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diff --git a/24791.txt b/24791.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63a9d7d --- /dev/null +++ b/24791.txt @@ -0,0 +1,993 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Marooner, by Charles A. Stearns + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Marooner + +Author: Charles A. Stearns + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: March 9, 2008 [EBook #24791] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAROONER *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + The + MAROONER + + By CHARLES A. STEARNS + + + ILLUSTRATOR SUMMERS + + + _Wordsley and Captain DeCastros + crossed half a universe--suffered + hardship--faced unknown dangers; + and all this for what--a breath + of rare perfume?_ + + +[Illustration: The creature was more pitiful than fearsome.] + +Steadily they smashed the mensurate battlements, in blackness beyond +night and darkness without stars. Yet Mr. Wordsley, the engineer, who +was slight, balding and ingenious, was able to watch the firmament from +his engine room as it drifted from bow to beam to rocket's end. This was +by virtue of banked rows of photon collectors which he had invented and +installed in the nose of the ship. + +And Mr. Wordsley, at three minutes of the hour of seventeen over four, +tuned in a white, new star of eye-blinking magnitude and surpassing +brilliance. Discovering new stars was a kind of perpetual game with Mr. +Wordsley. Perhaps more than a game. + +"I wish I may, I wish I might ..." Mr. Wordsley said. + + * * * * * + +The fiddly hatch clanged. DeCastros, that gross, terrifying clown of a +man, clumped down the ladder from the bridge to defeat the enchantment +of the moment. DeCastros held sway. He was captain. He did not want Mr. +Wordsley to forget that he was captain. + +The worst of Captain DeCastros was that he had moods. Just now he was +being a sly leprechaun, if one can imagine a double-chinned, +three-hundred pound leprechaun. He came over and dug his fingers into +Mr. Wordsley's shoulder. A wracking pain in the trapezius muscle. + +"The ertholaters are plugged," he said gently. "The vi-lines are giving +out a horrible stink." + +"I'll attend to it right away," Mr. Wordsley said, wincing a little as +he wriggled free. + +"Tch, tch," DeCastros said, "can anyone really be so asthenic as you +seem, Mr. Wordsley?" + +"No, sir," Mr. Wordsley said, uncertain of his meaning. + +The captain winked. "Yet there was that ruffled shirt that I found in +the laundromat last week. It was not my shirt. There are only the two of +us aboard, Mr. Wordsley." + +"It was my shirt," Mr. Wordsley said, turning crimson. "I bought it on +Vega Four. I--I didn't know--that is, they wear them like that on Vega +Four." + +"Yes, they do," DeCastros said. "Well, well, perhaps you are only a +poet, Mr. Wordsley. But should you happen to be a little--well, maggoty, +you positively do not have to tell me. No doubt we both have our +secrets. Naturally." + +"_I_ haven't," Mr. Wordsley said desperately. + +"No? Then you certainly will not mind that I am recommending an Ab Test +for you when we get home." + +Mr. Wordsley's heart stopped beating for several seconds. He searched +Captain DeCastros' face for a sign that he might be fooling. He was not. +He looked too pleasant. Mr. Wordsley had always managed to pass the +Aberrations Test by the skin of his teeth, but he was sure that, like +most spiritual geniuses, he was sensitively balanced, and that the power +and seniority of a man like DeCastros must influence the Board of +Examination. + +"You might be decommed. Or even committed to an institution. We wouldn't +want _that_ to happen, would we, Mr. Wordsley?" + +"Why are you doing this to me?" Mr. Wordsley asked strickenly. + +"To tell the truth, I do not propose to have any more of my voyages +blighted with your moon-calfing, day-dreaming and letting the +ertholaters stink up the bridge. Besides--" Captain DeCastros patted his +shoulder almost affectionately. "--besides, I can't stand you, Mr. +Wordsley." + +Mr. Wordsley nodded. He went over to the screen that was like a window +of blessed outer night and sank down on his knees before it. + +_Have the wish I wish tonight._ + +"Ah, ha!" DeCastros exclaimed with sudden ice frozen around the rim of +his voice. "What have we here?" + +"A new