Mammalia

by John Lane, Denis Hughes

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Alien Contact; Space Opera

Synopsis

For space operators to find a derelict ship on one of the many dead worlds at the fringe of the Galaxy was not unusual, but in this instance it led to one of the weirdest adventures ever experienced by mortal beings. From a salvage point of view it was a worthless find, but its log book-and the small but priceless cargo it carried-opened up a wide field of speculation, prompting the people who found it to penetrate deeper into space in search of the nameless world from which the wreck had come...

Release date: October 27, 2016

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 120

Sample

Calston brought the vessel to a landing so gentle that the xonophic meter barely registered impact. The strain left his face as he switched off power and the burble of the idling balancer tubes died away.

“There you are,” he said. “Safely grounded.” His voice told something of the nervous tension that had built up during the hours of approach to this small, dreary, dead little world in the sparsely populated fringe region of the Galaxy.

His two companions, Lamba the Keezarian woman, and Fynos, a soft-eyed Glupton technician with the dog-faced characteristics of all his race, sighed their relief.

Lamba’s green eyes glittered hungrily as she studied the lichen-shrouded hulk of the wrecked ship whose presence on Gayrab II had caused them to make the landing against Calston’s better judgment. It was Lamba, junior partner in the outfit, who had spotted it as the ship cruised by at extreme visiscreen range.

“There’s a wreck on Gayrab II!” she had exclaimed in the low-pitched singing tones of Keezarians using Earth tongue. They never had learnt to speak it with complete naturalness.

Calston had checked on the data. Gayrab II was one of the dead worlds supporting no life whatever save an odd kind of grey lichen poisonous to the touch of humanoid beings.

“What of it?” he had said. “You mean you want to investigate, Lamba?”

“Of course! There might be something worth taking out of the hull, mightn’t there? After all, we are in the salvage business!” She had turned to Fynos for support. Fynos had wagged his head noncommittally, glancing at Calston. The two men shared leadership of the little company in its roamings through space.

Calston said: “All right, we’ll take a look.”

“It’s a five-G world,” Fynos pointed out. “Is it worth the risk? That wreck is probably an empty shell.”

“We’ll take a look,” Lamba said decisively.

And now their vessel was down on Gayrab II within a stone’s throw of the wreck. Neither the wreck itself, nor the gloomy twilit desolation of barren Gayrab offered much in the way of encouragement to exploration. But Lamba was eagerly donning her space-suit preparatory to leaving the security of the ship. Fynos showed no such anxiety, and Calston reflected that Gluptons were indeed a race of technicians with little else in their favour apart from their natural good humour and friendliness.

“What’s the rush, Lamba?” he inquired. “The thing’s been here several centuries from the look of her. It won’t run away!” He tried to sound cheerful and light-hearted, but in recent weeks Lamba had been getting on his nerves in more ways than one. Keezarians were by their nature a greedy, predatory people, living on a small overcrowded world towards the centre of the Galaxy where to maintain any standard of living each individual had to grab as much of the scanty wealth as he or she could. They had been like that for so long that grabbing was now one of their chief characteristics. Calston began to regret having agreed with Fynos to accept a Keezarian in their little company. It had been a mistake, he decided, seeing the light of greed in her eyes as she flashed him a glance.

“You would not understand!” she snapped. “There may be priceless riches in that derelict vessel. They will be ours, won’t they? We found them first!”

Fynos shrugged his narrow shoulders and fetched his suit. He seemed to hint that the thought of riches didn’t disturb him in the least. He was a technician, skilled and good at his chosen work. His was the brilliant brain that planned the overcoming of difficult salvage operations, while, Calston, with his Earthman’s supreme ability in handling a ship, could always be counted on to do what was necessary.

“Very well,” said Calston, not arguing. “You can wait for us, can’t you?”

