White, James – Sector General 05 – Sector General

over again what had happened and were they all right.

“We’re all right,” Fletcher said angrily. “And you tell us what happened,

Lieutenant. What are your sensors for?”

“An explosion at the site of the damaged hydraulic reservoir, sir,” DQdds said,

sounding relieved. “The stuff is highly in­flammable as well as toxic, it seems,

and the flare set it off. The explosion broke the back of the ship where it lies

across that rock outcropping, and now the prow is lying on the sand, too.

Amidships and stern sections have been stripped of plating by the explosion and

the wind. The ship looks very open, sir.”

The smoke had cleared but fine clouds of sand were blowing through the Control

Deck from somewhere. Fletcher said dryly, “I believe you, Dodds. It is also very

cold. How long until pickup?”

“Just under three hours, sir,” Dodds replied. “Sunrise is in two hours and the

wind should have abated an hour later.”

The two portable heaters and spare cutting torch had been shaken loose by the

explosion and had fallen into the thorns. One of the heaters was still

functioning but its .effect was se­verely reduced by the icy, sand-laden wind

sweeping out of the corridor. Conway shivered and clenched his teeth, both to

stop them chattering and in reaction to the indescribable noise of the wind

screaming through the bare bones of the stern section and the irregular,

thunderous din of the remaining plat­ing shaking itself loose. He resiled the

portable lights, which had survived the explosion, so that they were within a

few feet of the litter. They gave a little warmth.

More than an hour was spent completing the transfer of the alien from its cupola

to the litter and securing it in the vehicle. The being, too, was suffering from

the cold—its organic con­nectors twitched continuously and patterns of wrinkles

marched across its smooth, featureless body. Conway tried to find some­thing to

wrap around it, but all that was available was the control cupola webbing from

its own and the crew’s positions. By the time he had finished, the being was

virtually cocooned in the stuff and the few areas of skin visible were still

twitching and wrinkling.

They moved it up to the sealed personnel hatch, hoping that the available heat

would rise and it would be fractionally warmer UP there. The difference, to

Conway, was indetectable. He wondered if it would be possible to rescue the

other heater, but when he looked down he saw that a fresh, uncharred tangle of

thorns had grown in from the corridor and was climbing toward them.

“Doctor,” said Fletcher quickly, indicating a large ceiling panel which was held

in position by a single remaining support strut. “Hold onto that while I cut it

free.”

They dropped the panel onto the thorns and knotted loose pieces of webbing

together into a rope so that the Captain could lower himself onto its center.

The panel buckled slightly under his weight but the thorns beneath the plate

were forced down by two meters or more. Fletcher kneeled carefully on his

make­shift raft and unlimbered his cutting torch. With,the flame focused down to

a long, thin needle he attacked the thorns all* around him.

After nearly six hours of constant use the power pack was exhausted. When the

flame dimmed and died, Fletcher got carefully to his feet and began flexing and

straightening his legs, bouncing the section of plating up and down. The thorns

were forced lower. He paused for a rest and still the plate continued to sink.

But now the needle-sharp thorns were grow­ing in from the edges of the raft,

slowly submerging it.

The rope of webbing was barely within reach. Fletcher steadied himself, jumped,

and caught the end in a double grip as the plate teetered and disappeared

sideways under the thorns. Conway climbed down as far as he could and pulled the

rope close so that Fletcher could get his feet onto the edge of a projecting

cabinet.

“Did you see the way that thing moved itself from under the plate and surrounded

you, Captain?” Murchison said when they rejoined her. “It’s very slow, but do

you think we are hurting a potentially intelligent vegetable life-form?”