Norman tried to fling her away from him but the fear-crazed woman
clutched his hair as he took the wheel again and he was almost dragged
from his seat as he turned the wheel another notch. The wheel blistered
his fingers, but he turned it with will-screaming slowness, ignoring
Keren's clawing hands. The pointer on the stratometer climbed up the
dial in short, inexorable jerks. Tick-tick-tick-tick! Tolling their
funeral march at a thousand fiery miles per second ... per second....
In the nightmare of those moments, Norman saw Dorothy's reflection
in the fog-smeared glass, tugging at the frantic brunette, trying to
pull her away from him. He saw her hand rise, a wrench in it. She
brought it down on the Venusian's dark head as the clock swept to its
nerve-breaking jump and he spun the wheel with all his strength.
It was a timeless instant. His hand lay limp on the wheel, his eyes on
Dorothy's dim figure in the foggy glass. She stood there like a bad
camera shot of a little girl dressed up in her papa's overalls. Then,
slowly, he realized that what he thought was the reflection of one
of her blue eyes was instead a small, luminous globe suspended in the
bright nothingness of sunlight ahead. He rubbed his sweat-burning eyes.
The blackness of the glass was fading quickly, the seam bulges
sinking back with the contraction. Without the slightest tremor, the
counteractive had stopped their plunge into the Sun, and the reverse
rockets had taken over. They were headed out again. The blue globe
grew swiftly as they approached. Source of a thousand tales of terror,
Vulcan sped toward them out of the distance.
In a few moments, washed air cooled the pilot room as the air
conditioning unit purred full speed. Its soft whistle, the brighter
light and Norman's instruments were the only evidence that they swam
effortlessly in a wild current that swept into the gates of the solar
hell.
"If we had enough insulation," Norman said, "we could go into the very
flames of the sun. Like we almost did anyhow." Johnny's counteractive
had given the universe new eyes--to seek an elixir to save his life.
Keren moaned.
Dorothy held a glass of water to Keren's scarlet lips. "There's a
mirror in the galley," she told her. "Go freshen up before we land."
Keren looked like a wilted orchid and Norman smiled, finding it
difficult to hate anyone after the ordeal they had just survived.
Keren's eyes raised to him with an unexpected softness as she stood up.
"I'm sorry I acted like an idiot," she said coolly. "You saved my life
and you won't regret it." She shook her sleek hair and turned to the
galley. "Get out of my way, brat!" she snapped at Dorothy and left the
pilot room.
Norman grinned at Dorothy. "You wield a wicked wrench," he said. "I'm
glad you're on my side."
The fifteen year old fugitive from a high school journalism class
grinned back, wrinkling her freckled nose. "You wield a wicked heart
attack," she said. "Miss Vaun's on your side now if not on mine."
He turned back to the controls. They were but a few minutes from the
unexplored planet. There was nothing he could do now but take the girls
along with him. A junior miss and a Venusian beauty queen, landing on
an unknown world.
As they approached, Vulcan filled their window, a great smooth
curve, its blue color lightening to green. Norman switched off the
counteractive and cut in the landing rockets.
When Keren's exotic perfume entered the room again, the land below was
a map of verdant plains, rolling mountains and glassy seas. Quickly it
swelled to jungle and flashing water and, with a champagne tingle in
his blood, Norman dropped toward an open well of meadow in the trees.
His excitement, however, was tinged with sadness. Johnny should be
here now. They had dropped upon a score of unknown worlds together.
Now he landed without his partner, in a last-hope venture to save that
partner's life.
The green vegetation was a colorful contrast against the bright yellow
of dead grass. They would have to be careful about fire, Norman knew.
He'd seen that thick grass on other Sun-tropical worlds; it burned fast
as gunpowder.
This close to the Sun, Vulcan probably had a constant wind. The
gravity seemed approximately the same as Earth's. He plugged in the
spectroscope to test the air and as he glanced out the window at the
intake valve a slow chill trickled down his back.
It wasn't only the wind moving the grass outside. The grass was
_growing._
Dorothy and Keren came to the window. As they watched, the grass beside
the hull rose two inches.
"It's horrible," Dorothy whispered. Then, "Look!" she shrilled,
pointing.
* * * * *
Norman shook his head as if recovering from a blow, the words of the
Mercurian Ambassador ringing in his ears: "Vulcan is a planet without
a human footprint...." All science knew of this supposedly untrod
planet was suddenly a lie. There, beside the ship, was the unmistakable
imprint of a human foot.
As Norman looked up he saw a man step out of the jungle and walk toward
them across the grass. A jet gun bounced on the stranger's hip. He wore
high-top boots, a checkered hunting shirt and his black-mustached face
was heavily tanned. Norman tore himself from his bewilderment and
turned on the outside speaker. "Who are you! How did you get here?"
"Same way you did," the receiver brought the fellow's voice inside.
"Think you're the only one with a counteractive?"
To Norman's verified knowledge, Johnny's counteractive was the only one
listed under inter-planetary patents. He turned on Keren. "What do you
know about this?" But she held her carmine lips tight, staring out the
window.
"The air must be all right," he said. "Let's go." He took his jet gun
from the compartment in the control panel and strapped the holster
close to his right hand. Hot sunlight burnished the room as he threw
the panel switch opening the space port.
He walked to the door. The stranger waited below, hairy hands on his
hips. "I hope you've got an Earthian cigarette. They're scarce around
here."
Norman dropped the folding steps and Dorothy, curiosity bright in her
kitten-blue eyes, walked out into the windy sunlight. As Norman started
out, the port clanged shut in his face, hurtling him back into the
middle of the room. Rockets hummed as the ship leaped ten feet in the
air.
Keren stood before the panel with her hand on the rise lever. Norman
sprang across the room and jerked her aside as the ship sailed out of
the clearing and plowed through the tree tops. "I've had enough of your
tricks, lady!" he said through clenched teeth.
"No, handsome!" Keren cried. "You've got to get us away from here!"
Before he could right the ship she took him from behind and pinned his
arms to his sides.
"You fool!" Norman yelled, twisting her hands from him. "We're going
to crash!" But the woman fought like a panther, black eyes blazing.
Controls gone wild, the ship rolled over on its side, and bumped
heavily down into the shadowed mire and ground to a halt.
"You crazy witch!" Norman got to his feet, eying the sloping floor and
the smoke curling up from the leaves under the ship. The rockets had
set the woods on fire. His port rise-rockets dangled, a twisted mass
of tubes. "Why'd you do this?" he demanded, facing her with itching
fists. "Who was that fellow back there? Talk," he ordered, "before I
slap your painted face off!"