by Isaac Asimov
"Space! Then who's safe, Lucky?"
Lucky stared at his empty coffee cup and said, "No one on Venus. That's my point. We've got to get the story and the truth somewhere else."
"And how can we?"
"A good point. How can we?" Lucky Starr brooded over that.
Evans said, "We can't leave physically. The Hilda is designed for nothing but ocean. It can't navigate the air, let alone space. And if we go back to the city to get something inore suitable, we'd never leave it again."
"I think you're right," said Lucky, "but we don't have to leave Venus in the flesh. Our information is all that has to leave."
"If you mean ship's radio," said Evans, "that's out, too. The set we've got on this tub is strictly intra-Venus. It's not a subetheric, so it can't reach Earth. Down here, as a matter of fact, the instrument won't reach above the ocean. Its carrier waves are designed to be reflected down from the ocean surface so that they can get distance. Besides that, even if we could transmit straight up, we couldn't reach Earth."
"I don't see that we have to," said Lucky. "There's something between here and Earth that would do just as well."
For a moment, Evans was mystified. Then he said, "You mean the space stations?"
"Surely. Two space stations circle Venus. Earth may be anywhere from thirty to fifty million miles away, but the stations may be as close as two thousand miles to this point. Yet there can't be V-frogs on the stations, I'm sure. Morriss said they dislike free oxygen, and one could scarcely rig up special carbon-dioxide chambers for V-frogs considering the economy with which space stations must be run. Now, if we could get a message out to the stations for relay to central headquarters on Earth, we'd have it."
"That's it, Lucky," said Evans, excitedly. "It's our way out. Their mental powers can't possibly reach two
thousand miles across space to…" But then his face
turned glum once more. "No, it won't do. The subship radio still can't reach past the ocean surface."
"Maybe not from here. But suppose we go up to the surface and transmit from there directly into the atmosphere."
"Up to the surface?"
"Well?"
"But they are there. The V-frogs."
"I know that."
"We'll be put under control."
"Will we?" said Lucky. "So far they've never tackled anyone who's known about them, known what to expect and made up his mind to resist it. Most of the victims were completely unsuspecting. In your case you actually invited them into your mind, to use your own phrase. Now I am not unsuspecting, and I don't propose to issue any invitations."
"You can't do it, I tell you. You don't know what it's like."
"Can you suggest an alternative?"
Before Evans could answer, Bigman entered, rolling down his sleeves. "All set," he said. "I guarantee the generators."
Lucky nodded and stepped to the controls, while Evans remained in his seat, his eyes clouded with uncertainty.
There was the churning of the motors again, rich and sweet. The muted sound was like a song, and there was that strange feeling of suspension and motion under one's feet that was never felt on a spaceship.
The Hilda moved through the bubble of water that had been trapped under the collapsing body of the giant patch and built up speed.
Bigman said uneasily, "How much room do we have?"
"About half a mile," said Lucky.
"What if we don't make it?" muttered Bigman. "What if we just hit it and stick, like an ax in a tree stump?"
"Then we pull out and try again," said Lucky.
There was silence for a moment, and Evans said in a low voice, "Being closed in under here, under the patch -it's like being in a chamber." He was mumbling, half to himself.
"In a what?" said Lucky.
"In a chamber," said Evans, still abstracted. "They build them on Venus. They're little transite domes under sea-floor level, like cyclone cellars or bomb shelters on Earth. They're supposed to be protection against incoming water in case of a broken dome, say by Venus-quake. I don't know that a chamber has ever been used, but the better apartment houses always advertise that they have chamber facilities in case of emergency."
Lucky listened to him, but said nothing.
The engine pitch rose higher.
"Hold on!" said Lucky.
Every inch of the Hilda trembled, and the sudden, almost irresistible deceleration forced Lucky hard against the instrument panel. Bigman's and Evans's knuckles went white and their wrists strained as they gripped the guard rails with all their strength.
