Robert Heinlein - Red Planet

It had simply been a nightmare, caused by the suggestion that Willis be taken away from him. They were planning to take Willis away from him! They couldn't do that; he wouldn't let them!

Again his dream shifted; again he defied Headmaster Howe; again he rescued Willis and fled-and again they were locked away in the heart of a desert plant.

He knew with bitter certainty that it would always end like this. This was the reality, to be trapped and smothering in the core of a hibernating giant weed-to die there.

He choked and muttered, tried to wake up, then slipped into a less intolerable dream.

Pursued

TINY PHOBOS, INNER moon of Mars, came out of eclipse and, at breakneck speed, flew west to east into the face of the rising Sun. The leisurely spin of its ruddy primary, twenty-four and a half hours for each rotation, presently brought the rays of that Sun to east Strymon, then across the bank of desert between the twin canals and to the banks of west Strymon. The rays struck a great ball perched near the eastern bank of that canal, a desert cabbage closed against the cold.

The plant stirred and unfolded. The sunward half of the plant opened flat to the ground; the other half fanned itself open like a spread peacock's tail to catch the almost horizontal rays. In so doing it spilled something out of its heart and onto the flat portion-two human bodies, twisted and stiff, clad garishly in elastic suits and grotesque helmets.

A tiny ball spilled out with them, rolled a few yards over the thick green leaves, and stopped. It extended eye stalks and little bumps of legs and waddled back to the sprawled bodies. It nuzzled up against one.

It hesitated, nuzzled again, then settled back and let out a thin wailing in which was compounded inconsolable grief and an utter sense of loss.

Jim opened one bloodshot eye. "Cut out that infernal racket," he said crossly.

Willis shrieked, "Jim boy!" and jumped upon his stomach, where he continued to bounce up and down in an ecstasy of greeting.

Jim brushed him off, then gathered him up in one arm. "Calm down. Behave yourself. Ouch!"

"What's the matter, Jim boy?"

"My arm's stiff. Ooo-ouch!" Further efforts had shown Jim that his legs were stiff as well. Also his back. And his neck.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Frank.

"Stiff as board. I'd do better to skate on my hands today. Say-"

"Say what?"

"Maybe we don't skate. I wonder if the spring floods have started?"

"Huh? What are you gibbering about?" Frank sat up, slowly and carefully.

"Why, the spring floods, of course. Somehow we lasted through the winter, though I don't know how. Now we-"

"Don't be any sillier than you have to be. Look where the Sun is rising."

Jim looked. Martian colonials are more acutely aware of (he apparent movements of the Sun than any Earthbound men, except, possibly, the Eskimos. All he said was, "Oh..." then added, "I guess it was a dream."

"Either that or you are even nuttier than usual. Let's get going." Frank struggled to his feet with a groan.

"How do you feel?"

"Like my own grandfather."

"I mean, how's your throat?" Jim persisted.

"Oh, it's all right." Frank promptly contradicted himself by a fit of coughing. By great effort he controlled it shortly; coughing while wearing a respirator is a bad idea. Sneezing is worse.

"Want some breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry now," Frank answered. "Let's find a shelter first, so we can eat in comfort."

"Okay." Jim stuffed Willis back into the bag, discovered by experiment that he could stand and walk. Noticing the flashlight, he tucked it in with Willis and followed Frank toward the bank. The canal vegetation was beginning to show; even as they walked the footing grew more tangled. The green plants, still stiff with night cold, could not draw away quickly as they brushed through them.

They reached the bank. "The ramp must be about a hundred yards off to the right," Frank decided. "Yep-I see it. Come on."

Jim grabbed his arm and drew him back. " 'Smatter?" demanded Frank.

"Look on up the canal, north."

"Hub? Oh!" A scooter was proceeding toward them. Instead of the two hundred fifty miles per hour or more that such craft usually make, this one was throttled down to a minimum. Two men were seated on top of it, out in the open.

Frank drew back hastily. "Good boy, Jim," he approved. "I was just about to walk right into them. I guess we had better let them get well ahead."

"Willis good boy, too," Willis put in smugly.

"Let them get ahead, my foot!" Jim answered. "Can't you see what they're doing?"

"Huh?"

"They're/allowing our tracks!"

Frank looked startled but did not answer. He peered cautiously out. "Look out!" Jim snapped. "He's got binoculars." Frank ducked back. But he had seen enough; the scooter had stopped at approximately the spot where they had stopped the night before. One of the men on top was gesturing through the observation dome at the driver and pointing to the ramp.

Canal ice was, of course, never cleaned of skate marks; the surface was renewed from time to time by midday thaws until me dead freeze of winter set in. However, it was unlikely that anyone but the two boys had skated over this stretch of ice, so far from any settlement, any time in months. The ice held scooter tracks, to be sure, but, like all skaters, Jim and Frank had avoided them in favor of untouched ice.

Now their unmistakable spoor lay for any to read from Cynia station to the ramp near them.

"If we head back into the bushes," Jim whispered. "We can hide until they go away. They'll never find us in this stuff."

"Suppose they don't go away. Do you want to spend another night in the cabbage?"

"They're bound to go away eventually."

"Sure but not soon enough. They know we went up the ramp; they'll stay and they'll search, longer than we can hold out. They can afford to; they've got a base."

"Well, what do we do?"

"We head south along the bank, on foot, at least as far as the next ramp."

"Let's get going, then. They'll be up the ramp in no time."

With Frank in the lead they dog-trotted to the south. The plants along the bank were high enough now to permit them to go under; Frank held a course about thirty feet in from the bank. The gloom under the spreading leaves and the stems of the plants themselves protected them from any distant observation.

Jim kept an eye out for snake worms and water-seekers and cautioned Willis to do likewise. They made fair time. After a few minutes Frank stopped, motioned for silence, and they both listened. All that Jim could hear was Frank's rasping breath; if they were being pursued, the pursuers were not close.

They were at least two miles south of the ramp when Frank stopped very suddenly. Jim bumped into him and the two almost tumbled into the thing that had caused Frank to stopanother canal. This one ran east and west and was a much narrower branch of the main canal. There were several such between Cynia and Charax. Some of them joined the east and west legs of Strymon canal; some merely earned water to local depressions in the desert plateau.

Jim stared down into the deep and narrow gash. "For the love of Mike! We nearly took a header."

Frank did not answer. He sank down to his knees, then sat and held his head. Suddenly he was overcome by a spasm of coughing. When it was over, his shoulders still shook, as if he were racked by dry sobs.

Jim put a hand on his arm. "You're pretty sick, aren't you, fellow?"

Frank did not answer. Willis said, "Poor Frank boy," and tut-tutted.

Jim stared again at the canal, his forehead wrinkled. Presently Frank raised his head and said, "I'm all right. It just got me for a moment-running into the canal and all and realizing it had us stopped. I was so tired."