By Michael G. Coney
Hunting bergworms was a highly profitable but dangerous business, for the monsters lived deep within the polar ice mountains. There was also the environmental pollution and Man with which to contend.
* * * *
The rigid wind hissed around Skunder’s helmet as he stood, shivering despite the protection of thick fur, on the blinding Cantek ice-cap. Powdery snow was drifting about his boots and he shuffled nervously, watching the two Earthmen as they fiddled with their instruments, clumsy with gloved hands.
The shorter of the two men, the captain, spoke. ‘There’s a definite trace down here. Right below us, depth about three hundred feet, I reckon. A big one.’
‘You sure?’ the other, taller man queried; his voice was cynical as always. ‘I mean, we’d look silly if we drifted out to sea on an unpropelled floe, Erkelens.’
‘Rosskidd,’ the short man’s voice was deliberately patient, ‘I’ve been transporting floes for a few years now. I know a trace when I see one.’ He indicated the screen. ‘See that shadow?’ The two men crouched over the large rectangular box. “That’s a bergworm, about four hundred yards long. A good worm.’
Rosskidd chuckled dryly. ‘I suppose you can tell me which end the head’s at?’
Erkelens glanced around, his gaze taking in the dazzling snowfields rising with distance into the blue haze of the floating polar ice-mountains. Turning, he regarded the ocean, grey and silver and raw, tossing from the horizon towards them, disappearing from sight beneath the edge of the glacial cliff some forty yards away. He moved back to the screen and indicated with a gloved finger.
‘That’s the head,’ he stated definitely. ‘Facing north-east, against the flow of current.’
Skunder, still silently watching them, wondered why these Earthmen always insisted on placing such faith in their electronic gear. He, Skunder, a native-born Cantek—he knew the bergworm was down there. He had told them where to look. As soon as the helicopter passed over this spot, he had sensed the presence of the giant marine worm; sensed it as a tingling in his bones, a nervous void in his stomach. Sensed the obscene warm fatness of phosphorescent death buried deep within the ice, pulsing, drawing in huge quantities of water, filtering out plankton and larger fish, jetting out the torrent of denatured water from its monstrous anal opening. Hanging in the underside of the floating ice-cap like an inverted U; its phosphorus-rich body cooled, its cavernous mouth questing free and murderous in the dark water. Skunder shuddered...
‘You, Cantek... Skunder. Set up the tent.’
He untied, unwrapped and laid out flat the flaccid folds of pink polythene and awkwardly screwed in the nozzle. As the two Earthmen moved away to survey their new property he jerked the stiff lever and air hissed, the tent rising and crackling, soon standing taut and dome-shaped like a mature breast on the niveous body of the snow-plain.
Skunder grinned to himself. From time to time he would be amazed at the technological supremacy of Earth over Cantek; the plastics, the atomics, the mere perfection of machinery. And then he would think to himself: yet they need me to control the bergworm. So he would smile and for a moment himself feel superior, despite knowledge of his home planet’s oil-based economy and polluted seas.
But they were clever, these Earthmen who had bought the option on the Cantek polar ice-cap a century ago. They had been farsighted, their judgment based on experience of their own world; while Cantek had laughed and sold what it thought was a useless waste of floating ice.
Skunder shrugged and carried the equipment and provisions into the tent, stowing them neatly, setting up the two beds. Himself, he preferred to sleep outside in a mini-dome, away from the company of the two men who mostly ignored him, thereby making his loneliness more intense.
Oh, Valinda ...
So he set up his minidome and walked over to where Erkelens and Rosskidd had begun to drill and the ice was fountaining steam as the laser beam sank deep. To act as general labourer was a part of the deal and the men of Earth paid well.
Rosskidd looked up. ‘Ah, Cantek. You can drop the charges in. Make sure they go right to the bottom. Follow us along with the leads. Mind you don’t break any. Got that?’
‘Skunder’s done this before,’ said Erkelens mildly.
‘No doubt, but I’m an explosives expert, Skipper. That’s why you hired me, remember? After that trouble you had last trip, when you split the berg and killed the worm ... I’m not blaming you, but you’ve got to watch Canteks all the way, or they’ll fall down on the job. I know.’
* * * *
In the course of the next few hours they drilled innumerable shafts deep in the ice, delineating an area roughly one hundred yards square based on the estimated size of the worm beneath. Skunder followed behind, dropping the charges, trailing the wire. At last they were finished; they returned to the dome and connected up the control unit.
Erkelens glanced at the sky. Cantek’s yellow sun was well above the horizon; the long polar day would last for a few more weeks. ‘No point in doing too much,’ he said. ‘We’ll turn in for a while. Detonate in six hours.’
Rosskidd yawned; in the warmth of the dome he had removed his top clothing and stood bearlike and hairy in long underpants. Skunder suppressed his distaste for the uncouth, animal appearance of the man and said good night politely, stepping through the lock to the snow. Erkelens muttered tiredly but there was no reply from Rosskidd. Skunder hadn’t expected one. He crawled into his mini-dome and slept.
He was wakened within an hour by a harsh chattering from above. Pushing his head through the flap of the dome he looked up. Stark against the blue mist of the sky was the dragonfly outline of a helicopter whirling west. He withdrew into the tent and tried to sleep again but his thoughts were whirling with the rotor blades in a vortex of hate. It was not the chartered helicopter which had brought them here. He had recognised the white insignia on the underbelly of the machine, however; the image remained on his retina for several hours.
Asleep at last, it seemed only minutes before he was awakened again by a rough hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes wearily; Rosskidd was bending over him, his face unshaven and expressionless with contempt.
‘You. Up.’
