Renato Pestriniero - "A Night of 21 Hours" (1960)

INTRODUCTION

Renato Pestriniero (born 1933) is an Italian science fiction author who has written a number of novels and short fiction. "A Night of 21 Hours" ("Una notte di 21 ore", was initially published in issue #61 of the magazine Oltre il Cielo in 1960, and later by Casa Editrice La Tribuna in the 1963 anthology "Interplanet 3", and adopted by Mario Bava in 1965 for his film "Planet of the Vampires" ("Terrore nello Spazio"). It was previously translated into English in 1998 as "Night of the Id" by Joe F. Randolph in issue #4 of his zine "Different Realities". This translation appears near-impossible to find. It was also translated into French in "Galaxies nouvelle série", May 2018.

A NIGHT OF 21 HOURS

Dudley Hustin looked out through the quartz porthole.

The plain stretched out endlessly, gray and uniform, slightly blue towards the horizon. No rocks interrupted the monotony of the desert, neither tree, nor trace of life. For a long time, Dudley had been looking out of the spaceship, finally resting on something solid and safe, but there was no trace of joy, surprise or even simple curiosity in him. His still face expressed only pain.

Pat Wheaver left the navigation room and approached him, placing a hand on Dudley's shoulder.

Dudley asked in a low voice, "Why are we here, Pat? Give me an explanation, because I can't find one."

"You know the answer as well as I do."

Dudley shook his head, "No, Pat, I thought I knew, or maybe I was trying to convince myself that there must be a reason, but now everything is messed up. We've gone too far and everything we're doing is futile, you've admitted it too... "

"It's the pain that's making you talk like that. Until a few hours ago you had more enthusiasm than anyone else, now your mind is a bit clouded, it's normal and logical, but you'll see that you'll soon be yourself again. But you have to try hard, letting go is useless and would only harm you, and all of us, right now, when what we need is mutual aid as like never before. Do you think, perhaps, that our hearts aren't broken thinking about it?"

Dudley kept looking out and shook his head slightly, "But why Peter? He wasn't part of the Orion, he was there only as an auditor, it wasn't his ship!"

Pat firmly took the man by the shoulders and turned him around facing him, "Look, Dudley, you're speaking sensibly now. And then, why Mike and Vasco and George and Burt? Weren't they like Peter? Okay, Peter was your brother, but you should know by now that once you're in space, there are no more degrees of kinship, and at the same time you automatically become one family."

Dudley ran a hand over his face and stepped away from his companion. He crossed the narrow cabin and looked at the desert from the other side of the ship, "Here's what's left," he said to himself.

A few hundred meters from the ship, the flatness of the vast desert was disrupted by a black mass, twisted and smoking. Objects were scattered all around, some of the most disparate shapes, some in a pile, others thrown in bulk. Some men scrambled to retrieve whatever was still salvageable.

"We'll never know how it happened," Dudley said, "Maybe a sudden abatement in the jets."

"Or maybe a defect in the stabilizers," Pat added. "She tilted before she crashed."

"Something inconceivable nowadays."

"Look, Dudley, we need a hand now."

"Alright, I'll be out shortly."

Pat exited the ship and walked towards the disaster site. In his mind, the terrible scene he experienced a few hours earlier flashed like a photograph. The two spaceships had traveled around the small planet for a long time, looking for the most suitable site to disembark, but all the sites had equal upsides and downsides, given the uniformity of the surface. The Orion, as a mothership, was preparing to descend first. The Vega would follow from a short distance away.

Through the starboard screen, Pat followed the landing phases of the large ship up to a few hundred meters from the surface, then, suddenly, he saw it tilt and sink like a stone. Everything had been so sudden that no alarm had come from the mothership, and everyone on the Vega had remained speechless, petrified.

Going on an exploratory expedition without a mothership was never even considered, given the minimal chances that a single ship of modest proportions and essentially on a scientific mission had of returning to Earth.

The difficulties didn't arise much during their journeys, but rather on the planets themselves, where they sometimes had to deal with environments that were so hostile that the absence of proper equipment would have meant suicide. Despite this, many expeditions had not yet returned to Earth, stopped by who knows what unknown forces, or because they were unable to overcome who knows what unimaginable dangers.

From time to time, ships had departed, spreading out over the most diverse points of the galaxy, tracing the first sidereal routes. Sometimes silence had taken over, others it was screams of terror or the scene of some slow agony that had been heard, and sometimes only recordings of noise had remained.

Sometimes only the motherships had returned. Lookouts, alone, never. Only once had a lookout without her mothership reached the skies of Earth, the 62 Cygni, but its hull could be compared to an enormous coffin, with only two men still alive.

Pat was detached as he watched his comrades pulling heaps of items out of the wreckage as if from a bazaar destroyed by a devastating explosion. He had been working around the remains of the mothership for several hours now. The bent sheets of metal were in such a state that to enter the different holds it was necessary to cut through them. Much of the supplies and equipment had been destroyed. Now without a mothership their intended stay on the planet and the very long return journey was practically impossible.

Meanwhile, one of the three moons had risen from the horizon on the gray expanse of sand, had quickly crossed the planet's sky, and had disappeared on the opposite side behind equal scenery of gray sand, leaving a disconcerting sensation in the minds of the men. With its phantom appearance, a large inflamed sphere silently crossed the sky of that unknown planet, and gave birth to atavistic memories of disquieting deities, bringers of misfortune.

