“EASY DOES IT NOW.” Cully laid down the chisel he had been using delicately and applied pressure with the flat of his hand.
The others weren’t really breathing down his neck. But they did struggle against the curiosity which made them crowd about the engineer as he worked to open the cylinder.
“It’s too light for an explosive,” Hogan repeated for about the fiftieth time since they had unloaded their find before the star ship.
At a good vantage point up on the ramp Carlee Skort and Trude Harmon sat together while the men below tried to hand Cully tools he didn’t need and generally got in each other’s way. But now they had come to the last moment of suspense. After more than an hour’s work the engineer had been able to force open the small seal hatch.
Cully bumped heads with Kimber and Kordov as he flashed a torch beam into the interior. Then, with infinite care, he began to hand out to eager assistants a series of boxes, small round containers and a larger, ornamented chest. All these were fashioned of the same lightweight alloy as the large carrier and they appeared unmarked by time.
“Cargo carrier,” Kimber decided. “What can be in these?” He held one of the smallest boxes to his ear and shook it cautiously, but there was no answering rattle.
Kordov picked up the chest, examining its fastening carefully. At last he shook his head and brought out a pocket knife, working the blade into the crevice between lid and side, using it to lever up the cover.
Soft creamy stuff puffed up as the pressure of the lid was removed, fluffing over the rim. The First Scientist plucked it carefully away in strips. As the late afternoon sun struck full on the contents which had been protected by that packing, there was a concerted gasp from the Terrans.
“What are they?” someone demanded.
Kordov picked up a fine intwisted strand, dangling its length in the light.
“Opals?” he suggested. “No, these are too hard, cut in facets. Diamonds? I don’t think so. I confess I have never seen anything like them before.”
“A world’s ransom,” Dard did not know he had spoken aloud. The wild beauty swinging from Kordov’s hand drew him as no man-fashioned thing had done before.
“Any more in there?” asked Kimber. “That’s a large box to hold only one item.”
“We shall see. Girls,” Kordov held out the rope of strange jewels to the two women, “hang on to that.”
Another layer of the packing was pulled out to display a pair of bracelets. This time red stones which Santee identified.
“Them’s rubies! I prospected in the Lunar mountains and found some just like ’em. Good color. What else you. got there, Tas?”
A third layer of packing led to the last and greatest wonder of all-a belt, five inches wide, with a clasp so set in gems as to be just an oval glitter-the belt itself fashioned of rows of tiny crystalline chains.
Trude Harmon tried to clasp it about her waist to discover it would not meet by inches. Nor was Carlee able to wear it either.
“Must have bin mighty slim, the girl what wore that!” Harmon commented.
“Maybe she wasn’t a girl at all,” Carlee said.
And there was something daunting in that thought.
Carlee had been the first to put into words their lurking fear, that those who had packed the carrier had been nonhuman.
“Well, bracelets argue arms,” Rogan pointed out. “And that necklace went around a neck. A belt suggests a waist-even if it is smaller than yours, girls. I think we can believe that the lady those were meant for wasn’t too far removed from our norm.”
Santee pawed another box away from the pile. “Let’s see the rest.”
The boxes were sealed with a strip of softer metal which had to be peeled from around the edge. And the first three they forced contained unidentifiable contents. Two held packages of dried twigs and leaves, the third vials filled with various powders and a dark scum which might have been the remains of liquid. These were turned over to Kordov for further investigation.
Of the remaining boxes three were larger and heavier. Dard broke the end of the sealing strip on one and rolled it away. Under the lid was a square of coarse woven stuff folded over several times to serve as protective padding. Since this was like the jewel case the others stopped their almost delving and gathered around as he pulled the stuff loose. What he found beneath was almost as precious in its way as the gems.
He dared not put his lingers on it, but worked it out of the container gently by the end of the metal rod on which it was wound in a bolt. For here was a length of fabric. But none of them-not even those who could remember the wonders of the pre-Burn cities-had ever seen anything such as this. It was opalescent, fiery color rippled along every crease and fold as Dard turned it around in the sunlight. It might have been spun from the substance of those same jewels which formed the necklace.
Carlee almost snatched it from him and Trude Harmon inserted a timid finger under the edge.
“It’s a veil!” she cried. “How wonderful!”
