Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
DEAD MAN'S PLANET
By WILLIAM MORRISON
Illustrated by EMSH
_When a driven man arrives at a cemetery world, what else can it be but journey's end--and the start of a new one?_
Outside the ship, it was the sun that blazed angrily. Inside, it was SamWilson's temper. "Study your lessons," he snarled, with a savagenessthat surprised himself, "or I'll never let you set foot on this planetat all."
"Okay, Pop," said Mark, a little white around the nostrils. He lookedold for so young a kid. "I didn't mean anything wrong."
"I don't care what you meant. You do as you're told."
In the quiet that followed, broken only by the hum of thearithmetic-tape, Sam wondered at himself. As kids went, Mark had neverbeen a nuisance. Certainly Rhoda had never had any trouble with him. ButRhoda had been altogether different. Sam was tough and he had always gota sense of satisfaction out of knowing that he was hard-boiled. Or atleast that was once true. Rhoda had been sweet, gentle....
He aroused himself from thoughts of her by calling, "Mark!"
"Yes, Pop?"
His voice had been harsher than he had intended. Over the past few weekshe seemed gradually to have been losing control of it. Now, although hewas going to do his son a favor, he sounded like a slavemasterthreatening a beating. "You can shut off your arithmetic lesson. We'regoing out."
"But didn't you want me--"
"I changed my mind."
Mark seemed more troubled than pleased, as if a father who changed hismind so readily was a man to be wary of.
_I'm on edge all the time_, thought Sam, _and I'm getting him that way,too. I'll have to regain control of myself._
* * * * *
He had long ago made all the necessary tests for such possible dangersas lack of oxygen and the presence of infectious organisms. On allcounts, the planet had passed muster. The sun, whiter than Sol, wasalmost hot enough to make him forget the chill he carried deep insidehim. Almost, but not quite, especially as the air, though breathable,was thin and deficient in nitrogen. The countryside was bleak, inspiringin him the thought that there are two kinds of desolation; the one thatprecedes the coming of Man, and the one which he knows only too well howto create wherever he goes. The desolation here was non-human.
"It--it's like a cemetery, ain't it, Pop?"
Sam looked at his son sharply. Kids of ten were not supposed to knowmuch about cemeteries. Nor, for that matter, were kids of six, Mark'sage when the funeral had taken place. Sam hadn't let him attend, butevidently the incident had made a deeper impression on his mind than Samhad realized. He would always remember a cemetery as the place where hismother lived. Perhaps he missed Rhoda almost as much as his father did.
"It's different from a cemetery," said Sam. "There's nobody buried here.Looks like we're the first human beings ever to set foot on this place."
"Do you think we'll find animals to catch, Pop?"
"I don't see signs of any animals."
That was part of Sam's private fiction, that he was looking for strangeanimals to be sold to zoos or circuses. Actually he was seeking less tofind anything new than to lose something he carried with him, andsucceeding in neither attempt.
Mark shivered in the sun. "It's kind of lonely," he said.
"More lonely than the ship?"
"It's different. It's bigger, so it's more lonely."
_I'm not so sure_, argued Sam mentally. _In the ship, we have all ofspace around us, and nothing's bigger than that. Still, your opinion hasto be respected. You're almost as great an expert on the various kindsof loneliness as I am. The difference is that you're loneliest whenyou're away from people. I'm loneliest in a crowd. That's why I don'tmind this planet so much._
He walked ahead, Mark following almost reluctantly. The ground was rockyand the shrub-like vegetation sparse and stunted, ranging in color fromgreenish gray to brown. It seemed hardly capable of supporting a largeanimal population. If there were any animals here at all, they wereprobably too small to be impressive, and would be of little interest toexhibitors.
They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Sam asked, "Want togo on?"
"I want to finish my studying."
That was something new. "Okay," said Sam, and turned back.
* * * * *
They were approaching the ship when the sound of a pebble falling cameto Sam's ears. Automatically, his hand reached for his gun, and he swungaround to face what might be danger. As he did so, something snarled andfled. He could see no sign of motion, but he could hear the scatteringof other pebbles along a gully as the creature retreated.
"Looks like we're not alone here, after all," he said. "Wonder what thatwas."
"It couldn't have been very big," said Mark. "Big animals don't runaway."
"Not usually, unless they're smart, or they've met people before. I'llhave to set traps."
