Sargasso of Space (Solar Queen Series) (11 page)

“Ahoy!” the voice from the outer air summoned. “What are you doing in there?”

Dane spoke into his mike, outlining what they had found. Then they squeezed out through the hatch.

“Stripped bare!” Kosti was openly disappointed. “Opened up and stripped bare. She must have been carrying something really worthwhile for all the trouble they took to do it.”

“I’d rather know who stripped her. Even if it was done years ago,” was Rip’s comment and it was evident that Wilcox agreed with him.

The astrogator pulled himself to his feet, leaning against a rock. “We’d better get back to the
Queen
.”

Dane glanced around. He was sure that the fog was thinning here as it had back around the ruins. If it would just clear—then they could take up a flitter and really comb this district! They had discovered no trace of Ali anywhere, and each step they took seemed to plunge them only deeper into mystery.

Rich and his party had vanished—into a stone wall if the crawler was to be relied upon. Now here was a ship which had been looted long after it had crashed. And somewhere deep in the heart of Limbo beat an unknown installation which might offer the worst threat of all!

They went back to the crawler and by the time Wilcox was once more established on it, the fog was retreating, more swiftly now. As it lifted they read on the scraped walls, in the rutted soil that this was or had been a thoroughfare in good use. Those who had come and gone this path had made it a lane of travel before the arrival of the
Queen
, some of those marks were far more than a few days old.

Survey’s tapes had said nothing of all this—the ruins, the installation, the wrecked ships. Why not? Had Survey’s report been edited? But Limbo had been put up to legal auction just as usual. Did it mean that Survey’s scout teams had not explored this continent to any extent—that seeing the evidences of a burn-off their investigation had been only superficial?

It was raining now, a drizzle which worked into the high collars of their tunics and soaked the upper linings of their boots. Unconsciously their pace quickened as the crawler took the homeward trundle. Dane wished that there was some way they could cut cross country and shorten the march which lay between them and the
Queen.
But at least they no longer had to rope themselves to the carrier.

They came into the ruins again, maintaining a careful watch for any signs of life there. The brilliant hues of the buildings were subdued by the lack of sunlight, but they still warred with one another and jolted Terran senses in a subtle fashion. Either the people who had built this city had a different type of vision, or a chemical reaction from the burn-off had altered the color schemes for the worse. As it was, none of the Traders felt exactly comfortable if they looked too long at those walls.

“It isn’t altogether the color—” Rip spoke aloud. “It’s their shape, too. Those angles are wrong—just enough wrong to be disturbing——”

“The burn-off blast may have shaken them up,” offered Dane. But Mura was not ready to accept that.

“No, Rip has it right. The colors, they are wrong for us, also the shapes. See that tower—over there? Only three floors remain, but once it was taller. Let your eyes rise along the lines of those floors into space—where once must have been other walls. It is all wrong—those lines——”

Dane saw what he meant. With imagination one could add more floors to the tower—but when one did! For a moment he was dizzy as he tried that feat. It was very easy, after studying all this, to believe that the Forerunners had been alien, alien beyond any race that the Terrans, new come to the Galactic lanes, had encountered.

He hurriedly averted his eyes from that tower, winced as his gaze swept across an impossibly scarlet foundation and fastened with relief on the comfortable monotone of the crawler and Wilcox’s square back in the drab brown Service tunic.

But the astrogator had not joined his companions in their speculations concerning their surroundings. He was hunched over, both hands clutching the mike of the stepped-up com Kosti had not yet altered. And there was something in his posture which altered the others as they watched him.

11
   
SARGASSO WORLD

D
ANE STRAINED
to hear a hint of sound in his helmet phones. There was a far off click which faded quickly. But it was evident that Wilcox with his double powered com received more than that.

The astrogator took one hand from the mike and gestured the others to come to the stalled crawler. Luckily no drone from the interference blanketed the air waves. And by some freak the word “stay” boomed suddenly in Dane’s ears.

Wilcox looked up at them. “We’re not to go back now——”

“What’s wrong?” Mura’s voice lost none of its mild tone.

“The
Queen
’s surrounded——”

“Surrounded!” “By whom?” “What happened?” the questions came together in a confused gabble.

“They were fired upon when they tried to leave the ship. And there’s some reason why they can’t lift. We’re to keep clear until they can find out what’s behind it all——”

Mura glanced over his shoulder at the valleys now unveiled as the mist drifted away in tattered streamers.

“If we cut across the open,” he said slowly, “we can be seen with ease now that the fog is gone. But suppose we go back—along the valley mouths, paralleling the burnt-off country. We should reach a point opposite the
Queen
, and then we can climb the heights until we are able to see what is going on about her——”

Wilcox nodded. “We’re not to try contact by com. They’re afraid we might be picked up.”

Though the fog had lifted visibility was not good. It must be well into evening and the astrogator surveyed their present surroundings with disfavor. It was plain that they could not move through the rough foothill country in the dark. Their travels must wait until morning. But he did not order them to find shelter in the city buildings. Mura broke the short silence first.

“There is the bubble—we could camp there for the night. I do not think it has been used since it was erected as a blind.”