nova," Mr. Wordsley answered sullenly. + +"It is common knowledge that no engineer can tell a nova from the D.R. +blast of an Iphonian freighter. Let me see it." He shoved Mr. Wordsley +out of the way and examined the screen intently. + +"You fool," he said at last, "that's a planet. It is Avis Solis." + + * * * * * + +Now the name of Avis Solis tingled in Mr. Wordsley's unreliable memory, +but it would not advance to be recognized. What planet so bright, and +yet so remote from any star by angular measurement? + +"Turn it off," DeCastros ordered. + +Mr. Wordsley turned on him in a sudden fury. "It's mine," he cried. "I +found it! Go back to your bridge." Then, aghast at what he had said, he +clapped his hand over his mouth. + +"Dear me," said Captain DeCastros silkily. Suddenly he seemed to go +quite berserk. He snatched a pile-bar from its rack and swung it at the +screen. The outer panel shattered. The screen went dead. + +Mr. Wordsley grabbed at the bar and got hold of it at the expense of a +broken finger. They strained and tugged. The slippery cadmium finally +eluded both of them, bounded over the railing into the pit, struck a +nomplate far below and was witheringly consumed in a flash of blue +flame. + +Then they were down and rolling over and over, clawing and gouging, +until Captain DeCastros inevitably emerged upon top. + +Mr. Wordsley's eyes protruded from that unbearable weight, and he wished +that there was no such thing as artificial gravity. He struggled vainly. +A bit of broken glass crunched beneath his writhing heel. He went limp +and began to sob. It was not a very manly thing to do, but Mr. Wordsley +was exercising his poetic license. + +"Now then," said DeCastros, jouncing up and down a bit. "I trust that +you have come to understand who is master of this ship, Mr. Wordsley?" + +His addressee continued to weep silently. + +After awhile it occurred to Captain DeCastros that what he was doing was +expressly forbidden in the Rules of the Way, Section 90-G, and might, in +fact, get him into a peck of trouble. So he got up, helped Mr. Wordsley +to his feet, and began to brush him off. + +In a kindly voice he said, "You must have heard of Avis Solis." + +"I don't seem to remember it," Mr. Wordsley said. + +"It's a solitaire. One of those planets which depend upon dark, dwarf, +satellite suns for heat, you know. It is almost always in eclipse, and +I, for one, have always been glad of it." + +"Why is that?" said Mr. Wordsley, not really caring. His chest was +giving him considerable pain. + +"Because it holds the darkest of memories for me. I lost a brother on +Avis Solis. Perhaps you have heard of him. Malmsworth DeCastros. He was +quite famous for certain geological discoveries on Titan at one time." + +"I don't think so." + +"You need not be sorry. The wretch was a murderer and a bad sport as +well. I need not append that my brother and I were as unlike as night +and day--though there is no night and day proper upon Avis Solis, of +course. I imagine you would like to hear the story. Then you will +undoubtedly understand how it is that I was so upset a moment ago by the +sight of Avis Solis, and forgive me." + +Mr. Wordsley nodded. A birdlike, snake-charmed nod. + + * * * * * + +"Avis Solis is a planet absolutely unique, at least in this galaxy. In +addition to being a solitaire, its surface is almost solidly covered to +a depth of several meters with light-gathering layers of crystal which +give it the brilliant, astral glow that you saw just now. Its satellite +suns contribute hardly any light at all. It contains ample oxygen in its +atmosphere, but hardly any water, and so is practically barren. An +ill-advised mineralogical expedition brought us to Avis Solis." + +"Us?" Mr. Wordsley said. + +"There were six of us, five men and a woman. A woman fine and loyal and +beautiful, with the body of a consummate goddess and the face of a +tolerant angel. I was astrological surveyor and party chief." + +"I didn't know that you were once a surveyor." + +"It was seventeen years ago, and none of your business besides." + +"What happened then?" + +"Briefly, we were prospecting for ragnite, which was in demand at the +time. We had already given up hopes of finding one gram of that mineral, +but decided to make a last foray before blasting off. My brother, +Malmsworth, stayed at our base camp. Poor Jenny--that