Skunder rolled his legs off the bed, stood, and already fully dressed, followed the Earthman out of the dome. Erkelens was emerging from the larger dome, dragging the detonating equipment. He glanced at them briefly, then scanned the horizon.
‘Everything ready?’ he queried, a note of uncertainty in his voice. There was something very final, irreversible, about the operation of blasting clear.
Rosskidd looked at him. ‘All ready,’ he said.
‘Right.’ Erkelens depressed a button and the ice trembled as the charges fired one by one at microsecond intervals. Little puffs of snow rose in a rectangular mist around the camp, apparently simultaneously. The three men waited, not looking at each other, standing square on the ice and waiting for their feet to tell them whether the operation had been successful.
‘We’re free,’ said Erkelens with relief as he detected motion beneath him. Imperceptibly, the ice was rocking. Grinding noises began, rose to tortured shrieks as the new berg began to move clear of the ice-cap. ‘Start cutting the control shaft, Skunder.’ He disconnected the detonator and dragged it back into the dome.
Skunder wheeled the pump and laser to the seaward end of the new berg. He erected the laser drill downwards-directed, hung from a tripod, and set the control to throw a beam two feet wide by a thousandth of an inch thick! He flicked the switch and checked the rotary propulsion unit with a test circuit. The two-foot thread of light focused on the ice and described a slow radius. Soon Skunder was standing beside a neat circular pool of steaming water, four-foot six in diameter. He started the synchronised pump and watched as the ribbon of steam circled the flexible six-inch pipe. Satisfied, he relaxed as the unit drove the shaft rapidly downwards, the generator puttering evenly, the water flowing from the outlet of the pump, away across the snow.
He walked back to the camp. Erkelens and Rosskidd were preparing breakfast on a portable stove; a whiff of bacon arose.
‘I saw Lejour’s helicopter last night,’ Skunder said.
The effect of his remark was immediate. Erkelens sprang to his feet, upsetting the frying pan. ‘Where? Which way was he headed?’
‘West.’
‘West. God...’ Erkelens stared at Rosskidd. ‘He could be on the same run as us. He could be going to Alkar. It’s the only sizeable city in this direction.’
‘We’ve got a start on him.’
‘Not if he’s blasting free downcoast, we haven’t. He’s taking the shortest route. We’ve got to follow the ice-cap for thirty miles before we strike off across the Polar Sea. I thought we’d got plenty of time; I was more interested in finding a good worm. If Lejour’s already got a worm lined up... He’ll be ahead by the time we reach his departure point.’
‘So if he beats us to Alkar, he gets the best market,’ Rosskidd said slowly. ‘We have to take a give-away price. And we can’t hang around bargaining, with the berg melting under us in the warmer waters.’
‘Christ.’ Erkelens slumped to his collapsible chair, threw the spilt bacon back into the pan and stirred it moodily.
‘We have a good worm,’ Skunder ventured. ‘We can beat him.’
‘I hope so.’ Rosskidd looked at the Cantek meaningly.
Skunder decided he would be better out of the picture, so he muttered something about seeing to the laser and walked quickly away.
The hole was deep, the bottom out of sight in a mist of steam. He watched for a while, his thoughts straying, then felt the unmistakable distant jolt as the bergworm sensed the presence of the approaching laser beam. He switched off, removed the tripod, strapped the smaller, portable laser on his back and threw the collapsible ladder down the shaft. He began to descend.
At the foot of the shaft the flexible pipe was sucking air, a noisy gobbling sound. He shrugged the laser from his back, thumbed the switch and began to enlarge the shaft into a chamber, his breathing harsh in the steamy atmosphere. When he had melted enough ice to permit free movement he drove away to one side, playing the laser on the glittering ice-wall, kicking the hose before him as he moved forward. He drove a narrow tunnel about twenty feet horizontally into the ice then began to slope downwards, gradually doubling back, to run parallel to, but many feet below his original course.
An hour later he could make out a dark shadow beyond the scintillating reflections of the laser beam. He turned the instrument to low output and carefully melted away the remaining ice, exposing a rough leathery wall at the extremity of the tunnel.
This was the flank of the giant bergworm. He tried a full-power pulse. The hide contracted, the flesh bubbled. The berg lurched, a vast heave under his feet. The worm was a good one, huge and strong.
Skunder shuddered...
He crawled back to the chamber at the foot of the shaft and repeated the operation, driving a tunnel to the opposite flank of the worm. He tested the creature’s reactions then, satisfied, climbed the ladder and eventually emerged into daylight.
Erkelens and Rosskidd were waiting for him.
‘Everything OK?’ Erkelens’ face was lined with anxiety.
‘Fine. It’s a good worm. We’ll be all right.’
He looked around. They had left the ice-cap and were drifting in the open sea. Behind them yawned the gap in the glacier, a behemoth’s bite.
* * * *
‘There is no right of property in a floating berg.’ Erkelens sat outside the dome on a folding chair, oiling his rifle, watching the shimmering cliff’s slide by. ‘Once it has left the ice-cap, possession is what counts. Occupancy.’
‘Scared of piracy?’ Rosskidd glanced at the grey horizon.
‘Of Lejour. He’s got more resources than me. He can pull some queer tricks, and he’s got the cash to back them up. He can afford his own helicopter—and you ought to see his submarine. It’s a bit different from that can over there.’
He indicated the small craft hanging from automatic davits at the lip of the berg. A patched ovoid of grey metal, it measured some twenty feet in length and contained cramped accommodation for one man in dangerous proximity to an ancient miniature reactor.
Skunder’s eyes followed Erkelens’ finger and his heart constricted at the thought of the claustrophobic blackness within.