She gave him a strangely venomous look that contradicted the superb beauty of her features that had so treacherously prompted other humanoid beings from the Seventeen Worlds to form alliances and attachments with people of Keezar. Once again Calston felt a pang of regret at having Lamba in the company. But men do not quarrel in space if it can possibly be helped. The dangers are great enough in any event, without adding to them by giving rein to humanoid conflict of emotions.

“I will wait,” the woman conceded. “But hurry.”

Calston grinned. Fynos had his suit on now. Calston was reaching his from its locker. Purposely he did not hurry. It didn’t do to scamp the adjustment of a space-suit. Too many things could happen if an element of error crept in and made it useless.

They were ready at last. Curiosity began to work on Calston’s mind, suggesting to him that this wreck might, after all, be worth investigation. Usually they confined their efforts to the salvage of space-borne derelicts, of which there were quite a number drifting in the uncharted void. To land and examine an obviously ancient wreck seemed on the face of it a waste of time. And yet now that the moment was here he wasn’t quite so sure. There might indeed be something worthwhile in the broken hull. He began to wonder what kind of beings had handled the vessel, from where it had come and whence it had been bound. Curiosity grew because only by examining the thing would he know the answers.

Lamba made a move to the air lock.

“I’ll go first,” said Calston curtly. “You’re a bit over-anxious.”

She fell back with an ill grace that was revealed in the glance she threw him.

He dropped to the ground outside the lock and adjusted the G rectifier unit of his suit to compensate for the heavy downward pull of Gayrab II’s concentrated mass. Lamba and Fynos set theirs to the reading he called out on the speech link. They followed him to the ground, first Lamba then Fynos. All eyes were on the lichen-shrouded hulk of the nearby wreck.

“She’s an old ship,” said Calston. “Must have been here a couple of centuries or more from her general design. Let’s have a look inside—if we can get in.”

The three of them started forward, walking cautiously as they accustomed themselves to the queer feeling brought about by the rectified G factor of their suits. It was always the same whenever people moved on worlds other than their own, for the rectified G factor was, after all, an artificiality at best.

The vessel had apparently made an emergency crash-landing and been badly damaged in the process, the entire forward part of the hull being crushed and shattered so that only the stern and drive tubes could be said to be easily recognisable.

Entrance to the wreck was simpler than Calston had at first thought it would be. A great gash in the metal flank of the hull offered easy entry, and one by one they clambered through, handlamps dispersing the inner darkness as they grouped in what appeared to have been a crew-room. Four skeletal shapes sprawled over a steel table, tightened skin and shrunken flesh giving their heads and hands a ghastly semblance of humanoid form.

“Earthmen,” muttered Calston grimly. “Poor devils. I wonder what made them put down here, what went wrong?”

“They have been dead a very long time,” Lamba pointed out with a certain callousness. “Fynos could probably tell us why the ship was wrecked.” She turned her head and smiled at the little Glupton. “Personally I’m much more interested in what’s to be found on board. There must be something worth taking off.”

Calston eyed her shrewdly. “I want her papers,” he said. “We’ll check on any cargo she carries first of all.”

“I will discover why the vessel was destroyed,” said Fynos. “It is of more interest to me than anything else.”

Lamba sniffed audibly. “Go ahead, Calston and I are after bigger game.”

“Speak for yourself,” Calston told her, irritated.

She raised her elegantly-curving eyebrows. “Isn’t this a business concern seeking profit?” she challenged. “I’m not in it for my health, if you are!”

He mumbled an apology, making up his mind never to team up with another Keezarian as long as he lived. Lamba was a beautiful creature, but he was fast discovering that there were more important factors to be considered in a business outfit.

Fynos gave him a vaguely sympathetic look and disappeared into the bowels of the ship’s power section. He moved with the busyness of an ant. Calston envied the Gluptons their intense energy and skill in dealing with intricate machinery and equipment, though normally they were a somewhat timid people, a fact that made their advancement in the dangerous game of space-operating a little surprising.

