The ship slowed but did not stop. With the motors straining and the generators protesting in a squeal that made Lucky wince in sympathy, the Hilda plowed through skin and flesh and sinew, through empty bloodvessels and useless nerves that must have resembled two-foot-thick cables. Lucky, jaw set and grim, kept the drive rod nailed at maximum against the tearing resistance.
The long minutes passed and then, in a long churn of triumphant engine, they were through-through the monster and out once more into the open sea.
Silently and smoothly the Hilda rose through the murky, carbon-dioxide-saturated water of Venus's ocean. Silence held the three, a silence that seemed enforced by the daring with which they were storming the very fortress of Venus's hostile life form. Evans had not said a word since the patch had been left behind. Lucky had locked ship's controls and now sat on the pilot swivel with fingers softly tapping his knee. Even the irrepressible Bigman had drifted glumly to the rear port with its bellying, wide-angle field of vision.
Suddenly Bigman called, "Lucky, look there."
Lucky strode to Bigman's side. Together they gazed in silence. Over half the field of the port there was only the starry light of small phosphorescent creatures, thick and soft, but in another direction there was a wall, a monstrous wall glowing in smears of shifting color.
"Do you suppose that's the patch, Lucky?" asked Bigman. "It wasn't shining that way when we came down here; and anyway, it wouldn't shine after it was dead, would it?"
Lucky said thoughtfully, "It is the patch in a way, Bigman. I think the whole ocean is gathering for the feast."
Bigman looked again and felt a little ill. Of course! There were hundreds of millions of tons of meat there for the taking, and the light they viewed must be the light of all the small creatures of the shallows feeding on the dead monster.
Creatures darted past the port, moving always in the same direction. They moved sternward, toward the mountainous carcass the Hilda had left behind.
Pre-eminent among them were arrow fish of all sizes. Each had a straight white line of phosphorescence that marked its backbone (it wasn't a backbone really, but merely an unjointed rod of horny substance). At one end of that white line was a pale yellow V that marked the head. To Bigman it looked indeed as though a countless swarm of animated arrows were swarming past the ship, but in imagination he could see their needle-rimmed jaws, cavernous and ravenous.
"Great Galaxy!" said Lucky.
"Sands of Mars!" murmured Bigman. "The ocean will be empty. Every blasted thing in the ocean is gathering to this one spot."
Lucky said, "At the rate those arrow fish must be gorging themselves, the thing will be gone in twelve hours."
Evans's voice sounded from behind them. "Lucky, I want to speak to you."
Lucky turned. "Sure. What is it, Lou?"
"When you first suggested going to the surface, you asked if I could propose an alternative."
"I know. You didn't answer."
"I can answer now. I'm holding it, in fact, and the answer is that we're going back to the city."
Bigman called, "Hey, what's the idea?"
Lucky had no need to ask that question. His nostrils flared, and inwardly he raged at himself for those minutes he had spent at the porthole when all his heart, mind, and soul should have been concentrated on the business at hand.
For in Evans's clenched fist, as it lifted from his side, was Lucky's own blaster, and in Evans's narrowed eyes, there was hard determination.
"We're going back to the city," repeated Evans.
12. To The City?
Lucky said, "what's wrong, Lou?"
Evans gestured impatiently with his blaster. "Put the engines in reverse, start bottomward, and turn the ship's bow toward the city. Not you, Lucky. You let Bigman go to those controls; then you get in line with him, so I can watch both of you and the controls, too."
Bigman had his hands half-upraised, and his eyes turned to look at Lucky. Lucky kept his hands at his side.
Lucky said flatly,'"Suppose you tell me what's biting you?"
"Nothing's biting me," said Evans. "Nothing at all. It's what's biting you. You went out and killed the monster, then came back and started talking about going to the surface. Why?"
"I explained my reasons."
"I don't believe your reasons. If we surface, I know the V-frogs will take over our minds. I've had experience with them, and because of that I know the V-frogs have taken over your mind."
"What?" exploded Bigman. "Are you nuts?"
"I know what I'm doing," said Evans, watching Lucky warily. "If you look at this thing coolly, Bigman, you'll see that Lucky must be under V-frog influence. Don't forget, he's my friend, too. I've known him longer than you have, Bigman, and it bothers me to have to do this, but there's no way out. It must be done."
Bigman stared uncertainly at both men, then said in a low voice, "Lucky, have the V-frogs really got you?"
"No," said Lucky.
"What do you expect him to say?" demanded Evans with heat. "Of course they have him. To kill the monster, he had to jet upward to its top. He must have gone fairly close to the surface where the V-frogs were waiting, close enough for them to snatch him. They let him kill the monster. Why not? They would be glad to trade control of the monster for control of Lucky, so Lucky came back babbling of the need to go to the surface, where we'll all be among them, all trapped-the only men who know the truth helpless."
"Lucky?" quavered Bigman, his tone pleading for reassurance.
Lucky Starr said calmly, "You're quite wrong, Lou. What you're doing now is only the result of your own captivity. You've been under control before, and the V-frogs know your mind. They can enter it at will. Maybe they've never entirely left it. You're doing only what you're being made to do."
Evans's grip on his blaster hardened. "Sorry, Lucky, but it won't do. Let's get the ship back to the city."
Lucky said, "If you're not under control, Lou-if you're mind-free-then you'll blast me down if I try to force us up to the surface, won't you?"
Evans did not answer.
Lucky said, "You'll have to. It will be your duty to the Council and to Mankind to do so. On the other hand, if you are under mental control, you may be forced to threaten me, to try to make me change ship's course, but I doubt that you can be forced to kill rne. Actually murdering a friend and fellow councilman would be too much against your basic ways of thought. -So give me your blaster."
Lucky advanced toward the other, hand outstretched.
Bigman stared in horror.
Evans backed away. He said hoarsely, "I'm warning you, Lucky. I'll shoot."
"I say you won't shoot. You'll give me the blaster."
Evans was back against the wall. His voice rose craz-ily. "I'll shoot. I'll shoot!"
Bigman cried, "Lucky, stop!"
But Lucky had already stopped and was backing away. Slowly, very slowly, he backed.
The life had suddenly gone out of Evans's eyes, and he was standing now, a carved stone image, finger firm on trigger. Evans's voice was cold. "Back to the city."
Lucky said, "Get the ship on the city course, Bigman."
Bigman stepped quickly to the controls. He muttered, "He's really under now, isn't he?"
Lucky said, "I was afraid it might happen. They've shifted him to intense control to make sure he shoots. And he will, too; no question about it. He's in amnesia now. He won't remember this part afterward."
"Can he hear us?" Bigman remembered the pilots on the coaster in which they had landed on Venus and their apparent complete disregard of the external world about them.
"I don't think so," said Lucky, "but he's watching the controls and if we deviate from city-direction, he'll shoot. Make no mistake about that."