II

The humming was a little more noticeable in the helicopter cabin, but

not much. John McLaughlin, sprawled as comfortably as his two meters

of height would permit in its confines, had noticed the sound only at

first; and after remarking to himself that they seemed to be building

better ion turbines since he had left Earth, had permitted his thoughts

to wander in other directions. These did not concern Felodons; the

interest there was not, at the moment, mutual. The rather crowded cabin

offered material enough for consideration.

McLaughlin was not a scientist by training, but neither was he the

sort of guide that might have been found in Yukon or Amazon territory

a few centuries back. He did not despise people merely because they

were, by his standards, greenhorns. He knew that each of the other men

now sharing this cabin with him was an expert in his own field, even

though none of them, in spite of his training, would have been able

to survive for more than a day in the jungles of Viridis. After all,

why should they have learned such an art? There were other things worth

learning, and one could always hire McLaughlin if a need to visit the

jungles developed. Since this particular party had done just that, they

were evidently a fairly practical crew.

They were not talking very much, which from the guide's viewpoint was

an additional point in their favor. They already knew what they planned

to do, and saw no point in repeating what had already been said. Of

course, if they should fail to find the area they were seeking, there

would be talk--all of it aimed at McLaughlin; but he had no fear on

that score. There were few enough mountains on Viridis, and of those

few by far the greater number were volcanic cinder cones. When these

scientists had specified a region of tilted-block or folded mountains,

the guide had been more than dubious at first. It had taken him time to

recall that there was a small area meeting these specifications less

than fifteen hundred miles from the spaceport at Emeraude. He was not

himself a geologist, but pictures and diagrams had been used freely in

explaining to him just what was wanted, and he was quite certain that

the party would be satisfied with what he had to offer.

A slight rocking in the hitherto steady motion of the helicopter roused

him from this line of reverie. They were already several hours from

Emeraude, and McLaughlin realized that he should have been paying more

attention to the course. He straightened up in his seat and looked out.

To the left and ahead was a huge thunderhead, whose satellite air

currents had probably caused the variation on the helicopter's flight

path. More important, there was land in sight. McLaughlin knew that

the long flight across Green Bay was over. He waited, however, before

saying anything. He had given the pilot full instructions as to the

route before take-off, and he wanted to see whether those had been

clear enough.

Apparently they had. Without asking questions or even looking back at

the guide, Lampert swung the aircraft from its northerly heading onto

one which paralleled the shoreline, a turn of about forty-five degrees

to the right, and the helicopter resumed its steady flight.

McLaughlin did not relax. From now on the route was a little more

difficult to follow, and there were not too many more hours of

daylight. The shadowless night glow which made vision relatively easy

after sunset did not lend itself to aerial navigation over a very

poorly mapped world. He kept his eyes on the shoreline, watching for

the landmarks he had not seen for many months--and then not from above.

He did not see the Felodon which became so intensely interested in the

helicopter. If he had, he would have attached little importance to the

creature's presence, and he could not possibly have seen its actions in

sufficient detail to catch any peculiarities in them.

* * * * *

No one else saw the beast, either. The change in course had roused most

of the party from whatever lines of thought they had been pursuing,

as it had McLaughlin, and most of them were looking out the windows;

but they were interested in what lay ahead, not below. Sometime soon

the relative monotony of jungle and swamp should be relieved by rising

ground, indicating the nearness of the mountains they sought; and the

helicopter's flight altitude of some two thousand feet was low enough

to permit any significant rise of terrain to be visible. Sulewayo, the

younger paleontologist, made a remark to that effect, which passed

without comment. Real conversation did not start for some minutes.

"As I understand it, we have one more course change before we see the

mountains. Isn't there a river we have to follow for a time, String?"

Lampert asked the question without looking back.

"That's right," McLaughlin replied. "It runs into Green Bay from almost

straight north, and about a hundred miles inland makes a turn to the

east. That's general direction. It winds a lot."

