Chapter 9

RHENIA FOUR

Far out in deep space although the Procyon was, her communications officers monitored

all four of the most important channels, and everything that came in on "I-S One" was

taped off. Thus, even though the "Battle of New York Spaceport" and the conference that

followed it took place in the middle of the starship's "night", both were played in full on

the regular morning news program. So was one solid hour of bi-partisan and extremely

heated discussion by the big-name commentators of Earth.

To say that this news created a sensation is the understatement of the month. Nor was

sentiment entirely in favor of GalMet, even though all the men aboard except Deston, and

many of the women, were salaried employees and the whole expedition was on

MetEngeDesDes business.

"Shocking!" "Outrageous!" "Cold-blooded murder!" "Who murdered first?" "Land-mines,

Seventy fives, and Bofors!" "Shot down the copter and killed everybody aboard!"

"But they should have settled the strike!" "GalMet was utterly lawless!"

"I suppose it's lawful to use land-mines and antiaircraft guns and make a full-war-scale

battlefield inside New York City?"

And so on.

The top echelon was, of course, solidly in favor of Maynard, and Captain Jones summed

up their attitude very neatly when he said, "What the hoodlums are bellyaching about is

that they were out-guessed, out-thunk, and outgunned in the ratio of a hundred and five

millimeters to seventy five."

"But listen," Bernice said. "Do you think, Babe, that there were any men aboard that

copper?"

"One gets you a thousand there weren't. Maynard didn't say there were any."

"He didn't say there weren't any, either," Barbara argued, "like he did for the tanks. What

makes you so sure?"

"He knew what was going to happen-he let them think it was manned, probably as a

deterrent-so you can paste it in your Easter bonnet, pet, that the only brains aboard that

copper were tapes."

Time wore on; the strife on Earth, which did not flare into the news again, was just about

forgotten. Deston found several enormous deposits of copper. He found all the other

most-wanted metals except rhenium in quantity sufficient to supply even the most

extravagant demand. But of rhenium he still found only insignificant traces.

Each tremendous deposit of metal had been reported as soon as it was found. Crew

after crew had been sent out. Plant after plant had been built; each one of which would

be not only immensely profitable, but also of inestimable benefit to humanity as a whole,

since all those highly important metals would soon be on the market at a mere fraction of

their former high prices.

Still rhenium did not appear. "I don't believe there is any such damn thing, anywhere in

the whole galaxy," Deston said, over and over, but he did not give up.

The starship bored along on its hugely helical course, deeper and deeper into unexplored

space toward the Center. Until, after weeks of futile seeking, Deston did find rhenium.

After a quick once-over, .without waiting to get close enough to the planet for the

physical scientists to make any kind of survey, he called Galmetia and Miss Champion.

"Hi, Doris!" he greeted her happily. "I've got some good news for you at last. We found

it."

"Oh? Rhenium? In quantity? How wonderful!"

"Yes. Oodles and gobs of it. All anybody and everybody can ever use. So how about

busting in on the Chief Squeeze, huh?"

To Deston's surprise, since he had always had instant access to Maynard, the girl

hesitated, tapping her teeth with a pencil. "I . . . just . . . don't . . . know." Indecision, in

one of the top FirSecs of all space, was an amazing thing indeed. "He's all tied up with

Plastics, Synthos, Pharmics, and half a dozen others, and he told me. . ."

"Okay, skip it and give me a buzz. It's been here for a couple of billion years, anyway, so

another hour or. . ."

"That's what you think. Usually, Babe-practically always-he gives me my head, but this

time he swore he'd shoot me right through the brain and hang my carcass out of the

window on a hook if I cut in on him with anything whatever or anybody whoever until this

brawl is over ... but I know damn well he'll boil me in oil if I hold this up for even a

minute.... Well, I think I'd rather be shot. Wouldn't you?"

"It'd be quicker, anyway."

"Well, a girl can die only once." She shrugged her shapely shoulders and cut Deston in.

"What the hell, Champion!" Maynard blazed; then, as he saw what was on the screen,

his expression and attitude changed completely. "Okay. Tell you-know-who to roll. Cut."

Deston's image flipped back onto Miss Champion's screen and breathed a deep sigh of

relief. "Believe me, Babe, that was one brass-bound toughie to guess."

"Check. But you're a smartie, doll, or you wouldn't be holding that fort. So let's get

you-know-who and tell her to cut her gravs, huh?"

"Cutting her shoulder-straps would be enough. B-z-z-zz-zzt! She'd take off without an

anti-grav, let alone a ship."

She's been taking it big?"

"'Immense' would be a much better word . . . Doctor Byrd, they have found your rhenium.

Here's Mister Deston."

It was evident that "The Byrd" had been fighting with someone and was still in a vicious

mood. When she saw Deston, however, her stormy face cleared and she became

instantly the keen, competent executive. "Have you really found some?" she demanded.

"Enough of it to make a fully-automated plant pay out?"

"Well, since the stuff runs well over twenty billion metric tons to the cubic kilometer and

it's here by the hundreds of cubic kilometers in solid masses, what do you think?"

"Oh my God! What's the planet like? A stinker, as expected?"

