In alternate rushes they approached the lock of the other ship. It was wide open and there was no resistance or sign of life. In a matter of minutes the captain was standing under the gaping mouth of the lock. There was complete silence except for the rustling of wind-churned sand granules. Redfaced and panting hard, Pilot Sinkley raced UP and slammed down next to the captain.
"Concussion grenade," Moran whispered.
Sinkley fumbled one out of his chest pack and handed it to the captain. He pulled the pin, counted slowly, then flipped it through the open port. There was a blasting roar and Moran was through the port before the echoes died away.
Nothing. No one in sight and no one in the carefully searched ship. The captain went to the empty bridge and tried to understand what had happened.
Moran was reading the log when he heard a hoarse shout from the guard he had left at the lock. He made it on a dead run, almost slamming into the men crowded there. Pushing them roughly aside he looked out.
There were four of them. Four girls. Lovely as any he had ever seen if you didn't take offense at their pale green skin.
"A welcoming committee. Boyoboy!" one of the crewmen said before Moran growled him into silence.
Yet that was all they seemed to be. They weren't armed and seemed incapable of any offense. The captain insisted on their being searched, to everyone's enjoyment. Including the girls. They answered questions in clear and incomprehensible voices. The only information they conveyed was that they wanted the spacemen to go with them. In unmistakable gestures they waved towards the canal and beckoned the men to follow them. Captain Moran was the only one who showed any hesitation about accepting. He finally posted a guard over the girls and called his officers aside for a conference.
There was only one course, and they finally took it. They had to find out about the men of the other ship, and the green girls were the only sign of a possible solution. There was no sign of any other kind of life on the red planet.
Well-armed, they went in force. The girls were bubbling with happiness at the move and the whole thing had more of the air of a picnic than an expedition. Particularly when they found the boats moored at the canal's edge with two or three more girls in each boat. After a careful search that disclosed nothing, Moran allowed his men to embark, one man to a boat.
A barely perceptible current moved them along and the whole expedition took on the air of a punting trip in paradise. Captain Moran ordered and roared but it did little good. The sudden change after the long trip was dismembering what few shards of military morale the men had left.
Only one incident marred the even placidity of the trip. Dr. Kranolsky — whose scientific interest seemed to rise above his libido— was making a detailed examination of the boats. He called to the captain, who guided his craft over until they touched.
"Something here, Captain. I have no idea what it might mean."
Following the doctor's pointing finger, Captain Moran saw faintly discernible scratches on one of the seats. Twisting and turning until the light hit them right he realised suddenly they were letters.
"SPII. . that's what it looks like. Could one of the men from the Argus have written it?"
"They had to.” the doctor said excitedly. "It is beyond reason that these Martians have an alphabet so similar to ours. But what can it mean?"
"It means.” Captain Moran said grimly, "that they came this way and we had better keep our eyes open. I don't feel safe in these damn boats. At least we have the girls. Whoever or whatever is behind this won't start anything while we have them as hostages."
As the hours went by the current increased; they were soon moving at a deceptively rapid speed between the wide banks. Moran was worried and had his gun out instantly when he heard the doctor's shout.
"Captain, I have been thinking about those letters. They could mean only one word. If the man who scratched them here hadn't finished the last letter, only made the vertical mark, the word could be SPIDER."
The captain put his gun down and scowled at the doctor. "And do you see any spiders, Doctor? There are none in these boats and these women are the only life we have found so far. Perhaps he meant water spiders. And if so — so what?"
Following this possibility, Dr. Kranolsky took closer notice of the water. Captain Moran shouted orders to his men, but the boats were drifting further apart and some of them didn't hear him, or pretended they didn't. He couldn't be sure, but he thought things were going on in some of the furthest boats that were definitely against orders. Also, the current was much faster. Only the presence of the green girls gave him any feeling of security.
There seemed to be a dark spot on the horizon, dead ahead. He tried vainly to make it out. Dr. Kranolsky's voice knifed irritatingly across his concentration.
"Being logical, Captain, whoever scratched this word here thought it was important. Perhaps he never had time to finish it."
"Don't be fantastic, Doctor. There are more important things to concern ourselves with."
For the first time since he had served under the captain, Dr. Kranolsky disagreed.
"No, I think this is the most important thing we have to concern ourselves with. If the man meant 'spider'—where is the beast? Certainly these girls are harmless enough. Or the spider web — where is that?" He mused for a second, his brow tight, then laughed. "It makes me think of a fantasy I had when we approached Mars. The canals looked like a giant spider web scratched on the surface of the planet."
Moran snorted with disgust. "And I suppose if this canal is a strand of the web, these girls are the 'bait.' And this building we are coming to is the spider's lair. Really, Doctor!"
The canal swept towards the giant black structure and seemingly vanished though an opening in its side. They couldn't control their small craft and within minutes were passing under a giant archway. Moran was frightened and to conceal his fear he poked fun at the doctor.
"And now we are in the lair, Doctor, what do you think a planet-wide spider should look like? How would you describe a beast that lives on a world as an earth spider lives on an apple?"
A scream was his only answer, a good enough answer.
Words were inadequate to describe the thing that completely filled the building.
Waiting.
Reaching for them. .
Heauy Duty
"But why you?" she asked.
"Because it happens to be my job." He clicked the last belt loop into place on his pack and shifted weight comfortably on his shoulders.
"I don't understand why those men, the ones flying the delivery ship, why they couldn't have looked around first. To help you out a little bit, perhaps let you know what you were getting into. I don't think it's fair."
"It's very fair.” he told her, tightening up one notch on the left shoulder strap and trying to keep his temper. He did not like her to come here when he was leaving, but there was no easy way to stop her. Once again he explained.
"The men who fly the contact ships have a difficult time of it just staying alive and sane, trapped in their ships while they go out to the stars. Theirs is a specialized job, only certain men with particular dispositions can survive the long flight. These same characteristics are outstandingly unsuited to planetary contact and exploration. It is work enough for them to do a high-level instrument and photographic sweep, and then to drop a transmatter screen on retrojets at a suitable spot. By the time the transmatter touches down and sends back their report they are well on their way to the next system. They've done their job. Now I'll do mine."
"Ready for me yet, Specialist Langli?" a man asked, looking in through the ready-room door.