Ivan Yefremov: The Heart of the Serpent

Afra Devi, the expedition’s biologist, called out to him from the diving board as he passed by. With her back to the water, she was pulling a bathing cap over her luxurious black hair. In the meantime Tey Eron came up to Afra on the springy plastic diving board and held out his muscular arm behind the girl’s back. She threw herself backward against Tey’s arm and for a fraction of a second was balanced there, then completed the turn around the arm and the two plunged down into the water, their tawny skins gleaming with that glint of bronze that only a healthy outdoor life can give. Kari’s eyes followed them.

“He’s forgotten all about me!” Taina cried, pressing the tips of her fingers against his eyes.

“But it was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Kari replied, drawing the girl to him and leading her into the first step of the dance as they entered the sound strip.

Kari and Taina were the best dancers on board. None of the others could abandon themselves so completely to melody and rhythm. Now too Kari was swept into the world of dance, oblivious to everything but the fascination of co-ordinated movement. The girl’s hand resting on his shoulder was at once strong and tender. Her green eyes deepened in colour.

“You are just like your name,” Kari whispered. “I believe in an ancient language Taina’ meant something mysterious, unfathomed.”

“I’m glad of that,” the girl replied gravely. “I had thought that the mysterious and unfathomed existed only in the Cosmos — that it didn’t apply to Earth any more. It certainly doesn’t to people — there’s nothing enigmatic or unpredictable about us.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes. I should like to meet someone like the people who lived in the distant past. Someone who has to hide his dreams and his feelings from a hostile environment, to steel his resolve in secret and to build up his will till nothing can shake it.”

“I see what you mean. But I wasn’t thinking of people — only of unfathomed secrets… The kind one reads about in ancient novels — mysterious ruins, unknown depths, un-attained heights. And before that there were enchanted forests and springs and haunted houses where all sorts of exciting supernatural things happened.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful, Kari, to find some secret passage on board…”

“Leading to some mysterious chambers where…”

“Yes, Kari, go on.”

“My imagination doesn’t go any further,” said the engineer.

But Taina had got into the spirit of the thing and she

pulled Kari after her into a dimly-lit side passage. The vibration indicators blinked wearily on the walls as if the ship itself was fighting an overpowering drowsiness. Taina tiptoed down the corridor a little way and then stopped. A shadow of boredom flitted over her face but was gone before Kari could be certain that he had really seen it. An unfamiliar emotion seized him and he took the girl’s hand again.

“Let’s go to the library,” he said. “I’ve still got two hours before my watch.”

She followed him obediently.

The library was a large common room with indirect lighting that created the illusion of a luminous mist floating under the ceiling. It was located immediately aft of the central control room, as was customary in all space ships. Kari and Taina opened the pressurized door of the third transverse passage and came to the double-doored elliptical hatchway of the central gallery. No sooner had Kari stepped on the bronze plate in front of it and caused the heavy leaves to slide open than the air grew vibrant with sound. Taina brightened.

“It’s Moot Ang,” she said, pressing Kari’s fingers.

They slipped into the library. There were three men in the room. The ship’s doctor, Svet Sim, and the stocky warp engineer Yas Tin, were ensconced in soft armchairs between the upright columns of the film cabinets, and to the left, the commander of the Tellur himself was bent over the keys of the EMV.

The EMV, or electromagnetic viono, had long replaced the harsh-toned piano of old, retaining the tonal wealth of the piano but imparting to it the melodious richness of the violin. Amplifiers could give the sounds it produced an amazing power.

Moot Ang was unaware of the newcomers. He sat, leaning forward slightly, his face lifted to the rhombic panels of the ceiling, his fingers running lightly over the keyboard. As in the old-time piano, every nuance of sound depended on the musician’s touch, although the sound itself was produced not by hammers striking strings but by delicate electronic impulses that might almost be compared to the nerve impulses of the human brain.

The music flowed in interweaving harmonies that spoke of the fusion of Earth and Cosmos. Presently the pattern broke, notes of wistful melancholy mingled with the rumble of a distant storm in a gradual crescendo of sound through which rang notes like cries of despair. The tension rose higher and higher until it reached the final cataclysmic burst that resolved itself in an avalanche of dissonances sliding down and down into a dark abyss of inconsolable grief for that which was gone for ever.

But suddenly pure clear notes of limpid joy rang out under Moot Ang’s fingers and merged with the gentle sadness of the accompaniment.

Just then the door opened and Afra Devi, who had changed into a white smock, slipped into the room and went over to Svet Sim. The doctor listened to her, then signed to the captain. The captain’s hands left the keyboard and silence broke the spell of the music as swiftly as the tropical night banishes day.

The captain left the room with the doctor followed by the worried glances of the others. Something most unusual had occurred — the second navigator had had an attack of acute appendicitis. He had evidently neglected to carry-out the full programme of medical preparation for the voyage. Now Dr. Sim had to ask the captain’s permission to operate without delay.

Moot Ang hesitated. Modern medicine, with its methods of regulating nervous activity in much the same way as the impulses were regulated in electronic devices, was able to cure a great many ailments. But the doctor insisted. He argued that although the condition could be cured at the moment, the enormous strain imposed on the organism by cosmic flight might cause a relapse.

The patient was placed on a wide operating table and enmeshed in a maze of wires leading to the thirty-six electronic devices that gave a complete picture of his condition. The hypnotic sleep-inducer blinked and hummed rhythmically in the darkened room. Dr. Sim read the instruments once more and nodded to Afra Devi. It was her job to assist the doctor. Each member of the crew, besides being an expert in some branch of science, was trained for some particular shipboard duty — servicing the ship’s mechanisms, taking care of the feeding arrangements, and so on.

Afra brought out a transparent vessel filled with a bluish liquid. In it lay a segmented metal device resembling a good-sized centipede. Afra took out the device and from another vessel she extracted a conical-shaped instrument attached to some long fine tubes. A light click and the metallic centipede came to life with a barely audible whirr.

Svet Sim nodded and the apparatus was inserted in the patient’s mouth. Moot Ang moved closer to the semi-transparent screen which had been placed at an angle over the sick man’s abdomen. In the greenish glow of the screen the grey contours of the internal organs and the segmented metal device making its way down the alimentary canal were clearly visible. In a little while its blunt end was pressed against the base of the appendix.

With the apparatus pressing in the area of inflammation the pain increased and sedatives had to be administered to counteract the convulsions that appeared in the intestines. In a few minutes the data processor had completed the diagnosis and recommended the antibiotics and disinfectants needed. The metallic centipede inserted its long flexible feelers deep into the appendix and sucked out the pus and the alien bodies that had caused the inflammatory process. This was followed by a vigorous irrigation with biological solutions which quickly restored the mucous membranes of the appendix and the adjoining intestine to normal.