"It would, in country as nearly peneplaned as this," muttered Lampert

under his breath.

"The mountains you want start about sixty airline miles from the big

bend. If you trust your gyro compass enough, you can head for them

directly from the river mouth. If you have any doubt about being able

to hold a line, though, follow the river. I doubt that there are any

good landmarks otherwise. Of course, I've only seen the area from the

surface and close to the river, but I'd be very surprised if there was

anything around but the swamp-and-jungle mess we're over now."

"So would I. We'll stay in sight of the river, but edge as far east as

visibility lets us." The guide approved this plan with a nod, and the

conversation lapsed for several minutes. The silence was finally broken

once more by Sulewayo.

"I hope these hills we're looking for have something of interest. This

planet is the most monotonous I've seen yet. Where it isn't jungle it's

swamp; and the only difference between the two is that the jungle grows

higher trees." McLaughlin's face crinkled into something like a smile,

and he sat up once more.

"There's one other difference," he remarked.

"What's that?"

"In the jungle, dressed and equipped as you now are, you might live

as long as a day. In the swamp, five minutes would be an optimistic

estimate." Sulewayo looked down at the shorts and boots which

constituted his costume, and shrugged.

"I admit the point, but I don't expect to go out this way. What I

actually wear and carry, beside my professional equipment, is up to

you. Also, I was referring to appearances. Beta Lyrae Nine looked

almost as dull as this world from above, and I'll bet it was as

least as deadly when you reached the surface." McLaughlin had never

visited New Sheol, and admitted it, but it took more than that to stop

Sulewayo.

"Actually, I was hoping that these hills didn't turn out to be so

covered with soil that any fossils would be yards underground at the

best. Do you recall any places where the rock strata themselves were

exposed--steep cliffs, or deep stream gullies, perhaps?"

"Definitely yes. The big river cuts right across the range, or else

starts in it. It comes out from a canyon like that of the Colorado on

Earth, though a lot less spectacular. Actually I don't know anything

about the country more than a couple of miles up that canyon. I was

stopped on the river by rapids, and couldn't get my amphib out on

either side. For the most part there simply wasn't any shore, just

cliff."

"Quite a current, I suppose?" Lampert cut in.

"Actually, not very much. I went swimming in worse, on Earth."

* * * * *

"That hardly ties in with steep cliffs and a river cutting through a

mountain range."

McLaughlin shrugged. "You're the geologist. Look it over for yourself.

Maybe you'll just have to add it to the list of things you don't

understand about Viridis."

"Fair enough." The pilot-commander-geophysicist nodded. "I did not mean

to imply that you were not reporting accurately; but the situation you

have described would be a trifle queer on more planets than Earth, I

assure you. Still, with luck your cliffs will show fossils. Maybe we'll

solve one problem in exchange for another. Life could be worse."

"Just hope we don't solve the first one by proving that certain

geophysicists have been talking through their hats," the hitherto

silent Krendall remarked.

"Eh?"

"What would you do if we found a chunk of, say, pegmatite with

radioactive inclusions that checked out at half a billion years instead

of the thirty-odd million you lads have been giving us as a time scale

for this mudball?"

"I should check very carefully under what circumstances and in what

location you found it. If necessary, I would admit that the problem had

disappeared. Half a billion years would account reasonably well for

the evolutionary status of this planet's life forms, though actually

it took Earth a good deal longer to reach a corresponding condition.

Frankly, however, I do not expect any such find. We spotted our borings

rather carefully, and should have taken pretty representative samples."

"I'm sure you did. If your results are right, it just means that the

problem belongs to Hans and me--and String here had better find us a

lot of fossils."

"You'll have to find your own bones," McLaughlin replied. "I'm taking

you to the sort of ground you want. A fossil would have to show its

teeth in my face before I'd recognize it--and then I'd probably shoot

before I realized it was dead."

"All right," Sulewayo chuckled. "You take care of the quick, and

Krendall and I will worry about the dead. Dr. Lampert can figure out

how old the fossils are if we find any, and Take can look for stone

axes."

