The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell ssr-10 Page 11

  “You have been busy. Now tell me more about this Hell place and your companion, what was her name? Sybil?”

  I recognized that tone of voice and told her in greater detail about my visit to Hell. Sybil had only a brief mention and I think that I came out of it pretty well, certainly Hell had not been the time or the place for romance of any kind.

  “Good,” she finally said. “And the last time you saw the boys they were enjoying themselves with this female agent. How old is she—about their age, you think?”

  There were daggers behind her words and I walked ever so carefully. Yes, would you believe it, exactly the same age as the boys. Mutual interests, nice to see. But it was even nicer to be with her here. Which led to some enthusiastic cuddling and no more talk of Sybil. “Enough,” she said finally, standing and brushing the sand off her clothes. “With James and Bolivar in good health and enjoying themselves, Inskipp in charge of the investigation and Coypu busy inventing his brains out, we have no need to worry about any of them.”

  “Correct—we worry about ourselves. Only we don’t worry. One can die of thirst in three days, but we have an ocean full of water so that’s not going to happen.”

  “Yes—but you can also die of starvation in a month. And I’m beginning to get hungry.” She pointed out at the larger islands. “There could be food out there. Why don’t we take a look? I have had plenty of time to think about the situation here and I was going to do just that. Did you notice how all the crystal life—forms stay away from the shore?”

  I hadn’t but I did now. “I’ll bet you know why.”

  “I do. I made a simple experiment. Whatever the living crystals are, they are not glass. They dissolve in water. Not right at first, it takes awhile. Then they get sort of soft and swell up, and eventually melt completely.”

  “What happens when it rains?”

  “It never does. Look—no clouds.”

  “And the water doesn’t bother the other kinds of life here? I saw things swimming around in a rock pool.”

  “Some of the green growths extend roots or something into the water. Meaning they are a water—based life—form like we are.

  “And might very well be edible,” I said with growing enthusiasm. “While we can’t eat the glass creatures, we might find something we can nosh on the islands.”

  “My thinking exactly”

  I rubbed my jaw and looked over at the sandy beach on the nearest island, no more than two hundred meters away. Beyond the beach there were green growths of some kind, much bigger than the shrubs that covered the small island that Angelina had explored.

  “But we also have to think about leaving Glass,” I said. “We should go back to that spot where I appeared. So Coypu can find us when he gets his machine working.”

  “He can only get it working after he invents it and builds it,” she said with great practicality. “I suggest that we leave a message there telling him where we are. Then do a little exploring. If we are going to be here any length of time we are going to need food.”

  “My genius,” I said, kissing her enthusiastically. “Rest and save your strength. I’ll trot back and do just that.” While I trotted, then slowed down as the oxygen got me giggling, I considered a vital problem—how was I going to leave a message? By the time I reached the clearing I had the problem solved. My wallet was still in my pocket and was filled with unusable money and valueless credit cards. With my current name on each one.

  In the clearing I used my shoes to kick and scrape clear a circle in the sand. In the middle of it I placed the wallet. Then, picking up the pieces of glass, with great delicacy using a fragment of shirttail, I constructed an arrow of colored fragments that pointed back down the path. With other pieces I spelled out the single word ISLANDS.

  “Very artistic, Jim,” I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “Very artistic indeed. When our rescuers arrive they will figure that out instantly.”

  I stepped over my announcement and went back to join Angelina. It was growing dark and she was sound asleep. It was warm and the sand was soft—and it had been a busy day. I sat beside her and must have fallen asleep as well, for the next I knew it was daylight and she was lightly patting my shoulder.

  “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty badly in need of a shave. Rise and drink your fill from the ocean, then let’s swim over and see if we can find some breakfast.”

  “Let me show you something,” I said, removing the cloth bundle from my pocket. “Used my shirttail. Wrapped another piece of shirt around it to make a handle.”

  “You are so practical, my darling,” she said, taking up the glass dagger and admiring it, then handing it back. “But won’t it dissolve when you go into the water?”

  “Not if I hold it over my head and swim with one arm.”

  “My husband, the athlete. Shall we go?” It took her only a few strokes to reach the first, smaller island, where she waited patiently while I thrashed over to join her. When we started across to the other side she stopped and pointed.

  “There,” she said, “under that thing that looks like a cross between a sick octopus and a dead cactus. Those are the shrubs I told you about. The ones with the orange fruit. Pure poison.”

  “Let’s see if we can find something better on that larger island.

  It was a tiring swim for me but I did it without getting a drop of water on the blade. I emerged from the water panting and puffing and looked around.

  “There may be other berries or fruits or such that aren’t too obnoxious,” I said. “That looks like a path over there.”

  “If there is a path—then something made it. And that something could be dangerous.”

  “Remember my trusty knife,” I said, unwrapping it and brandishing it happily.