"All of that. No survey yet, but it's vicious. Several gees. Super-dense atmosphere,

probably bad. No listing for it or anything like it-mountains and mesas of solid metal.

You'll need personal armor, anti-grays, skyhooks -the works. Pretty much like theory,

from this distance. Closer up, it may get worse."

"Everything anybody has suggested is aboard. But Deston; they tell me you're Top Dog

on this. Is it actually true that the sky's the limit? And that I'm running it without

interference?"

"Not even the sky is the limit on this one. No limit. Yes, except in matters of policy, you

are the Complete Push."

She glanced at Miss Champion, who said, "if Mr. Deston says so, it is so; he has

over-riding authority in this. In two minutes you will be handed an unlimited authorization,

Doctor Byrd-the first one I ever heard of.

"Oh, wonderful! Thanks a million, both of you! Now if you'll transfer him over here, Miss

Cham . . ." Deston's image appeared upon Byrd's screen, ". . . pionthanks. Mr. Deston, if

you'll give Astrogation, here, the coords, well . . ." A hand phone rang; she snatched it

up. "Byrd . . . Yes, Lew, good news. At last, thank God, they've found our rhenium and

we're jetting. Activate the whole project. Get Crew One aboard the Rhene as though the

devil was on your tail with a pitchfork ... I know it's sudden, but God damn it, what did

you expect?. . . You've all been under notice for a month to be ready to blast off on

fifteen minutes' notice . . . Me? I'll be aboard and ready in ten minutes!"

Wherefore it was not long until the giant starship Rhene joined the Procyon in orbit

around the forbidding planet Rhenia Four; in such an orbit as to remain always directly

above a tiny valley surrounded by torn and jagged bare-metal-and-rock mountains; and

Cecily Byrd came aboard the exploring vessel.

"I'm very glad to meet you in the flesh, Doctor Byrd," Deston said, and as soon as she

was out of her space-suit they shook hands cordially.

"Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" She giggled infectiously. "You'll never know how glad I

am to be here." There was nothing sullen or morose or venomous about her now; she

was eager, friendly, and intense. "And no formality, Babe. I'm `Curly' to my friends."

"Okay, Curly-now meet the gang. My wife, Bobby Prime Brain, and his wife, Stella . . .

This planet is a tough baby; a prime stinker."

"So I gathered, and the more you find out about it the tougher and stinkier it gets. We've

fabricated all the stuff you suggested, for which thanks, by the way, so, unless there

have been new developments in the last couple of hours, I'll go back and well go down.

Okay?"

"Okay except for an added feature. Here and I are going along as safety factors. We

have built-in danger alarms."

"Oh? Oh, yes, I remember now. Welcome to our city." Aboard the Rhene, Deston said,

"But as chief of the party, Curly, you ought to stay up here, don't you think?"

"Huh?" The woman's whole body stiffened. "As chief of the party, buster, I'm the best

man on it. What would you do? Stay home?"

"Okay," and preparations went on.

Extreme precautions were necessary, for this was a fantastic planet indeed. In size it

was about the same as Earth, but its surface gravity was almost four times Earth's. Its

atmosphere, which was at a pressure of over forty pounds to the square inch, was

mostly xenon, with some krypton, argon, and nitrogen, with less than seven percent by

volume of oxygen. Its rivers were few and small, as were its lakes. Its three oceans

combined would not equal the Atlantic in area, and what was dissolved in those oceans

no one knew. The sun Rhenia was a Class B7 horror, so big and so hot that Rhenia

Four, although twice as far away from Rhenia as Mars is from Sol, was as hot as Mars

is cold. Even at latitude fifty north, where the starships were, and at an altitude of over

fifteen thousand feet, at which the floor of the little valley was, the noon temperature in

the shade was well over forty degrees Centigrade.

And there was life. Just what kind of life it was, none of the biologists could even guess.

They had been arguing ever since arrival, but they hadn't settled a thing. There were

things of various shapes and sizes that might or might not be analogous to the grasses,

shrubs, and trees of the Tellus-Type planets; but no one could say whether they were

vegetable, mineral, or metalo-organic in nature. There were things that ran and leaped

and fought; and things that flew and fought-all of which moved with the fantastic speed

and violence concomitant with near-four gees-but if they were animals they were entirely

unlike any animals ever before seen by man.

No one aboard the Procyon had even tried to land, of course. They didn't have the

equipment; and besides, it was "Curly" Byrd's oyster and she had repeatedly threatened

mayhem upon the person of anyone who tried to open it before she got there.

The personal armor of the landing party-or rather, the observation party, since they did

not intend to land was built of heavy gauge high-alloy steel, and each suit was equipped

with drivers and with anti-gravs. Their craft was much more like a bathyscaphe than a

space-to-ground vehicle. Its walls were two inches of hard alloy; its ports were five

inches of fused silica. It could, everyone agreed, take anything that Rhenia Four could

dish out. In view of that agreement, Cecily had protested against wearing armor of proof

inside the shuttle, but Deston had put his foot down there. Something might happen.