"Or automobiles, or pieces of space-drive tubes, or other artifacts,"

Mitsuitei answered the implied dig. "I plan to sit back and loaf,

unless and until one of you lads turns up a skull that could have held

more than half an ounce of brain. I am going to be very unscientific. I

believe that there is nothing on this planet for an archeologist to do,

and I am not going to work myself into a lather to prove myself wrong."

"You've formed an opinion rather early in the game," Lampert remarked.

"After all, remarkably little of this world has been explored. Why

should there not be traces of occupation in unknown areas such as we

are about to visit?"

"Because, while most of the planet remains unexplored, a very large

number of places which should have furnished traces of habitation have

failed to do so. We've surveyed many spots which were, or are, ideal

for cities based on ocean commerce, or market centers for what could be

farm areas, or spaceports. After a while you get to a point where such

finds can be predicted with some certainty. As I said, I am far from

certain, and it would be most unreasonable to say I was; but in the

area we are seeking, I see no reason to expect anything of interest to

my profession."

* * * * *

Lampert shrugged and brought his full attention back to the controls.

The sun was slowly sinking, bringing into bolder relief the

irregularities of the ground as their shadows lengthened. However,

these irregularities were still few, and the jungle roof was for the

most part evenly illuminated. As McLaughlin had expected, there was

nothing that could be used as a landmark. In its own way, the forest

was as featureless as the ocean. The pilot kept his gaze riveted ahead,

in expectation of the river which the guide had told them to expect;

and presently he saw it. Reflecting the color of the faintly purplish

sky, it stood out fairly well against the gray-green of the jungle,

once they were close enough to penetrate the ever-present haze.

With McLaughlin nodding silent approval, Lampert swung the helicopter

to the left and proceeded more nearly straight north, angling gradually

toward the river. Now the jungle took on a little more feature, though

still nothing that could be used for guidance. At fairly frequent

intervals a glint of water became visible through the trees directly

below them. Evidently numerous tributaries were feeding into the larger

stream; but none of these could be seen from any distance. For the most

part they were so narrow that the trees growing on each side met above

them.

"I should think that one could cover a great deal of that territory

in a boat," remarked Mitsuitei, after nearly half an hour in the new

direction.

"You'd need an amphib," replied the guide. "A boat is all right for the

main stream, but all that stuff coming in from the sides is so shallow

that you'd never make progress with anything else. I've tried most of

them in my own croc. Every time I've had to crawl rather than float

before I was a mile from the river."

"How is the ground? Swamp?"

"No, it's fairly solid for the most part. It doesn't show very well

yet even with the sun as low as it is, but the general ground level is

pushing up slowly all along here. We'll be in sight of your mountains

before too long."

This declaration brought all members of the group to the windows, all

five pairs of eyes covering the quadrant of vision below and ahead.

The meandering river was now on their left, but just visible through

the haze ahead of them was the eastward turn McLaughlin had predicted.

Lampert headed a little more to the right in an attempt to cut the

final corner, but the helicopter reached the winding purplish band

before their goal came in sight in spite of this effort. The flyer

hummed on.

The bars of sunlight admitted by the side ports had been nearly

horizontal when the turn to the east cut them off. They were only

slightly more so when McLaughlin gave a satisfied grunt, and nodded

forward. The others followed his gaze.

* * * * *

Straight ahead, little could be seen because of the "bright spot"

familiar to every flyer--the shadowless area directly opposite the sun,

centered on the aircraft's own shadow. To either side, however, the

promised hills rose out of the jungle to heights exceeding the present

flight altitude of the helicopter. Presumably the canyon from which

the river was supposed to emerge lay in their path. So, at any rate,

Lampert remarked; and McLaughlin confirmed him.

"I'd cruise pretty slowly from here on," the guide added. "There are a

number of hills on this side of the range. Even if you're not worried

about running into one of them, you may want to examine them for

exposed rocks."