"Do you think maybe if you caught him you could sell him to a circus,Pop?"
"I'll have to see what he's like, first," said Sam. He looked around."If there's one animal, there are likely to be others. It's strange thatI didn't detect any sign of them."
He put his arm absently over Mark's shoulder. He didn't notice theexpression on the kid's face at this unexpected gesture.
When they were inside the ship again, Mark said, "Guess I'd better getback to my arithmetic."
"In a minute," said Sam. "I want to talk to you first." He droppedwearily into a seat, although he had done nothing that should have tiredhim out. His son looked at him expectantly. "Mark, do you like travelingaround with me?"
"Sure, Pop, I like to be with you."
"Not seeing anybody else? No other kids, no people of any kind? Justbeing with me, learning your lessons from tapes, and having your testpapers corrected automatically? You don't get tired of it?"
Mark hesitated despite himself. Then he said loyally, "I'd rather bewith you than anybody else. When Mom--when Mom died--I didn't want tosee anybody."
"I know how you felt. But that was four years ago. You can't grow upalone. Now what you need to do is meet people, learn how they talk andthink and feel. You can't learn those things from tapes, and you can'tlearn them from me."
Mark said stubbornly, "I like to be with you."
"I'm not much of a person to be with. Don't think I don't know it. I'mmean and surly, and my temper's getting worse by the day. I can'tassociate with people any more. But _you_ can. I was thinking maybe I'dleave you--"
"No!" cried Mark.
"Not in an orphanage or anything like that. But I have some friendswhose kids are growing up--"
"No. I won't go. If you send me, I'll run away. I want to be with you."
"Okay," said Sam. "That's that."
But it wasn't, and he knew it. Even as he went about preparing histraps, he knew it.
* * * * *
As it turned out, the only animals he caught in his traps were smallones which tore themselves in two and then scampered off, each halfrunning in a different direction. For the animal which had made thosenoises, no traps were necessary. Later on he heard a noise outsideagain, and he went out cautiously, gun in hand. The animal backed away,but he saw it, then he heard it bark. So did Mark, who had followed him.
Mark's eyes almost popped. It was four years since he had heard thesound, but he knew at once what it was. "Gosh! A dog! How do you s'posehe got here?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"But if we're the first human beings to land here--it ain't possible!"
"I know that. Bu
t there he is."
At the sound of their voices, the dog broke into a series of furiousbarks, backing away as it did so.
"What kind is he, Pop?"
"He looks like a mongrel to me. A bad-tempered, medium-sized mongrelwith an ugly look about him. Maybe I ought to shoot him and get it overwith."
"Shoot him? Don't do that! I want him as a pet."
"He looks too wild to make much of a pet."
The dog gave one last bark of defiance, turned, and fled in the samegeneral direction, Sam noticed, as he had run last time.
"Maybe dogs _do_ grow on other planets, Pop."
"Only if men have brought them there."
"Then that means there was a ship here?"
"At some time or other there was a ship. I don't think it was smashedup, or I'd have seen wreckage when I cruised around before landing. Thatdog was either left here by mistake, or deliberately marooned."
"Maybe--maybe he's with somebody who's still here."
"Not likely," said Sam thoughtfully. "He wanders around too freely, andhe seems unused to the presence of human beings. Besides, no men wouldbe likely to live here long without shelter. And I've seen no sign ofany house or hut."
"Could he belong to a being that wasn't human?"
"No," replied Sam with certainty. "Only human beings have been able todomesticate dogs. If a dog is here, a human being was once here. That'sdefinite."
"He _would_ make a good pet," said Mark longingly.
"Not that one. Maybe I should have got you a dog long ago. It might havebeen just the kind of companionship you needed. But you can't make a petof this animal. He's been away from people too long, and he's developedsome mean habits." And he added mentally, "_Like me._"
"I could train him," said Mark. "He wouldn't be any trouble at all, Pop.I'd train him and feed him, and he'd be just like one of us. And--andlike you say, Pop, it wouldn't be so lonely for me."
Kids don't give up easily, thought Sam. All the same, he had an ideathat with this dog all the persistence in the world would be useless. Heshrugged, and said simply, "We'll see." And then they went into the shipto eat.
* * * * *
All through the meal he could tell that Mark was thinking about the dog.The boy's thoughts seemed to affect his appetite. For the first time,he left some of his proteinex on the plate.
