Robert Silverberg: Planet of Death

Crawford put the bottle to his lips and helped himself.

Then he said, “You didn’t invite me here just to drink up your liquor, Doc. What’s on your mind?”

“Captain Hendrin’s on my mind.”

“Eh?”

Fernandez said, “Grover’s death this afternoon could have been avoided—if we had left this planet yesterday. I don’t know how you feel about this, Markham. You’re new to the team. The rest of us have been together a long time, and Grover’s death hurt us. It hurt us hard. So we’ve got a plan. You want me to tell you about it, or should I just stop talking right here?”

“Go on talking,” Crawford said.

“Okay. You know about the replacement clause in the rules? We can replace the Captain with another member of the crew, if we feel the Captain isn’t capable of commanding.”

“Of course,” said Crawford. “That’s true on any ship. If the top officer isn’t fit to run things, he’s got to be replaced.”

“Well, then,” Fernandez went on. “Some of us—mainly Bartlett, Murray, and me—have decided that we ought to leave this planet. It’s for our own good. We aren’t equipped for a world like this. It’s suicide to keep wandering around on foot in that jungle. This ought to be a three-ship job, with armored tanks and heavy guns. You were the first one of us to be attacked by native wildlife. You know what it’s like.”

“You bet I do.”

“In my position as doctor,” Fernandez said, “I can declare that Hendrin is temporarily insane. It’s legal for me to do that. We’ll remove him from command and put him down below, where he can’t interfere with things. And we’ll get off World Seven. But I won’t do it unless a majority of the men support me. That’s why I have to know where you stand, Markham.”

Crawford frowned. “It sounds like mutiny to me.”

“No. Legal removal of a temporarily insane commander is not mutiny. And we’ll all die if we stay here much longer. Well, Markham? Are you with us?”

Grinning, Crawford said, “Of course I am! I like staying alive just as much as the next man!”

The next day, Crawford heard nothing further about Fernandez’s plan. Maybe Fernandez was waiting until he had everyone on his side, Crawford thought.

So far as he knew, four of the surviving men were in favor of replacing Hendrin: Fernandez, Murray, Bartlett, and himself. Only one man—Lazenby—seemed willing and eager to remain on World Seven for more exploration. The other three—Chung, Evans, and Dorwin—hadn’t said anything either way, at least not to Crawford. But he had a good idea which side they would join. None of them seemed likely to want to remain on a suicide world like this.

All day long Crawford expected Fernandez to make his move. Nothing happened, though. Captain Hendrin was still in charge.

The day after that, the field pairings were shifted around. Instead of going out into the jungle with Lazenby, Crawford went out this time with Chung.

It seemed that Chung wanted to get a close look at the rock formations of the jungle. He asked to be teamed with someone who could cope with the jungle’s dangers. Captain Hendrin teamed him with Crawford. Lazenby was shifted over to work with Bartlett. Murray took Dorwin, the chemist, up in the helicopter with him in place of Chung.

The death of Grover had upset the balance of the teams. Before, there had been four two-man teams out and two men back guarding the ship. But now three two-men teams went out to explore, and three men stayed back at the ship.

Chung and Crawford went east from the ship. Lazenby and Bartlett took another path not far away. The jungle was so thick that neither team could see the other.

Crawford felt uneasy in the jungle without Lazenby. Chung wasn’t very talkative. The geologist was a round-faced man with yellow skin and black hair. As they moved through the jungle, Chung collected samples of rocks and soil. Crawford tried to pretend that he too was doing scientific work. Without Lazenby to help him, though, he didn’t get much done. He wondered if Chung would guess the truth about him.

About half an hour after they set out, Crawford heard a human voice yelling somewhere to his left.

Chung was bent over, prying a shining white stone from the ground. Crawford said, “Did you hear that?”

“Sorry, no. What was it? An animal cry?”

“An animal? Nope! That sounded like Lazenby, and I’ll bet he’s in trouble!”

Just then another cry came from the same place. “Come on,” Crawford said. “Let’s see what’s going on!”

He swung around and began to head in the direction of the sounds. In this part of the jungle thick vines hung down everywhere, slowing him down. He had to slash his way with his knife. Chung followed him.

“Lazenby!” Crawford yelled. “Lazenby, are you all right? Where are you?”

After a moment came Bartlett’s voice, quite close. “It’s all right. We don’t need your help.”

Crawford slowed up. He caught sight of Bartlett about twenty feet away, standing near some giant ferns. Crawford made his way over to the other man, with Chung right behind.

Bartlett was looking down at the ground. Lazenby was lying there.

The little biologist was sprawled out on his stomach. He looked dead. Crawford felt chilled with sadness. Lazenby was the one who was most deeply interested in searching the jungle for its secrets. And now—had some jungle creature killed him—?

“What happened?” Crawford asked.

Bartlett looked pale and nervous. He said, “I don’t know. Something sprang at him from the tree up there, and he fell over. I couldn’t see what it was. Look, why don’t you and Chung run back to the ship and tell the others? I’ll watch the body.”

“Wait a minute,” Crawford said. “Wait a minute!”

He pointed to Lazenby’s body. The “corpse” was trying to sit up! Lazenby moved his legs, then his arms. He succeeded in turning himself over. He stared at Crawford with eyes that were becoming glassy.

There was a deep, bloody knife wound in Lazenby’s chest.

“Bartlett’s lying!” Lazenby whispered hoarsely. “It wasn’t any animal that got me. It was Bartlett. He knifed me … the way he did the other one … because I was going to tell you …”

“Tell me what?” Crawford asked eagerly.

But it was too late. Lazenby slumped over. He clutched at the wounded place. His face was filled with agony. The effort of speaking had been too much for him. Lazenby fell forward.

“He’s dead,” Crawford said. He balled his hands into fists. His closest friend in the expedition was dead—and Bartlett had murdered him!

Bartlett moved his foot. Now Crawford saw the knife that Bartlett had been hiding beneath his boot all this time. It was a long, wicked, blood-smeared knife. It was the knife that had killed Lazenby.

Crawford had seen a knife like that before. It looked just like the knife that the Vellirani had been killed with! The knife that had been found in his own hand!

Quickly Bartlett bent down and grabbed the knife. He gripped it tightly. Chung started to back away into the jungle, frightened. Bartlett beckoned to him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said. “Stay right where you are, Chung!”

Crawford said, “What is all this, Bartlett? You killed Lazenby, didn’t you?”

“Sure I did. And you had to be right nearby, of course. You had to get here before he died. Before I had a chance to dump his body in that pool of acid. You had to hear everything. Well, now I’ll just have to kill you too. And Chung.”

He moved forward with the knife.

Crawford didn’t dare go for his gun. Bartlett was too close to him. One false move, and that knife would be deep in his ribs. As for Chung, he was frozen with fear. He couldn’t move at all.