Jan left the crane’s control panel and crossed the hold to Petra. “Thanks for all your help,” he said. He held out his hand, feeling strangely awkward and self-conscious, but she pushed it aside impulsively and put her arms around him.
“Go to it, Jan,” she urged as they embraced. “Give it everything you’ve got.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. “Now you’d better get out of here—Ozburt has to bleed all the air out of the hold before he can open the cargo door.”
Petra nodded, kissed him briefly but warmly and ran towards the stair. Jan stared after her for a second, realising that the friendly affection he had always felt for Petra was being displaced by a more powerful emotion, then he climbed up the side of the rocket ship. He was in the process of stepping into the cockpit when Ozburt’s voice, harsh with urgency, crackled from the intercom speaker.
“Get a move on, Jan! The interceptor has caught up on us and it’s coming in fast. Our controls are going to be enslaved at any second unless I take evasive action.”
An instant later the floor of the cargo bay tilted wildly and a chorus of creaks came from the surrounding structure as the Culcheth was thrown into a high-G manoeuvre for which it had not been designed. Jan, with one foot in the Seeker’s cockpit, was taken unawares and could not react fast enough to avoid plunging downwards. His jaw struck the rim of the rocket ship’s windscreen with all the force of an uppercut delivered by a professional boxer.
He collapsed into the cramped space of the cockpit, consciousness fleeing amid a dazzling burst of fireworks which rapidly faded into blackness.
The next few minutes were like a fragmentary dream for Jan, a kaleidoscope of disjointed images and sounds…
He was vaguely aware of Ozburt’s voice, remote and meaningless, reaching across what seemed to be a million light years…interceptor still on my tail, Jan, and closing in fast…pain, pulsing pain and a screaming sense of urgency…there was something he had to do, something vital, but what was it?…are you ready, Jan?…ready for what?…if I don’t open the cargo door right now it’s going to be too late…
A glimpse of Petra’s blue eyes regarding him anxiously…strong hands, half-lifting half-guiding him into a seat…anything wrong down there, Jan? Answer me, answer me…
The sound of the canopy being slammed shut…Petra’s voice, firm and clear, giving orders…a wash of brilliance as the massive cargo door slid open, admitting the light of an alien sun…shuddering vibrations and a fierce burst of gut-wrenching acceleration…
Jan clung to consciousness, forcing his eyes to remain open, but ages seemed to pass before he understood what was happening…
He was in the cockpit of the Seeker, dropping down towards the unknown perils of the Killer Planet.
And beside him, gamely struggling to master the rocket ship’s controls, was Petra Moir.
Chapter Four
“Petra!” Jan shook his head groggily and forced himself into an upright position. “You…you aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Somebody had to get the Seeker out of the cargo hold before the controls were taken away from Ozburt,” Petra said, her gaze fixed on the tilting and rapidly expanding view of Verdia directly ahead. “And you were too busy having a snooze. Are you all right now?”
“I guess so.” There was a crushing pain in Jan’s head, and he felt cold and nauseated, but he was again in control of his thoughts and actions.
“That’s good—because I’m finding this thing harder to fly than I expected.” Petra spoke calmly, but a slight tremor in her voice alerted Jan to the fact that she was in difficulties as the rocket ship plunged into the upper levels of Verdia’s atmosphere.
“I’ll take over now,” he said. He held the control wheel steady while Petra clambered into the small storage space at the rear of the cockpit, then he slid over into the pilot’s seat. While he was strapping himself in, Petra twisted her way into the passenger seat and did likewise. Until that point the drop towards Verdia had been smooth and silent, but now the ship was beginning to stir and come to life as it reached the denser air strata. A faint but gradually increasing whistling sound testified to its speed through the atmosphere.
The descent through Verdia’s cloud cover was a prolonged series of fierce jolts which tested the Seeker’s structure to the limit. Jan’s arms were aching from the strain of keeping the little ship under control, and there were times when he feared that the supertough plastic of the wings might snap from overload as they hit the bottom of an airpocket.
“We have to touch down close to the planet’s north pole,” he said during a lull in the atmospheric buffeting. “That would be tough enough in an ordinary spacecraft, but it’s worse in the Seeker because we have no navigational instruments to help us find our way down.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’d have to be made of metal, and…”Jan swore as an unusually powerful gust turned the little ship on its side and he had to fight to bring it level. “We know that metal disturbs the planet’s magnetic field…attracts all the lightning…so the Seeker is built almost entirely of plastics. It will be able to land safely—we hope!”
Petra glanced all around the cockpit, noting the complete absence of metal fittings. “But what about the rocket motor?”
“Ceramic. Modern ceramics are as tough and as heatproof as many metals. The motor is the least of our worries—I’m only praying the ship doesn’t start to break up around us.”
Petra fell silent, deciding not to risk distracting Jan from the task of controlling the Seeker in its downward plunge through Verdia’s cloudy atmosphere. The ship was dropping through the greyness at hundreds of kilometres an hour, only gradually losing speed because of friction with the air, and at this rate there was little time for conversation.
A few hectic minutes was all it would take for the Seeker to reach ground level. In comparison, Ozburt—in the mother ship’s drifting orbital calmness—could have been at a Sunday picnic. There was no doubt that he would soon be arrested by the Stellar Quarantine Authority, but after questioning he would probably be sent home to spend the coming night securely tucked up in bed.
Jan’s face was pale with tension and fatigue as he fought the Seeker’s controls. He was in good physical condition, but he had been weakened by the stunning blow to his chin, and the turbulence of Verdia’s atmosphere was draining his strength. It was as if the Killer Planet was a giant living entity which had sensed their approach and was doing its best to destroy the two human intruders before they even set foot on the surface. Jan muttered grimly to himself as the ship gave a particularly violent lurch, then all at once they were through the cloud ceiling and a jungle-covered landscape was spread out below.
Ahead of the plunging craft there appeared faint geometric markings which confirmed that it was close to the ancient ruin of a city which had been discovered by the development team. The patterns were swelling rapidly in the forward windscreen, making it apparent that something would have to be done quickly to avoid a crash.
“Pull her up!” Petra shouted. “Do you need any help?”
“I can manage,” Jan replied.
The cloud ceiling had been so low that the craft was now skimming the tops of the higher trees. Jan hauled back on the control column, bringing the Seeker’s nose sharply upwards, and in the same instant fired the rocket motor. The sudden surge of power converted what would have been a fatal stall for an ordinary aircraft into a landing manoeuvre which Jan had practised many times on the computer simulator.