“Open the rest of those!” Carlee pointed to the two similar boxes. “Maybe there’s more of this.”
There was more fabric, not so sheer and not opalescent, but woven of changing colors in delicate subtle shades the Terrans could not put names to. Inspired by this find they plunged into a frenzy of opening until Kordov called them to order.
“These,” he indicated the wealth from the plundered boxes, “can’t be anything but luxury goods, luxury goods of a civilization far more advanced than ours. I’m inclined to believe that this was a shipment which never reached its destination.”
“That tube we found the carrier in,” mused Kimber.
“Suppose they shot such containers through tubes for long distances. Even across the sea. We didn’t transport goods that way, but we can’t judge this world by Terra. And they have no high tides here.”
“Tas, Sim,” Carlee turned one of the bracelets around in hands which bore the scars of the hardworking Cleft life, “could they-are they still here? Those Others-?”
Kimber got to his feet, brushing the sand from his breeches.
“That’s what we’ll have to find out-and soon!” He squinted at the sun. “Too late to do anything more today. But tomorrow—”
“Hey!” Rogan balanced on his palm a tiny roll of black stuff he had just pried out of a pencil-slim container. “I think that this is some kind of microfilm. Maybe we can check on that-if we can rig up a viewer which will take it.”
Kordov was instantly alert. “How many of those things in there?”
Rogan took them one at a time from the box he had opened. “I see twenty.”
“Can you rig a viewer?” was Kordov’s next question.
The techneer shrugged. “I can try. But I’11 have to get at machines we packed in the bottom storeroom-and that will take some doing.”
“And"- Cully had been poking about in the interior of the now empty carrier-"there’s an engine in here must have supplied the motive power. I’d like to dig it out and see what makes it tick.”
Kimber ran his hands over the tight cap of his hair. “And you’ll need a machine shop to do that in, I suppose?” He was very close to sarcasm. “There’s the problem of those still in the ship-what will we do?”
Carlee broke in. “You haven’t found any signs of civilization yet-except this. And you don’t know how long this could have lain where you discovered it. We can’t hold off settlement until we are sure. The cities, or centers of civilization-if there are any-may he hundreds of miles away. Suppose a space ship had landed on Terra in a center section of the Canadian northwest, on the steppes of Central Asia, or in the middle of Australia-any thinly populated district. It would have been months, perhaps years, before its arrival became known-especially since Pax forbade travel. There may exist a similar situation here. Our landing may go undiscovered for a long time-if we do share this world.”
“And that, you know,” Kordov added, “is common sense. Let us explore the valley-if it is promising, make a place there for our people. But at the same time an exploring team can operate to map the district. Only, let us not make contact with any race we find, until we know its attitude.”
“Or what manner of creature,” Carlee said softly to herself.
"What manner of creature.” Dard had caught that. Carlee most likely believed that the intelligence which might share this world was nonhuman. Man’s old fear of the unknown, the not-understood, would again haunt them. This was an alien world, could they ever make it home?
“These- these are beautiful!” Trude Harmon had knelt beside him in the sand to see the small carvings he was mechanically unwrapping.
The one he held represented an animal which was a weird cross between horse and deer-possessing flowing mane, tail and horns. Presented as rearing, with snorting nostrils, it was a miniature of savage fury. Tiny gems were set in the eye sockets and the hooves were plated with a contrasting metal. Some master-craftsman had endowed it with life.
“All these things-they are so wonderful!”
“They loved beauty,” Dard answered her. “But I think that these"-he picked up a second carving, representing quite a different creature-a manikin with webbed feet, a monkey face and hands lacking a thumb-"are all pieces to be used in a game. See, here’s another horned horse, but made of a different color, and another webfooted monkey. Chessmen?”
“And a little tree!” She freed a third piece from its wrappings. “A tree of golden apples!”
True enough, on the branches of the tone shaped tree there were round gems of a glowing yellow. Golden apples! That story Lars used to tell Dessie about the apples of the sun!
“Huh?” Harmon squatted down by his wife to see what held her attention. “Apples? What’s that about apples, Trude?”
She held out her hand with the small tree standing on its flattened palm. “Golden apples! See, Tim?”
