Missing Link | Page 4

But the other one's a ruin."
"A ruin? Why?"
"You tell us. Lots of mysteries here."
"What's the planet like?"
"Mostly jungle. There are polar oceans, lakes and rivers. One low
mountain chain follows the equatorial belt about two thirds around the
planet."
"But only two cities. Are you sure?"
"Reasonably so. It'd be pretty hard to miss something the size of that
thing we flew over. It must be fifty kilometers long and at least ten
wide. Swarming with these creatures, too. We've got a zone-count
estimate that places the city's population at over thirty million."

"Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too."
"We don't know much about this place, Orne. And unless you bring
them into the fold, there'll be nothing but ashes for our archaeologists
to pick over."
"Seems a dirty shame."
"I agree, but--"
The call bell jangled.
* * * * *
Stetson's voice sounded tired: "Yeah, Hal?"
"That mob's only about five kilometers out, Stet. We've got Orne's gear
outside in the disguised air sled."
"We'll be right down."
"Why a disguised sled?" asked Orne.
"If they think it's a ground buggy, they might get careless when you
most need an advantage. We could always scoop you out of the air, you
know."
"What're my chances on this one, Stet?"
Stetson shrugged. "I'm afraid they're slim. These goons probably have
the Delphinus, and they want you just long enough to get your
equipment and everything you know."
"Rough as that, eh?"
"According to our best guess. If you're not out in five days, we blast."
Orne cleared his throat.

"Want out?" asked Stetson.
"No."
"Use the back-door rule, son. Always leave yourself a way out. Now ...
let's check that equipment the surgeons put in your neck." Stetson put a
hand to his throat. His mouth remained closed, but there was a
surf-hissing voice in Orne's ears: "You read me?"
"Sure. I can--"
"No!" hissed the voice. "Touch the mike contact. Keep your mouth
closed. Just use your speaking muscles without speaking."
Orne obeyed.
"O.K.," said Stetson. "You come in loud and clear."
"I ought to. I'm right on top of you!"
"There'll be a relay ship over you all the time," said Stetson. "Now ...
when you're not touching that mike contact this rig'll still feed us what
you say ... and everything that goes on around you, too. We'll monitor
everything. Got that?"
"Yes."
Stetson held out his right hand. "Good luck. I meant that about diving
in for you. Just say the word."
"I know the word, too," said Orne. "HELP!"
* * * * *
Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles between monstrous bluish tree
trunks--that was the jungle. Only the barest weak glimmering of
sunlight penetrated to the mud. The disguised sled--its para-grav units
turned off--lurched and skidded around buttress roots. Its headlights
swung in wild arcs across the trunks and down to the mud. Aerial

creepers--great looping vines of them--swung down from the towering
forest ceiling. A steady drip of condensation spattered the windshield,
forcing Orne to use the wipers.
In the bucket seat of the sled's cab, Orne fought the controls. He was
plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating sensation that a heavy
planet native always feels in lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy
stomach.
Things skipped through the air around the lurching vehicle: flitting and
darting things. Insects came in twin cones, siphoned toward the
headlights. There was an endless chittering whistling tok-tok-toking in
the gloom beyond the lights.
Stetson's voice hissed suddenly through the surgically implanted
speaker: "How's it look?"
"Alien."
"Any sign of that mob?"
"Negative."
"O.K. We're taking off."
Behind Orne, there came a deep rumbling roar that receded as the scout
cruiser climbed its jets. All other sounds hung suspended in
after-silence, then resumed: the strongest first and then the weakest.
A heavy object suddenly arced through the headlights, swinging on a
vine. It disappeared behind a tree. Another. Another. Ghostly shadows
with vine pendulums on both sides. Something banged down heavily
onto the hood of the sled.
[Illustration]
Orne braked to a creaking stop that shifted the load behind him, found
himself staring through the windshield at a native of Gienah III. The
native crouched on the hood, a Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in his

right hand directed at Orne's head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, Orne
recognized the weapon: standard issue to the marine guards on all R&R
survey ships.
The native appeared the twin of the one Orne had seen on the translite
screen. The four-fingered hand looked extremely capable around the
stock of the Mark XX.
Slowly, Orne put a hand to his throat, pressed the contact button. He
moved his speaking muscles: "Just made contact with the mob. One on
the hood now has one of our Mark XX rifles aimed