Calston and Lamba, meanwhile, headed for the captain’s quarters. On their way they passed through the main control room where two more men had ended their lives untold years before.

“They must all have been wiped out together on impact,” Calston said. “No air, and with the front of the hull bashed up as it is they wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s a wonder they didn’t have their suits on as a precaution before the landing.”

Lamba expressed little interest, searching all the time for some concrete evidence of a worthwhile cargo stowed in the hold. Only with difficulty and considerable patience did Calston persuade her to remain at his side while he found and checked the vessel’s papers.

“It’s not a cargo ship at all,” he said presently, glancing up from the brittle, discoloured pages of the log book open on the captain’s desk.

“No cargo!” Lamba sounded as if someone had tricked her out of a rightful heritage.

Calston grinned. “She’s a naval exploration craft belonging to the Earth Reserve Fleet,” he said. “Or she did … let me see … three hundred and five Earth years ago.”

Lamba’s face fell almost comically.

“There must be something worth having!” she insisted. “I’m going to have a look round. You’re too interested in theory and the human angle for my liking.”

He sighed deeply. “Do what you like,” he told her. “When you’re through you’ll find me with Fynos.”

She hesitated, softening suddenly. “Come with me … please. I’d rather you did.”

“Very well.” He closed the log carefully, leaving it on the captain’s desk. Later he would take it to their own vessel to be handed over to the appropriate authority when the voyage was completed and they returned to their base on distant Earth.

Moving with the utmost caution in the gloom of the wreck they made for what was left of the cargo space. The whole of it had not been destroyed in the crash landing, and on examination offered some small hope to Lamba’s greed for booty. There were a few metal cases locked and sealed and scattered over the area. Calston eyed them curiously. If there had been anything else of value in the cargo space it had been lost by the breaking of the hull fabric. But he was more interested in the story behind the vessel’s voyage than in what it might have contained.

Lamba, however, seized on the cases avidly, seeing in their presence a hope of substantial gain. With the aid of the small Zidel blaster she always carried she ripped the nearest one open and bent to examine the contents.

Her gasp of astonishment brought Calston to her side.

The case she had opened was neatly packed with ingots of finely-grained bronze-coloured substance.

Calston whistled softly, interested in spite of himself.

Lamba looked up quickly, a glitter in her eyes.

“Cembrium!” she breathed. “Don’t you recognise it?”

He nodded, dazed and bewildered. “Yes, of course, I do. I’m just wondering how it comes to be here on board a wreck.”

She frowned. “Why is that so strange?”

He smiled a little. “Because, dear Lamba, cembrium, one of the rarest mineral metals in the whole of the Seventeen Worlds, is found only on Kodaa. According to what little I read of the log entries a few minutes ago this ship was engaged on an exploration sweep through Sector B5 Zone 8. As you must know, that region—in which Gayrab II is also situated—is virtually on the opposite side of the Galaxy to Kodaa. How, then, do cases of cembrium happen to be in the hold of a naval exploration vessel in this region of space?”

“And the answer?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say exactly, of course, but I’d hazard a guess that the ship itself discovered a new source of supply, mined some and reduced it on the spot and was taking it back to base when something happened.”

“Where did they find it?” Suddenly she seized his wrist and shook him. “Calston, if we knew that we’d be rich for the rest of our lives! We’ve got to find out!”

He didn’t answer directly, but glanced again at the open case. There were four others unopened, all similar. It was impossible to assess the intrinsic value of their find, and as salvage a substantial percentage of that value would be theirs to divide when the stuff was handed over at base. But that, he realised, wouldn’t satisfy Lamba; she wanted the lot, and more besides. Again he regretted having a Keezarian in the partnership.

But he was very intrigued in the source of cembrium for other reasons than those of personal gain. Earth itself, his own race, were in constant need of the stuff, and if he could locate a second supply it would be a vital move towards greater self-sufficiency, a state of affairs which the Earth could not claim in connection with such a rare mineral as cembrium. Yes, it would certainly . . .