Thompson's Cat

his own thinking. Something--the blood-brother ofdeath--had been here on this planet, that much was certain. The evidencewas everywhere.

  "We will return to the ship," Thompson said.

  Grant saw them coming, had the lock open for them. His worried facelooked out at them. "What gives here?"

  "We don't know," Thompson answered. The cat, Buster, pushed forwardbetween Grant's legs, took a long leap at Thompson's chest, made atwenty-claw safe landing there. "Hi, old fellow, were you worried aboutme?"

  They passed through the lock. "Take her up," Thompson said. "We need alittle time to think about this enigma. Maybe we can think better whenwe're not so close to it."

  At his words, relief showed on the faces of the men. "Maybe sometimesoon we'll be heading for home?" Kurkil spoke, grinning hopefully.

  "You can be certain of that," Thompson said.

  * * * * *

  The ship lifted, hung miles high in the air above the silent planet. Thegroup considered the problem.

  "I vote to make a complete investigation," Grant said. He was full ofeager enthusiasm. "There was a race here. Something happened to it.We've got to find out what happened because--" He got no further. Slowlythe enthusiasm went from his face. "No, that's not possible," he ended.

  "There's no danger of the virus that destroyed this race crossing spaceto Sol Cluster," Kurkil spoke. "The distance is too great."

  "The distance wasn't too great for us to cross it," Fortune spoke.

  "Please," Thompson interrupted. "We can't use logic on this situationuntil we have adequate data. The only data we have--" His voice trailedoff into silence as his memory presented him with a facsimile of thatdata--silent, deserted cities, a world going back to vegetation, threeskeletons in front of a shrine.

  Abruptly he reached a decision. It was impulsive. "Our tour ofexploration is near an end anyhow. We're leaving. We're heading back toSol Cluster. We'll mark this planet on the star maps for furtherexploration."

  The face of every man present brightened as he made the announcement.Sol Cluster! Home! The green world of Earth across the depths of space.In even the thought there was almost enough magic to wipe out the fearof what they'd seen back there on the deserted planet.

  Less than an hour later, the drone of the drivers picked up as the ship,already set on course, began to accelerate in preparation for the jumpinto hyper-flight. Thompson was in his cabin making a final check of themachine-provided flight data. Buster was in his lap half-asleep.Suddenly the cat jumped from his lap and seemed to pounce on someelusive prey in the room. The cat caught what it was seeking, its jawscrunched, it swallowed.

  Thompson stared at the cat from disbelieving eyes. "Buster, are youdreaming? Did you dream there was a mouse in here?"

  The cat meowed, came toward him, jumped again into his lap and went backto sleep. Thompson returned to his figures. They were correct.

  Over the ship's communication system came the soft throb of a gong. Thewarning that the jump was coming. In his lap, Buster awakened, instantlysank twenty claws into Thompson's clothing. Thompson reached out andtook a firm grip on the hand holds on his desk, began to breathe deeply.The gong sounded again. Final warning that the ship was going intohyper-flight. Thompson took as deep a breath as possible, held it.

  The gong went into silence. The ship throbbed. The jump was in progress.Thompson had the dazed impression that every atom in his body tried toturn over at once. For a moment, there was a feeling of intense strain.Then the feeling was gone as the ship and its contents passed intohyper-flight. Thompson began to breathe again. In his lap, Busterrelaxed his claw holds, began to purr. Buster was an old hand at takingthese jumps.

  "EEEEEEyooow!"

  The eerie scream that came echoing through the ship seemed to lift upevery single strand of hair on Thompson's head. Thompson ran out of thecabin. The scream came again, from the lounge. Thompson entered thelounge just in time to see Kurkil standing in the middle of the room,rip the last remnant of clothing from his body. Revealed under thelights, his skin was turning a vivid green.

  Fortune was trying to approach him. Kurkil was warning the man off.

  "Stay away, stay away. Don't touch me. You'll get it."