The image remained with him as he made his way to the control shaft to correct a slight course deviation. As he played the laser at low power on the tough hide of the worm, he imagined the huge head swinging below the dark water, swinging to the right as the beast’s muscles contracted in response to the heat irritant. He imagined the cavernous mouth sucking, blindly questing for sustenance in the depths ...
He remembered Valinda ...
He remembered Lejour (‘Get down there, you Cantek, and find out what’s wrong—I don’t want to see you back until we’re moving again.’) and Valinda as she stood beside him, holding his hand as the Earthman raved about loss of profits for late delivery, inefficiency of his Cantek worm expert; while the berg heaved idly on the grey sea. So he and Valinda climbed into the midget submarine and swung wildly out from the face of the berg while Lejour overrode the automatic, freewheeling the davits with heedless speed.
He remembered the jarring impact as they hit the water, the sudden blackness in the viewport turning to abrupt viridescence when he switched on the floodlights and illuminated the side of the berg as they sank slowly. He remembered Valinda’s hand on his in a tender attempt to quell his uncontrollable trembling (‘Don’t let him get you down, darling; just remember the bonus at the end of this trip.’) And his feeling of gratitude because she knew he was shivering from fear, not anger.
And then the sight of the bergworm... Oozing segmented from the base of the berg like a monster maggot, glowing phosphorescent in the black water, a gigantic tube of mindless evil. Hanging low, too low; two thirds of its tunnel it was preparing, for unknown reasons, to quit the berg.
It had to be driven back. The head had to be forced upward and backward, the brute’s present forward creep through the berg had to be reversed. Hovering with Valinda in the midget submarine, he released oxygen from the forward vents and watched as the bubbles were drawn into the maw of the worm. They disappeared and the mouth gaped further in a silent roar of pain as the gas coursed through the phosphorus-rich body. But it did not retreat.
He remembered his sudden shock when he found that Valinda was no longer beside him. Knowing that he would have refused her, she had taken the initiative; he felt the click as the airlock closed and he moved too late to stop her. Presently her rubber-suited figure appeared in the viewport, moving steadily towards the bergworm, drifting fast in the current of inhaled water. In one hand she held a jet pack, the straps swinging loose; in the other hand, a small mine.
She reached the lip of the worm’s mouth and hung there, a tiny black figure in the nightmare phosphorescence, while she pulled the lever which sank barbs deep into the coarse flesh at the same time arming the mine. Then she began to swim back, kicking strongly with her legs against the current, the jet-pack streaming bubbles as she hugged it to her breast.
He remembered Lejour’s careless attitude over the time-setting on the mines. He remembered wishing he had had a chance to check the delay factor before Valinda had left. He remembered holding his breath as he watched her struggling towards him; and he inched the submarine as close to the yawning mouth as he dared.
He remembered the flash, the sudden star-shaped ragged wound appearing on the worm’s mouth edge. He remembered Valinda’s body tossing in the shock-wave, remembered the jolt through the submarine, the flickering of the lights, the sight of Valinda spinning slowly head over heels, unconscious, out of control, drifting into the mouth of the worm as it convulsively withdrew into the berg ...
And he remembered, a recollection coloured with the crimson fury of murder, Lejour’s later remark:
‘You won’t have to split your percentage now, will you?’
Oh, Valinda.
Rosskidd’s voice was in his ear and he returned to the present.
‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing down here, but we’re out of control. The berg’s spinning.’ The big man was regarding him furiously, and behind the rage was terror; the pale eyes flickered to the exposed flank of the worm.
Skunder considered. A spinning berg could mean several things. It was possible that, lost in memories, he had over-corrected with the laser, but he didn’t think so. Again, the worm could have withdrawn its head into the berg, allowing the tail to hang free in the water, jetting aimlessly. This was unlikely; he would have noticed that the area of skin at the control point had altered.
The third possibility was a near certainty. ‘Sometimes a worm will become aware that it is being used,’ he informed Rosskidd. ‘It senses the presence of men on the berg and the constant use of the laser irritates it. As a rule, the worms are almost mindless, but you can get one which turns rogue.’
‘So what’s happening?’
‘It’s doubled its head back, and it’s burrowing towards the surface of the berg. We’ve lost propulsion. We’re drifting with the tide and spinning with the wind.’
‘Great,’ said Rosskidd sarcastically; his voice was soft and he smiled mirthlessly, as though dealing with a child. ‘So what do you suggest we do now. Mister Skunder?’
The Cantek shrugged. ‘Wait; he replied simply. ‘After a while the worm will double back and work through to the water again. It will probably finishing up facing in the other direction. This often happens, but it’s rare that a worm leaves the berg altogether. At this stage in the life cycle they have to keep cool. Sometimes the heat of the worm’s body melts the ice around it, making it difficult to get a grip to propel the berg, so the worm merely drives a new tunnel.’
‘You’re quite an expert.’ The Earthman’s voice was dangerously quiet and Skunder shivered inwardly. Why were they all like this ? What was it about the ice, and the worms, and apparently the very fact of being on Cantek, which turned the Earthmen sour? They didn’t need to come here, but they came because they had the chance of making money. Yet it appeared that the very process of making it drove them insane.
‘I’ve studied marine biology,’ Skunder said in carefully conversational tones. ‘In particular, the bergworms and their life-cycle. It’s an important study on Cantek, more so since the fresh-water crisis. Did you know that some worms can make up to forty journeys north in a lifetime? Their body is refrigerated in the berg as they head for warmer seas, then, when a certain latitude is reached and the berg is melted away, they spawn and make their way back, leaving the young to feed in the richer, warmer waters. The young worms only head south for the polar cap when they are mature; the males stay under the cap for the rest of their lives while the females mate, burrow into the edge of the cap, and wait, feeding all the time, for their section of ice to break free ...’ Skunder was aware that his voice had risen; he was talking desperately in terror of this large Earthman with the dangerous shadow of fear in his eyes.
