“No, sir,” Badger said. “I've heard them talking to Captain Hoban on the radio. They plan to get through the hive by following an electronic signal that their robot is to lay down for them. But if me and my mates was to wipe out that electronic trail …”
“I like the idea of that,” Potter said slowly. “Can you do it? You would be rendering me a valuable service.”
“Indeed we can, sir. We're hoping it'll be taken into consideration when you pick us up. You are going to rescue us, aren't you, sir?”
“You can count on it,” Potter said. “There could be a reward in this for you. Does that sound good, Mr. Badger? Get in there and wipe out that trail. Then come to coordinates 546Y by 23X. We'll rendezvous with you there. You men will be rewarded for your good work.”
“Thank you, sir! You'll be hearing from us soon.”
The transmission ended. Potter turned to Adams. “Well, what are you standing around for? Get back to the radio room! And not a word of this to the crew, or I'll have your hide!”
“Yes, sir!” Adams saluted smartly and backed out of the room.
Potter waited until he was gone, then looked around the control room. The only ones present were his chief engineering officer, Ollins, and the helmsman, Driscoll.
“Driscoll,” Potter snapped.
“Sir?”
“You've heard nothing of this.”
“No, sir!”
“You can take a break now, mister. Ollins and I will finish out your watch.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Driscoll saluted and left the control room.
Lieutenant Ollins was a grizzled old veteran of many space flights who had served with Potter before. In fact, the two men came from the same town in Tennessee. Ollins relaxed when Driscoll was away from the control room. Potter afforded him great privileges when none of the men were around. When they were, it was spit and polish and punctilio all the way, because that was the sort of man Potter was.
“Well, Tom,” Potter said. “Seems we've got a bit of a situation on our hands.”
“Seems so, sir,” Ollins said. “But unless I miss my guess …”
“Yes? Go ahead, Tom.”
“Unless I miss my guess, sir, you've thought up an interesting way to take care of it.”
Potter permitted himself a smile. “I don't know if I'd say 'interesting', Mr. Ollins. But 'thorough'… Yes, I think you'll find my way very thorough.”
58
Rain hammered against the pod's hatch like shot from a battery of shotguns. The pod quivered and shook as the storm shrieked and swore to itself, its voice falling to a whisper then rising to a banshee wail. Stan and the others were suited up in all-weather outfits that would give them some protection against the elements, though not much against the aliens. It was time to go.
“Okay,” Stan said. “Julie, you feel up to this?”
“I'm perfectly ready for a stroll,” Julie said airily. “It's just about sunset, isn't it?”
“Yes,” Gill said. “I've checked out the hive on remote sensing. The activity is reaching a peak.”
“A perfect time for us to drop in,” Julie said.
Stan felt a warm glow go through him when he looked at her. She was young, beautiful, and very brave. They were in about as difficult a situation as he could imagine, but she wasn't giving in a bit to it.
He turned to Gill. “What weapons do we have?”
Gill opened a locker and showed what he had brought. “Five chemical slugthrowers with fifty slug clips. These are somewhat old-fashioned weapons, but they are reliable. And their fifty-caliber slugs pack a wallop. I brought three Gauss needlers. They're recoilless, and their steel slivers ought to have a good effect against the aliens. I was only able to bring one Gyroc, and a bandolier of point seventy-five-caliber spin-stabilized rockets. Two high-impulse laser rifles, both fully charged, and that completes the arsenal, except for half a dozen concussion grenades. I would have liked a greater selection, but that was all that was available at the moment.”
“You have done admirably,” Stan said. “That's quite an array.”
“And, of course, I also have the light tracker, a heavy-duty communicator. As well as the suppressors to get us past the aliens undetected.”
“Very important, that last,” Stan said. “What range do the inhibitors have?”
“They'll dampen at close to one-hundred-percent strength for approximately three meters in all directions.”
“And how long will they last?”
“That's the bad part,” Gill said. “They may be good for half an hour at full strength, but it could be less.”
“Well, we'll just have to move quickly and hope we have some luck. Julie, have you reached Captain Hoban yet?”
“Just getting him now.” Julie spoke into her wrist enunciator. “Can you hear me, Hoban?”
“Loud and clear,” Hoban's voice came back to them. “I was beginning to worry. What happened to you people?”
“Nothing good,” Julie said. “But we're on AR-32 and we're still alive and in one piece. Three pieces, I should say.”
“What are your plans?” Hoban asked.
Julie turned to Stan. He said, “We have to get out of the pod, Captain. The storm is shaking it to pieces. What news do you have about your mutiny?”
“The mutineers grabbed our backup lander and took off for AR-32. It'll be a miracle if they weren't destroyed on their way down.”
“A miracle for us if they were,” Stan said. “Captain, we have our suppressors and there's only one thing we can try that'll bring this off. We're going to go through the hive, following Norbert's trail. That'll get us out of the storm, which will destroy us otherwise. We should be able to follow Norbert's trail to the far side, where the harvester is. We'll board that and come up to you. You, meanwhile, will take geosynchronous orbit at the harvester's coordinates. I'm transmitting those coordinates digitally. Please acknowledge.”
Stan's fingers flew over the computer's keys. Soon he heard Captain Hoban's acknowledgment. “I've got it, Dr. Myakovsky.”
“Good. What do you think of the plan, Captain?”
“It seems to me the best, given the circumstances. Does Gill concur?”
The android nodded. “There's really nothing else to do,” he added in a quiet voice.
“It's perfect,” Julie said. “What have we got to lose but our lives?”
“Signing off, then, Captain,” Stan said. “See you in an hour or so, I hope.”
He turned to Gill. “Have you any objections?”
“As I said, Doctor, given the circumstances, there's nothing else to do.”
“But you wouldn't have gotten us into this fix in the first place. Is that it?”
“I didn't say that, sir.”
“You didn't have to.” Stan looked out the port at the lurid sunset that had just begun flaming behind the upthrust bulk of the hive. He reached into an inner pocket and brought out a small aluminum case, like a cigar case only slightly larger. Opening it, he extracted an ampoule of royal jelly.
“Well,” he said, “time for a little ride down the street of dreams, eh?” He looked at Gill and Julie, who were watching him. “I need it,” he said defensively. “It's the pain….” Abruptly he pulled himself together. He returned the ampoule to the case and put the case back in his pocket.
“No, I'll do it straight,” Stan said. “That ought to be ever so much more amusing. Ready, then? Gill, crack the port!”
Gil undogged the hatch. It took his and Julie's combined strength to push it all the way open against the wind pressure. And then it was done, and the three of them staggered out into the raging storm.
59
There was no easy way to hold a conversation as Stan, Julie, and Gill made their painful march across the wind-whipped plain toward the great rounded mound of the hive. Behind it the sunset flared, sending streamers and columns of radiance around the basalt-blue solid-looking clouds that seemed to march across the plain like giants.