“My successor? raises a question nobody here seems to answer. you can tell me, huh?”
“What is it?”
“Will I be entirely on my own? Or will other Terrans be operating on the same planet? If there will be others how shall I make contact?”
“So far as you’re concerned you’ll be the only Terran for a hundred million miles around,” responded Wolf. “You will have no contacts. By the same token, you won’t be able to betray anyone to the Kaitempi. Nothing they can do will extract from you information that you don’t possess. Maybe you’ll sweat and scream and invent stuff to make them lay off, but it won’t be genuine information.”
“It would sound better if you didn’t smack your lips over the horrid prospect,” reproved Mowry. “Anyway, it would be some comfort and encouragement to know that other wasps are similarly active even if only one to a planet.”
“You didn’t go through this course all on your ownsome, did you? The others weren’t here merely to provide company for you.” Wolf held out a hand: “Good hunting, be a curse to the foe—and come back.”
“I shall return,” assured Mowry; “though the way be flinty and the road be long.”
That, he thought as Wolf departed, was more of a pious hope than a performable promise. To be dropped single-handed upon a hostile planet was to be plunged neck-deep into a genuinely menacing situation. Casualties could be expected sooner or later. Indeed, Wolf’s remark about ‘your successor’ showed that losses had been anticipated and steps taken to provide replacements…
It then occurred to him that perhaps his own status was that of somebody else’s successor. Maybe on the world to which he was going some unlucky character had been trapped and pulled apart very slowly. If so, it would be a world fore-warned and ready for him. Right now the Kaitempi would be watching the skies, licking their chops in anticipation of their next victim, a dope named James Mowry, twenty-six, restless and pigheaded.
Oh, well, he had committed himself and there was no backing out. Looked like he was doomed to become a hero from sheer lack of courage to be a coward. Slowly he developed a philosophic resignation which still possessed him several weeks later when the corvette’s captain summoned him to the mid-cabin.
“Sleep well?”
“Not in the last spell,” Mowry admitted. “The propulsors were noisier than usual, the whole ship shuddered and creaked. I spent most of the time lying in my bunk and inventing new cuss-words.”
The captain gave a wry smile. “You didn’t know it, but we were being chased by four Sirian destroyers. We hit up top speed and lost them”
“You sure they aren’t still tracking us?”
“They’ve fallen behind range of our detectors, therefore we’re beyond range of theirs.”
“Thank heavens for that,” said Mowry.
“I’ve opened the orders. We’re due to arrive in forty-eight Earth-hours.”
“Where?”
“On a planet called Jaimec. Ever heard of it?”
“Yes, the Sirian news-channels used to mention it every once in a while. It’s one of their outpost worlds if I remember aright, under-populated and not half developed. I never met anyone from there and so don’t know much about it.” He registered mild annoyance. “This secretiveness is all very well, but it would help a fellow some to let him know where he’s going and give him some useful information about the place before he gets there. Ignorance could prove damn dangerous; it might cost me my neck. Maybe I’m finicky but I value my neck.”
“You’ll land with all the data we’ve got,” soothed the captain. “They’ve supplied a stack of stuff along with the orders.” He put a wad of papers on the table, also several maps and a number of large photographs. Then he pointed to a cabinet standing against a wall. “That’s the stereoscopic viewer. Use it to search these pics for a suitable landing place. The choice is wholly yours. My job is to put you down safely wherever you choose and get away undetected.”
“How long have I got?”
“You must show me the selected spot not later than forty hours from now.”
“And how long can you allow for dumping me and my equipment?”
“Twenty minutes maximum. Positively no more. I’m sorry about that but it can’t be helped. If we sit on the ground and take it easy we’ll leave unmistakable signs of our landing, a whacking big rut that can soon be spotted by air patrols and will get the hunt after you in full cry. So we’ll have to use the antigravs and move fast. The antigravs soak up power. Twenty minutes output is the most we can afford.”
“All right.” Mowry gave a shrug of resignation, took up the papers and started reading them as the captain went out.
Jaimec, ninety-fourth planet of the Sirian Empire. Mass seven-eighths that of Terra. Land area about half that of Terra’s, the rest being ocean. First settled two and a half centuries ago. Present population estimated at about eighty millions. Jaimec had cities, railroads, spaceports and all the other features of alien civilisation. Nevertheless, much of it remained undeveloped, unexplored and in primitive condition.
He spent a good many hours making close, meticulous study of the planet’s surface as shown in the stereoscopic viewer, meanwhile wondering how the big photos had been obtained. Evidently someone had taken a considerable risk to play close with an aerial camera. War had a hundred unsung heroes for every one praised and draped with medals.
By the fortieth hour he had made his choice. It had not been easy to reach a decision. Every seemingly suitable dropping place had some kind of disadvantage, proving yet again that the ideal hideout does not exist. One would be beautifully positioned from the strategic viewpoint but lack adequate cover. Another would have first-class natural concealment but dangerous location.
The captain came in saying, “I hope you’ve picked a point on the night-side, If it isn’t, we’ll have to dodge around until dark and that’s not good. The best technique is to go in and get out before they’ve time to take alarm and organise a counter-blow.”
“This is it’ Mowry indicated the place on a photo. “It’s a lot farther from a road than I’d have liked, about twenty miles and all of it through virgin forest. Whenever I need something out the cache it will take me a day’s hard going to reach it, maybe two days. But by the same token it should remain safe from prying eyes and that’s the prime consideration”
Sliding the photo into the viewer, the captain switched on the interior lighting and looked into the rubber eyepiece. He frowned with concentration.
“You mean that marked spot on the cliff?”
“No-it’s at the cliff’s base. See that outcrop of rock? What’s a fraction north of it?”
The captain stared again. “It’s hard to tell for certain but it looks mighty like a cave formation.” He backed off, picked up the intercom phone. “Hame, come here, will you?”
Hamerton, the chief navigator, arrived and studied the photo, found the indicated point. He compared it with a two-hemisphere map of Jaimec, made swift calculations.
“We’ll catch it on the night-side but only by the skin of our teeth”
“You sure of that?”
“If we went straight there we’d make it with a couple of hours to spare. But we daren’t go straight; their radar network would plot the dropping-point to within half a mile. So we’ll have to dodge around below their radar horizon. Evasive action takes time but with luck we can complete the drop half an hour before sunrise.”
“Let’s go straight there,” prompted Mowry. “It will cut your risks and I’m willing to take a chance on being nabbed. I’m taking the chance anyway, aren’t I?”