Alien Emergencies - James White [162]
Suddenly the thorn patches and everything else disappeared behind a dark-brown curtain of sand and a gust of wind punched him in the back, knocking him to his knees. He tried to get to his feet but an eddy blew him onto his side. Half crawling and half running, he headed back toward the wreck, although by then he had no clear idea where it was. The storm-driven sand was hissing so loudly against his helmet that he could barely hear Dodds’ voice.
“My sensors show you heading toward the thorns, Doctor,” the Astrogator said urgently. “Turn right about one hundred ten degrees and the wreck is about three hundred meters distant.”
Fletcher was outside the cargo hatch with his suit spotlight turned to maximum power to guide him in. The Captain pushed him through the hatch and closed it behind him. The crash had warped the hatch so that sand continued to blow in around the edges, except near the bottom where it came through in a steady trickle.
“Within a few minutes the outside of the hatch will be sealed by a sand drift,” Fletcher said without looking at Conway. “It will be difficult for our cannibal to get in. Dodds will spot it on the sensors anyway and I’ll have time to take the necessary steps.”
Conway shook his head and said, “We’ve nothing to worry about except the wind, sand, and thorn patches.” Silently he added, If that wasn’t enough.
The Captain grunted and began climbing through the hatch leading to the corridor, and Conway crawled after him. But it was not until Fletcher slowed to pass the leaking hydraulic reservoir, which was steaming very faintly now, that Conway spoke.
“Is there anything else bothering you, Captain?”
Fletcher stopped and for the first time in over an hour looked directly at the Doctor. He said, “Yes, there is. That creature in the Control Deck bothers me. Even in the hospital, what can you do for it, a multiple amputee? It will be completely helpless, little more than a live specimen for study. I’m wondering if it would not be better just to let the cold take it and—”
“We can do a great deal for it, Captain,” Conway broke in, “if we can get it safely through the night. Weren’t you listening to Murchison, Prilicla, and me discussing the case?”
“Yes and no, Doctor,” Fletcher said, moving forward again. “Some of it was quite technical, and you might as well have been talking untranslated Kelgian so far as I was concerned.”
Conway laughed quietly and said, “Then I had better translate.”
The alien vessel had released its distress beacon, he explained, not because of a technical malfunction but because of serious illness on board which had affected the entire crew. Presumably the least affected crew members were on duty on the Control Deck while the rest were confined to their hammocks. It was still not clear why the ship had to put down on a planet. Possibly there were physiological reasons why a planetary gravity or atmosphere was needed, or maybe the weightless conditions on board aggravated the condition and they could not provide artificial gravity by using their thrusters because the crew were fast losing consciousness. Whatever the reason they had made an emergency landing on Trugdil. There were much better landing sites on the planet, but their degree of urgency must have been extreme and they had landed here.
Conway broke off as they entered the Control Deck because Murchison was high above them closing the personnel hatch. She said, “Don’t let me interrupt you, but now that we will be using the cutting torches in a confined space, I’m going to take the patient off pure oxygen. It seems to be breathing easily now. Would one part oxygen to four inert be suitable, Doctor?”
“Fine,” Conway said. “I’ll help you.”
The hissing of sand against the outer hull rose suddenly and the whole ship seemed to lurch sideways. There