was her +name--remained behind to care for Malmsworth's lame ankle." + +Captain DeCastros was lost for several minutes in a bleak and desolate +valley of introspection wherein Mr. Wordsley dared not intrude. There +was a certain grandeur about his great, dark visage, his falciform nose +and meaty jowls as he stood there. Mr. Wordsley began to fidget and +clear his throat. + +DeCastros glared at him. "They were gone when we returned. Gone, I tell +you! She, to her death. Malmsworth--well, we found _him_ three hours +later in the great rift which bisects the massive plateau that is the +most outstanding feature of the regular surface of Avis Solis. At the +end of this rift there is a natural cave that opens into the sheer wall +of the plateau. Within it is a bottomless chasm. It was here that we +found certain of Jenny's garments, but of Jenny, naturally, there was no +trace. He had seen to that." + +"Terrible," Mr. Wordsley said. + +DeCastros smiled reminiscently. "He fled, but we caught him. He really +had a lame ankle, you know." + +The mice of apprehension scampered up and down Mr. Wordsley's spine. +"You killed him." It was a statement of certainty. + +"No, indeed. That would have been too easy. We left him there with one +portable water-maker and all of that unpalatable but nourishing fungus +which thrives upon Avis Solis that he could eat. I have no doubt that he +lived until madness reduced his ability to feed himself." + +"That was drastic," Mr. Wordsley felt called upon to say. +"Perhaps--perhaps it occurred to you later on that, in charity to your +brother, the er--woman might not have been altogether blameless." + +For a moment he thought that Captain DeCastros was about to strike him +again. He did not. Instead he spat at Mr. Wordsley. He had the speed of +a cobra. There was not time to get out of the way. Mr. Wordsley employed +a handkerchief on his face. + +"She was my wife, you know, Mr. Wordsley," Captain DeCastros said +pleasantly. + +At nineteen-over-four the contamination buzzers sounded their dread +warning. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Wordsley got the alarm first. He had been furtively repairing the +viewscreen and thinking dark thoughts the while. There was sick dread +for him in the contemplation of the future, for after this last +unfortunate blunder DeCastros would be certain to keep his promise and +have him examined. This might very well be his last voyage, and Mr. +Wordsley had known for quite a long time that he could not live anywhere +except out here in the void. + +Only in space, where the stars were like diamonds. Not in the light of +swirling, angry, red suns, not upon the surface of any planet, so drab +when you drew too near. Only in the sterile purity of remote space +where he could maintain and nourish the essential purity of his +day-dreams. But of course one could not explain this to the Board of +Examiners; least of all to Captain DeCastros. + +Moreover, he was afraid that Avis Solis, which he had been permitted to +behold for only a few seconds, would be out of range before he got the +scanner to working again. The aspect of this magnificent gem diminishing +forever into the limitless night brought a lump to his throat. + +But then, at last, the screen came alive once more, and there it loomed, +more brilliant than ever, now so huge that it filled the screen, and it +had not become drab, neither gray-green or brown. No, it was cake +frosting, and icicles, and raindrops against the sun, and all of the +bright, unattainable Christmas tree ornaments of his childhood. + +So rapt was he that he scarcely heard the alarm. Yet he responded +automatically to the sound that now sent him scrambling into his +exposure suit. He fitted one varium-protected oxy-tank to his helmet and +tucked another one under his arm for Captain DeCastros. + +This was superfluous, for DeCastros not only had donned his rig; he had +managed to recall to memory a few dozen vile, degrading swear words +gleaned from the sin-pits of Marronn, to hurl at Mr. Wordsley. + +No one could have helped it, really. Ships under the Drive are insulated +from contamination clouds and everything else in normal space. The +substance polluting the ventilation system, therefore, must have been +trapped within their field since Vega. Now it had entered the ship +through some infinitesimal opening in