“I still don’t understand why the repellants didn’t-” began Rogers.
“The repellants did work,” snapped Beckwith. The captain was a fool, and Beckwith had little patience with fools. “As I tried to explain, the insects here have evolved to attack any creature bearing some sort of chemical defense against them. That’s partially why they are in such a dominate position in the ecological system.”
He recalled the way the insects had swarmed in reaction to the repellants. In seconds, five crewmen had become man-shaped mounds of biting insects. Dr. Beckwith had noted that several species had swarmed in unison. There had been blue, wasp-like creatures that were about the size of a man’s index finger, with curved retractable stingers of shiny, black chitin. He remembered seeing a double-winged variety of the flying spiders as well. Even a few of the crab-sized beetles that lived in the mossy undergrowth had joined in the attack. The crewmen had screamed and stumbled blindly like men engulfed in flames. Beckwith had been quite shocked. It was very rare to have several species combine their efforts in such a manner.
“So you’re telling me that I didn’t get attacked because I wasn’t wearing repellant?” asked Rogers.
“Correct.”
“Huh,” grunted Rogers. He changed the subject. “Couldn’t we just…” He made a hacking motion in the air with his gloved hand.
“Amputate? No-we don’t have the equipment for that here…” Beckwith stopped, remembering that he didn’t want to give Rogers any excuses to leave Jade ahead of schedule. He made a nervous fluttering gesture with his hands. “Well, of course, we could do it, but the insect’s ah-feeding tubes extend up the femoral to his heart, and…” he shook his head and then added a lie. “I don’t think any medical facility could insure the patient’s survival in such an operation.”
For a minute or so they quietly watched Mom perform her duties. Mom clicked and whirred steadily, simultaneously monitoring Foster’s pulse, breath rate, temperature and neural responsiveness. They watched as the machine gave her patient an injection. One of Mom’s three appendages slid open a compartment and a needle with a tube attached came out of it. The skin of Foster’s upper arm dimpled in and the drug pumped into his bloodstream under measured pressure.
“That bug-it doesn’t really look like a bug. It’s too big,” Rogers said. Beckwith noted the familiar tone of disgusted fascination in his voice that non-biologists always used when discussing insects. “It looks more like a hermit crab, maybe, but with a tougher shell.”
Beckwith decided to try again to impress the Captain with the importance of the mission. He had tried many times in the past few days and he knew he had begun to annoy Rogers with the point, but he had to try again.
“As horrible as it is, Captain,” he began making an effort to start from a point that the man could understand. “And it is a terrible thing, I agree… But the mere fact that these insects can co-exist with us, with human beings, is actually a great discovery.”
Rogers made a dismissing gesture. “Yes, yes, I know. Their proteins-”
“That’s it exactly, Captain,” interrupted Beckwith, unable to contain himself. He rubbed the joints and flesh of his left hand, letting the rough fabric of his pressure suit do the scratching for him. “The proteins. Of all the thousands of molecular structures for proteins life can take, Earth has evolved only a few-”
“And this planet has more or less the same set,” Rogers finished for him. “I told you I know.”
Beckwith was not to be stifled, however. “Jade is in fact, the only planet yet to be found that has organic compounds so closely compatible with ours. Think of it! Men can live here without being poisoned by every living thing they come in contact with. You can roast a bird or dig up a root and chew on it without expecting a dozen fatal allergic reactions.”
Inside his suit, Beckwith thought of it, and his face twisted with a grin. Just a little adapting to be done, and then an entire planet waited to be molded into a new world. A million new species of life to study in the field. A biologist’s dream.
“Bleep, Bleep,” Mom applied a tiny amount of pressure to the doctor’s ankles with a foam-padded fender. Startled, Beckwith hopped out of her way and let the machine pass.
“You’re talking about colonization, Beckwith.”
“Yes, certainly,” he replied, steeling himself for another round of an old argument.
“But colonization on any realistically large scale is impractical. Everyone knows that.”
“Wrong. Everyone is told that. And they are told that because there has never been a planet suitable for mass colonization,” here Rogers started to retort but Beckwith overrode him, unusually assertive due to his excited state. “Of course there are miners on several high-ore planets and numerous scientific stations and outposts strung out within thirty light-years of Earth. There even a few large stations on bleak rocks called colonies,” here he paused to drag in a gasp of breath, “But there is nothing compared to what Jade could become.”
“Look, Beckwith,” said Rogers, turning to face him squarely. A large gloved finger extended toward the doctor’s faceplate, jabbing at him in time with Rogers’ words. “I know how important this discovery is, I know how much you need to complete your tests-to get your proof-but I have a mission to run. Out of a crew of eight, you and I are the only men still standing-”
“But without conclusive proof, we’ll have trouble getting a fully equipped survey vessel to come out here.”
“And with a dead crew, doctor, Earth would never learn about this planet. Besides, I find it difficult to believe that if you bring back enough samples, Earth labs could not come to the same conclusions that you have just as quickly. I am beginning to believe that you want to hog the credit for the discovery.”
Beckwith shook his head vehemently. “False, sir. Positively false. Personal notoriety is my last concern,” he lied. He quickly decided that he must switch the topic of the discussion to something else. Rogers was quite correct about not needing to collect additional samples to prove that the proteins were compatible. But he had another reason for waiting. A vital reason. “Besides which, we now are out of reach of the insects and are in no further danger. There is no reason to leave prematurely.”
“I do not relish the idea spending another several weeks living in this pressure suit. With only two of us left, the grounds for aborting the mission are surpassed. We’re leaving as soon as we stow the equipment.”
Dr. Beckwith shook his head sharply inside his helmet. A droplet of sweat flew from his forehead to strike the inside of his quartz faceplate. His neck muscles pulled and twinged violently. He wanted to tell the Captain why they didn’t need to leave. He was all but bursting with the facts, but he contained himself. He knew that the truth would be misunderstood, that it would get him nowhere. He said nothing.
Thirty-one hours later Dr. Beckwith and Captain Rogers were working outside the ship. They had stowed approximately three-quarters of the scientific equipment and supplies. Dr. Beckwith looked up through the shielded face-plate of his helmet. The shimmering image of the K-class star overhead burned purple blotches in his retina and glowed on his eyelids when he blinked. They would be finished before nightfall, which was less than nine hours away. He knew that if he was going to act, it must be soon.
He removed his helmet. Rogers was safely out of sight, packing the meteorological mini-lab on the other side of the ship. With his helmet off, the world he had watched from the inside of it came to full color and life. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to Jade’s daytime glare. His other senses, too, were overwhelmed by the surging, frothing ocean of life that assaulted them.
A hundred as yet unclassified beasts roared, screamed, and growled, sounding as if they crouched behind every bush. Flying cold-blooded bat-like creatures screeched in the trees and unseen things rustled under moldering leaves. The air was heavy with odors that seemed particularly powerful to him. He had had nothing to smell other than his own moist body trapped in his pressure suit for days. His nose detected rotting fruit, various types of dung, and pleasant scent like that of crushed grass mingled with the smell of danker vegetation. When the ship had landed it had burnt a steaming wound in the foliage, and the smell of it still hung in the air. Dr. Beckwith stood in the midst of this black wound, but he hardly noticed it. His eyes were only focused on the vibrant forest that engulfed him and his tiny ship. He filled his lungs with the cleansing, oxygen-rich air.