Resealing the cellar, they carried the box back to Jason's new office.
Only after spraying with decontaminant, did they examine it closely.
Meta picked out engraved letters on the lid.
"S. T. POLLUX VICTORY--that must be the name of the spacer this log came
from. But I don't recognize the class, or whatever it is the initials
_S. T._ stand for."
"Stellar Transport," Jason told her, as he tried the lock mechanism.
"I've heard of them but I've never seen one. They were built during the
last wave of galactic expansion. Really nothing more than gigantic metal
containers, put together in space. After they were loaded with people,
machinery and supplies, they would be towed to whatever planetary system
had been chosen. These same tugs and one-shot rockets would brake the
S. T.'s in for a landing. Then leave them there. The hull was a ready
source of metal and the colonists could start right in building their
new world. And they were _big_. All of them held at least fifty thousand
people ..."
Only after he said it, did he realize the significance of his words.
Meta's deadly stare drove it home. There were now less people on Pyrrus
than had been in the original settlement.
And human population, without rigid birth controls, usually increased
geometrically. Jason dinAlt suddenly remembered Meta's itchy trigger
finger.
"But we can't be sure how many people were aboard this one," he said
hurriedly. "Or even if this is the log of the ship that settled Pyrrus.
Can you find something to pry this open with? The lock is corroded into
a single lump."
Meta took her anger out on the box. Her fingers managed to force a gap
between lid and bottom. She wrenched at it. Rusty metal screeched and
tore. The lid came off in her hands and a heavy book thudded to the
table.
The cover legend destroyed all doubt.
LOG OF S. T. POLLUX VICTORY. OUTWARD BOUND--SETANI TO PYRRUS. 55,000
SETTLERS ABOARD.
Meta couldn't argue now. She stood behind Jason with tight-clenched
fists and read over his shoulder as he turned the brittle, yellowed
pages. He quickly skipped through the opening part that covered the
sailing preparations and trip out. Only when he had reached the actual
landing did he start reading slowly. The impact of the ancient words
leaped out at him.
"Here it is," Jason shouted. "Proof positive that we're on the right
trail. Even _you_ will have to admit that. Read it, right here."
_... Second day since the tugs left, we are completely on our own
now. The settlers still haven't grown used to this planet, though we
have orientation talks every night. As well as the morale agents who
I have working twenty hours a day. I suppose I really can't blame
the people, they all lived in the underways of Setani and I doubt if
they saw the sun once a year. This planet has weather with a
vengeance, worse than anything I've seen on a hundred other planets.
Was I wrong during the original planning stages not to insist on
settlers from one of the agrarian worlds? People who could handle
the outdoors._
_These citified Setanians are afraid to go out in the rain. But of
course they have adapted completely to their native 1.5 gravity so
the two gee here doesn't bother them much. That was the factor that
decided us. Anyway--too late now to do anything about it. Or about
the unending cycle of rain, snow, hail, hurricanes and such. Answer
will be to start the mines going, sell the metals and build
completely enclosed cities._
_The only thing on this forsaken planet that isn't actually against
us are the animals. A few large predators at first, but the guards
made short work of them. The rest of the wild life leaves us alone.
Glad of that! They have been fighting for existence so long that I
have never seen a more deadly looking collection. Even the little
rodents no bigger than a man's hand are armored like tanks ..._
"I don't believe a word of it," Meta broke in. "That can't be Pyrrus
he's writing about ..." Her words died away as Jason wordlessly pointed
to the title on the cover.
He continued scanning the pages, flipping them quickly. A sentence
caught his eye and he stopped. Jamming his finger against the place, he
read aloud.
"'... And troubles keep piling up. First Har Palo with his theory that
the vulcanism is so close to the surface that the ground keeps warm and
the crops grow so well. Even if he is right--what can we do? We must be
self-dependent if we intend to survive. And now this other thing. It
seems that the forest fire drove a lot of new species our way. Animals,
insects and even birds have attacked the people. (Note for Har: check if
possible seasonal migration might explain attacks.) There have been
fourteen deaths from wounds and poisoning. We'll have to enforce the
rules for insect lotion at all times. And I suppose build some kind of
perimeter defense to keep the larger beasts out of the camp.'
"This is a beginning," Jason said. "At least now we are aware of the
real nature of the battle we're engaged in. It doesn't make Pyrrus any
easier to handle, or make the life forms less dangerous, to know that
they were once better disposed towards mankind. All this does is point
the way. Something took the peaceful life forms, shook them up, and
turned this planet into one big deathtrap for mankind. That _something_
is what I want to uncover."