“There’s a river.” Garth’s voice was doubtful. “We might use that.”
“Would it help?”
“Yeah. But it’s dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Spouts. Geysers. The water’s apt to explode under you any time. And there are big lizards—”
“Would it take long to make a raft?”
Garth shook his head. “Lata-trees are better than balsa, and they grow on the banks. Plenty of vines, too. But—”
“We’ll do that, then,” Brown said decisively. “Speed it up. We’ve got thirteen hours. We can make it, all right.”
Garth didn’t answer.
After that it was pure monotony, a dull driving march through a bare tunnel, up slopes and down them, till leg muscles were aching with fatigue. Garth dropped into a state of tired apathy. He had no pack to carry, but nevertheless his liquor-soaked body rebelled at the unaccustomed exertion. But he knew that each step brought him closer to his goal.
The thoughts swung monotonously through his brain. Doc Willard. The notebook. The cure. The Plague. Maybe—maybe—maybe!
If he got through—if he found the notebook—if it had the cure—that was what he wanted, of course.
But suppose he also found the skeleton of Doc Willard on an altar, with a knife-hilt protruding from the ribs?
He couldn’t have killed Doc consciously. That was unthinkable. Yet the damnable influence of the Noctoli pollen did odd things to a man’s mind.
Doc Willard—Moira—the Silver Plague—
Half asleep, aching with exhaustion, he slogged ahead, moving like an automaton. And, whenever he slowed his pace, Brown’s sharp voice urged him on faster.
Grudgingly the Captain allowed them rest periods. But by the time they reached the tunnel’s end the men were panting and sweating, and both Paula and Garth were near exhaustion. Thirty miles at a fast pace, with only occasional rests, is wearing work.
They emerged from the passage to find themselves on the slope of a rocky hillock. Low ridges rose around them, silhouetted in triple-moonlight. A whitish haze hung close to the ground, filling the hollows like shining water.
Instinctively Brown looked up. A meteor, drawn by the immense gravity of Jupiter, flamed across the sky—that was all. And that was a familiar enough sight.
Garth, reeling with fatigue, nodded. “River—down there. Half a mile. The fog’s thicker—”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
This lap of the journey was nearly the hardest. But the low roar of the river steadily grew louder as they stumbled on, the luminous mist lapping their ankles, their knees, their waists. It closed above their heads, so that they moved in a ghostlike, shadowless world in which the very air seemed dimly lighted.
Trees were visible. Garth, almost spent, searched for a shelving beach, found it, and dropped in a limp heap. He saw Paula sink down beside him. The men threw off their heavy packs with relief.
Brown—the man was made of rawhide and steel!—said, “I’ll need help to make a raft. The boys that feel tired can keep their eyes open for pursuit planes. I don’t think the Commander would send out truck-cats at night, but he’ll use searching planes.”
“They can’t see us in this fog,” Paula said faintly.
“They could hear us, with their motors muffled. So we’ll work fast. Garth!”
“Yeah. What?”
“What trees do we want?”
Garth pointed. “Lata. Like that one, over there. They’re easy to cut down, and they float. You’ll find tough vines all around here.” He forced the words out with an effort. Brown mustered eight of his men, including the red-haired Sampson, and led them away. The sound of ringing axes presently drifted back.
Two others had been stationed on hillocks, above the low-lying fog, to watch for planes. Garth, alone with Paula, was almost too tired to be conscious of her presence. He heard her voice.
“Cigarette?”
“Thanks. …” Garth took one.
“Sorry I can’t offer you a drink.”
“So am I,” Garth grunted. He could feel her eyes on him. He drew the smoke deep into his lungs, exhaling luxuriously.
“Got a gun?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Oh—things come out of the river sometimes. Hunting water-lizards, carnivorous. You learn to sleep with one eye open on Ganymede.”
“It’s a funny world,” Paula acknowledged. “Once it was highly civilized. Now it’s gone back to savagery.”
“Conditions are bad here. Too vigorous. Jupiter gives light but not much heat. Animals and plants have to be tough to survive. This is summer-season, but it’s plenty cold.”
“How much do you know about the Zarno?” she asked abruptly.
Garth blinked. “Not much. Why?”
“Not many people have ever seen them. I’m wondering. I managed to translate some inscriptions from Chahnn. … The Zarno aren’t human, are they?”
Garth didn’t answer. Paula went on.
“The Ancients knew them, though. They tried to educate them—like Rome colonizing savage races. That’s probably why the Zarno are supposed to speak the Ancient Tongue.”
“They do.”
“And then the Ancients died out—somehow. The Zarno were left. They became barbarous again. I wish I knew what they were like. Natives who’ve seen them don’t seem able to describe the creatures. They wear shining armor, don’t they?”
Garth closed his eyes, trying to remember. A vague, dim picture was growing in his mind—manlike figures that glowed, faces that were craggy, hideous creatures. …
“I’ve seen them,” he said, “but I’ve forgotten. The Noctoli poison—it wrecked my memory.”
“You don’t recall anything?”
“I—” Garth rubbed his forehead. “Not human—no. Creatures like living statues, shining and moving. … I don’t know.”
“Silicate life?” Paula theorized thoughtfully. “It’s possible. And it might evolve on a planet where conditions are so tough for survival. Such creatures wouldn’t be affected by the Noctoli pollen, either, would they?”
“No. Or they’ve built up resistance. The virus is active only in daylight, when the flowers are open. I don’t know why. Before we go too far into the Black Forest I’ll have to give everyone antitoxin shots—everyone but me. The pollen doesn’t work on me any more.”
They were silent, resting. It seemed only a moment before Brown appeared, announcing that the raft was ready.
“It’s a makeshift job, but it’s strong,” he said. “Listen, Garth, what about the planes spotting us on the river? We’ll be an easy target.”
“They wouldn’t fire on us?”
“No. But they’d use sleep-gas, and