The ship slowed but did not stop. With the motors straining and the generators protesting in a squeal that made Lucky wince in sympathy, the Hilda plowed through skin and flesh and sinew, through empty bloodvessels and useless nerves that must have resembled two-foot-thick cables. Lucky, jaw set and grim, kept the drive rod nailed at maximum against the tearing resistance.
The long minutes passed and then, in a long churn of triumphant engine, they were through-through the monster and out once more into the open sea.
Silently and smoothly the Hilda rose through the murky, carbon-dioxide-saturated water of Venus's ocean. Silence held the three, a silence that seemed enforced by the daring with which they were storming the very fortress of Venus's hostile life form. Evans had not said a word since the patch had been left behind. Lucky had locked ship's controls and now sat on the pilot swivel with fingers softly tapping his knee. Even the irrepressible Bigman had drifted glumly to the rear port with its bellying, wide-angle field of vision.
Suddenly Bigman called, "Lucky, look there."
Lucky strode to Bigman's side. Together they gazed in silence. Over half the field of the port there was only the starry light of small phosphorescent creatures, thick and soft, but in another direction there was a wall, a monstrous wall glowing in smears of shifting color.
"Do you suppose that's the patch, Lucky?" asked Bigman. "It wasn't shining that way when we came down here; and anyway, it wouldn't shine after it was dead, would it?"
Lucky said thoughtfully, "It is the patch in a way, Bigman. I think the whole ocean is gathering for the feast."
Bigman looked again and felt a little ill. Of course! There were hundreds of millions of tons of meat there for the taking, and the light they viewed must be the light of all the small creatures of the shallows feeding on the dead monster.
Creatures darted past the port, moving always in the same direction. They moved sternward, toward the mountainous carcass the Hilda had left behind.
Pre-eminent among them were arrow fish of all sizes. Each had a straight white line of phosphorescence that marked its backbone (it wasn't a backbone really, but merely an unjointed rod of horny substance). At one end of that white line was a pale yellow V that marked the head. To Bigman it looked indeed as though a countless swarm of animated arrows were swarming past the ship, but in imagination he could see their needle-rimmed jaws, cavernous and ravenous.
"Great Galaxy!" said Lucky.
"Sands of Mars!" murmured Bigman. "The ocean will be empty. Every blasted thing in the ocean is gathering to this one spot."
Lucky said, "At the rate those arrow fish must be gorging themselves, the thing will be gone in twelve hours."
Evans's voice sounded from behind them. "Lucky, I want to speak to you."
Lucky turned. "Sure. What is it, Lou?"
"When you first suggested going to the surface, you asked if I could propose an alternative."
"I know. You didn't answer."
"I can answer now. I'm holding it, in fact, and the answer is that we're going back to the city."
Bigman called, "Hey, what's the idea?"
Lucky had no need to ask that question. His nostrils flared, and inwardly he raged at himself for those minutes he had spent at the porthole when all his heart, mind, and soul should have been concentrated on the business at hand.
For in Evans's clenched fist, as it lifted from his side, was Lucky's own blaster, and
in Evans's narrowed eyes, there was hard determination.
"We're going back to the city," repeated Evans.
12. To The City?
Lucky said, "what's wrong, Lou?"
Evans gestured impatiently with his blaster. "Put the engines in reverse, start bottomward, and turn the ship's bow toward the city. Not you, Lucky. You let Bigman go to those controls; then you get in line with him, so I can watch both of you and the controls, too."
Bigman had his hands half-upraised, and his eyes turned to look at Lucky. Lucky kept his hands at his side.
Lucky said flatly,'"Suppose you tell me what's biting you?"
"Nothing's biting me," said Evans. "Nothing at all. It's what's biting you. You went out and killed the monster, then came back and started talking about going to the surface. Why?"
"I explained my reasons."
"I don't believe your reasons. If we surface, I know the V-frogs will take over our minds. I've had experience with them, and because of that I know the V-frogs have taken over your mind."
"What?" exploded Bigman. "Are you nuts?"
