The Martian Viking (26 page)

"Not for awhile," Hi said. "We'll probably pop up in this other place next."

"What place is that?" Smitty asked.

"The place where all the monsters are."

SOMETIMES, AS THEY sailed through a sea of time and space, Johnsmith wondered if the chieftain was actually a cousin of Beowulf. The watery disjunctive node certainly could have passed for the lake where Grendel's mother dwelled. Suppose that these really were the Geats, a tribe of Norsemen who had, after all, vanished from the face of the Earth a thousand years ago, give or take a century or two.

As he strained at an oar, he decided that this might indeed have been what became of the Geats, or at least some of them. He said as much to Hi Malker and Smitty. Hi was at the oar across from Johnsmith, and Smitty was standing on the deck between them.

"I wouldn't know about any of that," said Hi. "But I see no reason why it can't be true."

"Yeah," Smitty agreed. "The fantastic part is that we're here at all, Dad."

Johnsmith laughed. He was happier than he'd been in a long time. If only he knew what had become of Frankie and the others. Poor Alderdice was probably dead or in solitary confinement by now, unless he could convince them that he'd been taken as a hostage—which was what had really happened, when you got right down to it.

The Geats (as Johnsmith now thought of them, whether his theory was correct or not) were taciturn most of the time. Every once in a while their chieftain, Hygelac, would bellow orders at his gangers, and they would silently obey. Angel Torquemada had never been nearly so commanding a presence. Even so, Johnsmith suspected that Hygelac had not been born with so prestigious a name, the same as the giant Geatish king who had lived in the time before Beowulf and the nasty business at Hrothgar's mead hall, Heorot. If you wanted to be a leader, a bit of showmanship never hurt. Why not name yourself after a hero?

"When are we gonna see the monsters, Hi?" Smitty asked.

Hi grinned. "Well, I don't know much about them. Just what I've picked up from the guys here."

"You understand what they're saying, don't you?"

"A little bit, after all this time. They talk about the place where the monsters are quite often."

"Well, Hi, maybe they're speaking symbolically," Johnsmith said. "Here there be tigers—that sort of thing."

"I guess they could be," Hi allowed. "But they seem pretty serious about it."

"Do you think we'll ever get back to Mars?" Johnsmith asked.

"Maybe. I know these guys have been there several times."

"How about Earth?"

"They haven't got back there yet. It's as if Earth is a little out of the loop most of the time, and can only be reached rarely, whereas they pop up on Mars fairly often."

Johnsmith nodded. He stared off into the foggy darkness surrounding them on all sides, and remembered Ronindella's preacher talking about Limbo. At the moment, there was nothing beyond the few thousand gallons of water and the canopy of misty oxygen overhead, nothing at all. "I wish that the node would pop into existence somewhere," he said. "Anywhere."

"Yes, it does tend to get on your nerves after awhile," Hi agreed. "It's such a tenuous life."

"Where does the air come from, Dad?" Smitty asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Johnsmith admitted. "But it never seems to run out."

"See that scum floating on the water?" Hi said. "Maybe it's photosynthesizing."

"There's no sunlight," Smitty said.

Hi shrugged.

"I think this disjunctive node is in stasis," Johnsmith said. "It never changes in here, a little piece of Earth as it was hundreds and hundreds of years ago."

"It's not part of Earth anymore," Hi said.

The Norseman in front of Johnsmith turned and offered a half-eaten bowl of
lutfisk
to eat. He grinned, revealing his missing front teeth without self-consciousness. Johnsmith still couldn't understand what he was saying, but had figured out that the guy's name was Snorri.

The
lutfisk
wasn't very appetizing. Not only had Snorri eaten half of it, but it didn't smell very fresh, either. Nevertheless, Johnsmith ate some of it. The only food they could get was the flesh of unknown fish that the Geats provided. At least they shared their food.

In fact, the Geats were generous in many respects. They had given Smitty a helmet, which fit awkwardly over his head, obscuring all but his chin and mouth. He looked comical, but he seemed to enjoy wearing it. He thought he was the terror of the seven seas, no doubt. Well, it was a healthy life for a boy here. In spite of the mystery surrounding the atmosphere they breathed, the air seemed clean and fresh.