  In the split second that was needed for Thompson to take in thesituation, the green color flowing over Kurkil's body deepened inintensity.

  As the color deepened, the screams bubbling on his lips began to dieaway. He fell slowly, like a man who is coming unhinged one joint at atime.

  He was dead before he hit the floor. Dead so completely that not even aconvulsive tremor passed through his body.

  A frozen silence held the lounge. For this was a dream, a nightmare,wild, distorted imagery.

  Fortune's hand waved vaguely in the direction of Sol Cluster. "It looksas if we're not as bug and stress proof as they said we were."

  "What happened?"

  "He was sitting there in the chair and I thought he was asleep. Then hewas screaming and tearing his clothes off." Ross spread his hands. "Itried to help--"

  "I know," Thompson said. He was trying to decide what to do. This shippossessed no facilities for handling the dead. Such a contingency hadbeen thought too remote for consideration. Well, there was the ejectionport. "Get sheets," Thompson said. With Fortune and Ross helping, he setabout doing what had to be done.

  * * * * *

  Later, in the lounge, they met to decide what had to be done. Neff,leaving the drivers on automatic control, came up from the engine room.Grant came forward from the control room. If any danger presenteditself, warning bells would call them back to their posts.

  They were a silent and an uneasy group. Only Buster remained unaffected.

  "There seems no doubt that we brought the infection back on board shipwith us," Thompson said.

  He had stated the obvious. It got the answer it deserved. Silence.

  "We also must consider the possibility that another of us, possibly allof us, are infected."

  No man stirred, no man spoke. Apparently they hoped they had not heardcorrectly the words that had been spoken. In Thompson's lap Bustergrumbled as if he had understood and did not like what had been said.

  "What are we going to do?"

  "How can we find out what's causing this disease?"

  Two voices came. Then came Fortune's voice. "And even if we find out,what can we do about it? _They_ couldn't do anything about it."

  "The fact that the race back there couldn't stop the disease, doesn'tmean we can't stop it. We're a different race with a differentmetabolism and a different body structure--"

  "Kurkil had the same metabolism and the same body structure," Ross said.

  "We will do what we can," Thompson spoke flatly. In spite of the factthat these men were supposed to be nerve proof, there was panic in theair. He could sense it, knew that it had to be stopped before it gotstarted. Inwardly he cursed the fact that there was no doctor aboard,but he knew only too well the line of reasoning that had led to theomission of a physician.

  "We have a medical library," Ross said, tentatively.

  "Yes," Fortune spoke. "And it tells you exactly how to treat everyconceivable form of accident but it doesn't say a single damned wordabout infections, and if it did we don't have any medicine to treatthem.

  Again silence fell. In Thompson's lap, Buster squirmed, dropped to thefloor. Tail extended, body low, he moved across the plastic floor as ifhe were stalking something that lay beyond the open door. "We'llfumigate anyhow," Thompson said. "We'll scour the ship."

  There was some relief in action. The clothing that had been worn by thelanding party went out through the ejection lock. Inside the ship, thefloors, walls, and ceilings were scoured by sweating men who workedfeverishly. Fumigants were spread in every room.

  With the spreading of the fumigants, spirits began to rise, but eventhen the signs of stress were still all too obvious. No one knew theincubation period of the virus. Hours only had been needed to bri
ngKurkil to his death. But days might pass before the virus developed inits next victim.

  Months or even years might pass before they were absolutely sure theywere free from any chance of infection.

  By the time the ship reached Sol Cluster, and the automatic controlsstopped its hyper-flight, they might all be dead.

  If that happened, the ship's controls would automatically stop itsflight. It would be picked up by the far-ranging screens of the spacepatrol, a ship would be sent out to board it and bring it in.

  At the thought of what would happen then, Thompson went hastily forwardto the control room. Grant, thin-lipped and nervous, was on duty there.Thompson hastily began