Bolts (10 page)

“Ulp!” he gasped, blinking at the ghosty shape of Pirate. “I can see your heart beating!”

“Didn't know he had a heart,” said Big Butch. “He's only a crow in disguise.”

“Aw, Butch,” said Bolts, thinking he'd better remain diplomatic, “you know he's a swell critter—even as a ghost.”

“I have my points,” Pirate admitted, preening himself. “I'm glad you recognize them. It shows you're not as stupid as you look.”

Big Butch snorted. “I still say he's a crow and oughta be boiled for the cat.”

“He'd be poor pickings,” said a small voice from under a bunk. “I'd rather try a bat.”

“By Joe!” said Bolts, blinking at the dim shape of Claws. “How come you're aboard?”

“I go where I please,” said Claws, eyeing him reproachfully. “Don't talk to me. I don't like the way you growl—not one little bit!”

“Aw, don't be a sorehead 'cause I fuzzed you up,” Bolts protested. “I gotta protect folks, see?”

Big Butch said, “Hey, Bolts, you're the only one here who can understand Claws. What's he saying?”

“Don't—you—ever—repeat—what—I—say,” Claws warned. “If you do, I'll never tell you a secret—and I know plenty.”

“O.K.,” Bolts agreed, and looked at Big Butch. “We were just getting acquainted. I was aiming to ask him about that renegade asteroid.”

Claws shuddered. “Let's talk about something else.”

“That asteroid's a nightmare,” Big Butch admitted. “I'm afraid it's going to be all a young dog can handle. Is your battery up good?”

Bolts skipped a tick. “I—I could do with a little recharging.”

“Then you'd better start recharging right now. We'll be there in three hours.”

“I-I'd recharge better if you'd sorta wise me up first. H-how big is this varmint?”

“Too big to be easy,” Big Butch grumbled, “and devilish black on his mean side. That's the side you'll have to tackle him from.”

“Ulp!” said Bolts, and skipped another tick. “How come I gotta tangle with his mean side?”

“Because that's where the trouble is.”

“W-what kind of trouble?”

“Dunno,” said Big Butch. “Nobody knows—not even Pirate. His second sight won't work so far in space. So here is where you come in.”

By this time poor Bolts was not only badly confused and upset, but with everything so ghosty around him his one desire was to crawl under a bunk and never come out.

Then he gave himself a little shake, and said, “I'm kinda shy on experience. If I gotta chaw this asteroid down to size, seems I oughta know more about him. What's the deal, Butch? Gimme all the facts.”

“It's like this,” Big Butch began. “Bingo's got a telescope, and he spotted this thing coming in fast from nowhere and starting to curve around the sun. It wasn't an ordinary asteroid gone wild, because it was bright blue—like a big blue marble or maybe a little blue moon.”

“B-blue marble—b-blue moon?”

“That's right. So we hopped in the Space Jumper and flew out to have a look at it. Queerest thing you ever saw. All blue glass. It was sizzling hot and mostly melted on the sunny side, so we flew around to the dark side to land. It was like coming down in an ink bottle. Even with the searchlights on, we couldn't make out much—and I've got super vision. But we could tell the glass wasn't melted here—it was just lumpy, and all worn down and crumbly.”

Big Butch paused. “Do you sort of see the place now?”

“Yup,” said Bolts, feeling a little easier. It had finally dawned on him what an asteroid was. “B-but what's all the trouble about?”

“Just this,” said Big Butch. “That lumpy worn-down glass didn't look like much to me, but Bingo got the idea that it might be an old glass city.”

“A
glass city
!”

“That's what Bingo thought. A glass city all gone crumbly with age. There was no way to explore it in the dark, though we anchored and tried. Terribly rough! Then Bingo got out his space camera. It's a special atomic job that takes clear pictures in black dark. He took a few shots from the Space Jumper, and he had me set it up outside on a high spot for a time exposure.”

Big Butch paused again. “I hate to tell you the rest.”

“W-what happened?”

“My imagination fails me. When I started through the air lock to get the camera, I found we'd gone adrift. Our anchor had been stolen.”

“Stolen!”

“And that's not all. When I finally reached the spot where I'd set up the camera, it was gone too.”

“Oh, no!”

“It was,” Big Butch said gravely. “And Bingo wants it back. Your job is to sniff it out—if you can. And while you're sniffing you'll have a thimble-size camera strapped around your neck. It'll be wound up and taking pictures of everything that crosses your path.”

“Ulp!” muttered Bolts, staring at him. “You mean I gotta go all alone in the black dark, through a place like that, and tangle with a bunch of I-dunno-whats, and—and—Why, that city may be
crawling
with all kinds of ornery glass space varmints!”

“It probably is,” Big Butch agreed in a sad voice. “That's why I'm advising you to start recharging right now. Buster, you're going to need all the juice and jump you've got in you or you're a gone dog for sure.”

Poor Bolts crawled miserably under a bunk, curled up, and instantly his circuits clicked off. He hoped, at least, to have one pleasant dream before he clicked on again. But his recharging was a long nightmare, filled with invisible glass critters that chased him endlessly through the dark.