"Dad," Smitty asked, peering off into the mist, "I've been wondering about something."

"What's that, son?"

"Why do you have to row this boat?"

"Well, from what I can gather, there's a danger we might slip right out of the node if we don't. Fortunately, the node's not moving very fast, but it is
always
moving."

"What would happen if we slipped out?"

"I don't know . . .and I don't think I want to know."

"There's nothing out there," Hi Malker said. "Not even the vacuum of space. I don't see how we could exist outside the node, except when we pop up on some other world that'll support our kind of life."

"Oh." Smitty ran off, down the deck and back again, playing as children will do even in the strangest of circumstances.

When Johnsmith thought about what Hi had just said, he saw a logical flaw. If they didn't know what was outside the bubble, how could they be sure that it wouldn't support human life? Admittedly, he wasn't about to dive down and find out, but it was an intriguing question. Rowing gave him plenty of time for rumination, much more than he had ever managed while sitting in his cubicle at the University. It was good exercise, too, something that he had come to appreciate since he'd been sentenced to Elysium . . .whenever and wherever the disjunctive node existed in relation to that time and place.

"Aoogah!" a startled warning cry sounded. The Geats grabbed their spears and shields, while Hygelac stood near the dragon prow, gazing into the fog with broadsword in hand.

"What is it, Dad?" Smitty said.

There was no time to answer him. The ugliest creature Johnsmith had ever seen in his entire life had emerged from the surf, foam streaming down its squamous neck.

"It's a monster!" Smitty cried, answering his own question.

The Geats were stabbing at the thing with their spears while shouting Nordic oaths, and Hygelac hacked away at it with powerful swipes of his sword. The monster's eyes, which ringed its huge maw in a most unsightly fashion, shifted from one man to another, as if it were trying to decide which one to eat first. As its long neck leaned forward, the head actually slithered aboard the long ship, its dozens of eyes peering about curiously.

With one mighty stroke, Hygelac decapitated it. Or nearly so—the head hung by a thin string of tissue as black fluid gouted out of the neck stump.

The monster's hideous mouth worked, but no sound came forth. Apparently, the vocal chords had been severed. As the neck began to sink back into the water, Hygelac sliced off the string connecting head and body.

The huge head thudded onto the rough planks of the deck. The mouth and eyes quivered for a few seconds, and then were still. Hygelac stood astride his trophy, shouting his war cry to any other monsters who might be about.

"Wow!" Smitty said. "Did you see that?"

Johnsmith nodded, unable to speak. It had all happened so quickly that he wouldn't have believed it, were the monster's head not lying in plain sight, still oozing some foul fluid. It smelled very bad. The Geats impaled the still quivering head with three spears and proudly propped it up near the dragon head.

"Smitty," Hi Malker said, "do you remember what you asked me? About when we'd be getting to the monster place?"

"Yeah."

"We're there now. That's why they're displaying the head, I think. As a kind of challenge to the other monsters."

Through the mist, an alien world appeared. In it were dripping stone warrens, where twisted shapes crawled or pulsated; and bubbling pools with sinuous shapes moved just beneath the surface. The entire spectacle was dimly lit by some pale, wet fire.

The long ship's keel almost skimmed the surface of this strange place, or so it seemed to Johnsmith. He was very frightened of what he saw: the hellish environment went on for as far as the eye could see; hundreds of monsters thrived here, perhaps thousands. They were of every imaginable shape and size, and many of them were lifting misshapen heads to watch the disjunctive node pass over. Some of the larger ones, able to reach the node's watery bottom curve, moved toward the Ship.

"God, I wish I had a weapon," Hi said.

"Maybe there are some in the hold," Smitty said. "Hygelac got my helmet down there."

"Smart," Johnsmith said.

While the Geats leaned over the side and made threatening gestures at the monsters with their spears, Hi and Johnsmith were tugging at the heavy wooden cover of the hold. They threw it aside, and Smitty jumped down to see what was stored there.

After a moment, he hollered something indistinguishable over the Geatish shouts.

"What did you say, son?" Johnsmith could see him faintly, as Smitty bent to uncover something wrapped in furs.

"I said, wait'll you see what's down here, Dad!"

"Can you hand it up to us?"

