The Red Stuff Read online

  “Roll Circe. Gently over,” Bentley ordered.

  Slowly, still bathed in the fiery spume, the Circe began to turn on one side, and as the farther side rolled into the heat the scarlet vanished to leave nothing but a sticky, incinerated mess.

  Bentley was being cautious. The Circe made six com­plete revolu­tions before he gave her the word to stop, and shut off his tubes.

  A moment after she had ceased to turn half a dozen men with their adapted torches already lighted emerged from the air-lock and scattered about the hull. Another half dozen joined them a minute later, and already a party was floating across from the Annabelle to join them. They found the smooth hull steri­lized of all life. The remains were now no more than an inert rough covering baked on like a black varnish. Even so, the stuff had not been com­pletely elimi­nated. Where there were crevices or angles protect­ing it from the direct flame it had managed to survive the heat of the metal beneath it, and with a persis­tent tenacity was starting to spread again from such sheltered spots as the bunched flanges mount­ing fore and rear tubes and others which had chanced to lie in the lee of some project­ion. The men swarmed around the danger points playing their flames into any and every cranny which had the least chance of holding a grain of the scarlet pest intact. After an hour's work they were satisfied that the last vestige save for that enclosed in the specimen bottles had been completely exter­mi­nated. Never­the­less, Captain Waterson was taking no chances; when his men were called in, an outside party of four remained on watch, ready to pounce upon the first speck of red they might spy.

  He and Bentley adjourned to his cabin, and toasted the occasion.

  “Well, thank God they did send two ships — most intelligent thing I've ever known them do,” he said. “Even after Foggatt's report I didn't realize what a hell-brewed stuff it is until it got us. But for you, Dick—” He shrugged and turned his thumbs down.

  “Well, hang it, that's what I was here for, wasn't it? But I'm afraid it makes it pretty certain what happened to the Joan III.”

  Waterson nodded, and looked out of the windows towards the red globe which was Pomona.

  “It does, Dick. That'll be the report. If they want to find her now, they've got to find some means of clearing away that muck. God, if that stuff did get at them — horrible! Why, it'd smother and blind you within five minutes.”

  “And that's all we've got to tell 'em,” Bentley said.

  “Yes, that's it — but we've got samples of the stuff. I suppose that's the really important thing. It may save others from going the way Foggatt did — and we nearly did.”

  Some few hours later the two ships turned sunward and began again their weari­some, cautious progress. Clear of the Belt they put on speed, risking the out­fliers, and their ways diverged. The Anabelle set course for her home port on Mars. The Circe to return to Earth by way the Clarke Lunar Station.

  CHAPTER IV

  What happened while Captain Waterson and his crew relaxed and slept in the rest­house at Clarke Station during the period when the Circe was refuelled, checked and inspected preparatory to her home drop to Earth remains a mystery at present, and one to be cleared up at the official inquiry before the Space Control Commissioners.

  It is difficult to believe that any member of the ship's company, after their recent experience, would be either care­less or negli­gent where the red sub­stance was concerned. The specimen bottles are said to have been locked into a steel cup­board in the Captain's cabin. If they were, and it is believed that evidence on this point is unim­peach­able, then it would seem that one of two things must have happened; either some person moved by curiosity or the hope of a valuable find broke into that cup­board and opened one or more bottles: or some of the containers were faulty or damaged and the contents leaked — it would be able to pass beyond the door since an air­tight fit for lockers and cup­boards are not normally safe equip­ment in space. Possibly we shall never be certain which was the cause.

  Whatever took place, the lament­able fact is that no report of the leak­age was made until several hours later. That much is clear for the first party to notice a pool of ‘red jelly’ found its edges already some yards from the ship. They were interested, but not alarmed, taking it at first for a pool of some kind of lubricant, and had even walked several steps into it before paying it serious attention. It then occurred to the leader that the extent was greater than he had supposed, and thinking it likely that it might be some kind of fuel and possibly danger­ous, he ordered his men back and went to report. Thus both he and his men spread it farther on their boots.

  The Station Official on duty who accom­panied him to make ex­ami­nation was better informed, and realized what it was, but in his inex­perience lacked the caution to avoid all contact with it. By the time the news of the out­break reached Captain Waterson it was spread­ing in all direct­ions from trails left by men who had stepped in it and others who had crossed them; half a dozen offices were already infected, and a number of workers daubed scarlet from head to foot were spread­ing it farther every minute.

  Confusion followed. Efforts were made to remove all un-conta­mi­nated ships, and force had to be used to prevent the Captains taking off in craft which had been conta­mi­nated. There is nothing to be gained by mini­miz­ing the fact that for a time a regret­table state of panic reigned. But it is to the credit of certain officials that no infected ship did, in fact, succeed in leaving during that time.

  Little could be done. The only torches modified to work in airless condi­tions were aboard the Circe. Had they been avail­able they were too few and too small to have appre­ciable effect upon the area now affected. Fuel was plenti­full but since it will not burn without an atmos­phere, it was impossible to ring the area with fire.

  So far it has been im­possible to check the spread of the substance. Fire pro­ject­ors of various kinds are being adapted as quickly as possible and will be rushed to the scene via the Whitley Lunar Station as soon as they are available. Every precaution is being taken against the starting of new out­breaks.

  The state is one of the gravest emer­gency calling for the en­list­ment of all scien­tific effort. Not only is our whole system of space navi­ga­tion based upon use of the Moon as a way-station so that with­out it we must become earth­bound again until new and more power­ful fleets have been constructed, but there is the menace of the red sub­stance itself.

  There is no need for panic, but it is necessary for every one to realize the full gravity of the situation. What­ever the cost, this sub­stance must be prevented from spread­ing; above no grain of it must be allowed to reach Earth.

  Volunteers are already fighting and dying on the Moon in order that that shall not happen. All our resources must back them without stint. Hope is expressed that certain radio-active materials may prove effec­tive against the menace. Every­thing must be tried at all costs.

  If anybody doubts the necessity of the sacri­fices he may have to make, let him look through even a low-powered teles­cope at the Moon. A little east of Plato in the semi­circle of the Sinus Indium, where Clarke Lunar Station used to stand, he will see a bright scarlet patch already flowing out across the Marc Imbrium. Let him imagine that it was not the Clarke Station, but his own town that stood there, and let him make his sacri­fices to prevent imagi­nation becoming reality.

  BOOK INFORMATION

  THE BEST OF JOHN WYNDHAM

  SPHERE BOOKS LIMITED

  30/32 Gray's Inn Road, London WCIX 8JL

  First published in Great Britain by Sphere Books Ltd 1973

  Copyright © The Executors of the Estate of the late John Wyndham 1973

  Anthology copyright © Sphere Books Ltd 1973

  Introduction copyright © Leslie Flood 1973

  Bibliography copyright © Gerald Bishop 1973

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The Lost Machine: Amazing Stories, 1932

  The Man from Beyond: Wonder Stories, 1934

  Perfect Cr
eature: Tales of Wonder, 1937

  The Trojan Beam: Fantasy, 1939

  Vengeance by Proxy: Strange Stories, 1940

  Adaptation: Astounding Science Fiction, 1949

  Pawley's Peepholes: Science Fantasy, 1951

  The Red Stuff: Marvel Science Stories, 1951

  And the Walls Came Tumbling Down: Startling Stories, 1951

  Dumb Martian: Galaxy Science Fiction, 1952

  Close Behind Him: Fantastic, 1953

  The Emptiness of Space: New Worlds, 1960

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circu­lated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Set in Linotype Times

  Printed in Great Britain by

  Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press) Ltd, Bungay, Suffolk.

  ISBN 0 7221 9369 6