The story of space-explorers Niksin Kyboc and Dr. Demetria Palaeologina, marooned in the hostile jungles of Venus, continues in the second part of “The Metamorphic Men of Venus.”
2. A Plan is Hatched
They sat within the hemispherical shelter of the collapsible durite dome—a comfortable, domestic scene entirely incongruous with their surroundings. The durite dome was the interplanetary explorer’s best friend, and—according to Kyboc, at least—hands down the greatest invention to come out of the crash research program instituted by the League in the earliest days of planetary exploration. Without it, the exploration of Venus would be impossible.
Outside, they could hear the strange, uncanny noises of a Venusian jungle at night: the cries of weird, unrecorded creatures; the screams of some huge thing being killed and eaten by God-alone-knew-what awful predator; and the deep boom of distant volcanoes creating new landmasses somewhere in the outer reaches of the archipelago.
Niksin Kyboc reclined comfortably and without the least mark of concern—the fearsome noises notwithstanding—upon his pack; his atmospheric filtration helmet was beside him, forming a convenient armrest as he scooped out mouthfuls of rehydrated gruel from a tin of the awful, tasteless stuff. Here, inside the durite dome, it was possible to remove the filtration helmet—but it was the only place. Anywhere else on Venus, you couldn’t be without the damned stuffy, uncomfortable thing, and for a very good reason: one good lungful of pure Venusian air, and the legions of microorganisms, protistans, and swarming animalculae and infusoria would invade your tissues, and simultaneously eat you alive and colonize you with their offspring.
It was a hell of a way to go, and Kyboc, of all people, should know—he’d seen more than a few of his comrades buy the farm in that damned horrible fashion. Only in the settlement camp of Eotia Hesperia, on the North Polar high plateau of Ishtar Terra—the only continent on Venus—was it possible to go habitually without the helmet.
Up there in the cold high country life wasn’t half bad…up above the fog and the mist and the miserable tiny monsters that saturated the very air you breathed. It was the closest Venus came to a polar waste—it felt like being in the middle of the Florida Everglades after a rainstorm just let up and the Sun’s come out shining, its hot rays beating down on your back and turning the whole stinking swamp into a steam-bath.
Sure, but that was heaven compared to most places on Venus. Well, they certainly weren’t in Eotia, not by a long shot, but the quiet interior of the durite dome wasn’t such a terrible facsimile thereof. And being cooped up in close quarters with the pretty little doctor—yeah, Kyboc could think of far worse places to be.
Dr. Demetria Palaeologina had already finished her tin of gruel, and was lying on her side near the captain, her head propped up on one slim hand as she sipped at a flavored nutrient drink. She was studying the other occupant of the dome through her long, dark lashes; like her comrade, she’d removed the filtration helmet the first chance she got, revealing those beautiful, dark features for which she was justly famous in Eotia and everywhere else in the System.
Her dark eyes and olive skin betrayed her Greek heritage; but there was no mistaking her unique mélange of racial influences, that genetic cocktail whose curious and unpredictable interplay conspired to lend her that mysterious and exotic beauty that was a sort of hallmark of the aristocratic Palaeologi—an ancient race whose cosmopolitan pedigree was a testament to a long and remarkable family career. For instance, there was that slight tilt to her eyes and the vanishing traces of epicanthic folds that spoke to an Oriental admixture from the days of Attila and the Battle of Châlons; or the proud, straight nose and regular features that betrayed the presence of aristocratic Roman blood, of the gens Anicia—an heirloom from the age of Constantine or Theodosius; or the gold-tinted curls of hair that spilled in tight ringlets upon her shoulders, attesting to numberless ancient Byzantine foremothers either raped by Viking reavers or romanced by Varangian mercenaries…take your pick.
Yes, she was beautiful—and Kyboc returned that flattering stare of hers with one of his own, a look of frank admiration and appraisal that finally drove her to blush hotly and look quickly away. Damn it to hell!—she was a beautiful woman but she was something else, too. She was a goddamned pain in the ass, and he let her know it.
“What in God’s name were you doing out here, girl?” he barked, throwing the emptied tin onto the loamy earth. It made a dull, hollow sound as it settled into the clayey soil.
For a moment, she seemed surprised by the question— almost hurt, almost offended by it. Then she flushed again—only this time for an entirely different reason than before.
“Captain! But I thought you knew? You signed my papers; you requisitioned an atomic jet transport—I told you then. I’ve found what I was looking for, captain, evidence of a civilization, and I’m certain it’s—”
“Can it, doctor,” he cut in, abruptly. He fished a cheap, League-issued cigarette out of a pocket, swiftly lit it, and inhaled a deep draught of the nasty, low-grade stuff.
“That’s bunk and you know it. I gave you permission to make a short reconnaissance; you were to scout out the areas you mentioned in your briefing, make an aerial map, and return immediately to Eotia. I never said a goddamned thing about you making a landing and continuing on your own; and you know damn well I never would have agreed to the thing had you proposed it.”