"I know what I'm doing," said Evans, watching Lucky warily. "If you look at this thing coolly, Bigman, you'll see that Lucky must be under V-frog influence. Don't forget, he's my friend, too. I've known him longer than you have, Bigman, and it bothers me to have to do this, but there's no way out. It must be done."
Bigman stared uncertainly at both men, then said in a low voice, "Lucky, have the V-frogs really got you?"
"No," said Lucky.
"What do you expect him to say?" demanded Evans with heat. "Of course they have him. To kill the monster, he had to jet upward to its top. He must have gone fairly close to the surface where the V-frogs were waiting, close enough for them to snatch him. They let him kill the monster. Why not? They would be glad to trade control of the monster for control of Lucky, so Lucky came back babbling of the need to go to the surface, where we'll all be among them, all trapped-the only men who know the truth helpless."
"Lucky?" quavered Bigman, his tone pleading for reassurance.
Lucky Starr said calmly, "You're quite wrong, Lou. What you're doing now is only the result of your own captivity. You've been under control before, and the V-frogs know your mind. They can enter it at will. Maybe they've never entirely left it. You're doing only what you're being made to do."
Evans's grip on his blaster hardened. "Sorry, Lucky, but it won't do. Let's get the ship back to the city."
Lucky said, "If you're not under control, Lou-if you're mind-free-then you'll blast me down if I try to force us up to the surface, won't you?"
Evans did not answer.
Lucky said, "You'll have to. It will be your duty to the Council and to Mankind to do so. On the other hand, if you are under mental control, you may be forced to threaten me, to try to make me change ship's course, but I doubt that you can be forced to kill rne. Actually murdering a friend and fellow councilman would be too much against your basic ways of thought. -So give me your blaster."
Lucky advanced toward the other, hand outstretched.
Bigman stared in horror.
Evans backed away. He said hoarsely, "I'm warning you, Lucky. I'll shoot."
"I say you won't shoot. You'll give me the blaster."
Evans was back against the wall. His voice rose craz-ily. "I'll shoot. I'll shoot!"
Bigman cried, "Lucky, stop!"
But Lucky had already stopped and was backing away. Slowly, very slowly, he backed.
The life had suddenly gone out of Evans's eyes, and he was standing now, a carved stone image, finger firm on trigger. Evans's voice was cold. "Back to the city."
Lucky said, "Get the ship on the city course, Bigman."
Bigman stepped quickly to the controls. He muttered, "He's really under now, isn't he?"
Lucky said, "I was afraid it might happen. They've shifted him to intense control to make sure he shoots. And he will, too; no question about it. He's in amnesia now. He won't remember this part afterward."
"Can he hear us?" Bigman remembered the pilots on the coaster in which they had landed on Venus and their apparent complete disregard of the external world about them.
"I don't think so," said Lucky, "but he's watching the controls and if we deviate from city-direction, he'll shoot. Make no mistake about that."
"Then what do we do?"
Words again issued from between Evans's pale, cold lips: "Back to the city. Quickly!"
Lucky, motionless, eyes fixed on the unwavering muzzle of his friend's blaster, spoke softly and quickly to Bigman.
Bigman acknowledged the words by the slightest of nods.
The Hilda moved back along the path it had come, back toward the city.
Lou Evans, councilman, stood against the wall, white-faced and stern, his pitiless eyes shifting from Lucky to Bigman to the controls. His body, frozen into utter obedience to those who controlled his mind, did not even feel the need of shifting the blaster from one hand to the other.
Lucky strained his ears to hear the low sound of Aphrodite's carrier beam as it sounded steadily on the Hilda's direction finder. The beam radiated in all directions on a definite wave length from the topmost point of Aphrodite's dome. The route back to the city became as obvious as though Aphrodite were in plain sight and a hundred feet away.
Lucky could tell by the exact pitch of the beam's low whine that they were not approaching the city directly. It was a small difference indeed, and one that was not at all obvious to the ear. To Evans's controlled ears, it might pass unnoticed. Fervently, Lucky hoped so.
