were gone when we returned. Gone, I tellyou! She, to her death. Malmsworth--well, we found _him_ three hourslater in the great rift which bisects the massive plateau that is themost outstanding feature of the regular surface of Avis Solis. At theend of this rift there is a natural cave that opens into the sheer wallof the plateau. Within it is a bottomless chasm. It was here that wefound certain of Jenny's garments, but of Jenny, naturally, there was notrace. He had seen to that."
"Terrible," Mr. Wordsley said.
DeCastros smiled reminiscently. "He fled, but we caught him. He reallyhad a lame ankle, you know."
The mice of apprehension scampered up and down Mr. Wordsley's spine."You killed him." It was a statement of certainty.
"No, indeed. That would have been too easy. We left him there with oneportable water-maker and all of that unpalatable but nourishing funguswhich thrives upon Avis Solis that he could eat. I have no doubt that helived until madness reduced his ability to feed himself."
"That was drastic," Mr. Wordsley felt called upon to say."Perhaps--perhaps it occurred to you later on that, in charity to yourbrother, the er--woman might not have been altogether blameless."
For a moment he thought that Captain DeCastros was about to strike himagain. He did not. Instead he spat at Mr. Wordsley. He had the speed ofa cobra. There was not time to get out of the way. Mr. Wordsley employeda handkerchief on his face.
"She was my wife, you know, Mr. Wordsley," Captain DeCastros saidpleasantly.
At nineteen-over-four the contamination buzzers sounded their dreadwarning.
* * * * *
Mr. Wordsley got the alarm first. He had been furtively repairing theviewscreen and thinking dark thoughts the while. There was sick dreadfor him in the contemplation of the future, for after this lastunfortunate blunder DeCastros would be certain to keep his promise andhave him examined. This might very well be his last voyage, and Mr.Wordsley had known for quite a long time that he could not live anywhereexcept out here in the void.
Only in space, where the stars were like diamonds. Not in the light ofswirling, angry, red suns, not upon the surface of any planet, so drabwhen you drew too near. Only in the sterile purity of remote spacewhere he could maintain and nourish the essential purity of hisday-dreams. But of course one could not explain this to the Board ofExaminers; least of all to Captain DeCastros.
Moreover, he was afraid that Avis Solis, which he had been permitted tobehold for only a few seconds, would be out of range before he got thescanner to working again. The aspect of this magnificent gem diminishingforever into the limitless night brought a lump to his throat.
But then, at last, the screen came alive once more, and there it loomed,more brilliant than ever, now so huge that it filled the screen, and ithad not become drab, neither gray-green or brown. No, it was cakefrosting, and icicles, and raindrops against the sun, and all of thebright, unattainable Christmas tree ornaments of his childhood.
So rapt was he that he scarcely heard the alarm. Yet he respondedautomatically to the sound that now sent him scrambling into hisexposure suit. He fitted one varium-protected oxy-tank to his helmet andtucked another one under his arm for Captain DeCastros.
This was superfluous, for DeCastros not only had donned his rig; he hadmanaged to recall to memory a few dozen vile, degrading swear wordsgleaned from the sin-pits of Marronn, to hurl at Mr. Wordsley.
No one could have helped it, really. Ships under the Drive are insulatedfrom contamination clouds and everything else in normal space. Thesubstance polluting the ventilation system, therefore, must have beentrapped within their field since Vega. Now it had entered the shipthrough some infinitesimal opening in the hull.
It was the engineer's job to find that break. It was not easy,especially with DeCastros breathing down one's neck. Mr. Wordsley beganto perspire heavily, and the moisture ran down and puddled in his boots.
An hour passed that was like an age. The prognosis became known and wasnot reassuring. This was one of the toxic space viruses, dormant atabsolute zero, but active under shipboard conditions. A species, infact, of the dread, oxygen-eating _dryorus_, which multiplies withexplosive rapidity, and kills upon penetration of the human respiratorysystem.
Because of the leak in the hull, the decontaminators could not even holdtheir own. Mr. Wordsley shuddered to note that ominous, rust-coloredcobwebs--countless trillions of _dryori_--already festooned thestringers of the hull.
