IV
The helijet suddenly swooped around and settled for a landing. It waseasy to see how the grounded ship had avoided detection. It wascamouflaged almost perfectly--although whether purposely or not wasn'treadily discernible.
The space craft wasn't large. Gallifa estimated an eight-man crew, andHawkins proved him correct. He had found all of them at once. They hadbeen dead a long while; decomposition had been thorough. But Hawkins wasright. It did look as if they had killed themselves.
They were scattered haphazardly around an irregular perimeter of theship, and no two of the bodies were close together. The positions of theskeletons showed that they hadn't been molested by any wild animals--norhad they been killed by any.
But the strange thing--and this to Gallifa was also a senselessthing--was the startling fact that each skeleton had a pellet pistolstill firmly clasped in its fleshless hand.
The magazines of all the weapons were either completely discharged ornearly so. Hence it was obvious that they had been firing at each other.But why? If it had been a battle between two rival factions--in itselfincredible--Gallifa could have understood to some degree. But these menwere all alone. Each of them had obviously been against all the rest. Nomatter how you looked at it, there wasn't any answer.
MacFarland was hard to convince. "Maybe they didn't kill each other," heinsisted. "How do you know those creatures--gnomes, as you callthem--didn't attack the ship?"
"If you had ever been close to a gnome," Gallifa answered wearily,"you'd have your answer. I can't guess why, but these men killedthemselves, beyond any possible doubt."
"Then they must have gone completely crazy," MacFarland said stubbornly."Every last one of them."
Gallifa frowned as he remembered Bradshaw. Crazy? Could it be possiblethat the crew of this ship had stumbled on something which had driventhem into insanity? Psychologically, Gallifa couldn't discount an ideasimply because it seemed impossible. A newly established colony was afragile thing.
"While we are here," Gallifa said, "let's take a closer look at thatcolony of gnomes. I think I noticed something from the air which doesn'tjibe with our first impression of them."
The three men climbed a little hillock, and Gallifa carefully studiedthe area in front of him. He finally shook his head in bafflement.
"This is an unbelievably screwy planet. These creatures apparentlyhaven't reached any stage of development higher than the herd instinct,and yet they are farming. It doesn't make any kind of sense. The speciesis completely out of character."
MacFarland looked at the virgin growth below him, and shook his head."That's a farm?" he asked sarcastically.
Gallifa grinned. "You would have to be a biologist to catch on," heexplained. "See that yellowish bush? The one with the purple blossoms?Now look at the area directly in front of us. Not a single bush. If youwill look carefully you will find several types of plant life which aregrowing freely everywhere except in the area I showed you. The gnomesare allowing only the plants they want to grow in the area.
"Perhaps they aren't exactly _farming_," he elaborated. "That is, theymay not be planting anything in an orderly fashion. But they _are_cultivating. And it all adds up to the same thing. They are increasingan edible crop by eliminating--well, weeds. And if they can do that,they should have a corresponding cultural development.
"Another thing bothers me," Gallifa complained. "If these stupids are anatural prey for animals, as unprotected as they are, I should thinkthey would live in some kind of thick brambles. That at least would givethem some measure of safety. I think the bio team is going to have morethan their share of headaches."
"Let's work on it tomorrow," MacFarland suggested tiredly. "I want toget back to camp."
Hawkins returned them to the truck, and Gallifa and MacFarland joltedoff into the gathering dusk. It was fully dark by the time they reachedthe camp.
Gallifa checked his team, then gathered their various findings togetherand sent them over to the Administration Building for furtherevaluation. Samuels didn't check in with the rest. Gallifa assumed thathe was busy with the gnomes. He wanted to discuss the queer creatureswith him, and wandered over to the specimen shack. Samuels wasn't there.Neither were any of the natives.
Gallifa returned to the team shack and left a note on Samuel's bunktelling him where he could be found. Then he went over to theAdministration Building to work with MacFarland. The next few hours heand MacFarland were so busy sorting material and feeding it to theanalyzers that he forgot his aide.
Finally Gallifa finished verifying the last of a huge stack ofphotographs, and stuffed the important ones into a plastic envelope. Headded the date seal, initialed it, and handed it to one of the men totake to the laboratory for micro-filming. Then he produced a batteredpipe and filled it with tobacco, slowly tamping the bowl with hisfingers.
He had just about finished his smoke when the messenger returned to theAdministration Building. "--Gallifa," he began.
Gallifa knew that something was wrong by the way the man hesitated. Hesprang up. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Some of the boys ran into Samuels over on the edge of camp," themessenger said miserably. "He was clear out of his head. He fought likea tiger, and they had to tie him hand and foot to get him over to thesick bay. The doctor wants you to come right over."
Gallifa turned a white face to MacFarland. "What the devil," he saidwoodenly. "Is my whole team going crazy?"
MacFarland slipped into his field boots. "I'll go with you," he said.
Outside a cold drizzle was falling, and from the way the leaden skieswere piling up, Gallifa was convinced that it would stay around forseveral days. Evidently the weather boys had been right in predictingthat the planet was about to be plagued by a rainy season.
As they drew near to the edge of camp, Cummings, the little, bald-headedmeteorologist of the weather group, burst out of the weather shack,cursing soundly and waving a boot in one hand.
"Damn those piebald dwarfs," he shouted. "They've got more brass than afire pole. They stole one of my boots."
He threw the boot and disappeared around the corner. "Get out of here,you little devils!"
"The gnomes seem to have invaded the camp," MacFarland remarked. "We'llhave to take steps to chase them out. They might get into our stores."
"Yeah," Gallifa nodded glumly. He was too upset with the problem ofBradshaw and Samuels to worry about gnomes.
From all indications Samuels had developed the same malady as Bradshaw.The doctor pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. Thirty-threehours on the planet and two men suddenly, violently insane! Did thatherald an epidemic, Gallifa wanted to know. Or could it simply be putdown to an unlucky coincidence? Could it be a disease or a virus?
There were tests that might shed some light on the mystery, the doctoradmitted. But it would take time to apply them and reach any kind ofconclusion. Meanwhile, the work had to continue. The survey could notwait.
Samuels had been given a hypo and been moved to the ward with Bradshaw.Gallifa walked past the ward corpsman and looked in the door. Bradshawwas tossing fretfully in his sleep. Both he and Samuels were inrestraint jackets.
Gallifa shuddered and swabbed a perspiring brow. The rain was makingeverything muggy.
He left MacFarland still talking to Dr. Thorndyke, and startedback--heading directly for the team shack. Gallifa was obviouslyworried. He found himself wishing that he could somehow avoid tellingthe rest of the crew about Samuels.
Damn! Was the Bio team jinxed?