the hull. + +It was the engineer's job to find that break. It was not easy, +especially with DeCastros breathing down one's neck. Mr. Wordsley began +to perspire heavily, and the moisture ran down and puddled in his boots. + +An hour passed that was like an age. The prognosis became known and was +not reassuring. This was one of the toxic space viruses, dormant at +absolute zero, but active under shipboard conditions. A species, in +fact, of the dread, oxygen-eating _dryorus_, which multiplies with +explosive rapidity, and kills upon penetration of the human respiratory +system. + +Because of the leak in the hull, the decontaminators could not even hold +their own. Mr. Wordsley shuddered to note that ominous, rust-colored +cobwebs--countless trillions of _dryori_--already festooned the +stringers of the hull. + +Another precious hour was taken from them. Mr. Wordsley emerged wearily +from the last inspection hole. + + * * * * * + +"Well?" DeCastros snapped. "Well--well?" His face was greenish from the +effects of the special, contamination resistant mixture that they were +breathing. + +"I found the leak," Mr. Wordsley said. + +"Did you fix it?" + +"It was one of the irmium alloy plugs in the outer hull beneath the +pile. They were originally placed there, I believe, for the installation +of a radiation tester. The plug is missing, and I am sorry to say that +we have no extras. Anything other than irmium would melt at once, of +course." + +"We have less than eight hours of pure air in the tanks," DeCastros +said. "Have you thought of that, you rattle-head?" + +"Yes, sir," Mr. Wordsley said. "And if I might be allowed to speculate, +Captain, I would say that we are finished unless we can make a +planetfall. Only then would I be able to remove the lower port tube, +weld the cavity, seal the ship and fumigate." + +"We're four weeks from the nearest star, Fomalhaut; you know that as +well as I do." + +"I was thinking," said Mr. Wordsley, with a sudden, suffused glow in his +cheeks, "of Avis Solis." + +Mr. Wordsley shut his eyes as they were going down, because he wanted to +open them and surprise himself, at the moment of landing. But the cold, +white glare was more intense than he had expected, and he had to shut +them again and turn on the polarizer. + +He buckled on his tools and the carbo-torch, and went down the ladder. +He dropped at once to his knees, not because of the gravity, which was +not bad, but because of a compulsion to get his face as near to the +surface of Avis Solis as possible. It was even lovelier than when seen +from space. He trod upon a sea of diamonds. A million tiny winkings and +scintillations emanated from each crystal. A million crystals lay +beneath the sole of his boot. He would rather not have stepped on them, +but it could not be helped. They were everywhere. Mr. Wordsley gloated. + + * * * * * + +DeCastros dropped like a huge slug from the ladder behind him. "What are +you doing?" he said. "Picnicking?" + +"I was tying my shoe," Mr. Wordsley said, and got to work with an +alacrity that was wholly false. + +The dark sun-satellites rose by twos and threes over the horizon, felt +rather than clearly seen. There was a dry wind that blew from the +glittering wasteland and whistled around the base of the rockets as Mr. +Wordsley labored on and on. + +Captain DeCastros had withdrawn to a level outcropping of igneous rock +and sat staring at the nothing where the greenish-black sky met the pale +gray horizon. + +The tube was loosened on its shackles and presently fell, with a +tinkling sound, upon the surface of Avis Solis. The opening was sealed +and welded. Mr. Wordsley was practically finished, but he did not hurry. +Instead, he went around to the opposite side of the ship on a pretense +of inspection, and sat down where DeCastros could not see him. + +For awhile he stared at the many-faceted depths of the crystals; then he +leaned over and touched them with his lips. They were smooth and +exciting. They cut his lip. + +But he had the distinct feeling that there was something wrong with this +idyll. It seemed to him that he was being spied upon. He sneaked a +furtive glance behind him. DeCastros was still sitting where he had +been, with his back to him. + +Mr. Wordsley slowly lifted his gaze to the plateau of shimmering glass +that was before him. At its rim, a hundred feet above