Counting the pilot, five persons composed the party. Director Byrd and Assistant Director

Leyton were completely encased. Deston and Jones, however, had left their hands bare,

as each was carrying a .475 semi-automatic rifle. Magnums, these, of tremendous

slugging power; and all their cartridges-each gunner had three extra fifty-round

drums-were loaded with armor-piercers, not soft-nosed stuff. They went down, talking

animatedly and peering eagerly, until two silent inner alarms went off at once.

"Hold it!" Jones yelled, and Deston's even louder command was, "High it at max, fly-boy!"

The craft darted upward, but even at full blast she was not fast enough to escape from a

horde of flying things that looked something like wildcats' heads mounted on owls'

bodies, but vastly larger than either. They attacked viciously; their terrible teeth and even

more terrible talons tearing inches-deep gouges into the shuttle's hard, tough armor. As

the little vessel shot upward, however, higher and higher into the ever-thinning atmos-

phere, the things began to drop away-they did have to breathe.

Several of them, however, stayed on. They had dug holes clear through the armor; out of

which the shuttle's air was whistling. The creatures were breathing ship's air-and liking

it!-and were working with ferocious speed and power and with appalling efficiency.

Deston and Jones began shooting as soon as the first two openings were large enough

to shoot through, but even those powerful weapons-the hardest-hitting shoulder-guns

built-were shockingly ineffective. Both monsters had their heads inside the ship and were

coming in fast. The others had dropped away for lack of air.

"Hercules" Jones, big enough and strong enough to handle even a .475 as though it were

a .30-30, put fifty hard-nosed bullets against one spot of his monsters head and thus

succeeded in battering that head so badly out of shape that the creature died before

gaining entrance. Died and hung there, half in and half out.

But Deston, although supremely willing, simply did not have the weight and sheer brute

strength to take that brutal magnum's recoil and hold it steady on one point. Thus when

his drum was empty the creature was still coming. It was dying, however, almost dead,

because of the awful pounding it had taken and because there was almost no air at all

left in the shuttle.

Both men were changing drums, but they were a few seconds late. The thing had life

enough left so that as it came through the wall and fell to the floor it made one convulsive

flop, and in its dying convulsions it sank one set of talons into Cecily Byrd's thigh and the

other into the calf of Lewis Leyton's leg. The woman shrieked once and, for the first time

in her life, fainted dead away. The man swore sulphurously.

By this time they were almost back to the Rhene. The landing craft was taken aboard

and a team of surgeons tried for a few minutes to get those incredible talons out of the

steel and the flesh; then for a few minutes more they tried to amputate those equally

incredible feet. Then they anesthetized both victims and carried the inseparable trio into

the machine-shop; where burly mechanics ground the beast's legs in two with high-speed

neotride wheels and, using tools designed to handle high-tensile bar stock, curled those

ghastly hooks back out of flesh and armor. Thence and finally to the sick-bay, where the

doctors put everything they could think of into those deep, but not ordinarily dangerous,

wounds.

As soon as the doctors became fairly sure that no alien germs were at work in the

human flesh, Deston strode up to Cecily's bed.

"`'We'll get one thing straight right now, Curly," he said. "I'm all done suggesting; I'm

telling you. You don't go down there again until I say so."

She straightened up angrily; she was not too sore to fight. "Think again, buster. We're on

the job now, not at HQ. It's my job and I'll run it any way I damn well please."

"At HQ or anywhere else, my curly-haired friend, my authority over-rides on matters of

policy and this is a matter of policy. You'll take it and you'll like it." "Over-rides, hell! I'll. .

."

"You'll nothing!" he snapped. "Did you ever get socked on the jaw hard enough to lay you

out stiff for fifteen minutes?"

Instead of becoming even more furious at that, she relaxed and grinned up at him. "No, I

never did. That would be a brand-new experience."

"Okay. Much more of this sticking out of your beautiful neck and you'll get that brand-new

experience. Now let's do some thinking on what to do next. I shot in an order for a

special elsie. . .

"Can you . . . those kittyhawks went through superstainless like so much cheese. What

plating-neotride?" "That's right. Here's the funny-picture." He spread a blueprint out on

the bed. "I didn't have much of anything to do with it, though; it's mostly Lew's work.

She studied the drawing for a couple of minutes. "That ought to do it; it'd stop a diamond

drill cold . . . it'd hold a neotride drill for a while . . . but what are those monstrosities,

Babe? All that the croakers will give out with is gobbledegook, soothing syrup, and pure

pap."

"Nobody knows. All the biologists aboard are going not-so-slowly nuts. They can't do

anything from up here. "All of us. Nice." She bit her lip.-Without rhenium we can't work

down there and we have to work down there to get rhenium. Strictly circular progress."

"It isn't that bad, Curly. There are dozens of nice big chunks of the clear quill-thousands

of tons of it-right out in the open down there. That's the special elsie's job, to go clown

and get 'em and bring 'em out here to us. The chief wants a good mess of it rushed in to

Galmetia, but there's plenty of it lying around loose to take care of him and build five of

your installations besides."

"Wonderful! That makes me feel a lot better, Babe I'll talk to you now until the croakers

throw you out."