For the third time, Dr. Palaeologina flushed, and dropped those dark, beautiful eyes, unable to meet his hard stare.
“What happened to your jetcraft, doctor? That’s an expensive piece of League equipment; it can’t be easily replaced, and our supply lines are short out here on Venus, as you know— or should know.”
This last he muttered under his breath.
She sat up a little further, supporting herself on an elbow, and her downcast look was suddenly replaced by that superior, aristocratic smile that she could work to such marvelous effect— a family heirloom, presumably.
“Yes, I crashed it, captain— no, let me finish, please. I fell victim to that same pack of vicious aerial predators that you did—yes, I did see you crack up, captain, thank you very much. That’s why I came across you when I did; I was working my way across the island to render you assistance—which I think I did pretty admirably, don’t you agree?
“Now wait just a moment, captain. My transponder was damaged in the crash, and I am deeply grateful that you came looking for me; though I must say I was more than a little surprised (but flattered?—certainly not!) to learn that the great Captain Niksin Kyboc—sole recipient of the Golden Starburst, the Interplanetary League’s highest medal, and august senior commander of our expedition—had come alone to seek out such an insignificant junior officer as myself—”
Now it was Kyboc’s turn to flush, faintly, which—with a veiled smile — Dr. Palaeologina pretended not to notice.
“—but in any case, it was damaged, and there was precious little I could do. I’m not one to sit around and waste time lamenting my misfortunes, captain, and so I decided to undertake an investigation of the island—which, after all, was my whole purpose in coming here, even if I did end up making an awful mess of things. And…well, you’ll never believe it, captain, but I think I’ve found something remarkable! I know you’re familiar with my theories, and I think I may even venture to say you subscribe to them as well, but I discovered out there a—”
“Of all the damned fool woman things to do!” he roared, cutting her off deliberately, and flicking the spent cigarette into the soft earth, where he stamped it out viciously.
He was in a foul mood, sure, and maybe he was being a little harsh on the girl; but he had no intention of hearing her out, no sir—after all, he had a feeling that what she was about to say would be pretty goddamned interesting, and that all his carefully prepared righteous indignation would collapse like the hull of a meteor-struck space freighter once she got going on about her favorite pet theories, and started to win him over. The fact is, he was familiar with her theories, and after she’d come to him with her crazy proposal, he’d carefully read and reread the published papers, theses, and books she’d written over the years—what’s more, he’d found them to be brilliant, damned brilliant, and though he’d never tell her so, he was already an enthusiastic and committed supporter of her ideas; a disciple, you might even say, though that’s a word he’d never use.
He was a little surprised himself at just how quickly he’d been converted; he chalked it up to his longstanding dissatisfaction with the prevailing xeno-archaeological theories and research. Most of it was stinking bunk, and damned if this girl didn’t know it; better yet, she’d glimpsed something of the truth, and she had the brains and the guts to go out and seek it in its own element—no matter how goddamned ugly the thing might be.
But he was in no mood to let her off the hook; besides, it wouldn’t do for a junior officer to feel that a commanding officer was her intellectual adherent, no matter how goddamned brilliant she might be—and the fact that she’d already recognized that this might be the case didn’t make him feel any better about it.
Not one damn bit.
“Is that what this is all about, captain?” She was angry now, no doubt about it; and that defiant flash in her eyes portended something dangerous.
“Is this just a chance for you to vent your spiteful misogyny on me? Damn you Interplanetary men, with your medals and your laurels and your swollen egos! I’m appalled, captain—I thought you, of all people, understood! Niksin—” she was a little startled herself at the sudden familiarity “—there’s a prodigious mystery on this planet—I can feel it! There’s a discovery to be made, and it’s here, on this island; I know you don’t think my theories are foolish—no, don’t pretend you do, because then I know you would be lying, and my estimation of you would fall enormously.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say something cutting and negatory; but—and even he wasn’t quite sure why—he chose not to utter it.
“Niksin, listen to me! In the morning, we can reach the southern peninsula—it’s not far from here. I’d almost reached it, when I saw you crack up in the air. But I’m sure I saw something there from my jetcraft…I don’t know what I saw, exactly, but I think it might be vestiges of some sort of structure—even a city, maybe. If I’m right, then it means there is a cultural horizon on Venus that’s utterly alien to the fish-men civilization…”
“That’s out of the question, doctor.”
She started to protest, but he cut her off again.
“No, doctor!—and that’s the final word. Now you listen to me—this place is unexplored, its dangers are unknown, and we’re going to make ready for the arrival of the rescue force—”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” she interrupted.
“Is this the same man who spent thirteen days alone on the Ishtarian Ocean? The same man who was two days inside the belly of a gnoorm? And afterwards managed to repair his space capsule and get back into orbit after everyone had long since left him for dead? I can scarcely believe this is the great ‘Hero of Venus,’ whose burnished statue stands on the lawn of the League Headquarters…”
“Can that stuff, doctor!”