"I'm not very hungry today," he said apologetically. "Maybe--" He lookedinquiringly at his father.
"Go ahead and finish it," said Sam. "We've got plenty of food. I'll fixup something else for the dog."
"But I want to feed him myself, Pop. I want him to get used to mefeeding him."
"I'll give you your chance later."
Afterwards, Sam thriftily opened an old can of a less expensive varietyof proteinex and put half of it on a platter, which Mark carried outsidethe ship. He moved off about a hundred yards in the direction the doghad taken, and set the platter down on a rock.
"The wind is blowing the wrong way," said Sam. "Let's wait a while."
* * * * *
In ten minutes the wind shifted, and if the dog was near, Sam feltcertain that he had picked up both their scent and that of the food.That his feeling was correct was shown by the sudden appearance of theanimal, who barked again, but this time not so fiercely. And he stoppedbarking to sniff hungrily, at the same time keeping his distance.
"Here, mutt," called Mark.
"I'm afraid he won't come any closer while we're around," said Sam. "Ifyou want him to have that food, you'd better go away from it."
Mark reluctantly backed away with his father. The dog approached thefood, finally rushing down upon it as if he feared it would escape, andgobbled it.
In the days that followed, they continued to feed him, and the animalbecame relatively tame. He stopped barking at them, and at times letMark come within a few feet of him. But he never allowed Mark to comeclose enough to touch him, and he was especially wary of Sam. The lattercould see, however, that there was nothing around the smooth-furredneck. The collar, if it had ever existed, had evidently been worn away.
"So we can't find out what his name is," said Mark in disappointment."Here, Prince, here, Spot, here, Rover--"
The animal answered to none of the traditional dog names, nor to severalof the newer ones that Mark recalled.
After the dog had been with them for a half hour or so he usuallytrotted off in the direction of what they had come to consider hislair.
"He doesn't seem to be getting tame enough for a pet," said Sam. "That'sone idea I'm afraid you'll have to give up."
"All he needs is a little more time," said Mark. "He's getting used tome." Then a sudden fear struck him, and he added, "You're not going toleave here yet, are you, Pop? I thought you wanted to catch some biganimals."
"There aren't any other big animals," replied Sam. "Just those smallones who came apart in the traps, and they're not worth catching. ButI'll stay. This place is as good as any other. I won't leave it yet."
* * * * *
In fact, the stay on the planet, bleak as the place was, seemed to beless unpleasant than cruising aimlessly through space. Mark had beenstarved for companionship of someone besides his father, and in a way,without making too many demands, the dog was a companion. Wonderingabout the beast and trying to tame him gave them something with which tooccupy their minds. It had been several days, realized Sam, since he hadlast snapped at Mark.
It had become quite certain now that there was no other human beingaround. The dog's eagerness for the food showed that no one else hadtaken care of him for a long time. Evidently he had been forced to feedhimself on the small and elusive native animals which he could run down.
One of the things that puzzled Sam was the dog's obvious anxiety toleave the neighborhood of the ship after a short period and return tohis lair. And one day, driven by curiosity, Sam followed him, with Markcoming along, too.
The dog had become sufficiently accustomed to them by now not to resenttheir presence, and it was easy to keep him in sight. He led the way forat least two miles, over rocky ground and past a small stream. Quiteunexpectedly he stopped and began to whine and sniff the ground. As Samand Mark approached, he turned on them, barking furiously.
The man and boy exchanged glances. "He's acting just like he did in thebeginning," said Mark.
"There's something in the ground," said Sam. "I'm going to find out whatit is." And he drew his gun.
"You're not going to kill him, Pop!"
"I'll just put him to sleep. An anaesthetic pellet of the kind I use fortrapping ought to do the trick."
But one pellet turned out to be not enough. It required the bursting ofthree pellets before the animal finally trembled, came to a halt, andwith eyes glazed, fell over on the ground.
When they approached closer, Sam caught sight of half a dozen stones,roughly piled together. He said, "Better get back, Mark. This may not bepleasant."
"You think--you think somebody's buried here?"
"Very likely. I'm going to see."
* * * * *
Using a flat rock with a sharp edge as an improvised spade, he began todig. The ground was hard, and the rock was not the best of tools. Ittook him half an hour to reach the first bone, and another half-hour touncover the rest.
