definitely a storage area. Anybody read me?'
'Loud and clear,' Dallas said quickly. 'We were listening, that's all. You say you're pretty sure it's a storage room?'
'That's right.'
'Anything to support that premise besides its size and shape?'
'Sure is. Those protrusions on the wall are also on the floor, and they're not part of the ship. This whole place is stocked with 'em. Leathery things. Matter of fact, they kind of resemble that urn you found above, only these are much softer looking. And these seem to be sealed, where yours was empty. They're all arranged according to somebody's concept of order, though there seems to be a lot of wasted space.'
'Funny-sounding kind of cargo, if that's what it is. Can you see if anything's in them?' Dallas was remembering the hollow urn shape he'd found.
'Hang on. I'll give it a closer look.' Leaving the lightbar on, he approached the particular specimen he'd been studying, reached out a gloved hand, and touched it. Nothing happened. Leaning over he tugged at the sides, then the top. There was nothing resembling a catch or break on the smooth surface.
'Got a funny feel to it, even through the gloves.'
Dallas sounded suddenly concerned. 'I just asked if you could see what was in it. Don't try to open it. You don't know what it might hold.'
Kane peered close at the object. It hadn't changed and showed no effect from his pulling and tugging. 'Whatever it contains, it's sealed in tight.' Turning away, he played his light over the rows of ovoids. 'Maybe I can find one that's cracked or has split a little.'
In the faint backwash of his suit lights, a small bump appeared silently on the taut surface of the ovoid he'd touched. A second eruption appeared, then others, until there were raised spots across the smooth top.
'All the same,' he reported to Dallas and Lambert. 'Not a seam or break in any of them.' He turned his light absently back to the one he'd experimented with, leaned forward, and squinted uncertainly at what he saw.
The opaque surface of the ovoid had become translucent. As he continued to stare, eyes widening, the surface continued to clear, becoming transparent as glass. Moving closer, he shined his light on the base of the object, stared hard, barely breathing as a shape within the oval container became visible. Jesus. .
'What, Kane, what's going on down there?' Dallas forced himself not to shout.
A tiny nightmare was now clearly visible within the ovoid. It lay neatly coiled and folded about itself, compact and delicate and all made of a rubbery, filigreed flesh. It looked to Kane like a fraction of someone's delirium tremens plucked from the mind and given solidity and shape.
The thing was basically in the shape of a hand, many-fingered, with the long, bony fingers curled into the palm. It looked very much like the hand of a skeleton, save for the extra fingers. Something protruded from the centre of the palm, a short tube of some kind. A muscular tail was coiled beneath the base of the hand. On its back he could just make out a dim, convex shape that looked like a glazed-over eye.
That eye. . if it was an eye and not simply some shiny excrescence. . deserved a closer look. Despite the feeling of repugnance churning in his belly, he moved still closer and raised the light for a better view.
The eye moved and looked at him.
The ovoid exploded. Propelled outward by the sudden release of energy contained in the coiled tail, the hand opened and leaped at him. He raised an arm to ward it off, too late. It fixed itself to his faceplate. He had a horribly close glimpse of the weaving tube in the centre of the palm stroking the front of the glass, centimetres from his nose. Something started to sizzle and the material of the faceplate began to deliquesce. He panicked, tried to tear the creature away.
It was through the plate. Alien atmosphere, cold and harsh, mixed with breathable air. He felt faint; continued to pull weakly at the hand. Something was pushing insistently at his lips.
Beyond all horror now, he staggered about the chamber, trying to wrench the abomination from him. The long, sensitive fingers had slipped through the open faceplate. They reached over his skull and around the sides of his head, while the thick tail slid inside to wrap itself snake-like around his neck.
Barely getting air, the awful tube feeling like a fat worm sliding down his throat, he stumbled over his own feet, tripped, and fell over backward.
'Kane. . Kane, can you hear me?' Dallas was sweating inside his suit. 'Kane, answer me!' Silence. He thought a moment. 'If you can't use your communicator, give me two beeps off your tracking unit.' He looked to Lambert, who could receive the signal. She waited a proper interval, waited longer before shaking her head slowly.
'What do you think's the matter?' she asked.
'I don't know, I don't know. Maybe he's fallen and damaged his power cells.' He hesitated. 'He can't or won't answer. I think we'd better haul him out.'
'Isn't that a bit premature? I'm concerned too, but. .'
Dallas had a slightly wild look in his eyes. When he caught Lambert staring at him he calmed himself.
'I'm okay. I'm okay. This place,' and he gestured at the cold walls, 'got to me for a moment, that's all. I still say we bring him up.'
'It'll yank him right off his feet if he's not expecting it. Could hurt him, especially if he has fallen and he's lying in a twisted position. If there's nothing really wrong you'll never hear the end of it'
'Try him again.'
Lambert thumbed her own communicator. 'Kane. . Kane. Goddamn it, answer us!'
'Keep trying.' While Lambert continued to call, alternately pleading and threatening, Dallas reached across the shaft opening and examined the cable. It moved easily in his hand. Too easily. He tugged, and a metre of line came up in his grasp without the expected resistance.
'Line's slack.' He glanced back at her.
'He still doesn't answer. Can't or won't. Do you think he could have gone and unhooked himself? I know what you told him, but you know how he is. Probably thought we wouldn't notice a temporary reduction in cable tension. If he spotted something and was afraid of the cable getting snagged or not reaching, I wouldn't put it past him to go and unlatch.'
'I don't care what he might've found. I do care that he doesn't answer.' Dallas adjusted the winch motor, switched it on. ''Too bad if it upsets him. If there's nothing wrong with him or his equipment, I'll make him wish he had unhooked.'
A flip of another switch and the winch began to reel in cable. Dallas watched it intently, relaxed a little when he saw the line snap taut after a couple of metres had been rewound. As expected, the cable slowed.
'There's weight on the end. It caught'
'Is it hooked on something?'
'Can't be. It's still coming up, only slightly different speed. If it had gotten caught and was dragging something besides Kane, the different weight would make it rise slower or faster. I think he's still there, even if he can't answer.'
'What if he objects and tries to use his chest unit to try to descend?'
Dallas shook his head curtly. 'He can't do it.' He nodded toward the winch. 'The cable override's on the unit there, not the portable he's wearing. He'll come up whether he likes the idea or not.'
Lambert gazed expectantly down the shaft. 'I still can't see anything.'
A lightbar illuminated a portion of the hole. Dallas played it across smooth walls. 'Neither can I. But the line's still coming up.'
It continued its steady rise, both suited figures waiting anxiously for something to appear in the waiting circle of Dallas's light. It was several minutes before the cone of illumination was interrupted by something rising from below.
'Here he comes.'
'He's not moving.' Lambert searched nervously for a gesture of some kind from the nearing shape. An obscenity, anything. . but Kane did not move.
The tripod bent slightly downward as the last few metres of cable were reeled in.
'Get ready to grab him if he swings your way.' Lambert readied herself on the opposite side of the shaft.
Kane's body appeared, swinging slowly on the end of the cable. It hung limp in the dim light.