‘You’re too smart by half, Cantek,’ said Rosskidd coldly. ‘Follow me. We’re going to have a talk with Erkelens.’ He swung away and struggled, feet sliding, up the sloping ice-tunnel.
Erkelens was sitting outside the dome, moodily eyeing the slowly revolving landscape. He looked up as they approached. Rosskidd seized Skunder by the elbow and propelled him before the captain. ‘Tell him what you told me,’ he commanded.
Skunder explained.
‘So there’s nothing we can do,’ observed Erkelens heavily when the Cantek had finished.
‘I’m not so sure of that,’ said Rosskidd, with a meaning glance at Skunder. In the open air, the tall man had gained confidence again; the fear was gone from his eyes to be replaced by a shrewd look.
‘Have you got any ideas, Rosskidd?’
‘No, but I think Skunder might have.’
‘Skunder?’ The captain regarded the Cantek. ‘I thought you said it was a question of time?’
‘That’s right.’ Skunder wondered what was coming next, but Rosskidd did not enlarge upon his remark.
* * * *
Later in the large dome, while Skunder slept outside, Rosskidd made his views plain.
‘I don’t trust that Cantek,’ he informed Erkelens.
‘Skunder? He’s OK. He’s done the last three trips with me. A good man.’
‘Man?’ Rosskidd laughed shortly. ‘How you can call a four-foot humanoid midget a man, I don’t know, Erkelens. You’ve been here too long. You’ve gone native/
‘What exactly have you got against the Canteks, Rosskidd?’
‘Look.’ The big man leaned forward, his expression ominous. ‘You hired me to do a job and I’m doing it. So far I’ve done it well, I reckon, which is what I’m paid for. I give value for money. But I’m not paid to like the Canteks. Do you know what that superior little bastard did in the shaft ? He started giving me a lecture about the worms, for Christ’s sake. Told me he was a marine biologist.’
‘He is.’
‘By Cantek standards maybe, but he wouldn’t get far on Earth. Who the hell do these people think they are? They’re way behind the times. They still use internal combustion engines and they’ve polluted their atmosphere and sea. They’re centuries behind Earth. And then that weird dwarf starts pulling the superior knowledge stunt on me.’
Erkelens regarded his mate carefully. ‘Are you scared of the ice, Rosskidd?’ he asked shrewdly. ‘Because if you are, you shouldn’t be on this job. There’s something about the ice; it gets you after a while. A man can get scared, permanently. I had trouble once, so I saw a doctor about it. He said this feeling comes on because we’re in an environment of non-life. There’s nothing here, you see, except the ice, and the sea, and the sky; in these latitudes there are no birds, and no fish that I’ve ever seen. At least on a ship you’d have a large crew, a cat or two and rats, no doubt. But here, on the ice ... Have you ever had the feeling, Rosskidd—when you’re at the other end of the berg, or down in the tunnels by yourself, have you ever had the feeling that you’re the only living being in the whole Galaxy? Almost the only living being, that is; but not quite. Because down there below you is the worm. It’s just you and her, nothing else, Rosskidd; just you and the worm, alone in infinity and eternity; and you know you’re no match for the worm. Have you ever felt like that, Rosskidd?’
‘Damn you, Erkelens,’ muttered the other man ...
‘I just wanted to point out that all of us have our problems here. I’ve got mine, and Skunder’s got his. But because we’re scared, we don’t start hitting out at each other. You’re new to the bergs, Rosskidd, so we make allowances for you. But you’ve got to make allowances for us, too. We’re stuck here for a long time, the three of us, and we’ve got to get along together. Now. Before we started all this, you were telling me you didn’t trust Skunder. Perhaps you’ll tell me why.’
Rosskidd hesitated. ‘He seemed to give up easily,’ he said at last. ‘When the berg stopped he knew what the trouble was, but he didn’t seem to want to do anything about it.’
‘He’s the expert, you know,’ Erkelens pointed out gently. ‘This sort of thing has happened before. There’s very little that can be done.’
‘I daresay, but I thought... I thought at the time, that maybe he was in league with Lejour. That he was delaying us deliberately.’
Erkelens looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t think so. He told us Lejour was around, remember? He needn’t have done that. We didn’t hear the helicopter.’
Rosskidd mumbled something, unconvinced, and the two Earthmen began to prepare for bed. Erkelens was soon asleep, his breathing deep and regular, but Rosskidd tossed on the nightmare fringe of waking dreams for a long time. He kept seeing the ice beneath him as he lay on his stomach; it was as though the bed was not there; the ice was green and slowly changed to blue, bright phosphorescent blue, as the bergworm drove its way upwards, vertically, questing hungrily for Rosskidd who was the only other living being in the Galaxy ...
* * * *
Erkelens was crouched over the screen. ‘I think she’s turned,’ he said. ‘The trace has lengthened. Skunder, what do you think?’
The Cantek paced about the ice for a moment, expressionlessly. Rosskidd sniffed. ‘What’s he supposed to be, telepathic?’
‘Sort of,’ said Erkelens. ‘The Canteks have an affinity to animal life. You’ve noticed it already, haven’t you? Skunder found us this worm; all we did was to plot the exact position.’
The Cantek stopped pacing. ‘We shall be moving again within the hour,’ he informed them positively. ‘I can start drilling the control shaft again.’ He left them.