"Mightn't it be better to find a spot to park before the sun goes

down?" countered the pilot.

"It might. What I said still holds, though. You haven't much chance

finding one inside the canyon without quite a long search, and it will

be best to stay this side of the range until sunrise. Remember my

trouble in finding a beach for the amphib while I was inside."

"All right. Can we land in jungle, though?"

"Not unless you want to fold the blades in flight and drop the last

twenty to fifty feet. Hunt for a fairly high hill. They're usually

somewhat bare on top, and you'll at least have room for the rotors to

swing. If you don't like that, or can't find a suitable hilltop, land

on the river and tie up to the shore--but again, don't try that in the

canyon. You're unlikely to find anything to tie up to."

"This machine has good lights, I suppose you realize--but then, you

know the planet. As far as I'm concerned, what you say goes. Are the

chances of a hill equally good on either side of the river?"

"Maybe a little better to the north. The ground looked higher that way

when I came out of the canyon." Lampert obediently eased the flyer's

course a trifle to the left, and everyone aboard watched the ground as

it began to rise toward them.

At first the "hills" were merely low mounds, as jungle-covered as the

level ground; but very quickly these gave way to higher, steeper rises

on whose tops the larger trees grew very sparsely. One of these was

quickly selected after a brief, questioning glance from Lampert to the

guide, and the helicopter began to descend.

"We'd better take what we have now." McLaughlin amplified the nod with

which he had answered the pilot. "This belt of hills is pretty narrow,

and we'd be into the main range in another minute or two."

"Do you know whether the other side is as abrupt, or whether--"

Lampert's question was cut short by an exclamation from Mitsuitei.

"Rob! Hold it a moment!"

Lampert was a good pilot; the increase in rotor-blade pitch under his

deft fingers brought the helicopter's descent to as nearly an instant

halt as was possible to anything airborne. Not until he had also

checked horizontal drift did he look in the direction the archaeologist

was indicating. By then, everyone else had seen what had attracted

Mitsuitei's attention.

Between the hill on which Lampert had intended to land and the river

were several lower eminences. These were now almost directly south

of the helicopter, and every detail upon them was shown in exaggerated

relief by shadows stretching to the east. It was one of these hills

which Mitsuitei was examining with the utmost care.

It was covered with jungle, like the rest; but a curious regularity

was visible. The trees appeared, at this distance, to be of the usual

species; but some of them towered over their fellows by a good thirty

or forty feet.

This in itself was not odd. The whole jungle was studded with such

projections. However, on this hill the taller trees seemed to have

been planted in orderly rows. Five solid lines of them were visible,

extending roughly north and south so that their long shadows made them

stand out sharply. They were separated from each other by perhaps a

quarter of a mile. Running at right angles to them were other, less

outstanding rows of vegetation. Lampert was not quite sure that these

were not the product of his own imagination, since the trees which

formed them rose little if any above the general level. The whole

hilltop, however, suggested something to every man who saw it. The

archaeologist was the first to give voice to the impression.

"That was a city!"

* * * * *

No one answered. Some of the scientists must have thought that he was

jumping from one opinion to its direct opposite on the strength of some

rather feeble evidence; but the thought went unvoiced. They simply

looked--except for Sulewayo, who moved to turn a camera on the scene.

"Rob! Can we land there? Now?" Lampert had anticipated this question,

but could have answered it without hesitation in any case.

"Sure--if you don't mind using String's method of folding the blades

and falling in." The archaeologist turned to the guide.

"Will it be hard to get there on foot from this hill we're heading

for?" McLaughlin shrugged.

"From two hours to a day, depending on undergrowth."

"We have torches. We can burn our way if the vegetation is dense."

"Half a day, then. You'll still have to let the steam clear pretty

often. There's little wind below the trees, and the air is saturated."