him, a silent +figure stood gazing down upon him. + + * * * * * + +A man even six feet tall might easily have frightened Mr. Wordsley into +a nervous breakdown by staring at him with that gaunt, hollow-eyed +stare, but this creature, though manlike, was fully fifty feet tall, +incredibly elongated, and stark naked. Its hair was long and matted; its +cheeks sunken, its lips pulled back in an expression which might have +been anything from a smile to a cannibalistic snarl. + +Mr. Wordsley cried out. + +Captain DeCastros heard and came running across the intervening distance +with swiftness incredible in one of his bulk at this gravity. His +blizzer was out. It was one of the very latest models of blizzers. Very +destructive. Mr. Wordsley had always been afraid to touch it. + +He fired, and part of the plateau beneath the titan's feet fell away in +a sparkling shower. The creature vanished. + +DeCastros was red-faced and wheezing. "That was Malmsworth," he said. +"Now how the devil do you suppose he managed to stick it out all these +years!" + +"If that was Malmsworth," Mr. Wordsley said, "he must be a very tall +man." + +"That was merely dimensional mirage. Come along. We'll have to hurry if +we catch him." + +"Why do we want to catch him?" Mr. Wordsley said. + +Captain DeCastros made a sound of sober surprise. Even of pious wonder. +"Malmsworth is my only brother," he said. + +Mr. Wordsley wanted to say, "Yes, but you shot at him." He did not, +because there was no time. He had to hurry to catch up with DeCastros, +who was even now scrambling up the steep slope. + +From the rim they could see Malmsworth out there on the flat. He was +making good time, but Captain DeCastros proceeded to demonstrate that he +was no mean hiker, himself. Mr. Wordsley's side began to hurt, and his +breath came with difficulty. He might have died, if he had not feared +to incur DeCastros' anger. + +At times the naked man was a broad, flat monster upon that shimmering +tableland. Again he seemed almost invisible; then gigantic and tenuous. + +Presently he disappeared altogether. + +"Oho!" DeCastros said, "If I am not mistaken, old Malmsworth has holed +up in that very same rift where we caught him at his dirty business +seventeen years ago. He's as mad as a Martian; you can lay to that. He'd +have to be." + +The rift, when they arrived at its upper reaches, was cool and shadowy. +In its depths nothing sparkled. It was ordinary limestone. The walls +were covered with a dull yellow moss, except for great, raw wounds where +it had been torn off. + +"That's Malmsworth's work," Captain DeCastros said. "In seventeen years, +Mr. Wordsley, one will consume a lot of moss, I daresay. Shall we +descend?" + +The rift had reached its depth quite gradually, so that Mr. Wordsley +scarcely realized that they were going down until the surface glare was +suddenly gone, and the green-walled gloom surrounded them. It might have +been a pleasant place, but Mr. Wordsley did not like it. + +Captain DeCastros was taking his time now, resting frequently. There was +not the slightest chance of Malmsworth's getting away, for at the other +end of the rift lay the cave and the abyss containing, at least, one +ghost of Malmsworth's terrible past. + +But though it might seem drab after the plateau and the plain, the rift +had its points of interest. Along the walls, everywhere, as high as a +tall man might reach, the moss had been torn or scraped from the +surface. There was no second growth. + + * * * * * + +Every quarter of a mile or so they came upon the former campsites of the +castaway, each marked by a flat-topped cairn of small stones three or +four feet in height. DeCastros was at a loss to explain this. Mr. +Wordsley supposed that it was one of the marks of a diseased mind. + +Not that he actually understood the workings of a diseased mind. +Privately, he suspected that DeCastros was a little mad. Certainly he +was subject to violent, unreasonable tempers which could not be +explained. The unfortunate strain might have cropped up more strongly in +his brother. + +Might not these walls have rung with lunatic screams after months and +years of hollow-eyed watching for the ship that never came? It might +have been different, of course, had Malmsworth been able to appreciate +the aesthetic values of life, as Mr. Wordsley did. But doubtless these +lovely miles and