From the appearance of it, bare-walled and high-ceilinged, he supposed it to be a cargo hold. The light travelled across odd shapes and formations that were either an integral part of the hold wall or else had somehow been attached to it. They had a soft, almost flexible look, as opposed to the solid appearance of the bone ribs that reinforced corridor and chamber walls. They lined the walls from floor to ceiling, neat and orderly.
Yet somehow they didn't give him the impression of having been stowed. There was too much wasted space in the vaulted chamber. Of course, until they had some idea of what the protrusions were, it was absurd to speculate on the rationale behind alien methods of storing cargo.
'You all right down there, Kane?' Dallas's voice.
'Yeah. You ought to see this.'
'See what? What've you found?'
'I'm not sure. But it's weird.'
'What are you talking about?' There was a pause, then, 'Kane, could you be a little more specific? "Weird" doesn't tell us much. This whole ship is weird, but that's not how it's going to be described in the official report.'
'Okay. I'm in another big chamber like the one above. There's something all over the walls.'
Holding his lightbar extended in front of him in an unconsciously weapon-like pose, he walked over to the nearest wall and examined the protrusions. Up close, he was able to decide that they weren't part of the hull structure. Not only that, they looked more organic than ever.
Above, Dallas glanced over at Lambert.
'How long until sunset?'
She studied her instruments, touched a control on one briefly. 'Twenty minutes.' She accompanied the announcement with a meaningful stare. Dallas didn't comment, turned his attention back to the black circle of the shaft, continued to stare downward although he couldn't see a thing.
A flash of Kane's lightbar revealed still more of the peculiar objects attached to the floor of the chamber, in the centre of the room. He moved toward them, circled them while examining individual specimens in turn. Each was roughly a third of a metre high, oval in shape, and leathery in appearance. Choosing one at random, he turned his light on it, kept it focused there. The steady illumination revealed nothing new, nor did it seem to have any effect on the ovoid.
'It's like some kind of storage area, for sure.' There was no response from his helmet speakers. 'I said it's definitely a storage area. Anybody read me?'
'Loud and clear,' Dallas said quickly. 'We were listening, that's all. You say you're pretty sure it's a storage room?'
'That's right.'
'Anything to support that premise besides its size and shape?'
'Sure is. Those protrusions on the wall are also on the floor, and they're not part of the ship. This whole place is stocked with 'em. Leathery things. Matter of fact, they kind of resemble that urn you found above, only these are much softer looking. And these seem to be sealed, where yours was empty. They're all arranged according to somebody's concept of order, though there seems to be a lot of wasted space.'
'Funny-sounding kind of cargo, if that's what it is. Can you see if anything's in them?' Dallas was remembering the hollow urn shape he'd found.
'Hang on. I'll give it a closer look.' Leaving the lightbar on, he approached the particular specimen he'd been studying, reached out a gloved hand, and touched it. Nothing happened. Leaning over he tugged at the sides, then the top. There was nothing resembling a catch or break on the smooth surface.
'Got a funny feel to it, even through the gloves.'
Dallas sounded suddenly concerned. 'I just asked if you could see what was in it. Don't try to open it. You don't know what it might hold.'
Kane peered close at the object. It hadn't changed and showed no effect from his pulling and tugging. 'Whatever it contains, it's sealed in tight.' Turning away, he played his light over the rows of ovoids. 'Maybe I can find one that's cracked or has split a little.'
In the faint backwash of his suit lights, a small bump appeared silently on the taut surface of the ovoid he'd touched. A second eruption appeared, then others, until there were raised spots across the smooth top.
'All the same,' he reported to Dallas and Lambert. 'Not a seam or break in any of them.' He turned his light absently back to the one he'd experimented with, leaned forward, and squinted uncertainly at what he saw.
The opaque surface of the ovoid had become translucent. As he continued to stare, eyes widening, the surface continued to clear, becoming transparent as glass. Moving closer, he shined his light on the base of the object, stared hard, barely breathing as a shape within the oval container became visible. Jesus. .
'What, Kane, what's going on down there?' Dallas forced himself not to shout.
A tiny nightmare was now clearly visible within the ovoid. It lay neatly coiled and folded about itself, compact and delicate and all made of a rubbery, filigreed flesh. It looked to Kane like a fraction of someone's delirium tremens plucked from the mind and given solidity and shape.
The thing was basically in the shape of a hand, many-fingered, with the long, bony fingers curled into the palm. It looked very much like the hand of a skeleton, save for the extra fingers. Something protruded from the centre of the palm, a short tube of some kind. A muscular tail was coiled beneath the base of the hand. On its back he could just make out a dim, convex shape that looked like a glazed-over eye.
That eye. . if it was an eye and not simply some shiny excrescence. . deserved a closer look. Despite the feeling of repugnance churning in his belly, he moved still closer and raised the light for a better view.
The eye moved and looked at him.
The ovoid exploded. Propelled outward by the sudden release of energy contained in the coiled tail, the hand opened and leaped at him. He raised an arm to ward it off, too late. It fixed itself to his faceplate. He had a horribly close glimpse of the weaving tube in the centre of the palm stroking the front of the glass, centimetres from his nose. Something started to sizzle and the material of the faceplate began to deliquesce. He panicked, tried to tear the creature away.
It was through the plate. Alien atmosphere, cold and harsh, mixed with breathable air. He felt faint; continued to pull weakly at the hand. Something was pushing insistently at his lips.
Beyond all horror now, he staggered about the chamber, trying to wrench the abomination from him. The long, sensitive fingers had slipped through the open faceplate. They reached over his skull and around the sides of his head, while the thick tail slid inside to wrap itself snake-like around his neck.
Barely getting air, the awful tube feeling like a fat worm sliding down his throat, he stumbled over his own feet, tripped, and fell over backward.
'Kane. . Kane, can you hear me?' Dallas was sweating inside his suit. 'Kane, answer me!' Silence. He thought a moment. 'If you can't use your communicator, give me two beeps off your tracking unit.' He looked to Lambert, who could receive the signal. She waited a proper interval, waited longer before shaking her head slowly.
'What do you think's the matter?' she asked.
'I don't know, I don't know. Maybe he's fallen and damaged his power cells.' He hesitated. 'He can't or won't answer. I think we'd better haul him out.'
'Isn't that a bit premature? I'm concerned too, but. .'
Dallas had a slightly wild look in his eyes. When he caught Lambert staring at him he calmed himself.
'I'm okay. I'm okay. This place,' and he gestured at the cold walls, 'got to me for a moment, that's all. I still say we bring him up.'
'It'll yank him right off his feet if he's not expecting it. Could hurt him, especially if he has fallen and he's lying in a twisted position. If there's nothing really wrong you'll never hear the end of it'
'Try him again.'