THE LOST TRIBES OF VENUS
By ERIK FENNEL
On mist-shrouded Venus, where hostile
swamp meets hostile sea ... there did
Barry Barr—Earthman transmuted—swap
his Terran heritage for the deep dark
waters of Tana; for the strangely
beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories May 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Evil luck brought the meteorite to those particular space-timecoordinates as Number Four rode the downhill spiral toward Venus. Thefootball-sized chunk of nickel-iron and rock overtook the ship at arelative speed of only a few hundred miles per hour and passed closeenough to come within the tremendous pseudo-gravatic fields of theidling drivers.
It swerved into a paraboloid course, following the flux lines, and wasdragged directly against one of the three projecting nozzles. Energyof motion was converted to heat and a few meteoric fragments fusedthemselves to the nonmetallic tube casing.
In the jet room the positronic line accelerator for that particulardriver fouled under the intolerable overload, and the backsurge sentsearing heat and deadly radiation blasting through the compartmentbefore the main circuit breakers could clack open.
The bellow of the alarm horn brought Barry Barr fully awake, shatteringa delightfully intimate dream of the dark haired girl he hoped to seeagain soon in Venus Colony. As he unbuckled his bunk straps and startedaft at a floating, bounding run his weightlessness told him instantlythat Number Four was in free fall with dead drivers.
Red warning lights gleamed wickedly above the safety-locked jetroom door, and Nick Podtiaguine, the air machines specialist, wasmanipulating the emergency controls with Captain Reno at his elbow. Oneby one the crew crowded into the corridor and watched in tense silence.
The automatic lock clicked off as the jet room returned to habitableconditions, and at Captain Reno's gesture two men swung the door open.Quickly the commander entered the blasted jet room. Barry Barr wasclose behind him.
Robson Hind, jet chief of Four and electronics expert for Venus Colony,hung back until others had gone in first. His handsome, heavy face hadlost its usual ruddiness.
Captain Reno surveyed the havoc. Young Ryan's body floated eerily inthe zero gravity, charred into instant death by the back-blast. Theline accelerator was a shapeless ruin, but except for broken meterglasses and scorched control handles other mechanical damage appearedminor. They had been lucky.
"Turnover starts in six hours twelve minutes," the captain saidmeaningfully.
Robson Hind cleared his throat. "We can change accelerators in twohours," he declared. With a quick reassumption of authority he began toorder his crew into action.
It took nearer three hours than two to change accelerators despiteHind's shouted orders.
At last the job was completed. Hind made a final check, floated over tothe control panel and started the fuel feed. With a confident smile hethrew in the accelerator switch.
The meter needles climbed, soared past the red lines without pausing,and just in time to prevent a second blowback, Hind cut the power.
"There's metal in the field!" His voice was high and unsteady.
Everyone knew what that meant. The slightest trace of magnetic materialwould distort the delicately balanced cylinder of force that containedand directed the Hoskins blast, making it suicidal to operate.
Calmly Captain Reno voiced the thought in every mind.
"It must be cleared. From the outside."
Several of the men swore under