Tree branches had broken the lifeboat's fall, the bow rockets had burned
out in emergency blast, and the swamp had cushioned the landing a bit.
It was still a crash. The battered cylinder sank slowly into the
stagnant water and thin mud of the swamp. The bow was well under before
Jason managed to kick open the emergency hatch in the waist.
There was no way of knowing how long it would take for the boat to go
under, and Jason was in no condition to ponder the situation. Concussed
and bloody, he had just enough drive left to get himself out. Wading and
falling he made his way to firmer land, sitting down heavily as soon as
he found something that would support him.
Behind him the lifeboat burbled and sank under the water. Bubbles of
trapped air kept rising for a while, then stopped. The water stilled
and, except for the broken branches and trees, there was no sign that a
ship had ever come this way.
Insects whined across the swamp, and the only sound that broke the quiet
of the woods beyond was the cruel scream of an animal pulling down its
dinner. When that had echoed away in tiny waves of sound everything was
silent.
Jason pulled himself out of the half trance with an effort. His body
felt like it had been through a meat grinder, and it was almost
impossible to think with the fog in his head. After minutes of
deliberation he figured out that the medikit was what he needed. The
easy-off snap was very difficult and the button release didn't work. He
finally twisted his arm around until it was under the orifice and
pressed the entire unit down. It buzzed industriously, though he
couldn't feel the needles, he guessed it had worked. His sight spun
dizzily for a while then cleared. Pain-killers went to work and he
slowly came out of the dark cloud that had enveloped his brain since the
crash.
Reason returned and loneliness rode along with it. He was without food,
friendless, surrounded by the hostile forces of an alien planet. There
was a rising panic that started deep inside of him, that took
concentrated effort to hold down.
"Think, Jason, don't emote," he said it aloud to reassure himself, but
was instantly sorry, because his voice sounded weak in the emptiness,
with a ragged edge of hysteria to it. Something caught in his throat and
he coughed to clear it, spitting out blood. Looking at the red stain he
was suddenly angry. Hating this deadly planet and the incredible
stupidity of the people who lived on it. Cursing out loud was better and
his voice didn't sound as weak now. He ended up shouting and shaking his
fist at nothing in particular, but it helped. The anger washed away the
fear and brought him back to reality.
Sitting on the ground felt good now. The sun was warm and when he leaned
back he could almost forget the unending burden of doubled gravity.
Anger had carried away fear, rest erased fatigue. From somewhere in the
back of his mind there popped up the old platitude. _Where there's life,
there's hope._ He grimaced at the triteness of the words, at the same
time realizing that a basic truth lurked there.
Count his assets. Well battered, but still alive. None of the bruises
seemed very important, and no bones were broken. His gun was still
working, it dipped in and out of the power holster as he thought about
it. Pyrrans made rugged equipment. The medikit was operating as well. If
he kept his senses, managed to walk in a fairly straight line and could
live off the land, there was a fair chance he might make it back to the
city. What kind of a reception would be waiting for him there was a
different matter altogether. He would find that out after he arrived.
Getting there had first priority.
On the debit side there stood the planet Pyrrus. Strength-sapping
gravity, murderous weather, and violent animals. Could he survive? As if
to add emphasis to his thoughts, the sky darkened over and rain hissed
into the forest, marching towards him. Jason scrambled to his feet and
took a bearing before the rain closed down visibility. A jagged chain of
mountains stood dimly on the horizon, he remembered crossing them on the
flight out. They would do as a first goal. After he had reached them, he
would worry about the next leg of the journey.
* * * * *
Leaves and dirt flew before the wind in quick gusts, then the rain
washed over him. Soaked, chilled, already bone-tired, he pitted the
tottering strength of his legs against the planet of death.
When nightfall came it was still raining. There was no way of being sure
of the direction, and no point in going on. If that wasn't enough, Jason
was on the ragged edge of exhaustion. It was going to be a wet night.
All the trees were thick-boled and slippery, he couldn't have climbed
them on a one-G world. The sheltered spots that he investigated, under
fallen trees and beneath thick bushes, were just as wet as the rest of
the forest. In the end he curled up on the leeward side of a tree, and
fell asleep, shivering, with the water dripping off him.
The rain stopped around midnight and the temperature fell sharply. Jason
woke sluggishly from a dream in which he was being frozen to death, to
find it was almost true. Fine snow was sifting through the trees,
powdering the ground and drifting against him. The cold bit into his
flesh, and when he sneezed it hurt his chest. His aching and numb body
only wanted rest, but the spark of reason that remained in him, forced
him to his feet. If he lay down now, he would die. Holding one hand
against the tree so he wouldn't fall, he began to trudge around it. Step
after shuffling step, around and around, until the terrible cold eased a
bit and he could stop shivering. Fatigue crawled up him like a muffling,
gray blanket. He kept on walking, half the time with his eyes closed.