"I think so."

Smitty struggled with something that looked as if it were made of metal. A harpoon of some kind? Johnsmith reached down to take it, finding it much lighter than he expected.

"Jesus," said Hi Malker. His eyes were open wider than Johnsmith had ever seen them.

There was good reason for Hi's amazement. Johnsmith was cradling a particle beam cannon.

"Where do you suppose they got that?" Hi said. "Come on, let's see if it works."

"It couldn't possibly," Johnsmith said. "Could it? I mean, the power supply has got to be worn down."

"What about these?" Smitty's grinning face appeared in the hold. He was brandishing three power packs.

"Let's slap one of those babies on," Hi said. "And then we'll see if any of those ugly bastards comes near this boat."

It was only a matter of seconds before the power pack was fastened to the cannon. Johnsmith switched it on, and an azure light appeared on the stock, indicating that it was ready for firing.

"All right!" Smitty exulted.

"Clear a path, you Vikings!" Hi shouted.

Johnsmith carried the particle beam cannon toward the bow. He stood next to the puzzled Hygelac, whose leathery face frowned down at him from a lordly seven foot height.

"Maybe I should let him shoot the damn thing," Johnsmith said. "After all, he's the boss around here."

But it was clear that Hygelac didn't think it would work. He must have known what it could do, though, because he pointed to the monsters and shook his head. Perhaps he had used it until the power supply wore down, not understanding why it no longer worked.

Several of the monsters had now swum into the disjunctive node and were surrounding the ship.

"He doesn't understand that you've fired it up," Hi said. "Let one of those monsters out there have it, and then old Hygelac'll get the idea."

Johnsmith carefully balanced the particle beam cannon next to the dragon prow, letting it rest on the curving wood of the gunwale. The creatures in the water were bolder now, many of them circling and showing their hideous, otherworldly selves. Bracing his right foot against a futtock, Johnsmith fired the cannon.

"Neat, Dad!" Smitty said, jumping up and down in his excitement.

The Geats gasped as the crimson, pencil-thin beam cut through the fog, searing a bristling appendage off a creature that looked part insect, part seal. It howled in pain—a sibilant, piercing noise—and dropped back into the water.

Feeling a high degree of excitement, Johnsmith swung the cannon around, burning through the flabby, tentacled body of a cephalopodesque thing with malevolently intelligent eyes. It made no sound, but Johnsmith saw the life go out of its eyes as it sank out of sight.

Hygelac slapped him on the back, knocking the wind out of him. The Geatish chieftain gestured at the cannon with his immense right hand, and Johnsmith reluctantly turned it over to him. Killing the aliens had been a good deal more pleasurable than Johnsmith wanted it to be.

Hygelac fumbled with the firing mechanism for a moment. As soon as Johnsmith pointed it out to him, he remembered how to fire it, grinned, and squeezed the trigger, watching the beam pierce the fog. He swung it almost as wildly as his broadsword, picking it up from the gunwale and firing from the hip while whooping his war cry. The beam left a boiling wake as it swept through the surf.

After a few bursts, he winged a creature that flipped up out of the water and glided toward them on glistening folds of skin, like some nightmare bat. The flying thing went down, screeching as it plummeted into the waves like a World War One biplane. Those on deck were showered with salt spray.

"Way to go, Hygelac!" Smitty clapped his hands with glee.

No other monsters came near the Ship after the amphibious flying creature was killed. Their hoary backs showed as they dived deep, escaping before any more of them were slaughtered.

Hygelac looked disappointed. The bloodlust was clearly upon him, and he didn't like to stop killing—especially with a weapon of such potency in his hands.

The Geats were all admiring him, commenting on the massacre in their ancient language. Their inflections sounded more like Icelandic than Danish, Johnsmith thought, but he really didn't know much about those languages. He didn't even know that much about English. All he could think about was the heady experience of cutting a gooey swath through these monsters.

Hygelac was saying something to him. Johnsmith shrugged to show that he didn't understand. Hygelac turned to his warriors and shouted a few words at them, which Johnsmith recognized as a command to man the oars. He went back to his place on the bench behind Snorri's sweating back, and began to pull with the others. Smitty sat beside him, grasping the end of the oar with his small hands to help his father.