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d’Alembert 7 – Planet of Treachery – E E. Doc Smith

balance and stumbled forward deeper into the mire, but years of training made him keep

his grip on Li’s wrist. As a result he yanked the other two men with him into the frigid

slush of the marsh.

The iciness was a shock to his system, but Jules did not panic. He had been warned of

the dangers that dwelled in the marsh-the animals that swam beneath the surface,

feeding on one another and on the occasional land creature that was lured into the mud.

Most of them would not attack anything the size of a man, but Jules had no intention of

placing temptation in their path. He wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

He thrashed around for a few seconds, trying to get his feet planted firmly on the bottom.

The two men behind him were not helping matters. The sudden fall into the fen had

frightened them, and they were acting on sheer instinct, flailing helplessly about with their

arms and distracting Jules from the concentration he needed to think his way out.

The coldness seeped right through his skin, numbing the muscle tissue beneath. Jules

was beginning to lose all feeling below the waist; even if there weren’t any creatures

living in the marsh he would still want to get out of it quickly to avoid the possibility of

frostbite.

He regained his sense of direction and tried to walk back toward the shore. The muck

around him clung to his legs, holding him back; each step was like walking through

molasses. His leg muscles, born to resist the pull of a three-gravity planet, were up to

the task as he dragged his two companions along with him; a lesser man might not have

made it.

In four steps he was back at the edge of solid ground. Li, still confused but less panicky,

was right behind him, and Phillips still clung at the end of the train. Jules grabbed at the

ground, trying for a handhold, and found a large rock to serve as anchor. He started to

pull himself up when suddenly the load behind him seemed lighter. At the same moment,

there was a scream that pierced even the roar of the wind.

Phillips had let go of Li’s wrist and was now standing hip deep in the frigid marsh. “I can’t

move!” he shouted. “Something’s got me!” Jules could not see anything attacking Phillips

from where he was, and he knew that any sensation below the man’s waist would be

faint at most. Perhaps it was true that some marsh creature had attacked him, or

perhaps his leg was merely tangled in some underwater plant. It was impossible to tell.

The important thing was that Phillips believed he’d been attacked. He started beating at

the mud around him frantically in an attempt to chase off whatever creature it might be

and, at the same time, thrashing about wildly in an attempt to break free of its grip. All

his actions accomplished was to make him lose his balance in the slippery mud. He fell

forward onto his face, and for a moment he was completely submerged. He lifted himself

out of the muck once more, sputtering for breath, but his brief immersion only served to

panic him further. He was twisting and shaking his right leg, trying to free it from

whatever obstacle had snagged it. His screams of terror alternated with his gasping for

air.

Jules wanted to help, but there was little he could do. He dared not let go of his rock, or

he himself would slip back into the marsh; if there was indeed a creature attacking

Phillips, it might decide to go after Jules and Li next. The DesPlainian could only watch

helplessly as his terrified companion struggled wildly in the mud behind him. Three more

times Phillips fell, and each time he managed to come back up for air-though it was for a

shorter duration each time. And once more Phillips sunk below the mud. This time he

didn’t come up. A hand splashed around, breaking the surface of the mire and waving

about, then it too disappeared. There were a few bubbles, and then all was still.

Jules pulled himself the rest of the way onto land, with Li dragging along behind him. The

SOTE agent was feeling sick over his inability to save his comrade’s life. He barely knew

Phillips, just a nodding acquaintance, but even so Jules would have liked to help him. The

fact that Phillips had been sent here for treason against the Empire was small

consolation; no one, Jules felt, deserved to die that way.

He forced the thought from his mind. There were two of them still alive, and the storm

had not abated in the slightest. His legs felt a million parsecs away, both numb and tired

from the ordeal in the marsh, but he didn’t dare rest; at the rate the snow was falling

now, he could be covered up completely in just a couple of minutes. They would have to

keep moving once more.

He pulled Li unceremoniously to his feet. The other hunter complained that he was too

tired, but Jules refused to listen. He had lost one companion because he’d been unable

to act; he was not going to lose a second. Roughly he yanked on Li’s arm, and the man

had no choice but to stagger along behind him.

The blizzard was swirling around them, mocking them, making it impossible to see more

than half a meter in front of them. Jules kept his eyes to the ground, both to keep the

driving snow out and to prevent another misstep into the marsh. He had no idea where

they were headed, nor did he care. His chief concern was to keep them in motion, to

keep the blood circulating, to prevent frostbite if at all possible. He didn’t know how long

a storm could last on Gastonia, but he knew it wouldn’t be forever; if he and Li could

weather the worst of the blizzard, they could orient themselves when the air was calmer

and find their way back to the village somehow.

His toes could have been completely gone for all he could feel them, and even his feet

were only vague rumors below his ankles. His leg muscles were accustomed to pushing

him around at three times the current gravitational level, but even so they were protesting

this mistreatment. Mud and ice were caked on his pants; the wet material was shrinking

against his thighs, biting them with a chill that threatened to deaden all sensation. And still

he forced himself onward, placing one foot before the other in an endless series of

plodding steps.

The minutes dragged by and became an hour, then two. The blizzard continued to rage,

stinging like needles against their skin. Each individual snowflake seemed to hit with the

impact of a cannonball, and for all the protection their coats gave them they might as well

have been naked. Li, being from a normal gravity planet, was having a much harder time

keeping up with the pace Jules had set; he stumbled several times and the DesPlainian

had to yank him bodily to his feet. But despite Li’s panting, despite his protests, despite

his repeated pleas to stop for a rest, Jules pressed relentlessly on, fighting his own

fatigue with a superhuman effort.

Finally Li collapsed behind him, and no amount of shaking him or slapping his face could

revive him. Jules stood over the other man’s body for a moment, clenching his fists with

hopeless frustration. A quick memory flashed through his mind, the image of Phillips

sinking into the marsh for the last time while Jules had to stand by helplessly and watch

his comrade die. He did not want to let it happen again.

Bending over awkwardly in his heavy furs, he lifted Li up and draped him over his

shoulders like a stole. The combined weight was still less than Jules was used to back

home, but nonetheless it was an added strain on the DesPlainian’s already overtaxed

muscles. The snow was piled waist deep in some places, resisting his every effort to

move, but Jules plowed ahead with the typical d’Alembert stubbornness and a refusal to

surrender.

As quickly as it had come, the blizzard stopped-and so numbed were Jules’s senses that

he continued slogging along for a couple of minutes before he even realized it. The snow

stopped falling, and the wind died to nothing, leaving behind a silence so profound that it

became a ringing in Jules’s ears, the dying echo of what once had been. The sky

overhead was still dark with clouds, but over on the western horizon the clouds were

parting and the red rays of the setting sun pierced the gloom. The air was crisp and cold,

and perfectly clear with a visibility extending for kilometers. Jules put down his burden for

a moment and just stood, exhilarating in the clean, fresh air.

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