  “In that case you may lead the way”

  The path really was a path, trodden flat and turning and twisting through the strange growths. There were analogs of trees, shrubs and bushes, even a green groundcover halfway between grass and moss. But nothing was in any way familiar. Or looked in any way edible. It was Angelina who saw a possibility first.

  “There,” she said, parting the fronds of a feathery growth. “Those bluish bumps on the trunk.”

  The bumps had a nasty resemblance to blue carbuncles. I bent and prodded one with my fingernail; a thin skin split and blue juice oozed out.

  “Possibly edible?” Angelina asked.

  “Possibly,” I said with deep suspicion. “And there is only one way to find out. It’s my turn to be guinea pig.”

  I reached out gingerly and poked my finger into the juice. Brought it to my nose and sniffed.

  “Yukk!” I said. “Even if it is edible it will come up even faster than it went down. Press on.”

  I wiped my finger in the soil until it was filthy but cleansed of the juice, then started warily down the path again. It wound around the larger growths but always continued in the same direction. Uphill and away from the shore.

  “Wait,” Angelina said. “Do you hear anything?”

  I stopped and cocked an ear, then nodded. “A sort of booming sound, coming from up ahead.”

  “Jungle drums. Perhaps the natives are restless.”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  I tried to sound more cheerful than I felt. Stranded on an alien planet in an alien universe. No food to eat, unknown dangers to face. Most depressing. But at least I had Angelina again and that was incredibly cheering. I grabbed the mood swing as it went up and tried to hold onto the good feeling. I still walked slowly and silently with the knife probing out before me.

  The booming was louder and the beat most irregular, slowing then quickening in an unpredictable manner. Well why not? We couldn’t expect a big—band sound here. Now the larger growths were thinning out and I could see what appeared to be a clearing beyond the bole of the last, much larger, one. The path turned there and appeared to go on, skirting the clearing and not crossing it.

  “Very suspicious,” Angelina said.
“Whatever creature made this path it appears that it didn’t want to cross that clearing.”

  “It might be shy—or nocturnal or something like that.”

  “There also might be something in the clearing that it didn’t want to get near. And that’s where the sound is coming from.”

  We stopped behind the big, bulging growth that appeared to be covered with thick green hair; then cautiously looked out.

  “Wow!” Angelina gasped.

  Wow indeed. In the very center of the clearing was a single grayish, lumpy thing like a great pile of slumped mud. A long growth emerged from its summit and hung down almost to the ground. Growing on this, like fruit on a branch, were glistening red spheres.

  “Fruit maybe,” I said. “Possibly edible.”

  “Possibly dangerous,” she said. “I don’t like the way that thing is out there alone—and the way the path circles around it.”

  I did not like it either. “Two choices then. We follow the path and stay away from the thing. Or we get closer and find out more about it.”

  “Knowing you, Jim diGriz, your mind is already made up. But I’m going with you.”

  “A deal—as long as you stay behind me.”

  When we stepped into the clearing the drumming sound stopped. It knew we were there. In a moment the sound started again, faster and not as loud as before. This continued as I walked slowly in its direction. Stopped and looked at it closely and shook my head. Indeed, I thought, it sure is ugly. —

  A wet orifice opened in the center of the bloated form and a deep and rasping voice spoke. “It… sure is ugly,” it said.

  Chapter 12

  “It can talk!” Angelina said, “Not only talk—but it can read minds too. That is just what I was thinking before it spoke.”

  “I wonder if it can read my mind too?” the thing said hoarsely.

  Angelina stepped back. “That is what I was thinking. I don’t like this thing, not at all. Let’s get Out of here.”

  “In a moment. I would still like to find out what those globes are.”

  I did find out—far faster than I really wanted to. With incredible speed the branch—like growth whipped towards me. Before I could jump back it wrapped around my neck and pulled me forward.

  “Grrkk…”, was all I could say as I sawed at the thing with the glass knife. Yellow ichor dripped from the wound; the thing was incredibly tough to cut and I was still being pulled forward.

  “Hack it off!” Angelina shouted, seizing me around the waist and pulling back as hard as she could. It helped a bit, but I was still being pulled towards the opening that had emitted the voice.

  It had stopped speaking now as the opening gaped wider and wider, moist and filled with sharp, dark edges.

  I sawed and choked. I couldn’t see very well. I kept on sawing.

  The opening was just in front of my face when I cut the last fibrous strand and fell backwards.

  I was vaguely aware of Angelina dragging me along the ground away from the thing which was now booming Out loudly and hoarsely.

  “I wonder if… it sure… read my ugly…”

  I sat up and rubbed my sore throat. “That was …too close.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Bruised—but all right.” I looked down and realized that the knife and my right hand were covered with the thick and sticky liquid. And I was still clutching the severed end of the stalk, with a red globe attached to it, in my other hand.

  “Let’s go back to the ocean,” I said, as hoarsely as our opponent who was still talking, feeding back a mixture of our thoughts to us. “I want to wash off this gunk—and see what this red thing is.”