“Looks more like some kind of a pine to me.” But he took the tree gently. “Fruit-that’s what those are supposed to be all right.” His eyes went past the star ship to the open mouth of the valley where the blue-green of growing things beckoned. “Might find us a pine growin’ apples at that, Trude. After them there flyin’ snakes, and floatin’ spider-plants, and them green and yellow duck-dogs what keep peekin’ at us from holes yonder-well, I can believe that we’re gonna pick us apples offa pine trees, too. Only we’d better get about the business of goin’ to hunt them trees pretty soon.”
The business of hunting their future settlement began the next morning. Kimber with Rogan and Santee took off in the sled to make a circuit of the inner valley. When they signaled that they viewed nothing disturbing there, a second exploring party set off on foot. Gully, Harmon and Dard, with packets of supplies, stun rifles and water-filled canteens progressed slowly up the river.
At the entrance to the inner valley the sand was broken by patches of soil shading from red-yellow to a dark brown. In this earth grew tufts and clumps of thin-bladed, very tough-stemmed grass which in its turn gave way to small bushes, clothed with ragged blue-green leaves.
All three of the explorers stopped short as the grass before them swayed, masking the progress of some living thing. Dard was the first to move forward with his silent woodsman’s tread. Cautiously he parted the tall stalks to see below him a real path, as well marked as a Terran game trail, but in miniature. As the swaying still continued he stood waiting, hardly daring to breathe.
Around the roots of a low bush a small red-brown head, almost indistinguishable from the bare earth of the trail, showed. Dard waited. With a hop the traveler came into plain sight.
Close to the size of a Terran rat it hopped on large, over-developed hind legs, between which bobbed a fluff of tail. Small handlike paws hung down across its darker belly fur. The ears were large, fan shaped, and fringed with the same fluff as the tail. Black buttons of eyes showed neither pupil nor iris, and a rounded muzzle ended in a rodent’s prominent teeth. But Dard did not have long to catalogue such physical points. It sighted him. Then it gave a wild bound, making an about-face turn while in the air-disappearing in a second. Dard was left to pick up from the center of the trail the object it had just dropped in its flight.
“Rabbit?” Harmon wondered, “or squirrel, or rat? How’re we gonna know? What did that critter drop, boy?”
Dard held a pod about three inches long, dark blue and shiny. He surrendered it to Harmon who slit the outer covering with thumbnail and shook out a dozen dark-blue seeds.
“Pears, beans, wheat?” Harmon’s bewilderment showed signs of irritation. “It grows, ripens this way, and it may be good to eat. But,” he turned to his companions and ended with an explosive, “how’re we ever gonna know?”
“Take ’em back and try ’em on the hamsters,” Cully returned laconically. “But that hopper sure could go, couldn’t he?” Thus he unconsciously christened the third type of fauna they had discovered in the new world.
Harmon stowed seeds and pod away in a zipper closed pocket, before they moved on through grass which arose waist high about them. Here and there in it they spotted more of the seed pods.
In fact shortly the pod-headed plants were so thick around them that they might have been swishing through a field of ripened grain. Harmon broke silence:
“This remind you of anything?”
They regarded the expanse of blue doubtfully and shook their heads.
“Well, it does me. This here looks jus’ like a wheatfield all ready t’ be reaped! I tell you I’m athinkin’ we’re walkin’ over somebody’s farm!”
“But there’s no fences,” protested Dard.
“No, but you take a farm that’s not been touched for a good long time-this stuff coulda jus’ kept seedin’ itself and spread out a lot. I gotta feelin’ this is part of a farm!”
With that Harmon took the lead, cutting across the narrowest section of the ripe crop to a line of bushes. Now that his attention had been stimulated by Harmon’s theory Dard thought that that clump of taller vegetation was strung out as if it might provide a barrier for the grain, a fence for the field.
They worked their way around this line of brush to discover Harmon’s instinct right. For there was no disguising the artificiality of the large dome flanked by several smaller ones which stood surmounted and surrounded by rank vines, tall grass and long unpruned shrubbery.
But it was not those domes which held the explorers’ attention. A constant murmur of sound and a flash of flying things drew them to a tree standing in what once must have been the front yard-if Those Others cultivated front yards.
“The golden apples!” Dard identified the tree from the carved piece he had seen the night before.
