The Blue Behemoth Regrown Read online

to the broken-down spaceport where Shannon's Imperial Circus was crouching beneath its attachments. Late as it was, they were waiting for us. About twenty of them, sitting around and smoking and looking very ugly.

  It was awfully lonesome out there, with the desert cold and restless under the two moons. There's a smell to Mars, like something dead and dried long past decay, but still waiting. An unhappy smell. The blown red dust gritted in my teeth.

  Beccie Shannon walked out into the glare of the light at the entrance to the roped-off space around the main lock. She was pretty steady on her feet. She waved and said, 'Hiya, girls.'

  They got up off the step, and the packing cases, and came toward us. I grinned and got into my brassies. We felt we owed those girls a lot more than money. It grates on a woman's pride to have to sneak in and out of her own property through the sewage lock. This was the first time in weeks we'd come in at the front door.

  I waved the money in their faces. That stopped them. Very solemnly, Beccie and I checked the bills, paid them, and pocketed the receipts. Beccie yawned and stretched sleepily.

  'Now?' she said.

  'Now,' I said.

  We had a lot of fun. Some of the girls inside the ship came out to join in. We raised a lot of dust and nobody got killed, quite. We all went home happy. They had their money, and we had their blood.

  The news was all over the ship before we got inside. The freaks and the green boy from Tethys who could roll himself like a hoop, and Zurt the muscle woman from Jupiter, and all the other assorted geeks and kinkers and joeys that make up the usual corny carnie were doing nip-ups in the passageways and drooling over the thought of steer and toppings.

  Beccie Shannon regarded them possessively, wiping blood from her nose. 'They're good guys, Jix. Swell people. They stuck by me, and I've rewarded them.'

  I said, 'Sure,' rather sourly. Beccie hiccoughed.

  'Let's go see Gerty.'

  I didn't want to see Gerty. I never got over feeling funny goning into the brute tank, especially at night or out in space. I'm a city guy, myself. The smell and sound of wildness gives me goose bumps. But Beccie was looking stubborn, so I shrugged.

  'Okay But just for a minute.The we go beddy-bye.'

  'You're a pal, Jif. Bes' li'l guy inna worl'...'

  The fight had just put the topper on her, I was afraid she'd fall

  down the ladder and break her neck. That's why I went along. If I hadn't... Oh, well, what's a few nightstallions among friends?

  It was dark down there in the tank. Way off at the other end, there was a dim glow. Gow was evidently holding Gerty's hand. We started down the long passageway between the rows of cages and glassed-in tanks and compression units.

  Our footsteps sounded loud and empty on the iron floor. I wasn't near as happy as Shannon, and my skin began to crawl a little. It's the smell, I think; rank and sour and wild. And the sound of them, breathing and rustling in the dark, with the patient hatred walled around them as strong as the cage bars.

  Beccie Shannon lurched against me suddenly. I choked back a yell, and then wiped the sweat off my forehead and cursed. The scream came again.A high, ragged, whistling screech like nothing this side of hell, ripping through the musty darkness. Gerty, on the wailing wall. It had been quiet. Not every brute in the place let go at the same time. My stomach turned clear over. I called Gerty every name I mild think of, and I couldn't hear myself doing it. Presently a great metallic crash nearly burst my eardrums, and the beasts shut up. Gow had them nicely conditioned to that gong.

  But they didn't quiet down. Not really. They were uneasy. You can feel them inside you when they're uneasy. I think that's why I'm scared of them. They make me feel like I'm not human as I thought – like I wanted to put my back-hair up and snarl. Yeah. They were uneasy that night, all of a sudden...

  Gow glared at us as we came up into the lantern light. 'She's gettin' worse,' she said. 'She's lonesome.'

  'That's tough,' said Beccie Shannon. Her grey-green eyes looked like an owl's. She swayed slightly. 'That's sure tough.' She sniffled.

  I looked at Gerty. His cage is the biggest and strongest in the tank and even so he looked as though he could break it open just taking deep breath. I don't know if you've ever seen a cansin.

  There's only two of them on the Triangle. If you haven't, nothing I can say will make much difference.

  They're what the brain gang calls an 'end of evolution.' Seems old Dame Nature had as idea that didn't jell. The cansins were pretty successful for a while, it seems, but something gummed up the works and now there's only a few left, way in the deep-swamp country, where even the Venusians hardly ever go. Living fossils.

  I wouldn't know, of course, but Gerty looks to me like he got stuck some place between a dinosaur and a grizzly bear, with maybe a little bird blood thrown in. Anyway, he's big.