In fact the motion of the berg changed in fifty minutes; the spinning ceased and, to Erkelen’s relief, they commenced moving in the right direction, heading west, hugging the coastline. It would be some time before Skunder’s control arrangements were complete; meanwhile, they were not losing any time.
Shortly before suppertime Rosskidd hurried to the dome to find Erkelens crouched outside preparing the meal. ‘There’s a free berg ahead of us,’ he gasped. He was breathless, puffs of mist pulsed from his open mouth. ‘Could be Lejour. He hasn’t got much of a start, after all.’
‘And Skunder said we had a good worm.’
‘He didn’t say how good Lejour’s worm was.’
‘We’ll soon know. How far ahead is he?’
‘About a mile.’
Skunder was approaching them, a tiny, child-like figure on the white expanse. He glanced at the steaming pot, then at Erkelens. ‘Control shaft complete, Captain. Everything in order.’ He grinned nervously.
‘Rosskidd’s sighted Lejour. About a mile ahead of us. What are our chances?’
The Cantek started; he shielded his eyes and gazed across the sea, his expression unfathomable, while Rosskidd watched him closely. ‘I said we had a good worm,’ Skunder reminded them. ‘Lejour will have Alvo with him as pilot; he used him on the last trip. Lejour will see us, and make Alvo hurry the worm. Alvo is not a strong man ... I think, within the next week, Lejour’s worm will be spent, or it will revolt and quit the berg. I feel sorry for Alvo. We will reach Alkar before them.’
Rosskidd stared at Skunder. ‘What you’re saying is, we shouldn’t worry if Lejour draws ahead of us?’
‘That is so.’
Erkelens broke in hurriedly. ‘Look, Skunder. I don’t want to teach you your own business, so let me put it like this—I wouldn’t like to lose sight of Lejour, if you get my meaning. Let him draw ahead if you must, but not too far. I want to keep my eye on him.’
‘Tactfully put, Skipper,’ remarked Rosskidd.
Skunder looked from one Earthman to the other, then turned and made for his tiny sleeping quarters, unzipped the entrance and crawled inside.
‘Looks like he’s not eating,’ Rosskidd observed. ‘You’ve upset him Erkelens.’
The captain stared at his mate furiously. ‘When you’ve made a few more trips, Rosskidd, you might begin to understand. Meanwhile, just remember that there are three human beings on this berg, and another three on that berg ahead of us. And they are our enemies, and the sea is our enemy, and the sky and the bergworm are our enemies, and even our own minds. We’re heavily outnumbered, Rosskidd, we three here. We don’t want to increase the odds further.’
Moodily, Rosskidd spooned a mouthful of stew, gazing at the silent minidome a few yards away.
* * * *
For the next week the berg ploughed through the grey ocean northwards, leaving the glittering ice-cap far behind, always keeping in sight the crystal flicker on the horizon which denoted the position of Lejour. The sea developed a sheen as they progressed; the fringes of pollution. One morning as Rosskidd and Erkelens were finishing breakfast they were alerted by a distant high pitched whine.
Erkelens looked up in surprise. ‘Sound like Lejour’s helicopter,’ he remarked. ‘Heading this way.’
‘What do you suppose he wants?’
Erkelens grinned. ‘Well, there’s always the chance that he’s broken a leg, and his mate’s coming to beg assistance. We’re a long way from land, and his helicopter has no great range. I’m looking forward to this.’ He watched as the helicopter appeared, a winging beetle in the misty sky; hovered, and descended towards them to land in a fog of fine snow.
A figure emerged and strolled towards them unhurriedly. They remained seated. Lejour stood above them, a small man about the height of Erkelens. He greeted them. Erkelens looked up, as though surprised to see him. ‘Hello, Lejour,’ he said casually.
‘I thought it must be you. When I saw you trailing behind me, I said to myself, that’s Erkelens, bound for Alkar, and too late as usual.’ Lejour’s tone was light and bantering; he glanced at Rosskidd.
‘Rosskidd, meet Lejour.’ Erkelens introduced the two men who eyed each other warily. There was a lengthy silence; Erkelens and Rosskidd resumed their breakfast. ‘What’s your problem, Lejour?’ asked the captain at last, through a full mouth.
‘You’re the one with problems. Lagging behind a bit, aren’t you ? You won’t get much of a price at Alkar, once I’ve flooded the market.’
‘Always assuming you get there first. Which is an assumption I’m not making.’
Lejour squatted on his haunches, bringing himself down to their level. ‘Now, look here, Erkelens,’ he began in reasonable tones. ‘I don’t see any point in our competing over this trip. We’re cutting each other’s throats. I’ve got a suggestion to make.’
‘I thought you might have.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, Lejour continued: ‘We can make a killing over this thing. We both know the fresh water shortage at Alkar. So why not join forces; say, tell them that they have to accept both bergs at a fixed price, a little below the going rate, of course; they’re not fools. But that way we’ll both gain, instead of one of us taking the chance of getting next to nothing.’
‘You’re the one who’s taking that chance, Lejour. I’m confident of my price.’
Lejour stood abruptly. ‘You’re a damned fool, Erkelens. Racing like this, we could finish up with our worms quitting the bergs, and neither of us will make it.’
‘I’ll make it,’ said Erkelens confidently.
Lejour glared at him, then spun round and started back for the helicopter. As he passed the minidome, Skunder emerged. The two men stood motionless for a moment, a frozen tableau on the ice as Lejour halted in mid-stride. They said nothing that Erkelens or Rosskidd could hear; they gazed at each other for an instant before Lejour resumed his walk to the helicopter. A moment later the machine roared into the sky and Skunder joined them, sitting on his heels and eating silently while the other two regarded him uncertainly.