Its symmetrical cone shape of blue-green provided the right background for the yellow globes which dragged down branches with their weight. And the air and grass about the tree were alive with feasters.
The Terrans watched the wheeling birds-or were they oversized butterflies-that settled and squabbled for a chance to sink beaks into those ripened orbs. While, on the ground, there was a steady coming and going of hoppers harvesting the soft fallen fruit. And from that scene of activity the breeze wafted a scent which set the watchers’ mouths watering-semi-intoxicating with its promise of juicy delights.
As the men advanced, the busy feeders displayed no signs of alarm. One hopper ran straight between Cully’s feet, a quarter section of dripping fruit clasped in its arms. And a bird-butterfly skimmed Dard’s head on its way to the banquet.
“Well- for-!” Cully caught himself in midstride to avoid stepping on a furry red-brown mass. He picked up one of the hoppers in a completely comatose state. Harmon gave a bark of laughter.
“Dead drunk,” he commented. “Seen chickens-pigs, too-get that way on cider leavin’s. Lookit here-this bird can’t fly straight neither!”
He was right. A lavender creature, whose wings were banded with pale green and gray, flapped an erratic course to a nearby bush and clung there as if it did not trust its powers for a farther flight.
Cully laid down the limp hopper and picked one of the golden apples. It snapped away easily, and he held it out for their closer examination. The skin was firm over the pulp, and radiating out from the stem were tiny rosy freckles. And the enticing scent was a temptation hard to withstand. Dard wanted to snatch the fruit from the engineer, to sink his teeth in that smooth skin and prove to himself that it tasted as good as it smelled.
“Pity we ain’t got a hamster with us to try it on. But we can take some back. Iffen they’re good,” Harmon swallowed visibly, “we can have us some real eatin’! Needn’t let the critters take ’em all. The fella what lived here, I bet he set a store by them there things. Golden apples, yeah, that’s jus’ what they be. But they ain’t gonna run away, and me, I’d kinda like to see the house and barns.”
The house and barns, if those were the correct designations for the domes, were half buried in twisting vines and rank growth. When they broke their way through to what must have been the front door of the largest dome, Cully let out his breath in a low whistle.
“Fight here. This door was smashed in from the outside.”
Dard, accustomed to the violence of the raiding parties of Pax, noted the broken scraps of metal on the portal and agreed. They edged into a scene of desolation. The place had been looted long ago, tough grass grew through a crack in the wall, and the litter underfoot went to powder when their boots touched it. Dard picked up a shred of golden glass which held a fairy tracery of white pattern. Rut there was nothing whole left.
“Raiding party, all right,” Harmon agreed, conditioned by his Terran past. “Could be that they had them some Peacemen here too. But it was a long time ago. We’d better let Kordov and the brains prospect around in here. Maybe they can learn what really happened. Wonder if the barn took a beatin’.”
But what they did discover in the larger of the two remaining domes brought a steady stream of curses from Harmon and made Dard’s skin crawl with its suggestion of wanton and horrible rapine. A line of white skeletons lay along the wall, each in what seemed a stall. Harmon tried to pick up an oddly shaped skull which went to dust in his fingers.
“Left ’em to die of thirst and starvation!” gritted the farmer. “Knocked off the people and jus’ left the rest. They-they were worse’n Peacemen-them what did this!”
“And they must have been the winners, too,” observed Cully. “Not too pleasant to think about.”
All three started at a shout, and Dard swung his stun rifle around at the entrance of that tragic barn. What if"they” were returning? Then he forced imagination under control. This horror had occurred years ago-its perpetrators were long since dead. But had they left descendants- with the same characteristics?
Kimber came into the dome. “What’re you doing in here?” he wanted to know. “We’ve been watching you from the sled. What-what in blue blazes is this?”
“Warning left by some very nasty people,” Dard spoke up. “This farm was raided and whoever did it left the animals penned up to starve to death!”
Kimber waned slowly along that pitiful line of hones. His face was very sober indeed.
“It’s been a long time since this happened.” It appeared to Dard that the pilot was reassuring himself by that statement.
“Yeah,” Harmon agreed. “A good long time. And they ain’t bin back since. Guess we can move down here and take over, Sire. This was a good farm once, no reason why it can’t be one agin.”