Planet of No-Return
By WILBUR S. PEACOCK
The orders were explicit: "Destroy the
'THING' of Venus." But Patrolmen Kerry
Blane and Splinter Wood, their space-ship
wrecked, could not follow orders—their
weapons were useless on the Water-world.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Old Kerry Blane exploded.
"Damn it!" he roared. "I don't like you; and I don't like this ship;and I don't like the assignment; and I don't like those infernal pillsyou keep eating; and I—"
"Splinter" Wood grinned.
"Seems to me, Kerry," he remarked humorously, "that you don't like muchof anything!"
Kerry Blane growled unintelligibly, batted the injector lever with acalloused hand. His grizzled hair was a stiff wiry mop on his smallhead, and his oversize jaw was thrust belligerently forward. But deepwithin his eyes, where he hoped it was hidden, was a friendly twinklethat gave the lie to his speech.
"You're a squirt!" he snapped disagreeably. "You're not dry behindthe ears, yet. You're like the rest of these kids who call themselvespilots—only more so! And why the hell the chief had to sic you on me,on an exploration trip this important—well, I'll never understand."
Splinter rolled his six foot three of lanky body into a morecomfortable position on the air-bunk. He yawned tremendously, fumbled asmall box from his shirt pocket, and removed a marble-like capsule.
"Better take one of these," he warned. "You're liable to get the spacebends at any moment."
Old Kerry Blane snorted, batted the box aside impatiently, scowledmoodily at the capsules that bounced for a moment against the pilotroom's walls before hanging motionless in the air.
"Mister Wood," he said icily, "I was flying a space ship while theywere changing your pants twenty times a day. When I want advice on howto fly a ship, how to cure space bends, how to handle a Zelta ray, orhow to spit—I'll ask you! Until then, you and your bloody marbles cango plumb straight to the devil!"
"Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!" Splinter reached out lazily, plucked the capsules fromthe air, one by one.
Kerry Blane lit one of the five allotted cigarettes of the day.
"Don't 'tsk' me, you young squirt," he grunted around a mouthful offragrant smoke. "I know all the arguments you can put up; ain't thatall I been hearing for a week? You take your vitamins A, B, C, D, allyou want, but you leave me alone—or I'll stuff your head down yourthroat, P.D.Q.!"
"All right, all right!" Splinter tucked the capsule box back into hispocket, grinned mockingly. "But don't say I didn't warn you. With thisshielded ship, and with no sunlight reaching Venus' surface, you'regonna be begging for some of my vitamin, super-concentrated pillsbefore we get back to Earth."
Kerry Blane made a rich, ripe noise with his mouth.
"Pfuii!" he said very distinctly.
"Gracious!" Splinter said in mock horror.
They made a strange contrast as they lay in their air bunks. Splinterwas fully a head taller than the dour Irishman, and his lanky buildgave a false impression of awkwardness. While the vitriolic Kerry Blanewas short and compact, strength and quickness evident in every movement.
Kerry Blane had flown every type of ship that rode in space. In thepassing years, he had flight-tested almost every new experimental ship,had flown them with increasing skill, had earned a repu