They seized upon that thankfully and the crawler made the return trip to the abandoned camp of the archaeologists. They unsealed the full door flap, allowing their carrier space to enter. And when the portal was closed again Dane had a feeling of relief. The walls enclosing them were Terran made, he had slept in such shelters before. And that familiarity was in a measure security against the alien quality of the city without.

The bubble cut off the night winds and they were not too uncomfortable in spite of the lack of heat. Kosti who had been wandering about the hollow shell kicked at an inoffensive bit of rock.

“They could have left the heating unit. That’s supposed to be part of one of these——”

Rip laughed. “But they didn’t know we were coming.”

Kosti stared at him, inclined to be affronted, and then he chuckled.

“No, they did not know. We can’t complain—” his deep roar of laughter was directed at himself.

Mura busied himself with duties which were part of his usual job, collecting their emergency rations and parceling out to each one of the tasteless cubes and so many sips from their canteens. Dane wondered at the steward’s careful measurements. It was as if Mura did not believe they were going to return to the
Queen
in the near future and thought that these limited supplies might have to last for a long time.

Once they had eaten, they drew together for warmth, stretching out on the bare floor. Outside the bubble they could hear the moan of the night winds, rising to a crescendo of weird cries as it wailed through fissures of the ruins.

Dane’s thoughts were restless. What was wrong with the
Queen?
If the ship was besieged why hadn’t she simply lifted from the landing and set down elsewhere, giving them directions where to join her, or sending out the flitter to pick them up? What kept the freighter planet bound?

Perhaps the others shared his worries, but there were no speculations voiced in the dark, no questions asked. Having their orders they had determined upon a course of action for themselves and now they were getting what rest they could.

Shortly after dawn the haggard Wilcox sat up and then limped to the crawler. In the pinched gray light he looked years older and there was a tight set to his lips as he bent over the machine, making the adjustments which would leave it on manual control during the hours to come.

None of them could have been asleep for Wilcox’s action acted as a signal and they were all on their feet, stretching the cramp out of arms and legs. Greetings were grunts as they ate what Mura allowed them. Then they were out in the crispness of the morning. Streaks of color heralded the sun they had not seen for so long and the last of the fog was gone. In the north the mountains were stark and bare against the sky.

Wilcox pointed the crawler north where the foothill valleys pushed out in a ragged fringe. There was plenty of cover there and they could slip east undetected. Of them all the astrogator had the most difficult job. Here was no smooth path for the crawler. And within a half mile he had to throttle down to a slow walking pace or be bounced from his seat.

In the end they separated into two parties. Two of them at a time scouted ahead, while the two remaining stayed with Wilcox and the crawler at the slower pace. From all signs they might have been alone in a dead world. No tracks broke the soil, there were no sounds, and they did not even sight one of the rare insects which must keep to the more hospitable inner portions of the valleys.

Dane was on advance patrol with Mura when the steward gave a grunt and raised his hands as if to shade his eyes. Above them the sun had struck fire from some gleaming surface, struck it strong enough to flash a burning beam down at the Terrans.

“Metal!” Dane cried. Could this be another clue to the installation?

He started toward that spot, first clambering with difficulty over the debris left by a recent slide of small rocks. Then he pulled himself up on a ledge the slide had uncovered and made his way to the source of that flash. What he expected he did not really know. But what he found was wreckage—wreckage of another space ship—although the outlines were strange, even allowing for alterations made by the force of its landing. It was smaller than the prospector they had discovered the day before, and in a greater state of disintegration, the parts which had been exposed before the slide brought it all to the surface were only rust-eaten scraps.

Mura joined him and looked down at the crumpled thing which had once navigated space.

“This is old—very, very old.” He tried to pick up a rod shaped bit. Between his fingers it became red dust. “Old—I do not think a Terran ever flew this one.”

“A Forerunner ship?” Dane was startled. If that were true—this
was
a find—a find which might bring Survey and its kindred services back to Limbo with all jets blazing.

“Not that old—or it would not exist. But the Rigellians and that vanished race of Angol Two were in Galactic space before we were. This may be an ancient vessel of their building. It is so very old——”

“What brought it here?” Dane wondered. “That was a smash landing, and the prospector ended the same way. Then there was that ship we heard come in before the fog closed down. Yet the
Queen
didn’t have any trouble making a good landing. I don’t get it. One crack up—but three——?”

“It makes one think,” Mura agreed. “Perhaps we should look about a bit more. The solution to this puzzle may lie within sight and sound and yet we are not clever enough to learn it.”

They waited on the ledge until they could signal to the slowly advancing party with the crawler. The astrogator took careful bearings on the site. If and when they had time, they might later send a party to explore this discovery—since its age and alien origin might make it of value.

“This reminds me somehow,” Kosti said, “of how those Sissiti catch the purple lizards they make boots of. They set up a thing that waggles back and forth—just a thin wire attached to a motor. But the lizard sees it and—pow—he’s sunk. Sits there watching that stupid thing wiggle-waggle until a Sissit comes along and pops him into a bag. Maybe someone’s set up a wiggle-waggle here to draw in ships—that would be something!”