‘What do you make of that?’ asked Rosskidd, when Skunder had finished and departed,
“Lejour’s overtaxed his worm. He knows we can beat him to Alkar.’
‘I mean him and Skunder.’
Erkelens sighed. ‘I wish you could forget this notion of yours. Skunder and Lejour worked together once. Lejour was surprised to see him here, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t see that it matters.’
Rosskidd muttered something and walked away.
Later Erkelens met Skunder at the north end of the berg. The little Cantek was gazing out to sea. ‘Lejour’s slowing down,’ he said. ‘We’re closing on him.’
‘What exactly is between you and Lejour?’ asked Erkelens.
Skunder scuffed his leather-bound feet in the snow and was silent. He looked at the Earthman, then at the sea again. He sniffed. ‘Smell that, Captain?’ he asked.
Obediently Erkelens inhaled. A faint, thick smell came to him, cloying. What is it?’ he asked. The sea flowed past them, rainbow coloured. ‘Pollution?’
Skunder sighed. ‘Another mistake by my people,’ he said. ‘You ought to keep up to date with what goes on, Captain. Cantek is not just a mindless planet which earns money for you to send home for a future memory of retirement. Cantek is a world where humanoids live and love and kill, and my people are just as greedy as yours, but younger. And in their greed they make mistakes, just like Earth did, years ago. Earth could prevent us making those mistakes if it wanted, but Earth will not help.’
‘You’re feeling bitter today, Skunder. Was it seeing Lejour?’
‘Possibly. It doesn’t alter the facts. Your people have come to our planet to make money out of us. If you helped us progress to your level, there would not be so much money to be made. We would not, for example, have the freshwater problem, and the polluted seas and atmosphere. You have beaten the pollution problem on Earth, right?’
‘We have. It took a long time and there was a lot of opposition, but we did it.’
‘And I expect before you achieved that, your ocean looked like this, sometimes.’
Erkelens examined the water. Even from the height of the berg, he could discern the oiliness of the surface, the rainbow reflections. ‘It’s spread this far south,’ he murmured. ‘In a decade it’ll reach the ice-cap. And then what? How can you get any rainfall, if the sea is unable to evaporate?’
‘It’s not quite that bad yet, Captain. This is from the new submarine oilfield. You remember, I mentioned it last trip ? There was a big project, about five hundred miles from Alkar. Men were down there, living underwater in a big pressure dome, drilling, piping the crude oil to the coast.’
‘I remember.’ Erkelens gazed at the oil slick in horrified fascination.
‘The disaster occurred last month. Nobody knows quite what caused it; maybe the dome fractured, maybe there was an explosion or an earthquake. All we know is that contact with the site was lost suddenly. Site!’ Skunder laughed, shortly and bitterly. ‘It was more like a miniature city. The oilfield was going to supply the whole of Cantek for the next two hundred years, so they said. But contact was lost, as they put it, and suddenly the surface of the sea in this area was covered with a layer of oil inches, even feet thick. It’s high-grade stuff. I wouldn’t even light a cigarette until we’re through, if I were you ...
‘But I can’t get over the needlessness of it,’ the Cantek continued. ‘Earth doesn’t use oil as a fuel any more. Why should we?’
‘I guess the World Government thinks the lesser-developed planets should make their own way forward,’ said Erkelens defensively. ‘We’ve had some bad examples, even on Earth itself in the old days, of what happens when you artificially accelerate the progress of a race.’
‘So we don’t get our reactors and we don’t get our uranium.’
‘Skunder,’ said Erkelens patiently, ‘Cantek still has a major war every twenty years. Let things settle down. Give yourself a chance. Handing out reactors to all your various governments would be like giving lasers to chimpanzees.’ He coughed uncomfortably as the insulting aspect of the simile struck him.
Skunder didn’t reply, but gazed at the slowly heaving surface, brooding.
* * * *
‘We’re closing on him,’ observed Rosskidd with satisfaction. ‘We’re closing fast.’
‘His worm is tired,’ Skunder surmised. ‘He has driven it too hard.’
It was two days later. The atmosphere was heavy with the clinging stench of oil, whipped past their faces by the driving northerly wind which had, over the past few hours, slowed the bergs almost to a standstill. Half a mile away was Lejour’s berg; from time to time they could see the crew moving about, black ants on the translucent silver.
‘Do you think his worm will leave him?’ asked Erkelens hopefully.
‘Not under this oil. The water will be dark, down there. The worms are scared. They will cling to familiar surroundings. You notice our own motion?’
The berg was rocking, an irregular movement which could not be attributed to the action of the sea. The giant worm was questing this way and that; they could imagine the cavernous mouth gaping as the head swung from side to side, seeking an end to the unnaturally black water. Nevertheless they continued to inch forward in a generally northerly direction. Skunder had advised against exercising too much control at this time; it was better to let the worm have her head until the oil was behind them.
‘What’s going on there?’ asked Erkelens suddenly. The three tiny figures of Lejour’s crew were grouped at the near end of their berg engaged in some sort of activity. A cascade of minute black dots fell slowly past the scintillating face of the berg. They saw no splash as the object hit the sullen water. Erkelens and Rosskidd regarded each other in some alarm. ‘The bastard’s up to something,’ the captain said.
Suddenly the water at the base of Lejour’s berg erupted into black and crimson spray; seconds later the thud of a detonation reached them.
‘Trying to stir his worm up?’ Rosskidd chuckled. ‘I suppose that’s one way.’
Erkelens and Skunder didn’t reply. They watched as the fountain of water subsided. Through the thick black smoke which drifted towards them they could see a wide crimson glow spreading, then the dense fumes hit it from view.
‘He’s fired the sea!’ Erkelens shouted. ‘The bastard’s fired the sea! The wind will carry it towards us!’
