In the thrilling conclusion to “The Metamorphic Men of Venus,” Commander Niksin Kyboc and Dr. Demetria Palaeologina learn the ancient secrets of Venus, the Planet of Mystery…
3. Escape on Venus!
Though shrouded by leagues of thick, humid, foggy Venusian atmosphere, the heat of the blistering Sun smote the two intrepid League explorers like a blowtorch. And yet the Sun had only just risen; as soon as the myriad sounds of night had stopped — gradually diminishing until they vanished altogether — Niksin Kyboc and Demetria Palaeologina had their gear ready and the durite dome collapsed into its lightweight, portable canister.
It was impossible to set out during the nighttime, of course, but they managed to set out as early as possible. Occasionally, the Sun’s rays filtered with unabated strength through rents in the clouds that were low on the horizon; sunrise and sunset were the only times of day when the phenomenon happened on Venus — glaring red rays of sunlight that washed over the eerie jungle, painting it a lurid red where the light wasn’t completely absorbed by the black vegetation. But, mercifully, the phenomenon only lasted for a score of minutes — at best.
Now, they were trudging through the steamy jungle, practically swimming through the humid air (there was actually enough moisture in the air of the Venusian low country to keep one buoyant, a useful feature in conjunction with the slightly lesser gravity), and struggling to lift their sodden boots from the reeking muck on the jungle floor.
“The water-table’s not too deep around here,” Kyboc muttered disgustedly, to no one in particular, “scarcely an inch below the level of the ground, I’d say.”
Demetria grunted something noncommittal, and continued hacking her way through the jungle with a League-issued machete — with the durite dome, the one indispensable field gear component on Venus.
“We haven’t much further to go — I’d almost reached the place yesterday, and I recognize that thrashing Yog tree over there.”
She was excited — and growing more so every minute. Kyboc could tell by the way her eyes glinted, and the flushed, expectant look on her face. Funny, he thought, how he’d already begun to recognize the little quirks of her mannerisms and personality.
“Well, don’t get your undies all twisted in a pretzel, sister…we’re almost there. Anything there’s been waiting for half a million years or whatever — it can wait a few more minutes for Dr. Demetria Palaeologina.”
She was eagerly hoisting herself up onto a low hummock or mound that sat in the middle of a circular clearing or “meadow” in the midst of the jungle; it wasn’t much of a vantage point, but it beat trying to climb a tree — you just never knew when a tree might take offense and pay you back in kind on Venus.
“Oh, Niksin dear! I think I can see something…yes, there’s something white and shining away over in the trees — ”
That’s when all hell broke loose.
He just had time to hear her startled scream of terror, and look up suddenly, when he saw something that caused his heart to drop clear down to his stomach and park its ass there for what seemed like an eternity.
It looked like the biggest goddamned gaping maw of snapping viciousness he’d ever seen had suddenly erupted from the ground and swallowed Demetria whole — what they’d taken to be a clearing turned out to be the submerged lair of some unclassified, nameless Venusian nightmare.
Goddamn it to hell, Kyboc! That was careless — damned careless, he thought.
Time enough for recriminations later.
He needed to act — and quickly.
Demetria had been sucked into its maw without a struggle — that probably saved her. No time to masticate her into little pieces; he could still hear her screaming and struggling inside its belly. Meanwhile, a flailing forest of swaying, whipping tendrils was palpitating the air above the monster into a hurricane whirlwind; the thing’s reflexive, thigmotropic reaction to prey, he assumed — it must’ve thought it had bagged something much larger than a petite human female.
He couldn’t say just what it was, of course, not with the adrenaline pumping and his mind racing to plot out a course of action; it looked like one of the myriad quasi-vegetable, semi-animal things that constituted the combined flora-fauna of Venus. It was armed with motile tentacles, clearly made of plant materials and durable bark, but supplied with the weird vegetal approximation to muscle tissue that all plants on Venus possessed. And huge “teeth” made of a dentin-like extrusion of the plant’s outer integument; it was probably something in the family Crinoideae — a Groundmaw, in spaceman’s jargon.
That meant it didn’t have a very powerful digestive equipment. That was good; Demetria could be down there for days without feeling any ill effects from the sluggish digestive juices. Not that he had any intention of leaving her down there for days — he had time to grin at that. He loved the broad, no question about it; still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to leave her down there for a few days — it might curb her hubris, after all, and if anyone needed domestication it was Dr. Demetria Palaeologina.
This was good — humorous thoughts meant the crisis had passed, and she was out of immediate danger. He had time to act.
Niksin Kyboc whipped out his N-ray pistol, and shouted to Demetria: “Hang on honey, I’ll have you out of there in a minute! And take notes while you’re down there — we might not have another chance to see the living insides of a Groundmaw anytime soon.”
He adjusted the pistol to its needle-beam setting, and calmly commenced sawing off the monster’s flailing tentacles, one by one. Only then could he get close enough to the thing to begin the really delicate work.
“Can you move over to your left a little, honey?” he shouted over the din of the monster’s snapping teeth.
He was answered by a shrill screaming.
“If you can’t, that’s okay — but it would sure help, sister.”
He aimed the pistol at a certain point a little underneath one of the snapping jaws and squeezed the trigger; a bluish-purple pencil of electromagnetic energy played out on the targeted organ — which looked like nothing more than an orange-red discoloration on the monster’s bilious “skin” — and in an instant had burned the thing to a shriveled, blackening cinder. Suddenly, the snapping jaws stopped; and the whole monstrosity seemed to visibly blacken and collapse in upon itself, like a deflated balloon.
Kyboc holstered the N-ray gun, and wrenched apart the huge jaws — a surprisingly difficult feat, considering that the Groundmaw was now thoroughly dead.
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