Opening them only when he fell and had to climb painfully to his feet
again.
The sun burned away the snow clouds at dawn. Jason leaned against his
tree and blinked up at the sky with sore eyes. The ground was white in
all directions, except around the tree where his stumbling feet had
churned a circle of black mud. His back against the smooth trunk, Jason
sank slowly down to the ground, letting the sun soak into him.
Exhaustion had him light-headed, and his lips were cracked from thirst.
Almost continuous coughing tore at his chest with fingers of fire.
Though the sun was still low it was hot already, burning his skin dry.
Dry and hot.
It wasn't right. This thought kept nagging at his brain until he
admitted it. Turned it over and over and looked at it from all sides.
What wasn't right? The way he felt.
Pneumonia. He had all the symptoms.
His dry lips cracked and blood moistened them when he smiled. He had
avoided all the animal perils of Pyrrus, all the big carnivores and
poisonous reptiles, only to be laid low by the smallest beast of them
all. Well, he had the remedy for this one, too. Rolling up his sleeve
with shaking fingers, he pressed the mouth of the medikit to his bare
arm. It clicked and began to drone an angry whine. That meant something,
he knew, but he just couldn't remember what. Holding it up he saw that
one of the hypodermics was projecting halfway from its socket. Of
course. It was empty of whatever antibiotic the analyzer had called for.
It needed refilling.
Jason hurled the thing away with a curse, and it splashed into a pool
and was gone. End of medicine, end of medikit, end of Jason dinAlt.
Single-handed battler against the perils of deathworld. Strong-hearted
stranger who could do as well as the natives. It had taken him all of
one day on his own to get his death warrant signed.
* * * * *
A choking growl echoed behind him. He turned, dropped and fired in the
same motion. It was all over before his conscious mind was aware it had
happened. Pyrran training had conditioned his reflexes on the
pre-cortical level. Jason gaped at the ugly beast dying not a meter from
him and realized he had been trained well.
His first reaction was unhappiness that he had killed one of the grubber
dogs. When he looked closer he realized this animal was slightly
different in markings, size and temper. Though most of its forequarters
were blown away, blood pumping out in dying spurts, it kept trying to
reach Jason. Before the eyes glazed with death it had struggled its way
almost to his feet.
It wasn't quite a grubber dog, though chances were it was a wild
relative. Bearing the same relation as dog to wolf. He wondered if there
were any other resemblances between wolves and this dead beast. Did they
hunt in packs, too?
As soon as the thought hit him he looked up--not a moment too soon. The
great forms were drifting through the trees, closing in on him. When he
shot two, the others snarled with rage and sank back into the forest.
They didn't leave. Instead of being frightened by the deaths they grew
even more enraged.
Jason sat with his back to the tree and waited until they came close
before he picked them off. With each shot and dying scream the outraged
survivors howled the louder. Some of them fought when they met, venting
their rage. One stood on his hind legs and raked great strips of bark
from a tree. Jason aimed a shot at it, but he was too far away to hit.
There were advantages to having a fever, he realized. Logically he knew
he would live only to sunset, or until his gun was empty. Yet the fact
didn't bother him greatly. Nothing really mattered. He slumped, relaxed
completely, only raising his arm to fire, then letting it drop again.
Every few minutes he had to move to look in back of the tree, and kill
any of them that were stalking him in the blind spot. He wished dimly
that he were leaning against a smaller tree, but it wasn't worth the
effort to go to one.
Sometime in the afternoon he fired his last shot. It killed an animal he
had allowed to get close. He had noticed he was missing the longer
shots. The beast snarled and dropped, the others that were close pulled
back and howled in sympathy. One of them exposed himself and Jason
pulled the trigger.
There was only a slight click. He tried again, in case it was just a
misfire, but there was still only the click. The gun was empty, as was
the spare clip pouch at his belt. There were vague memories of
reloading, though he couldn't remember how many times he had done it.
This, then, was the end. They had all been right, Pyrrus was a match for
him. Though they shouldn't talk. It would kill them all in the end, too.
Pyrrans never died in bed. Old Pyrrans never died, they just got et.
Now that he didn't have to force himself to stay alert and hold the gun,
the fever took hold. He wanted to sleep and he knew it would be a long
sleep. His eyes were almost closed as he watched the wary carnivores
slip closer to him. The first one crept close enough to spring, he could
see the muscles tensing in its leg.
It leaped. Whirling in midair and falling before it reached him. Blood
ran from its gaping mouth and the short shaft of metal projected from
the side of his head.
The two men walked out of the brush and looked down at him. Their mere
presence seemed to have been enough for the carnivores, because they all
vanished.
Grubbers. He had been in such a hurry to reach the city that he had
forgotten about the grubbers. It was good that they were here and Jason
was very glad they had come. He couldn't talk very well, so he smiled to
thank them. But this hurt his lips too much so he went to sleep.