Lucky tried to follow Evans's blank glare when his eyes rested on the controls. He was certain that it was the depth indicator that those eyes rested upon. It was a large dial, a simple one that measured the water pressure. At the distance Evans stood it was simple enough to tell that the Hilda was not nosing surfaceward.
Lucky felt certain that, should the depth-indicator needle vary in the wrong direction, Evans would blast without a moment's hesitation.
Try as he might to think as little as possible about the situation, to allow as few specific thoughts as possible to be picked up by the waiting V-frogs, he could not help but wonder why Evans did not shoot them out of hand. They had been marked for death under the giant patch, but now they were only being herded back to Aphrodite.
Or would Evans shoot them down just as soon as the V-frogs could overcome some last scruple in the captive's subjected mind?
The carrier beam moved a little further off pitch. Again Lucky's eyes flickered quickly in Evans's direction. Was he imagining it, or did a spark of something (not emotion, exactly, but something) show in Evans's eyes?
A split second later it was obviously more than imagination, for there was a definite tightening of Evans's biceps, a small lifting of his arm.
He was going to shoot!
And even as the thought passed quickly through Lucky's mind and his muscles tensed involuntarily and uselessly for the coming of the blast, the ship crashed. Evans, caught unaware, toppled backward. The blaster slithered from his sprawling fingers.
Lucky acted instantly. The same shock that threw Evans back threw him forward. He rode that shock and came down upon the other, clutching for his wrist and seizing it with steely fingers.
But Evans was anything but a pigmy, and he fought with the unearthly rage that was imposed upon him. He doubled his knees above him, caught Lucky in the thighs, and heaved. The still rocking ship fortuitously added its roll to the force of Evans's thrust and the captive councilman was on top.
Evans's fist pounded, but Lucky's shoulder fended the blow. He raised his own knees and caught Evans in an iron scissors hold just below the hips.
Evans's face distorted with pain. He twisted, but Lucky writhed with him and was on top once more. He sat up, his legs maintaining their hold, increasing it.
Lucky said, "I don't know if you can hear or under stand me, Lou…"
Evans paid no regard. With one last contortion of
his body, he flung himself and Lucky into the air, breaking Lucky's hold.
Lucky rolled as he hit the floor and came lithely to his feet. He caught Evans's arm as the latter rose and swung it over his shoulder. A heave and Evans came crashing down on his back. He lay still.
"Bigman!" said Lucky, breathing quickly and brushing back his hair with a quick motion of his hand.
"Here I am," said the little fellow, grinning and swinging Turner's blaster lightly. "I was all set, just in case."
"All right. Put that blaster away, Bigman, and look Lou over. Make sure there are no bones broken. Then tie him up."
Lucky was at the controls now, and with infinite caution he backed the Hilda off the remnants of the carcass of the giant patch he had killed hours before.
Lucky's gamble had worked. He had hoped that the V-frogs with their preoccupation with mentalities would have no real conception of the physical size of the patch, that with their lack of experience of subsea travel, they would not realize the significance of the slight off-course route Bigman had taken. The whole gamble had been in the quick phrase which Lucky had spoken to Bigman as the latter had turned the ship back to the city under the threat of Evans's blaster.
"Afoul of the patch," he had said.
Again the Hilda's course changed. Its nose lifted upward.
Evans, bound to his bunk, stared with weary shame-facedness at Lucky. "Sorry."
"We understand, Lou. Don't brood about it," said Lucky lightly. "But we can't let you go for a while. You see that, don't you?"
"Sure. Space, put more knots 6n me. I deserve it. Believe me, Lucky, most of it I don't even remember."
"Look, you better get some sleep, fella," and Lucky's fist punched Evans lightly hi the shoulder. "We'll wake you when we hit surface, if we have to."
To Bigman, a few minutes later, he said quietly, "Round up every blaster on the ship, Bigman, every weapon of every sort. Look through stores, the bunk lockers, everywhere."
"What are you going to do?"