Wilcox stared at him. “Could be you have something at that,” he replied, as he fingered his mike. It was apparent he longed to report this second find to the
Queen.
And he had a suggestion for the scouting parties. “Take a look up these valleys if you can without wasting too much time. I’d like to know if there are any more wrecks strewn about in this general area.”

So from then on, though they continued to work their way east to flank the
Queen
, they also made side trips into the valleys for short distances. And it was Kosti and Rip who found the third ship.

Where the two other shattered discoveries had been of an earlier day, this was not only of their own time but a type of craft they were able to recognize at once. Through some freak its disastrous ending had not been as bad as those which had telescoped the prospector and smashed the alien. While the new find lay on its side showing buckled and broken” plates, it was not crushed.

“Survey.” Rip yelled almost before they were within hearing distance.

There was no reason to mistake the insignia on the battered nose—the crossed, tailed comets were as well known along the star trails as the jagged lightning swords of the Patrol.

Wilcox limped forward with the rest as they trailed along its length.

“The hatch is open—” Rip called down from the pinnacle he had climbed for a better look.

It was what dangled from that open hatch which centered their attention. A rope hanging like that could mean only one thing—that there had been survivors! Was this the explanation for all the puzzling happenings on Limbo? Dane tried to remember how many men comprised the crew of a Survey ship—they usually had a group of specialists—perhaps as many as rode in the
Queen—
perhaps more——

Though there was no reason why anyone would have remained in the wrecked ship, the men from the
Queen
prepared to explore. Rip dropped from the pinnacle and balanced across to that hatch. Only Wilcox had to remain where he was as the others climbed the rope.

It was a strange experience to lower oneself down a well which was once a corridor, Dane found. Ahead, torches picked out fugitive gleams from smooth surfaces as the explorers poked into the cabins.

“She’s been stripped!” Rip’s words rang in the helmet coms back along the line. “I’m for control——”

Dane knew very little of the geography of a Survey ship. He could only follow the others, halting at the first open panel to peer inside with the aid of his own torch. This must have been the storage for space suits and exploring gear as it was on the
Queen.
But it was empty now—cupboards gaping as if their contents had been hurriedly ripped loose. Had the crew left the boat in space before the crash? No, that did not explain the rope.

“Lord above us!” The shock in that cry stopped Dane where he was. Rip’s voice in the com was so strained, horrified— What
had
the other discovered in the control section?

“What’s the matter?” that was Wilcox, impatient at being left out.

“Coming—” Kosti’s growl came next.

And a few moments later the jetman’s voice was loud with a crackle of expletives as shocked as Rip’s exclamation had been.

“What
is
it?” fumed Wilcox.

Dane left the storage space and made his way quickly to the passageway tying together all sections of the ship, which should lead him directly to what the others had found. Mura was ahead of him there and he soon caught up with the steward.

“We’ve found them,” Rip’s voice was bleak and old as he answered the astrogator.

“Found who?” Wilcox wanted to know.

“The crew!”

The passage ahead of Dane was blocked. He could see past Mura, but Kosti’s bulk and Rip’s shut out what lay beyond. Then Rip spoke again and Dane hardly knew it for his voice.

“Got—to—get—out—of—here——”

“Yes!” that was Kosti.

Both of them turned and Mura and Dane had to retrace their way to the hatch, hurried on by the impatience of the two behind them. They climbed out on the curving side of the ship, giving way to the others. Rip crawled down toward the fins. He held fast to the braces of one and proceeded to be thoroughly sick.

Kosti’s face was greenish, but he maintained control with a visible effort. None of the other three quite dared at that moment to ask what either man had seen. It wasn’t until Rip, shivering, crept back and slid down the rope to the ground that Wilcox lost patience.

“Well, what happened to them?”

“Murder!” Rip’s voice rang too loudly, echoed by some freak of the stone abutments about them until “Murrrderrr” was shouted in their ears.

Dane glanced around in time to see Mura descend again into the ship. In the shadow of his helmet the small man’s face was composed and he gave no reason for his return.

Nor did Wilcox ask any more questions. After a minute or two Mura’s voice sounded in their coms.

“This ship has also been stripped by looters——”

First the prospector hulk and then this—which must have been far more rewarding. Survivors of earlier crashes could have been searching for supplies, for material to make life more endurable but— Rip had an answer to that line of thought and he gave it in a single outburst:

“The Survey men were blaster burned!”

Blaster burned! Just as the globe things had been killed in that valley. Ruthless cruelty of a sort unknown to the civilized space lanes was in power on Limbo. Then another announcement from Mura electrified them all.

“This, I believe, is the missing
Rimbold!
”

The Survey ship whose disappearance had indirectly led to the auction on Naxos, and so their own arrival on Limbo! But how had it reached here and what had brought it crashing down on this world? Survey ships, because of the nature of their duty, were as nearly foolproof as any ships could be. In a hundred years perhaps two had been lost. Yet the
Rimbold
, for all of its safety devices and the drilled know-how of its experienced crew, had been as luckless as the earlier ships they had discovered.