"Well, that place will be worth more than a day of anyone's time. Maybe

tomorrow we can--"

"Hold up a moment, Take!" Lampert cut in, before Mitsuitei could

develop his plan further. "If you take String out to that hill

before take-off tomorrow, what do the rest of us do for the day--or

week--before you get back? What we'd better do is note this place,

go on to the canyon, set up camp, get the fossil hunting going, and

_after_ our routine is set up and we know the more common dangers of

the neighborhood, perhaps we can spare McLaughlin for a day or two so

that you can look over your city--if that's what it is."

Lampert's last few words banished the hurt expression from the little

man's face.

"What do you mean--_if_? What else could make a pattern like that? It

must have been streets."

"Or a joint system in the rock below, trapping enough water--or

draining enough off--to permit superior growth along the joint lines.

Or a system of tilted strata doing the same thing--"

"If it's the latter, it's just the sort of thing you want, too. It

should bring fossils near the surface."

The pilot nodded slowly. "You do make it sound more attractive. Still,

I think we'd better follow the original plan, except that I may come

with you myself when we do get around to looking that hill over."

He turned back to the controls and resumed their descent. Mitsuitei

subsided once more to his seat. The archaeologist realized the wisdom

of Lampert's decision, but did not particularly enjoy the enforced

wait. His face showed the fact, until Sulewayo opened the camera he

had been using and passed him the sheaf of prints on which the "city"

appeared. As the young paleontologist had expected, these so occupied

the little man's attention that he did not even notice the landing.

* * * * *

The helicopter settled to the hilltop which Lampert had chosen, in the

center of a quadrangle of trees growing just far enough apart to give

clearance to the rotors.

The sun was nearly gone. It had vanished in the haze as they dropped

below flight altitude. McLaughlin knew that in all too short a time

it would be as dark as Viridis ever became. The nights could be

dangerous. There was quite enough light to deceive a man into thinking

he could see clearly, and an inexperienced wanderer might not realize

until too late that details were not really distinct and that there was

no clue to direction in the shadowless glow. McLaughlin himself could

use the moons, but he doubted that any other member of the party could

do so. They--or their motions--took knowing.

He was pleased to note that there was no general rush to the door as

the great blades whistled gently to a stop. The scientists turned to

him, but remained where they were. No words were spoken, but Lampert's

relinquishment of command was evident. McLaughlin unfolded his length

from the seat.

"There are two choices," he said. "We can sleep in the 'copter, or

outside. The first will be a trifle cramped, but the second will

require either a double circle of charged wire or two armed guards on

constant watch. With no offense meant, I doubt that anyone but myself

in this group could qualify as a night guard."

"Why a double circle of wire?" asked Lampert.

"The wire will stop only an animal in control of its motion when it

makes contact. If a Felodon were to spring from a little distance, it

might not like the wire--but it could hardly stop until it reached the

ground, and there should then be a similar barrier ahead of it."

"We could use a lethal voltage."

"Even if you want to take the risk--what is lethal to a Felodon will

be equally so to a man--you'll have the insulation problem. There's

always a darned good chance of rain before morning, and--"

"We might as well stay inside, then. We have the electric equipment,

but it will take quite a while to set it up; and it hardly seems worth

the trouble for a one-night stand. As you say, it will be a little

crowded here. But we've all slept under worse conditions. Would anyone

rather set up the fence?"

There was no answer to this question. At Lampert's direction a meal

was served and eaten. Then the scientists settled down for the night,

some to sleep at once, others to review plans or recheck equipment.

Mitsuitei occupied himself with making careful measurements of the

photographs he had been given; he was the last asleep....

Scores of miles to the southwest, the Felodon reached the river. It

was no longer on the coast; some time since it had swerved inland. A

casual compass check would have revealed that it was still heading

straight for the now grounded helicopter. Even McLaughlin could not

have told what led the creature on, familiar as he was with the animals

of Viridis; but no one who had watched the thing since the flying

machine had passed could have doubted its goal. Actually, it was now on

the same bank of the river as the helicopter; but whatever guided it

pointed across the great stream.

Without hesitating, the amphibid plunged into the water.