‘So?’ Rosskidd was coughing, his eyes streaming. ‘We can sit it out in the dome.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Skunder quietly. ‘It could kill our worm.’
‘How? He’s safe enough down there.’
‘I don’t think so ...’ Skunder was rubbing a cloth in the snow; he tied it around his lower face in an effort to filter out the fumes. ‘A worm can panic’ His voice was muffled. ‘It’s not entirely blind; there are light-sensitive cells above and behind the mouth. It’s already nervous because of the oil...’
The smoke was clearing as the blaze approached; the wind whipped the black fumes lower, beneath their feet and round the flanks of the berg like a thick swirling tide. Beyond, the flames had spread into a broad ribbon some three hundred yards wide. The berg trembled.
‘The worm is frightened,’ said Skunder.
Rosskidd glanced around nervously. ‘What can we do?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. Just wait.’
Crimson, yellow, boiling into jet black, the broad lake of fire swept towards them as they stood mesmerised on the lip of the berg. Beyond, Lejour’s berg stood steady in calm water; they could see the minute figures of the crew, watching.
‘Look!’ A harsh cry from Rosskidd.
Fifty yards ahead a paleness appeared in the streaming black. A harsh sound reached them, a giant gasp, a tortured, racking inhalation. Heaving above the smoke, dripping cataracts of oily water from its segmented hide, the head of the bergworm appeared. Erkelens heard a low moan; Rosskidd was gazing at the monstrous apparition in horror, his hand clasped to his mouth. The head rose from the sea, higher, laboriously, swinging ponderously from side to side as the worm groaned in gigantic agony and the flames swept closer.
‘She cannot get her head back underwater,’ Skunder cried. ‘The fire is too close.’
Erkelens didn’t hear. He watched as the flames approached; his lips moved as he silently implored the leviathan to save itself, to return to its natural element. But the fire was too close now, directly below the head of the monster as it reared farther from the water and the berg shuddered as great sinews strained in the corridors below. The neck and head were vertical now, the cavernous mouth gaped at the sky in mortal supplication. Fifty feet from the sea the monster rose like a lighthouse beside the berg, and the three men stepped back, appalled.
‘She’s going!’ cried Skunder.
The berg itself was groaning as the tension increased, a trembling vibration transmitted into creaking cacophony. The flames were lapping around the column of the worm’s neck, the head was shuddering with strain, tilting, falling in seeming slow motion, collapsing back into the blazing sea in a rising cascade of fire with a booming concussion, a giant thunderclap.
Rosskidd and Erkelens were flung to the ground as the berg heaved and lurched; only Skunder remained standing to witness the end. The huge tube writhed in the sea of flames; the head rose once more, slowly, barely clearing the surface, and emitted a vast, coughing exhalation, spewing from the cavern of its body a gout of blazing oil, then relaxed into motionlessness and sank slowly beneath the surface. The flames moved on, past the flank of the berg. The berg was still, dead.
Skunder walked away, leaving the two men lying in the snow.
* * * *
Erkelens was the first to move; he rolled over, looked at the sky, sat up. He nudged Rosskidd who still lay there, his head pillowed on his arms.
‘OK, Rosskidd. You can get up now. It’s all over.’
Rosskidd groaned and turned over, he looked at the captain with the dregs of fear in his eyes. ‘God,’ he muttered.
‘Take it easy. We’re all right.’ Erkelens stood, brushing loose snow from his furs.
‘I thought... I thought the berg was going to capsize. I’ve heard it doesn’t take much to capsize a berg when it’s been moving through warm waters. I thought we’d had it, Erkelens.’
‘So did I, as a matter of fact.’ Erkelens glanced at Lejour’s berg, unscathed, moving slowly northwards; then he turned and surveyed the blazing sea rolling into the distance. ‘Where’s Skunder ?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I don’t know ... He was here a minute ago. Have we lost the worm?’
‘Yes...’ Erkelens shielded his eyes with his hand and gazed around the berg. ‘There he is!’ he exclaimed. ‘Christ, he’s swinging the submarine out! He’s going over the side!’
Rosskidd laughed bitterly. ‘The little bastard’s running out on us. We’re stranded, we’ve got no worm, so he’s teaming up with Lejour.’
‘I don’t think so, somehow,’ said Erkelens.
* * * *
Skunder depressed the lever and heard the click as the hooks disengaged. He thumbed the starter and coaxed the ancient pile into reluctant activity. Soon the turbine began to hum and the tiny submarine slid beneath the dark water. -He switched on the floodlights, veered away from the viridescent ice wall to his left, and headed north.
He remembered Valinda and felt the knot of hate in his stomach as his thoughts slid to Lejour while a tiny corner of his mind registered the opaque green on the viewscreen as the water swallowed his lights at the limit of visibility. There were fish at these latitudes, hardy black sharks cruising on the fringes of the killing polar cold in which only the worms could live. They watched him curiously as he passed and their cold eyes glinted green and baleful in the glow of the floodlights. He remembered Valinda and the day she had saved his life with a well-aimed dart from the turret of Lejour’s submarine. He had been inspecting a reluctant worm at close quarters and had not seen the shark as it circled above him, waiting its chance. But Valinda had seen it and he had felt a sudden, slight concussion; looking up, he saw the brute writhing and snapping at the dart projecting from its belly; blood trailed crimson in the water and he had thrashed his frantic way back to the submarine where Valinda held him close for a long time.
