can’t be putting out evenly! Anyway, it hit me like a rock. I doubt you’d be interested in details.”
“I wouldn’t,” Duomart agreed. “I’m crawly enough as it is up here. I wish we were through with this!”
“With just a little luck we should be off the planet in an hour.”
By the time he could hear the lapping of the lake water on the wind, he was aware of the growing pulse of Hovig’s generator ahead of him, alive and malignant in the night. Then the Fleet scout came into the glasses, a squat, dark ship, its base concealed in the growth that had sprung up around it after it piled up on the slope. Dasinger moved past the scout, pushing through bushy aromatic shrubbery which thickened as he neared the water. He felt physically sick and sluggish now, was aware, too, of an increasing reluctance to go on. He would need more of the drug before attempting to enter the Antares.
To the west, the sky was partly clear, and presently he saw the wreck of the Dosey Asteroid raider loom up over the edge of the lake arm, blotting out a section of stars. Still beyond the field of the glasses, it looked like an armored water animal about to crawl up on the slopes. Dasinger approached slowly, in foggy unwillingness, emerged from the bushes into open ground, and saw a broad ramp furred with a thick coat of mold-like growth rise steeply towards an open lock in the upper part of the Antares. The pulse of the generator might have been the beating of the maimed ship’s heart, angry and threatening. It seemed to be growing stronger. And had something moved in the lock? Dasinger stood, senses swimming sickly, dreaming that something huge rose slowly, towered over him like a giant wave, leaned forwards. . . .
“Still all right?” Duomart inquired.
The wave broke.
“Dasinger! What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Dasinger said, his voice raw. He looked at the empty injector in his hand, dropped it. “But something nearly did! The kwil I took wasn’t enough. I was standing here waiting to let that damned machine swamp me when you spoke.”
“You should have heard what you sounded like over the communicator! I thought you were . . .” her voice stopped for an instant, began again. “Anyway,” she said briskly, “you’re loaded with kwil now, I hope?”
“More than I should be, probably.” Dasinger rubbed both hands slowly down along his face. “Well, it couldn’t be