A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part two

hazards were involved in a second try, starting with the difficulty of

convincing his fellows that breakdowns had delayed him twice in a row.

And what harm could an utterly lifeless ball of rock do him?

Strangely, the enigmatic things he had seen from orbit increased his

determination to go down. Or perhaps that wasn’t so strange. He was

starved for action. Besides, at his age he dared not admit to any girl

that he could be scared.

His whetted senses perceived that she shivered. It was for the first

time in their voyage. But then, she was a creature of cities and

machinery, not of the Big Deep.

And it was a mystery toward which they descended: where a complex of

robots ought to have been at work, or at least passively waiting out the

centuries, an inexplicable crisscross of lines drawn over a hundred

square kilometers in front of the old buildings, and a traffic of

objects like nothing ever seen before except in bad dreams. Daunting,

yes. On a legitimate errand, Flandry would have gone back for

reinforcements. But that was impractical under present circumstances.

Briefly, he felt a touch of pity for Djana. He knew she was as gentle,

loving, and compassionate as a cryogenic drill. But she was beautiful

(small, fine-boned, exquisite features, great blue eyes, honey-gold

hair), which he considered a moral virtue. Apart from insisting that he

prepare meals–and he was undoubtedly far the superior cook–she had

accepted the cramped austerity of the boat with wry good humor. During

their three weeks of travel she had given him freely of her talents,

which commanded top price at home. While her formal education in other

fields was scanty, between bouts she had proved an entertaining

talkmate. Half enemy she might be, but Flandry had allowed himself the

imprudent luxury of falling slightly in love with her, and felt he was a

little in her debt. No other scouting sweep had been as pleasant!

Now she faced the spacefarer’s truth, that the one thing we know for

certain about this universe is that it is implacable. He wanted to reach

across and console her.

But the vessel was entering atmosphere. A howl began to penetrate the

hull, which bucked.

“Come on, Jake,” Flandry said. “Be a good girl.”

“Why do you always call the boat Jake?” the companion asked, obviously

trying to get her mind off the crags lancing toward her.

“Giacobini-Zinner is ridiculous,” he answered, “and the code letters

can’t be fitted into anything bawdy.” I refrain from inquiring what you

were called as a child, he thought. I prefer not to believe in, say, an

Errriintrude Bugglethwaite who invested in a, ah, house name and a

total-body biosculp job … “Quiet, please. This is tricky work. Thin

air means high-velocity winds.”

The engine growled. Interior counter-acceleration force did not

altogether compensate for lurching; the deck seemed to stagger.

Flandry’s hands flew, his feet shoved pedals, occasionally he spoke an

order to the idiot-grade central computer that the boat did possess. But

he’d done this sort of thing before, often under more difficult

conditions. He’d make planetfall without real trouble–

The flyers came.

He had scarcely a minute’s warning of them. Djana screamed as they

whipped from a veil of driving gray cloud. They were metal, bright in

the light of Mimir and of Regin’s horizon-scraping dayside crescent.

Wide, ribbed wings upbore sticklike torsos, grotesque empennage, beaks

and claws. They were much smaller than the spacecraft, but they numbered

a score or worse.

They attacked. They could do no real harm directly. Their hammering and

scraping resounded wild in the hull. But however frail by the standards

of a real ship, a Comet was built to resist heavier bufferings.

They did, though, rock it. Wheeling and soaring, they darkened vision.

More terribly, they interfered with radar, sonic beams, every probing of

every instrument. Suddenly, except for glimpses when they flashed aside,

Flandry was piloting blind. The wind sent his craft reeling.

He stabbed forth flame out of the single spitgun in the nose. A flyer

exploded in smoke and fragments. Another, wing sheared across, spun

downward to destruction. The rest were too many, too quickly reacting.

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