Mark had come up behind him and was watching with no sign of revulsion.He said, "I--I was afraid there might be a body, Pop."
"So was I. It looks as if the man died so long ago that everything elsehas rotted away, except for a few metal clasps. No other sign of shoesor clothes. And no indication of how this happened."
"You think he was the dog's master?"
"Evidently."
They both stared at the sleeping animal. Then Sam shrugged, and began tofill the shallow grave again. Mark helped him push in the dirt and stampit down into place. Finally they moved the stones back.
They were about to leave whe
n Mark cried out, "Look at that rock!"
Staring where his son pointed, Sam saw a gray column about four feethigh, with four smooth lateral sides. Rectangular prisms of this sizewere rare in nature. This was obviously the work of human hands, and ofa blasting rod as well, to judge by the sides, which showed evidence ofhaving been fused before weathering had cut into them. At first he hadthought the column was a gravestone. But there was no inscription uponit. There was nothing but a thin deep groove that ran horizontallyaround the four sides, several inches from the top.
"What does it mean, Pop?"
"Let's find out. It's obviously been put here as some sort of memorial.As for this groove--"
He put his hands on the top of the stone and lifted. As he had halfexpected, it separated at the horizontal groove. The top of the stonewas the lid of a box. Inside lay a plastic container.
"Some kind of plastic we don't make any more," muttered Sam.
"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Mark eagerly. "Maybe it tells aboutthe grave and the dog's name."
The plastic came open at a slight tug. Inside were several strongsheets of paper. Sam stared at them and said, "It's writing, sureenough. But in some language I don't understand."
"We can put it in our mechanical translator," said Mark. "That can tellus what it means."
"That's what we'll do."
"Aren't we going to take the dog with us, Pop?"
"No, we'll leave him here. He'll come to in a little while."
* * * * *
Walking back to their ship, Mark continued to show an excitement thatwas unusual for him. "You know what?" he said. "I'll bet we're going tolearn what the dog's name is."
"I doubt if whoever wrote this thing would bother about a trifle likethat."
"But that's important. You'll see, Pop, you'll see!"
At the ship, Sam inserted the sheets into the reader section of histranslator and started the motor. The selector swung into action.
"Before it can translate, it has to decide what language this is," heexplained.
"Will that take long?"
"A few minutes if we're lucky, a couple of hours if we're not. Afterthat, I think the translation itself shouldn't take more than a fewminutes. While we're waiting, we might as well eat."
"I'm not hungry," said Mark.
"You'd better eat anyway."
"Just a little bit, maybe. You know what I think, Pop? When I call thedog by his name, he'll know I'm his friend and he'll come to me. Thenhe'll really be my pet."
"Don't count too much on it," said Sam. And thought once more how lonelyhis son must be, to center so much hope in a half-wild beast.
A light glowed suddenly in the translator. The selector had found theproper language. Now it began to translate.
Twenty minutes later, its work had been completed. As Sam silently beganto read, Mark bumped against him, knocking the translation from hishand. Sam's first reaction was anger at the boy's clumsiness. Then hebecame aware of the hope and the fear that lay behind Mark's excitement,and bit back the angry words which had almost reached his lips.
"Easy, Mark, easy," he said. He picked up the translation again and satdown. "You can read it over my shoulder, if you want to."
"I just want to find out the dog's name."
"The important thing is his master's name. Julian Hagstrom, it says. Andhe was on a spaceship with his brother, Raoul."
Mark's eyes had skipped ahead. "Look, Pop, here's the dog's name--Arkem!I never heard of a dog having a name like that! What does it mean?"
"I wouldn't know," muttered Sam absently, still reading.
But Mark wasn't actually interested in his answer. He ran outside."Arkem!" he called. "Arkem!"
There was nothing he could interpret as an answer. After a moment or twohe came into the ship again, his face betraying his disappointment. "Iguess he doesn't hear me. He's too far away."
Sam nodded. He had put the translation down and was staring straightahead of him, as if looking through the ship's side.
"Is anything the matter, Pop?"
"What? Oh, no, nothing's the matter. I was just thinking about what Iread here."
"They had an accident, didn't they? How did it happen?"