  I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He was crouched in the cage with his hands – yeah, hands – hanging over him knees and his snaky head sunk into his shoulders, looking out. Just looking. Not at anything. His eyes were way back in deep horny pits, like cold green fire.

  The lantern light was yellow on his blue-black skin, but it made the mane, or crest, of coarse wide scales that ran from between his eyes clear down to his flat, short tail, burn all colors. He looked like old Mother Misery himself, from way back before time began.

  Gow said softly, 'He wants a mate. And somebody better get his one.'

  Beccie Shannon sniffled again. I said irritably, 'Be reasonable, Gow! Nobody's ever seen a female cansin. There may not even be any.'

  Gerty screamed again. He didn't move, not even to raise his head. The sadness just built up inside his until it had to come out. I 'hat close, the screech was deafening, and it turned me all limp and cold inside.The loneliness, the sheer stark, simple pain...

  Beccie Shannon began to cry. I snarled, 'You'll have to snap him out of this, Gow. She's driving the rest of 'em nuts.'

  I le hammered on her gong, and things quieted down again. Gow stood looking out over the tank, sniffling a little, like a hound. Then she turned to Gerty.

  'I saved his life,' she said. 'When we bought him out of Hanak's wreck and everybody thought he was too hurt to live, I saved him. I know him. I can do things with him. But this time...'

  I She shrugged. I She was huge and tough and ugly, and her voice was

  like a woman's about a sick child. 'This time.' she said, 'I ain't sure.'

  'Well for Pete's sake, do what you can. We got a charter, and we need him.' I took Shannon's arm. 'Come to bed, Beccie darlin'.'

  She draped herself over my shoulder and we went off. Gow didn't look at us. Beccie sobbed.

  'You were right, Jix,' she mumbled. 'Circus is no good. I know it. But it's all I got. I love it, Jix. Unnerstan' me? Like Gow there with Gerty. She's ugly and no good, but she loves him. I love...'

  'Sure, sure,' I told her. 'Stop crying down my neck.'

  We were a long way from the light, then. The cages and tanks loomed high and black over us. It was still. The secret, uneasy motion all around us and the scruffing of our feet only made it stiller.

  Beccie was almost asleep on me. I started to slap her. And then the mist rose up out of the darkness in little lazy coils, sparkling faintly with cold, blue fire.

  I yelled, 'Gow! Gow, the Vapor snakes! Gow – for God's sake!'

  I started to run, back along the passageway. Beccie weighed on me, limp and heavy. The noise burst suddenly in a deafening hell of moans and roars and shrieks, packed in tight by the metal walls, and above it all I could hear Gerty's lonely, whistling scream.

  I thought, 'Somebody's down here. Somebody let 'em out. Somebody wants to kill us!' I tried to yell again. It strangled in my throat. I sobbed, and the sweat was thick and cold on me.

  One of Beccie's dragging, stumbling feet got between mine. We fell. I rolled on top of her, covering her face, and buried my own face in the hollow of her shoulder.

  The first snake touched
me. It was like a live wire, sliding along the back of my neck. I screamed. It came down along my cheek, hunting my mouth. There was more of them, burning me through. Beccie

  moaned and kicked under me. I remember hanging on and thinking, 'This is it. This is it, and oh God, I'm scared!'

  Then I went out.

  II

  KANZA the Martian croaker, was bending over me when I woke up. Her little brown face was crinkled with laughter. She'd lost most of her teeth, and she gummed thak-weed. It smelt.

  'You pretty, Mis' Jix,' she giggled. 'You funny like hell.'

  She slapped some cold greasy stuff on my face. It hurt. I cursed her and said, 'Where's Shannon? How is she?'

  'Mis' Beccie okay. You save life. You big hero, Mis' Jix. Mis' Gow come nick-uhtime, get snakes. You hero. Haw! You funny like hell!'

  I said, 'Yeah,' and pushed her away and got up. I almost fell down a couple of times, but presently I made it to the mirror over the washstand – I was in my own cell – and I saw what Kanza meant. The damned snakes had done a good job. I looked like I was upholstered in Scotch plaid. I felt sick.

  Beccie Shannon opened the door. She looked white and grim, and there was a big burn across her neck. She said:

  'Beamish is here with her lawyer.'

  I picked up my shirt. 'Right with you.'

  Kanza went out, still giggling. Beccie closed the door.

  'Jix,' she said, 'those vapor worms were all right when we went in. Somebody followed us down and let them out. On purpose.'

  I hurt all over. I growled. 'With that