Yeah, he was pissed. Some of what she’d said had cut deep; beautiful women have a way of doing that.
“This may come as a surprise to you, girl, but you don’t survive on Venus by being stupid, and traipsing about an unknown jungle chasing lost civilizations definitely counts as stupid in my book. That’ll do, sister—I’m in command of this expedition, and that means you answer to me, not the other way around.”
There was nothing left to say. Demetria knew she was licked; or, at least, that she’d lost the present skirmish, and decided it was a sounder strategy to let the subject drop for the time being.
It was high time they turned in, so they wriggled into their condensible thermal bags (more to keep out the damp than for warmth), flicked off the solar lamps, and tried to catch a few winks—which was no easy thing, given the day’s excitement and the interminable, disquieting sounds of a Venusian night.
They had a long day ahead of them.
As they were lying on the soft, loamy earth, waiting in vain for sleep to steal upon them, Kyboc kept thinking about all the things Demetria had said to him. And it just didn’t sit right with him, leaving things the way they were.
“You know, doctor,” he whispered, “I do have to hand it to you—you’ve got a damned lot of spunk in you, and you’re courageous as hell. Don’t you ever let me or anyone else beat that out of you, girl—it’s a brave thing you’ve done, coming out here to chase a theory…damned fool theory though it might be. It’s an admirable quality, and it’s why I let you come out here in the first place—though God knows I regret that.
“Oh, and, uh…thanks again for saving my keester. Can’t say that enough, I guess.”
Demetria smiled in the darkness; she was quiet, but her heart was dancing and shouting to the rafters. She didn’t credit that rot about her “damned fool theory” for an instant; the man wasn’t nearly so opaque as he fancied himself to be.
Yes, sir—she could read him like a book. Call it a second sight among the Palaeologus1 women: they had an instinct about their men, and it never played them false. And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that, whether he knew it or not, Niksin Kyboc was hers.
He was crazy about her, no question about it. And that was okay with her.
The feeling was perfectly mutual.
“You know, captain,” she finally whispered back, “I’ve read your book about a hundred times. Hands down—it’s my favorite. Carry it with me wherever I go; right now, it’s sitting on my desk back in my quarters in Eotia. You see, I would’ve brought it along out here—only, I didn’t have enough room.”
“No,” he said, after a space, “I didn’t know that.”
“Actually, it’s a signed copy. You probably don’t know that, either. I was just a silly post-graduate working on my doctorate at the University in Germania when you came back from Venus; Lord, I couldn’t wait to see you, the conquering hero freshly returned from an alien world. I was waiting for you when you toured the University; you must’ve thought I was just another silly little schoolgirl—Lord knows, you’d have been right. You shook my hand—oh, how thrilling that was!—and you said to me: ‘Young lady, this is some damn fine work you’re doing here—the boys and I are deeply grateful for everything you’ve done to help us conquer the planets!’ Oh, those were the finest words any man had spoken to a young, starstruck girl like me! Then I handed you the book, you signed it, and you were out of my life…forever, as I feared.”
This last she whispered, so that he barely caught it.
“Well, captain…I was hooked! No doubt about it. I completed my work, double-time; I wrote my papers and theses like the perfect egghead I was, received my doctorate, and applied for the League Science Directorate. And I made damned sure I was assigned to the Venusian Exploratory Expedition of 1985, one Captain Niksin Kyboc commanding.”
“And here we are, Niksin—sleeping together in a durite dome on an unexplored island on Venus. Ain’t life grand?”
They sat in silence for a while.
Finally: “Hey doc—you asleep?”
“No, Niksin…I’ve just been thinking.”
“Yeah…me too. I’ve got an idea, girl—a damned fool idea, but those are usually the best ones. Want to hear it?”
“Of course, dear.”
Funny, that—how little terms of endearment had crept into their conversation, and neither thought to question it or even consciously notice it.
“What do you say we head out tomorrow morning and see if we can’t find that lost city of yours?”
“That’s a perfectly wonderful idea, darling.”
There was another space of silence; it dragged on uncomfortably, loud with possibilities and unspoken questions. Then Niksin felt the girl’s warm body squirm into his thermal bag and press against his; no invitation had been extended, and none was needed. They were no longer superior and subordinate, commanding officer and junior officer, famous explorer and zealous scientist—they were just man and woman. And that was okay with them.
And even with the terrifying noises outside, and the dreadful predicament they were in, with the uncertainty of sure succor and the grim possibility of any one of a thousand ghastly deaths hanging over them — yes, even with all that, it was the best night of their lives.
[Join us in the next issue of The Florilegium for the thrilling conclusion to “The Metamorphic Men of Venus.”]
“Palaeologina,” it’s worth pointing out, is simply the feminine form of the very ancient and illustrious Greek name of Palaeologus—which happens to be the name of the last dynasty of Byzantine emperors, as well as that of a distinguished family of explorers and scientists in the Interplanetary League.