  “I’ll carry it,” Angelina said. “Move—before this monster pulls itself out of the ground and comes after us.”

  She meant it as a jest, but I did walk that much faster. Back to the shore where I scrubbed and cleaned off the congealing liquid. Angelina was beside me dunking the globe into the water.

  “Let me have the knife,” she said. “It’s my turn to try the local cuisine.”

  “The knife is getting soft.”

  “I’ll be quick.”

  Before I could stop her she had sliced the thing open to reveal wet and even redder tissue inside. It looked uncomfortably like flesh. She cut off a sliver and sniffed it.

  “Doesn’t smell too bad.”

  “Don’t!” I said, but I was too late. She had popped it into her mouth, chewed quickly—and swallowed it.

  “Not too bad,” she said. “Tastes sort of like a cross between seafood and candy.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that…”

  “Why not? Someone had to. And as I said—it was my turn to do the testing. And I still feel fine.”

  “Well, at least we know why the path went around the clearing, Ouch!” I had touched my sore neck. “We stay on the path from now on. You were right about that. That thing, it’s like an angler fish.”

  “A what?”

  “A fish that lives at pelagic depths in the ocean. It has sort of a fishing—pole organ growing out of the top of its head that dangles in front of its mouth—hence the name. It has a lump at the end that glows in the dark and attracts other fish. They snap at it—and get eaten.”

  “But why the mind—reading stunt?”

  I sighed and shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. It must work well on the local life forms—what are you doing?”

  She had cut off another piece of the red globe and was chewing on it.

  “Eating, of course. I still feel fine, and I am more than a little hungry.”

  I watched the shadows move and tried to estimate how much time had elapsed: Angelina looked at my face, then reached out and patted my hand.

  “Poor Jim. You look so worried. I’m fine, but still hungry.”

  “Let me try some before you eat any more of it. Maybe it is a sex—specific poison.”

  “What a charming thought,” she said and scowled fiercely.

  “Sorry, shouldn’t say things like that. This place must be getting me down.” I cut, chewed and swallowed. “Not bad. But after we finish this fruit I’m not going back for a second try at that thing.”

  “Agreed. And you have noticed that it is getting dark again?”

  “I have. I suggest we doze here until dawn and then press on along the path. Second the motion?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When the sun woke us we were alive and well and hungry. We divided up the fruit and ate it all. Washed off the juice, yawned and stretched and looked at the path.

  “Can I have the knife today?” Angelina asked. “So I can break trail.”

  “Gone,” I said, pointing to a damp knife—shaped spot in the sand.

  “I’ll see if I can find a rock that will do.”

  She found one shaped not unlike a hand ax, traditional tool of mankind. I looked for another one, then put a few more rocks in my pockets. Angelina led the way since she was as strong and fit as I was, possibly with better reflexes. And I was not about to start discussing the equality of the sexes with her at any time.

  With our stomachs full, our bodies rested, we made good time. And followed the path around the clearing. I stopped just long enough to throw a rock at the creature there; I had carried it all the way from the beach just for this moment. It thudded nicely and the tentacle thrashed violently.

  “I wish… I had a power saw the thing said.

  “Did you think that?” I asked.

  “You better believe it.”

  We struggled up the last and steepest part of the path to the ridge at the top. And stopped.

  “Quite a change,” Angelina said.

  All the green growth ended sharply. As though a line had been drawn along the summit. A bowl in the hills stretched out ahead of us. Completely devoid of life. Sand and rock and nothing more; an empty, barren desert.

  “You said that it never rains on this planet?” I asked.

  “Never.”

  “If it did that would
also be a sloppy end for the glass life forms. It also means that the carbon and chlorophyll life can’t get too far from the ocean. I’ll bet they dip their roots into it or get dew from the air. So up here—no water, so no life.”

  “But the path goes on,” she said, pointing.

  “Interesting. So I guess that we do too.”

  We followed it as it twisted and turned between boulders as big as houses, on to a central flat desert of sand.

  “What on earth is that?” Angelina asked. I could not think of an answer.

  In the sand was a small pyramid apparently made of rock. It was seamless—but hollow. That was obvious because the top was broken off and we could see inside. It was empty. But what was most interesting was the slightly larger pyramid close by. Also with an opening in the top. And the next and the next. Stretching out in a straight line across the desert. Each one with an opening in the top, each larger than the one before.

  “An alien enigma,” I said brightly; Angelina just sniffed, not considering this worth an answer. We left the path and walked along the line of pyramids. There were over thirty of them, the final one taller than we were.

  “The last one,” Angelina said, pointing. “The top. It comes to a point—and it is solid. Any explanations?”

  For a rare moment I was silent.

  “Shall I tell you what is happening?” she said.

  “Speak, I beg of you.”

  “This has obviously been constructed by a silicon life form. It digests sand and excretes rock thus building a pyramid around itself. When it grows too big for the pyramid it cracks out, moves along and builds another one.”