The Venus Trilogy - Complete Sci-Fi Series: The Planet of Peril, The Prince of Peril & The Port of Peril. Otis Adelbert Kline
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said Vernia.
He unbuckled his belt and handed her the weapon. She opened the door a little way and soon cleared the deck of enemies. Then, while Grandon raked ledge after ledge, she shot down those of the flying attackers who came within range. Most of them fell into the fiery lake, and soon the air was filled with the stench of scorched flesh and hair.
For more than an hour they circled the crater, at the end of which time not a living grampite was in sight. The ledges were strewn with carcasses, and the lake of lava was sending up black clouds of smoke as it consumed those brought down by the tork. Grandon estimated that at least two-thirds of the population of that crater had been exterminated; the others had been driven to cover.
The avenging craft again rose high above the mountain.
“Now to return you to Reabon,” said Grandon. Can you tell me which way it lies from here?”
“As I recall it, this place lies across the Azpok Ocean, directly south of Reabon. If you will steer due north, we should be able to arrive on ground that will be familiar to me, and we can then easily make our way to the capital.”
Grandon examined the Olban compass, which hung suspended by a tiny wire in the front of the cab. “I presume that, as in my own world, the compass always points toward the north.”
“It should,” replied Vernia, “unless deflected by some counter magnetic attraction.”
Grandon set his course accordingly, traveling swiftly at a height of approximately two thousand feet.
The ship was amply stored with provisions and water, and they ate their first food in nearly twenty-four hours while hurtling through space at a terrific rate of speed.
“Try to go to sleep now,” said Grandon. “In a few hours you will be safely home, and I will return to my faithful mountaineers. Then we can continue our war.”
“What if I should not choose to move against Uxpo?”
“You would save the useless waste of thousands of human lives, and therefore place me eternally in your debt.”
“You have already put me under an obligation to you for which my entire empire would not be sufficient recompense. Since you will not accept the second highest office in Zarovia, I have decided to free Uxpo. We shall be neighbors and, I hope, friends.”
“In the name of the people of Uxpo I thank you for your generous decision, and…”
He was interrupted by a series of rude shocks and a rending crash as they came to a complete standstill. Both were thrown violently against the front of the cab. Grandon struck his head on the butt of a mattork and lost consciousness. Vernia was more fortunate, as she fell feet foremost, although her ankle received a bad wrench.
When she saw Grandon’s face, pale as death, and the blood flowing from an ugly cut on his forehead, she flung herself down beside him and took his head on her lap. To her relief, she heard the beating of his heart when she placed her ear to his breast. Opening one of the provision drawers, she extracted a flask of water and bathed his face.
Presently he opened his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked. “What struck us?”
“I do not know,” she replied. “Lie quietly while I dress your wound. Then we will investigate.”
Chapter 9
Grandon protested that the jagged wound in his forehead was a mere scratch, but Vernia insisted on binding it for him, and did so with adroitness.
When she had finished, he rose dizzily and opened the door of the cab. A pungent odor assailed their nostrils, an odor similar to that produced by pouring sulphuric acid on copper.
He switched on the forward searchlight, which revealed the shattered front of their craft jammed against an enormous tree-trunk. The keel rested in a forked branch, which kept them from falling. A thin column of vapor curled upward from the shattered hull, emitting the stifling odor that had greeted them when he opened the door.
“I guess we are done with flying,” said Grandon, eyeing the wreck askance. “At least, we will fly no more with this airship.”
“Is it so badly broken?”
“The power mechanism is destroyed. An Olban once told me that a phial of acid was placed within each mechanism in such a fashion that it would instantly destroy it if tampered with. Evidently the shock of our encounter with the tree trunk broke the phial, for the fumes are unmistakably those of acid on metal.”
Grandon flashed the searchlight about them in an effort to ascertain where they were, but above, below and around them on every side they could see only branches and leaves. And such leaves! They were spatulate in shape, and a dark glossy green in color, varying between fifteen and twenty feet in length, while the stems were from eight to twelve inches thick. Each twig would have made a good sized fern tree, while the trunk against which their craft had jammed was a full fifty feet in thickness.
“Not much use to do any exploring before morning, I guess,” said Grandon. “This is a giant of a tree. In what part of Reabon do these trees grow, and what do you call them?”
“There are no trees like this in Reabon,” replied Vernia, “nor was I aware that there were such trees anywhere on Zarovia. Are you positive that we have been traveling due north?”
Grandon glanced at the compass. “Strange,” he said. “Just a moment before we struck, the needle pointed in the direction in which we were traveling. Now it points at right angles to the keel. Something must have been broken by the grampites. I’m afraid well have to wait until the sun rises to get our bearings.”
“We can at least be positive of two things. That we are not in Reabon, and that we are in some unexplored part of Zarovia.”
At dawn, Grandon made his way down the tree trunk, clinging to the rough, curling bark with fingers and toes. It was a long, perilous descent, a matter of at least a thousand feet, and he guessed half an hour must have elapsed before he stood on the ground.
The forest giant under which he stood was more than a hundred feet in diameter at the base. All about him, as far as he could see, were many more like it. He noticed that all of the trees were connected by broad surface roots, and this fact, together with the total absence of spores or seeds, apprised him of the reason why these trees were, in all probability, confined to a single locality.
They must have begun and evolved on this part of the planet without developing other means of propagation than that of sending out surface roots to form new plants at some distance from the parent trees. Consequently their spread would be regulated, not only by the number of new trees they could produce in this manner, but by the character of the surrounding country as well, for any barrier such as a body of water or a stretch of barren, rocky land would effectually check their progress.
Marking his` trail by slashing trees or surface roots with his knife as he passed along, Grandon started his journey of exploration. He felt like a pygmy, as he walked beneath those mighty spires of wood, treading matted, molding leaves that were nearly as long as the airship, and climbing over surface roots so thick that often he could not see over them. After he had traveled thus for more than half an hour he saw a number of tall, conical mounds ahead of him, and judged from the regularity of their construction, that they housed human beings. As he approached more closely he observed that they were all dotted here and there with round holes about four feet in diameter.
He arrived within fifty feet of the nearest mound without noting any signs of animate life, and, concluding that it must be deserted, stepped boldly forward. Then, without the slightest hint of warning, something darted out suddenly and ran toward him on its six horny legs with incredible swiftness.
The creature was about the size of a small Shetland pony, with eyes