He thought of Lejour’s face when he had seen him two days ago. The sudden shock of recognition and then a fear behind the Earthman’s eyes. Lejour had remembered the day of their last meeting, when they had settled up Skunder’s share of the contract price and the figure received by the Cantek had been exactly double what he had expected at the outset of the voyage. Lejour had made no demur about paying him Valinda’s share; Skunder would have thought it was conscience money except for his conviction that Lejour was not the man to have a conscience.
‘All yours, Cantek,’ he had said generously. ‘I’ll be in touch when I get the next contract lined up.’
Skunder had regarded him silently for a while, the money in his hand.. It would have been a pointless gesture to refuse it, so he merely said: ‘Don’t bother, Earthman. The next time you see me will be the last.’ It had sounded melodramatic at the time but he had seen Lejour’s eyes widen slightly, allowing the fear to peep out.
Skunder recalled himself to the present, adjusted the trim of the craft and skimmed just below the surface, raising the periscope. A rainbow blur of oil slid down the screen, cleared, and he could see Lejour’s berg, riding high before him. He altered course to leave it to starboard and retracted the periscope. After a few minutes he dived, circling back, moving in close to the jagged wall of ice. Soon, he saw the phosphorescent flank of the worm.
A tired worm, driven hard for many days, uneasy due to the unaccustomed blackness of the oil-blanketed water. Inside the berg, its flanks would be painful from the constant application of the scorching laser control.
It would be possible to persuade such a worm to leave the berg. A few well-placed mines about the rudimentary eyes ... He eased forward, following the vast segments of the body, moving towards the mouth. The glowing shape ended abruptly; a scattering of pilot fish darted about the region of the mouth, the little blue fish which followed the leviathans in order to feed from the spawn, in due course themselves becoming food for the growing worms. Skunder traversed the area, sizing up the most advantageous position for the mines behind that yawning mouth which filled the viewscreen. Suddenly he checked, throttled back and increased the magnification on the screen, his attention caught by a dark blob within the glowing mouth itself. The shape jumped into close-up, sleek; somehow patient and watchful.
Lejour’s submarine. Lurking within the very mouth, guarding the huge creature against just such an attack as Skunder envisaged. He wondered if Lejour himself was at the controls, but deemed it unlikely. In the time that he had worked for the Earthman, Skunder had never known Lejour to go below the surface; like most Earthmen, he was scared of the worm. He would have sent Alvo down.
Nevertheless, he had out-thought Skunder and the Cantek knew a moment of sick frustration. In order to plant the mines he would have to leave the submarine; he would be picked off easily by Alvo’s darts. For a while he patrolled to and fro outside the circumference of the mouth while the enemy craft twisted in sympathy, keeping him in the centre of its viewscreen.
A tell-tale light flashed on the control panel and Skunder dampened the miniature pile hastily; the reactor was beginning to overheat. He cursed Erkelen’s ramshackle equipment; this was the worst moment for a breakdown to occur. Lejour’s modern submarine, naturally, had automatic dampers. He cruised slowly away, around the rim of the mouth, followed by his watchful adversary. A dart clanged off his hull; a warning shot to remind him what the enemy could do if he tried to leave his craft to affix the mines.
He moved around the perimeter of the mouth, shadowed by the vigilant shape behind. He thought of Lejour on the surface of the berg, smiling grimly as the news of his futile attempt to cripple the worm was radioed back. He knew hate, frustrated and sickening.
And ahead, a ragged, star-shaped gash in the worm’s lip, legacy of a bygone mine injury ...
He veered away, his thoughts whirling, jetted a short distance into the open sea and turned, headed back, gained his bearings and stared at the scar as he approached.
Bergworms are long-lived, some make many voyages to and from the polar ice-caps ...
Again he saw Valinda swimming towards him, he saw the bright flash and the jagged wound, just there, just there...
And Lejour smiling into the radio receiver.
He dragged at the damper control. The warning light flickered.
He drove forward.
* * * *
Erkelens stood on the lip of the drifting berg, staring at the viscous sea; soon Rosskidd joined him.
‘I’ve sent a distress signal,’ said the mate. ‘It seems there’s a ship only a few miles away. They’ll pick us up before long. They complained a bit about having to detour through the oil, but I made it clear we were Earthmen.’
Erkelens glanced at him, then smiled bitterly.
‘What about the berg?’ resumed Rosskidd. ‘Do we just leave it here?’
‘The luck of the game. This one’s no use to anyone, now the worm’s dead. It’s not the sort of thing you can take in tow.’
‘That’s true...’ Rosskidd was watching Lejour’s berg as it moved steadily away. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, wondering.
Half a mile away, the glittering mass became suddenly indistinct, hazed with a corona of fine particles of snow and ice, refracting multi-coloured in the low sun. The sea around the base of the berg erupted slowly into incandescent spray.
‘Christ!’ whispered Rosskidd in awe. ‘He’s breaking up!’
As though struck from above with a giant cleaver the berg split down the centre, the halves rolling ponderously apart, and a vaulting spout of solid water leapt skywards from the widening gulf.
The rumble of a gigantic underwater explosion reached them, their berg trembled, they sat down abruptly in the snow and watched as the distant waterspout subsided and the sea quietened, became once more dark and sombre, the twin peaks of ice jutting from the viscous surface like tombstones.
Rosskidd glanced at the captain; his eyes held a frightened, unspoken query.
Erkelens nodded, ‘Skunder had some grudge,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what it was. Probably something which you or I wouldn’t understand, but the Canteks are a volatile race. Always fighting wars. I’m not sure we’ll ever get to the bottom of them.’
They stood together on the gently rocking berg for a long time, watching the enigmatic horizon. Eventually, night fell.
Erkelens strolled back to the dome, leaving his mate standing alone under the stony stars.
‘Where the hell is that ship?’ asked Rosskidd of the planet Cantek, irritably.