Donald A. Wollheim (ed) (27 page)

They were colored a deep red-brown like dried
blood. The golden flare of the fissure made their cold eyes
glearn
.
It showed their round mouth-holes full of sharp
hairspines
,
and the stinging deadly cups on the undersides of their huge tentacles.

Those arms were long enough and tough enough
to pierce even the fabric of a
vac
-suit. Lundy didn't
know whether they ate flesh or not, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't care,
after he'd been slapped with one of those tentacles.

The net with
Her
in it was getting away from him, and The Others were coming down on top
of him. Even if he'd wanted to quit his job right then there wasn't any place
to hide in these ruined,
doorless
buildings.

Lundy shot his suit full of precious oxygen and added himself to the
creatures riding that black
current
to hell.

It swept him like a bubble between the dead
towers, but not fast enough. He wasn't very far ahead of the kelp-things. He
tried to swim, to make himself go faster, but it was like racing an oared
dinghy against a fleet of sixteen-meter sloops with everything set.

He could see the cluster of plant-men ahead
of him. They hadn't changed position. They rolled and tumbled in the water,
using a lot of the forward push to go around with, so that Lundy was able to
overhaul them.

But not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.

The hell of it was he couldn't see anything
to do if he got there. The net was way inside the globe. They weren't going to
let him take it away. And if he did, what would it get anybody? They'd still
follow
Her
,
without sense enough to run away from the
kelp-beasts.

Unless . . .

It hit Lundy all of a sudden.
A hope, a solution.
Hit him neatly as the leading kelp-thing
climbed up on his heels and brought its leaf-wings in around him, hard.

Lundy let go an animal howl of fear and
kicked wildly, shooting more air into his suit. He went up fast, and the wings
grazed his boots but didn't quite catch him. Lundy rolled over and fed the
thing a full charge out of his blaster, right through the eye.

It began to thrash and flounder like a shot bird. The ones coming right
behind it got tangled up with it and then stopped to eat. Pretty soon there
were a lot of them tumbling around it and fighting like a flock of gulls over a
fish. Lundy swam furiously, cursing the clumsy suit.

There were a lot of the things that hadn't
stopped, and the ones that had wouldn't stay long. Lundy kicked and strained
and sweated. He was scared. He had the wind up so hard it was blowing his guts
out, and it was like swimming in a nightmare, where you're tied.

The current seemed to move faster up where he
was now. He gathered his thoughts into a tight beam and threw them into the
heart of the cluster of plant-men, at the creature in the net.

1
can free you. I'm the only one that can.

A voice answered him, inside his mind. The
voice he had heard once before, back in the cabin of the wrecked flier.
A voice as sweet and small as Pan-pipes calling on the Hills of
Fay.

/ know. My thought crossed yours. . . .
The elfin voice broke suddenly, almost on a
gasp of pain. Very faintly, Lundy heard:

Heavy!
Heavyl
I am slow. . . .

A longing for something beyond his experience
stabbed Lundy like the cry of a frightened child. And then the globe of
man-things burst apart as though a giant wind had struck them.

Lundy watched them wake up, out of their
dream.

She
had vanished, and now they didn't know why they were here or what they
were doing. They had a heart-shaking memory of some beauty they couldn't touch,
and that was all. They were lost, and frightened.

Then they saw The Others.

It was as though someone had hit them a stunning blow with his fist.
They hung motionless, swept along by the current, staring back with dazed
golden eyes. Their brilliant petals curled inward and vanished, and the green
of their bodies dulled almost
to
black.

The kelp-beasts spread their wings wide and
rushed toward them like great dark birds. And up ahead, under the sullen
golden glare, Lundy saw the distant buildings of the colony. Some of the doors
were still open, with knots of tiny figures waiting beside them.

Lundy was still
a
little ahead of the kelp-things. He grabbed up the floating net and
hooked it to his belt, and then steered himself clumsily toward a broken tower
jutting up to his right.

He hurled a wild telepathic shout at the
plant-men, trying to make them rum and run, telling them that he'd hold off The
Others. They were too scared to hear him. He cursed them, almost crying. On the
third try he got through and they came to life in a hurry,
mshing
away with all the speed they had.

By that time Lundy was braced on his pinnacle
of stone, and the kelp-beasts were right on top of him.

He got busy with both blasters. He burned down a lot of the things.
Pretty soon the water all around him was full of thrashing bodies where the
living had stopped to fight over the dead. But he couldn't get them all, and a
few got by him.

Almost without turning his head he could see
the huge red bird-shapes overhauling stragglers, wrapping them in broad wings,
and then lying quiet in the rush of the current, feeding.

They kept the doors, open, those little
woman-things. They waited until the last of their mates came home, and then
slammed the golden panels on the blunt noses of the kelp-things. Not many of
the little men were lost. Only
a
few
small wives would hide their petals and wear their sad blue-grey. Lundy felt
good about that.

It was nice he felt good about something,
because Old Mr. Grim was climbing right up on Lundy's shoulders, showing his
teeth. The kelp-beasts had finally found out who was hurting them. Also, now,
Lundy was the only food in sight.

