now, for the first time, he began to realize how great had been his dependence on them, especially during captivity. He was utterly, terrifyingly alone, and life had become intolerable. He wanted to die.
And yet, as he huddled in apathy, half suffocated by his mother's inert bulk, he became dully aware of two things. The first was a slightly dizzying sensation of lightness and a lessening of the oppressive weight upon him. The second was the sighing sound he had heard earlier, now increased to the proportions of a vast, low whistle. The ship was falling—and falling more freely with each passing moment!
Deep-seated instinct, touched by that sudden realization, prompted him to struggle free of the ponderous mass above him. The whistling sound was very loud now and more piercing. And the sensation of falling was becoming excruciating, as if the deck under him were about to be snatched away altogether at any moment. That deck was metal-hard and cold; he longed for the sanctuary of his mother's belly.
Instead, he leaped for her broad back, feeling the need for contact as much as for cushioning. But he jumped too high, having failed to allow for his reduced weight, and rolled off awkwardly on the far side. The outside air was shrieking against the hull now. He was clambering giddily from his dead mother's great flank out onto the expanse of her back, when sight and sound and all other sensation ended in the world-shattering crash.
9
His first returning awareness was of pain. Every bone in his body obtruded its soreness into his reluctant brain; every muscle told of unmerciful strain and bruising. He yearned to retreat into unconsciousness, but there was something else that would not let him. Thoughts! A confusion of strange thoughts from the minds of many men. Danger!
Arousing, he found himself lying on the cold metal deck. Apparently he had slid or rolled from his mother's back, after her resilient flesh had absorbed enough of the fearful shock to save his life. Above him, the ship had split asunder, showing a dusky sky through the fissure, and along the visible side were half a dozen other gaping holes. Through them, a cold wind was blowing, and beyond them, the ground showed strangely white. Against that whiteness, dark figures moved about. As he looked, a beam of light lanced out from one of the openings and swung across the deck, passing close to him and fixing on his mother's great body. In a spasm of movement, avoiding the splash of light, he scuttled under her, pressed upward into the folds of her belly and clung there, quiveringly still.
Shouted words rang hollowly in the chamber, bounced at crazy angles from the twisted bulkheads and became hopelessly garbled. Not that they could mean anything to the ezwal. But the thought behind them was clear, and the man's mind which formed it held vast relief. "Everything's all right, Commander! It's dead!" There was an odd, shuffling sound, then the stamping of several pairs of feet on metal.
"What do you mean, it's dead?" a different, very assertive mind gave answer. "You mean the big one's dead, don't you? Here, give me that light." "You don't suppose the little one could have—" "Can't take anything for granted. And it isn't so little. Five hundred pounds, likely, and I'd sooner meet a full-grown Bengal tiger." Several beams of light now moved methodically about the chamber. "I only hope it hasn't got out of here already. There are a dozen places . . . Carling! Get twenty men around to the other side on the double and set up your floodlight in that biggest break. Don't forget to check the snow for tracks before you mess it up! What's the matter, Daniels?" A wave of horror and revulsion was emanating from the man's mind. "It's—it's Brenson, sir—or what's left of him. By the ladder there."
Immediately the man's emotion was shared by the others in varying degree. It was followed by a mental stiffening and a dawning, bitter fury among them that caused the young
And yet, as he huddled in apathy, half suffocated by his mother's inert bulk, he became dully aware of two things. The first was a slightly dizzying sensation of lightness and a lessening of the oppressive weight upon him. The second was the sighing sound he had heard earlier, now increased to the proportions of a vast, low whistle. The ship was falling—and falling more freely with each passing moment!
Deep-seated instinct, touched by that sudden realization, prompted him to struggle free of the ponderous mass above him. The whistling sound was very loud now and more piercing. And the sensation of falling was becoming excruciating, as if the deck under him were about to be snatched away altogether at any moment. That deck was metal-hard and cold; he longed for the sanctuary of his mother's belly.
Instead, he leaped for her broad back, feeling the need for contact as much as for cushioning. But he jumped too high, having failed to allow for his reduced weight, and rolled off awkwardly on the far side. The outside air was shrieking against the hull now. He was clambering giddily from his dead mother's great flank out onto the expanse of her back, when sight and sound and all other sensation ended in the world-shattering crash.
9
His first returning awareness was of pain. Every bone in his body obtruded its soreness into his reluctant brain; every muscle told of unmerciful strain and bruising. He yearned to retreat into unconsciousness, but there was something else that would not let him. Thoughts! A confusion of strange thoughts from the minds of many men. Danger!
Arousing, he found himself lying on the cold metal deck. Apparently he had slid or rolled from his mother's back, after her resilient flesh had absorbed enough of the fearful shock to save his life. Above him, the ship had split asunder, showing a dusky sky through the fissure, and along the visible side were half a dozen other gaping holes. Through them, a cold wind was blowing, and beyond them, the ground showed strangely white. Against that whiteness, dark figures moved about. As he looked, a beam of light lanced out from one of the openings and swung across the deck, passing close to him and fixing on his mother's great body. In a spasm of movement, avoiding the splash of light, he scuttled under her, pressed upward into the folds of her belly and clung there, quiveringly still.
Shouted words rang hollowly in the chamber, bounced at crazy angles from the twisted bulkheads and became hopelessly garbled. Not that they could mean anything to the ezwal. But the thought behind them was clear, and the man's mind which formed it held vast relief. "Everything's all right, Commander! It's dead!" There was an odd, shuffling sound, then the stamping of several pairs of feet on metal.
"What do you mean, it's dead?" a different, very assertive mind gave answer. "You mean the big one's dead, don't you? Here, give me that light." "You don't suppose the little one could have—" "Can't take anything for granted. And it isn't so little. Five hundred pounds, likely, and I'd sooner meet a full-grown Bengal tiger." Several beams of light now moved methodically about the chamber. "I only hope it hasn't got out of here already. There are a dozen places . . . Carling! Get twenty men around to the other side on the double and set up your floodlight in that biggest break. Don't forget to check the snow for tracks before you mess it up! What's the matter, Daniels?" A wave of horror and revulsion was emanating from the man's mind. "It's—it's Brenson, sir—or what's left of him. By the ladder there."
Immediately the man's emotion was shared by the others in varying degree. It was followed by a mental stiffening and a dawning, bitter fury among them that caused the young
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