Raft (S.F. MASTERWORKS) by Baxter Stephen

Author:Baxter, Stephen [Baxter, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2013-01-23T16:00:00+00:00

9

Jame brought the plate to a smooth landing on the crackling surface of the worldlet. Silently he set to work unlashing the batches of iron from the net. Rees clung to the net and stared wildly around. The cramped horizon was made up of sheets of hairy, brownish material, stirring sluggishly. Again Rees saw the white of bone protruding through breaks in the surface.

He felt his bladder loosen. He closed his eyes and clamped down. Come on, Rees; you’ve faced greater perils than this, more immediate dangers . . .

But the Boneys were a myth from his childhood, sleep-time monsters to frighten recalcitrant children. Surely, in a universe which contained the calm, machined interior of the Bridge, there was no room for such ugliness?

‘Welcome,’ a high, dry voice said. ‘So you’ve yet another guest for us, Jame?’ The man Rees had seen from the air was standing over the plate now, accepting an armful of iron from Jame. A few conventional-looking food packages were stacked at the man’s feet. Briskly Jame bundled them onto the plate and fixed them to the net.

The Boney was squat and barrel-chested, his head a wrinkled, hairless globe. He was dressed in a crudely cut sheet of surface material. He grinned and Rees saw that his cavernous mouth was totally without teeth. ‘What’s the matter, boy? Aren’t you going to give old Quid a hand?’

Rees found his fingers tightening about the strands of the net. Jame stood over him with a package of iron. ‘Come on, lad. Take this stuff and get off the plate. You haven’t any choice, you know. And if you show you’re afraid it will go the worse for you.’

Rees felt a whimper rising in his throat; it was as if all the revolting speculation he had ever heard about the Boneys’ way of life had returned to unman him.

He clamped his lips together. Damn it, he was a Scientist Second Class. He summoned up the steady, tired gaze of Hollerbach. He would come through this. He had to.

He untwined his fingers from the netting and stood up, forcing the rational half of his mind to work. He felt heavy, sluggish; the gravity was perhaps one and a half gee. So the mass of the little planet must have been - what? Fifty tons?

He took the iron and, without hesitation, stepped off the plate and onto the surface. His feet sank a few inches into the stuff. It was soft, like a coarse cloth, and covered with hair strands which scratched his ankles; and, oh, it was warm, like the hide of some huge animal—

Or human.

Now, to his horror, his bladder released; dampness slid down his legs.

Quid opened his toothless mouth and roared with laughter.

Jame, from the security of the plate, said: ‘There’s no shame, lad. Remember that.’

The strange trade was over, and Jame worked his controls. With a puff of hot steam the plate lifted, leaving four charred craters in the soft surface. Within a few seconds the plate had dwindled into a fist-sized toy in the air.

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