Another precious hour was taken from them. Mr. Wordsley emerged wearilyfrom the last inspection hole.
* * * * *
"Well?" DeCastros snapped. "Well--well?" His face was greenish from theeffects of the special, contamination resistant mixture that they werebreathing.
"I found the leak," Mr. Wordsley said.
"Did you fix it?"
"It was one of the irmium alloy plugs in the outer hull beneath thepile. They were originally placed there, I believe, for the installationof a radiation tester. The plug is missing, and I am sorry to say thatwe have no extras. Anything other than irmium would melt at once, ofcourse."
"We have less than eight hours of pure air in the tanks," DeCastrossaid. "Have you thought of that, you rattle-head?"
"Yes, sir," Mr. Wordsley said. "And if I might be allowed to speculate,Captain, I would say that we are finished unless we can make aplanetfall. Only then would I be able to remove the lower port tube,weld the cavity, seal the ship and fumigate."
"We're four weeks from the nearest star, Fomalhaut; you know that aswell as I do."
"I was thinking," said Mr. Wordsley, with a sudden, suffused glow in hischeeks, "of Avis Solis."
Mr. Wordsley shut his eyes as they were going down, because he wanted toopen them and surprise himself, at the moment of landing. But the cold,white glare was more intense than he had expected, and he had to shutthem again and turn on the polarizer.
He buckled on his tools and the carbo-torch, and went down the ladder.He dropped at once to his knees, not because of the gravity, which wasnot bad, but because of a compulsion to get his face as near to thesurface of Avis Solis as possible. It was even lovelier than when seenfrom space. He trod upon a sea of diamonds. A million tiny winkings andscintillations emanated from each crystal. A million crystals laybeneath the sole of his boot. He would rather not have stepped on them,but it could not be helped. They were everywhere. Mr. Wordsley gloated.
* * * * *
DeCastros dropped like a huge slug from the ladder behind him. "What areyou doing?" he said. "Picnicking?"
"I was tying my shoe," Mr. Wordsley said, and got to work with analacrity that was wholly false.
The dark sun-satellites rose by twos and threes over the horizon, feltrather than clearly seen. There was a dry wind that blew from theglittering wasteland and whistled around the base of the rockets as Mr.Wordsley labored on and on.
Captain DeCastros had withdrawn to a level outcropping of igneous rockand sat staring at the nothing where the greenish-black sky met the palegray horizon.
The tube was loosened on its shackles and presently fell, with atinkling sound, upon the surface of Avis Solis. The opening was sealedand welded. Mr. Wordsley was practically finished, but he did not hurry.Instead, he went around to the opposite side of the ship on a pretenseof inspection, and sat down where DeCastros could not see him.
For awhile he stared at the many-faceted depths of the crystals; then heleaned over and touched them with his lips. They were smooth andexciting. They cut his lip.
But he had the distinct feeling that there was something wrong with thisidyll. It seemed to him that he was being spied upon. He sneaked afurtive glance behind him. DeCastros was still sitting where he hadbeen, with his back to him.
Mr. Wordsley slowly lifted his gaze to the plateau of shimmering glassthat was before him. At its rim, a hundred feet above him, a silentfigure stood gazing down upon him.
* * * * *
&nbs
p; A man even six feet tall might easily have frightened Mr. Wordsley intoa nervous breakdown by staring at him with that gaunt, hollow-eyedstare, but this creature, though manlike, was fully fifty feet tall,incredibly elongated, and stark naked. Its hair was long and matted; itscheeks sunken, its lips pulled back in an expression which might havebeen anything from a smile to a cannibalistic snarl.
Mr. Wordsley cried out.
Captain DeCastros heard and came running across the intervening distancewith swiftness incredible in one of his bulk at this gravity. Hisblizzer was out. It was one of the very latest models of blizzers. Verydestructive. Mr. Wordsley had always been afraid to touch it.
He fired, and part of the plateau beneath the titan's feet fell away ina sparkling shower. The creature vanished.
DeCastros was red-faced and wheezing. "That was Malmsworth," he said."Now how the devil do you suppose he managed to