They were ganging up for a rush, wheeling and
sideslipping
in the spate of black water. Lundy got
two more, and then one blaster charge fizzled out, and right after it the other
one became dull.

Lundy stood alone on his broken tower and
watched death sweep in around him. And the sweet elfin voice spoke out of the
net:

Let
me free. Let me free!

Lundy set his jaw tight and did the only thing he could think of. He
deflated his
vac
-suit and jumped, plunging down into
the black depths of the ruined building.

The kelp-things folded their leaves back like
the wings of a diving bird and came down after him, using their tails for
power.

Fitful flares of fight came through broken
walls and window openings. Lundy went down a long way. He didn't have to
bother about stairs. The quakes had knocked most of the floors out.

The kelp-things followed him. Their long sinuous bodies were
maneuverable as a shark's, and they were fast.

And all the time the
litde
voice cried in his mind, asking for freedom.

Lundy hit bottom.

The walls were fairly solid down here, and it
was dark, and the place was choked with rubble. Things got a
litde
confused. Lundy's helmet fight was shot, and he
wouldn't have used it anyway because it would have guided the hunters.

He felt them, swirling and darting around
him. He ran, to no place in particular. The broken stones tripped him. Three times
great sinewy bodies brushed him, knocking him spinning, but they couldn't quite
find him in the darkness, chiefly because they got in each other's way.

Lundy fell through suddenly into a great
hall, lying beside whatever room he had been in and a little below it. It was
hardly damaged. Golden doors stood open to the water, and there was plenty of
light.

Plenty of light for Lundy to see some more of
the kelp-beasts poking hopeful faces in, and plenty of light for them to see
Lundy.

The
elfin voice called,
Let
me
out! Let me out!

Lundy didn't have
breath
enough left to curse. He turned and ran, and the kelp-beasts gave a lazy flirt
of their tails and caught up with him in the first thirty feet. They almost
laughed in his face.

The only thing that saved Lundy was that when
they opened their leaf-wings to take him they interfered with each other. It
slowed them, just for a moment. Just long enough for Lundy to see the door.

A little door of black stone with no carving
on it, standing half-open on a golden pivot, about ten feet away.

Lundy made for it. He dodged out from under
one huge swooping wing, made a wild leap that almost tore him apart, and
grabbed the edge of the door with his hands, doubling up and pulling.

A tentacle tip struck his feet. His lead
boots hit the floor, and for a minute he thought his legs were broken. But the
surge of water the blow made helped to carry him in through the narrow opening.

Half a dozen blunt red-brown heads tried to
come through after him, and were stopped. Lundy was down on his hands and
knees. He was trying to breathe, but somebody had put a heavy building on his
chest. Also, it was getting hard to see anything.

He crawled over and put his shoulder against
the door and pushed. It wouldn't budge. The building had settled and jammed the
pivot for keeps. Even the butting kelp-things couldn't jar it.

But they kept on trying. Lundy crawled away.
After a while some of the weight went off his chest and he could see
better
.

A shaft of fitful golden light shot in
through a crack about ten feet above him.
A small crack, not
even big enough to let a baby in and out.
It was the only opening other
than the door.

The room was small, too. The stone walls were
dead black, without ornament or carving, except on the rear wall.

There was a square block of jet there, about
eight feet long by four wide, hollowed in a peculiar and unpleasantly
suggestive fashion. Above it there was a single huge ruby set in the stone,
burning red like a foretaste of hell fire.

Lundy had seen similar small chambers in old
cities still on dry land. They were where men had gone to die for crimes
against society and the gods.

Lundy looked at the hungry monsters pushing
at the immovable door and laughed. There was no particular humor in it. He
fired his last shot, and sat down.

The brutes might go away sometime, maybe. But
unless they went within a very few minutes, it wasn't going to matter. Lundy's
oxygen was getting low, and it was still a long way to the coast.

The
voice from the net cried out,
Let me free!

"The hell with you," said Lundy. He
was tired. He was so tired he didn't care much whether he lived or died.

He made sure the net was fast to his belt,
and tightly closed.

"If I live, you go back to
Vhia
with me.
If I die—well, you won't be able to hurt anybody again. There'll be one less
devil loose on Venus."

Free!
Free! Free! I must be free! This heavy weight. . . .

"Sure. Free to lead guys like Farrell
into going crazy, and leaving their wives and kids. Free to kill. . . ."
He looked with sultry eyes at the net. "Jackie Smith was my pal. You think
I'd let you go? You think anything you could do would make me let you go?"
Then he saw her.

Plight through the net, as
though the metal mesh was cellophane.
She crouched there in his lap, a tiny thing
less than two feet high, doubled over her knees. The curve of her back was
something an angel had carved out of a
whisp
of warm,
pearl-pink cloud.

V

Lundy broke into a trembling
sweat. He shut his eyes. It didn't matter. He
saw her. He couldn't help seeing her. He tried to fight his mind, but he was
tired. . . .