He awoke suddenly, twitching and groaning, to hear Pirate squawk, “Hit the deck and look alive! We're almost there!”

9

He Sniffs a Strange Trail

Bolts crawled out glumly, blinking his eye lights. He was only slightly relieved to find that the Space Jumper had slowed down, and that vision was back to normal. Bingo was busy with the buttons, his red hair in a wild tangle. Beyond, Big Butch was hurrying to place food on the cabin table, where the commander sat drumming his fingers impatiently.

“Jiminy, Pops,” Bingo said nervously, “how can you eat anything at a time like this?”

“At a time like this,” snapped the commander, “I'd expire if I didn't eat. Bolts,” he demanded, “how do you feel?”

“Kinda cautious,” Bolts admitted. “Butch gave me the low-down on that camera deal. Something as queer as that sure wrecks a feller's gumption.”

“But—but don't you realize how important this is?” Bingo exclaimed. “You've got the chance of a lifetime. Why, if that really
is
a glass city, it's the biggest discovery of the century! It—it might even have glass people in it!”

“That's what curdles me,” grumbled Bolts. “It's mighty sure got
something
in it.”

“Bolts,” said Commander Brown, “your job is to find that something, and find it fast. Our time is limited. The asteroid has already curved around the sun, and now it's shooting out into space, away from Earth. This is our last chance to examine it. We'll land in three minutes in the middle of the dark side, and you'll start your hunt immediately. If you're not back in six hours, we'll be forced to abandon you. Understand?”

“Yup,” Bolts said dolefully.

Bingo swallowed. “Bolts, there's no atmosphere on the asteroid, so it won't be easy for you to pick up a trail. But you've got the best sniffer in the world, and I'm sure it'll lead you in the right direction.” Bingo paused and looked at him earnestly. “Only you can find what we're after. Cancan we depend on you?”

“Aw, Bingo,” Bolts assured him, after giving himself a little shake, “'course you can depend on me! I'm your dawg, and I'll find out what's cookin' if I have to chaw that place apart!”

The strange asteroid was getting closer, and he was startled to see it so clearly in the forward viewing port. It did look like a blue moon. It grew larger and brighter blue second by second. Then gradually it narrowed to a sliver and suddenly vanished as they curved around to the dark side of it. Absolutely nothing could be seen as the Space Jumper slid cautiously down through absolute blackness.

It touched the surface, bounced slightly, and steadied. Bingo strapped a tiny camera around Bolts's neck, and Big Butch hurried to open the hatch to the air lock.

“Poor, poor dog,” Pirate squawked sadly as Bolts scrambled into the air lock behind Butch. “And so young and innocent. It wrings my heartstrings—”

“Aw, shaddup before you drown in your own tears,” Big Butch grumbled, closing the hatch with a bang. “I declare if the old crow isn't softening up! Don't you worry, Bolts. I know you can do the job. I'll be waiting for you right outside, guarding the anchor till you get back. Good luck, and watch the gravity!”

Big Butch opened the outer hatch, and Bolts slid through into the strange dark world of crumbling glass.

His night vision, with the aid of the light from the Space Jumper's ports, showed that they had come down in a deep depression. He circled it carefully, sniffing. As soon as he was sure of his footing, he went bounding upward to the dim twisted shapes beyond. There was so little gravity that he weighed only ounces instead of pounds, and he found he could span great distances with very little effort. Almost before he realized it, the Space Jumper was hidden behind him. In this airless place there was not even a glow from its lights.

Bolts reached a small open area, and paused to rotate his sniffer. Instantly he was aware of a familiar smell—the same frightening smell he had found in the cavern with the fox critter.

It was the Terrible Unknown.

Thinking he'd better tame it a bit, he opened his mouth and tried to loosen his Number Two growl. But no sound came forth.

“By Joe!” he told himself, “I clean forgot it won't work without air. This is bad.”

Just to be on the safe side, he raised his hackles and snapped out his teeth. Then he plunged onward, circling and following his sniffer. It was comforting, at this uncertain time, to remember that he was no longer an inexperienced dog, green off the assembly line. Why, he'd kicked around in some tough places and tangled with all kinds of things! “Pshaw,” he told himself, “what's a little more dark?”

Something moved in the dimness far ahead.

Bolts stopped, feeling his circuits squirm. Was that a glass varmint? His night vision, which grayed the blackness in front of him, couldn't make out a thing. There were only the worn and twisted shapes that might once have been buildings, and in the dark they reminded him very much of the way the cavern had looked.

But something
had
moved. He was sure of it.

He was suddenly relieved to hear Bingo's voice on his radio. “Have you found a trail yet, Bolts?”

“N-not exactly,” he answered, thankful that his radio worked here, even if his growl didn't. “B-but I'm sure getting warm. I spotted something.”

“What was it?”

“Dunno. But mebbe my camera caught it.”

“Careful! Don't get too close to it until you find out how dangerous it is!”

Bolts crept on cautiously to the place where he had seen the movement. His sniffer was suddenly aware of a trace of something. It was so faint that he couldn't even think of it as a smell—it was hardly even a ghost of a scent. He swung left in the direction of it, and began following it in and out among the crumbling glass shapes.