* * * * *
"It happened because their ship wasn't as good as ours. Julian Hagstrom,the man who was killed, was buried here by his brother. Raoul put thisrecord in the stone to mark his grave. I think he also engravedsomething on the stone itself. But that's been worn away."
"It must have been a long time ago. Maybe years."
"Yes, it was years ago. After he buried Julian, Raoul tried to makerepairs, and headed in a direction where he hoped he'd find a civilizedplanet. He never made it."
"How can you know that? He wrote the paper _before_ he started out."
"If he had made it, we'd have heard of him. We'd certainly have heard ofhim." Sam's face was bleak. "And Rhoda--your mother--would still bealive."
Mark looked puzzled, and stared at the translation once more. "It sayshere he tried to re-reverse the aging process. What does that mean? Andwhat's immortality, Pop?"
"Something he and his brother were looking for. Something to keep peoplefrom ever dying. They had a ship full of dogs and other animals. Alldied in their experiments--all but Arkem. They had high hopes of Arkem.He lived through a number of different treatments and became quite a petof Julian's. Then came the crash. Their method wasn't proof againstaccidental death, and at any rate they hadn't applied it yet tothemselves.
"After Raoul buried his brother, the dog was miserable, and howled somuch that Raoul decided to leave him behind. He was helped to reach thisdecision by the fact that the ship had lost much of its air in theaccident, and he knew that the air-purifying mechanism wasn't workingtoo well. He figured he'd have a better chance of surviving if he stayedin the ship alone. But it didn't do him any good. He was lost in space,or we'd certainly have heard of him."
From outside there came the sound of a low growl. "It's Arkem!" criedMark. "Now you'll see. Wait till he hears me call his name."
He ran out, and Sam followed slowly. "Don't expect too much, Mark," hesaid, almost with pity.
Mark didn't hear him. "Arkem!" he called. "Arkem! Arkem!"
The dog was watchful, keeping his distance and giving no sign ofrecognition. Sam put his arm around his son's shoulder.
"Arkem, Arkem! Here, Arkem!"
The dog snarled.
* * * * *
There were tears in the boy's eyes. "He doesn't know his own name! Hedoesn't even know his own name! Arkem!"
"It's no use, Mark, he's forgotten he ever had a name. I'm afraid you'dbetter give up the idea of having him as a pet."
"But you _can't_ forget your own name!"
"You can in eight hundred years. Yes, Mark, that's when all thishappened, eight hundred years ago. That's why the language had to betranslated. Arkem is immortal. And during his long life he's forgottennot only his name, but the master for whose sake he was marooned here.If Julian Hagstrom were, by some miracle, to come back to life, I'm surethe dog wouldn't remember him. All he has is a vague but strong tie tothat heap of stones. He no longer knows why he's protecting it. He'sbeen away from live human beings so long that his brain is little morethan a bundle of reflexes and instincts."
"I'll train him," said Mark. "Sometimes you forget a thing at first, butit comes back to you later. He'll remember his name--here, Arkem!"
"It's no use," said Sam. "For eight hundred years he's been tied to thatheap of stones. He'll never remember anything except that fact. I'll getyou another dog for a pet."
"You mean we're going back to Mars or Earth?"
"Some place like that. Some place where there are people. Being alone inspace is no good for you."
"Oh, no, Pop, you can't get rid of me like that."
"I'm not trying to get rid of you," said Sam. "Being alone in space isno good for me either
. I'm going with you."
"Gee, are you sure? You won't change your mind?"
The delighted but uncertain look on his son's face shook Sam. He saidcarefully, "I won't change my mind. I've decided that it's possible tohave too much of a good thing. If grief is a good thing."
Suddenly, for no reason that they could detect, the dog barked at themand backed away, the fur rising in an angry ridge along his back.
"Couldn't we take him along anyway?" asked Mark. "I don't like to thinkof him all alone here, year after year."
"He'll be miserable here, but he'd be more miserable away from his heapof dirt and stones. Perhaps--" Mark didn't see as Sam pulled his gun,then let it slip back into place. "No. That's none of my business. Maybehe'll be fortunate and have an accident."
"What did you say, Pop?"
"Nothing much. Come along, Mark. We're heading for civilization."
An hour later, the ship rose into the air. Through the blasting of therockets, Sam thought--imagined, he decided, was a better word--that heheard the long doleful whine of a creature whose mindless grief wasdoomed to last for all eternity.