miles of crystalline oceans had been but a desert to +the castaway. + +Eventually the rift widened a little, and they came to a dead end, +beyond which lay the cave. It must have been formed ages ago by +trickling waters before Avis Solis lost its clouds and rivers. + +Here they found the last of the cairns, and the answer to their +construction. The water-maker which the expedition had left with +Malmsworth seventeen years ago rested upon this neat platform, and below +it a delicate basin, eighteen inches or so in depth, had been +constructed of stones and chinked with moss. Fit monument for the god, +machine. + +It was filled with water, and quite obviously a bathtub. + + * * * * * + +Captain DeCastros sneered. This proved beyond doubt that Malmsworth was +mad, for in the old days he had been the very last to care about his +bath. In fact, DeCastros said, Malmsworth occasionally stank. + +This was probably not true, but it seemed curious, nonetheless. + +Captain DeCastros set to work kicking the tub to pieces. He kicked so +hard that one stone whistled past the head of Mr. Wordsley, who ducked +handily. Soon the basin lay in rubble, and the water-maker, its supports +collapsed, listed heavily to the right. + +"He must be in the cave," Captain DeCastros said. He cupped his hands to +his mouth. "Come out, Malmsworth, we know you're in there!" + +But there was no answer, and Malmsworth did not come out, so Captain +DeCastros, blizzer in hand, went in, with Mr. Wordsley following at a +cautious interval. + +Presently they stood upon the edge of something black and yawning, but +there was still no sign of the exile, who seemed, like Elijah, to have +been called directly to his Maker without residue. + +Beyond the gulf, however, Mr. Wordsley had glimpsed a ragged aperture +filled with the purest light. It seemed inconceivable to him--attracted +as he had always been by radiance--that this should be inaccessible. + +Accordingly, he lay down upon his belly and stretched his hand as far +down as he could reach. His fingers brushed a level surface which +appeared to extend outwards for two or three feet. Gingerly he lowered +himself to this ledge and began to feel his way along the wall. Nor was +he greatly surprised (for hardly anything surprised Mr. Wordsley any +more) that it neatly circumnavigated the pit and deposited him safely +upon the other side, where he quickly groped toward the mouth of the +cavern and stood gazing out upon a scene that was breathtaking. + +From this vantage the easily accessible slope led to the foot of the +plateau. Beyond lay the grandeur of Avis Solis. + +Captain DeCastros was soon beside him. "A very clever trick, that +ledge," he said. "Malmsworth thinks to elude us, but he never shall, +eh, Mr. Wordsley?" There were tears of frustration in his eyes. + +It embarrassed Mr. Wordsley, who could only point to the pall of +gleaming dust where their ship had lain, and to the silver needle which +glinted for a moment in the sky and was gone. + +"Malmsworth would not do that to me," Captain DeCastros said. + +But he had. + + * * * * * + +"We may be here quite a long while," Mr. Wordsley said, and could not +contrive to sound downhearted about it. + +But Captain DeCastros had already turned away and was feeling his way +back along the ledge. + +Mr. Wordsley waited just a moment longer; then he took from his pocket a +heavy object and dropped it upon the slope and it rolled over and over, +down and down, until its metallic sheen was lost in that superior glare. + +It was a spare irmium alloy plug. + +He made his way back to the water-maker. They would have to take good +care of it from now on. + +He was not concerned with the basin. However, in the soft, damp sand +beside the basin, plainly imprinted there, as if someone's raiding party +had interrupted _someone's_ bathing party, there remained a single, +small and dainty footprint. + +One could almost imagine that a faint breath of perfume still lingered +upon the sheltered air of the rift, but, of course, only things which +glittered interested Mr. Wordsley. + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Science Fiction Stories_ + September 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling + and typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Marooner, by Charles A. 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