislodged the creature and it went sailing out into the night. Barlor dragged Franklin well into the cabin and turned to slam the hatch and seal it. He turned, sweat blinding him, and peered at Franklin, who was staring up at him with a chalky white face which portrayed pure horror.
“Did you see that thing?” Franklin demanded in tones that were high-pitched in revulsion. “It looked like a human hand and wrist, with eyes in its knuckles. It had at least six fingers, and I could feel their grip right through my heavy boot.”
“I saw it,” Barlor retorted. “Are you all right, Lieutenant?”
“I am, but Jackson isn’t!” Franklin steeled himself and got unsteadily to his feet. “His foot went into a hole, and when I pulled it out it seemed to me that his boot and foot were missing!”
They turned to look at the now unconscious guard, and Barlor clenched his teeth when his hard gaze took in the fact that Jackson’s left boot and foot were missing. Blood was pumping out of the end of the leg, and the other guard was already trying to give first-aid.
“Do what you can for him,” Barlor snapped. “I’ll get the ship back to the other shuttles. We need Doc Simpson.”
Slipping into the control seat, Barlor powered the drive and the craft lifted from the ground. He made contact with the other shuttles as he sped across the tops of the trees, and the lights of the other craft guided him to his destination. The force-field was open for him and he quickly set the shuttle down. As Franklin opened the hatch Doc Simpson hurriedly clambered into the craft.
Barlor stood watching as the doctor did what he could for Jackson, but it was a losing battle, Barlor knew, and after some very tense moments Simpson looked up at Barlor, shaking his head as he did so.
“I’m afraid he’s dead,” he reported. “Shock and loss of blood. What happened, Captain?”
Barlor explained in dull tones, his voice heavy with shock. He felt that he had not taken sufficient precautions, and yet he knew they had to be exposed to risks in order to gain the information required.
“What about the body you went after?” Simpson demanded.
“It’s in the canvas bag, but under the circumstances we had to leave it,” Franklin said. “When the sun comes up tomorrow I’ll go and fetch it.”
“That may not be necessary,” Simpson said. “I’ll examine Jackson and see what I can discover. If these aliens are killing humans for their chemical make-up then we may learn something from Jackson’s death.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Barlor said slowly. “We’ll go into the other shuttle.”
They left silently, and Simpson opened his bag and prepared to make his grim examination of the dead man. Outside the shuttle Barlor paused, looking around into the gloom. He could feel the tingle of the force-field under their feet, and was only too aware of the horrors that would envelop them if it were not present. Franklin paused at his side.
“We haven’t done too well so far, Captain,” the Lieutenant commented. “But it will be a different tale tomorrow.”
“How do you feel?” Barlor countered. “That alien had hold of you.”
“I’m not contaminated, if that’s what you mean, sir!” There was thick horror in Franklin’s tones. “You kicked it off me before it had the opportunity to get through my boot.”
“All right. Let’s try to settle down for the rest of the night. I’ll remain on listening watch for when Voyager comes over the horizon. I want some more equipment sent down here as soon as possible. After what’s happening I’m not leaving the smallest detail to chance. I don’t want to lose any more men, Lieutenant.”
“I agree with you, Captain.” There was a remoteness in Franklin’s tones. “But it’s pretty certain now that the first landing party is dead, isn’t it?”
“I’m certain,” Barlor said slowly, and his voice tremored as he pictured the faces of those absent crew members. “I think you can take one of the shuttles and depart into orbit until dawn, then return to this spot. I’ll maintain the ship with the force-field generator and stay on watch. Leave me with two or three guards and take Professor Tosk and all non-essential crew members with you.”
“Very well, Captain. Do you want Doctor Simpson left with you?”
“Yes. He’s busy at the moment, and any information which he can
come up with will be worth its weight in gold.”
“What about Professor Tosk? Will you tell her she has to go along with me?” Franklin sounded uneasy.
“I’ll tell her. There’s nothing she can do here until dawn, and the less people down here the easier it will be for those of us who are left.” Barlor moved across to the other shuttle and peered inside. Professor Tosk and her assistants were there, as were some of the guards, and Barlor called for attention and gave his orders. Most of the guards nodded their agreement, but Professor Tosk began to protest. Barlor, however, cut her short. “I’m giving orders, Professor,” he snapped, “not asking for opinions. I’m remaining on the ground with a few men and we’ll be watching for trouble. You will rejoin us after the sun comes up. That’s all there is to it.” He glanced at Franklin, who was now smiling thinly. “Prepare for take-off, Lieutenant, and remain in touch. Take this ship. I’ll remain in the other, and we’ll leave Doctor Simpson in the third. Let me know when you’re ready to lift off and I’ll have the force-field opened.”
Franklin nodded and climbed into the shuttle. He looked around, detailing the men he wanted to remain with Barlor, and those guards emerged from the craft, grasping their weapons. Barlor led them to the shuttle in which the force-field generator was situated, and they boarded the craft and sealed the hatch. The force-field was switched off while Franklin’s shuttle departed, and when the power came on again there were a number of tiny explosions in the surrounding darkness which indicated that aliens had sneaked in during the lack of power. Flashes marked the positions of the aliens as they died, and Barlor settled himself in the control seat and prepared for a long night…
Nightmare Planet Page 12