Pat had noticed that the mens' gaze had turned apprehensively upwards, and was thinking. Millions of years have passed since man appeared, he has subjugated his home planet, he has spread throughout the solar system. By now he has adapted himself to space, he has shaped himself according to its incredible laws and he has pushed himself towards other planetary systems. Millions of years have passed and with his ability and his ingenuity, man has dominated the known universe, so far. But it is enough to leave this man in an abandoned house, alone at night, and he will find himself completely defenseless from the assault of invisible enemies against whom he will have no weapons to defend himself: the fear of the unknown, of what sometimes he himself creates and unintentionally distorts under these circumstances, of the darkness that can hide anything...

Everyone looked anxiously at the reddish sphere above them, the gray expanse of sand, the low swirls of mist, and was listening to the silence of the planet. Once again they were all locked up in an abandoned house, alone in the dark, surrounded by the unknown.

The ship had crashed a short time ago. Equipment, provisions, weapons, and spare parts that would have been of vital importance were now a heap of wreckage. Five men had died, crushed between tons of steel, and their bodies had not yet been found amongst the machines in the navigation room. But this wasn't the worst of it yet, it was still something tangible, which you could see with your eyes and touch with your hands. Of course, it was an accident that almost certainly would have meant death for everyone else too, but at least they had the weapons to fight these hardships, that is, spirit of initiative, instinct for self-preservation, rationality, and the most important weapon, the one thing they absolutely needed, hope.

When the first moon went down, the sky was once again a uniform blue plate streaked with faint trails of vapor. All around, as far as the eye could see, there was not an object interrupting the gray and flat uniformity of the desert; only there, at a short distance, were two black masses, one very tall, slender, powerful; the other, a huge thing crushed by the hand of a giant and thrown to the ground, both so alien to the planet.

From the wreckage of the Orion Lorry Anderson called. The others ran. Pat was with them. Dudley watched from the porthole of the Vega. He knew what they would find sooner or later.

Mike Shepleton had been a boy nearly two meters tall; although young he had a number of businesses to his credit, naturally within the confines of the solar system. This was the first time he had left Pluto's outpost behind.

His companions identified him from the watch he wore on his wrist. The left forearm was the only part of his body which protruded intact from an intricate heap of twisted metal.

Having thus identified the navigation room, the men cut the upper metal sheets,  uncovering the area like a box. Inside, near the body of Mike Shepleton, they also found Vasco Ramirez and Dudley's brother, Peter Hustin.

Vasco Ramirez only had half of his skull, the other half had been cleanly severed by a quartz plate. The rest of his body seemed intact, but that was only due to the sturdy spacesuit which maintained the structure of a human body. When the men lifted Vasco's body, they felt no bones.

Peter Hustin was lying on the side of the ship that was now the floor, and was looking up. The right side of his body was hidden under the orbital calculator. They tried to lift the big machine but without a hoist it was impossible. They then tried to carefully untangle their companion's body from its grip. With the first thrust, Peter's body came out easily, or rather, the visible part of his body came out, everything else remained underneath.

As the second moon began to make its arc through the sky, which had become black and blazing with lights, Pat Wheaver was saying the last words of farewell to his fallen comrades. Then he closed the book he was holding and crossed himself. The other four men, positioned in a semicircle, repeated the gesture and stood silently looking at the five bulges of the ground under which, wrapped in plastic shrouds, the five astronauts of the Orion rested. The crosses were made from scrap steel. On five small metal plaques, Eb Doyle had burned the names and the dates.

Pat Wheaver said, "Alright boys, needless to say we're in a pretty critical situation without a mothership, and this planet doesn't seem willing to give very much. So we just have to pick up the pace, carry out as many essential surveys as we can, and then immediately get out of here. And may the Lord protect us on the return journey. Lorry, how did we go with the material losses?"

"About seventy percent is lost. The remaining thirty percent has been separated and stowed. However, a great deal of equipment that has remained intact or in good condition cannot function as it lacks the connections and complementary parts. I calculate that another ten percent can be considered unusable."

Pat Wheaver scratched his chin.

"Look," he said after a long pause, "let's try to rest as much as possible tonight. At dawn we will take an inventory and see what surveys can be conducted. As soon as they're finished, we'll load only what is of vital importance on the Vega and then go."

But everyone thought that the chances of returning to Earth were minimal.

"Now," Pat Wheaver went on, "We'll need to set up guards. Here, the night lasts twenty-one earthly hours. We'll work shifts of four hours each. We can calculate that an hour has already passed, so let's synchronize the second dial of the clocks to 00:00. Dudley will do the first shift until 04:00, then Lorry Anderson from 04:00 to 08:00, then Cliff Donovan from 08:00 to 12:00, then Eb Doyle from 12:00 to 16:00 and finally me from 16:00 to dawn. "

"Pat," Eb said, "Do you really think it's necessary to be on guard duty? I find it a bit ridiculous in these circumstances."

"Why is that?" Pat asked harshly, "Is this any different from other expeditions?"

"Yes, Pat," Lorry interposed, "there's two differences. First, this is a planet made up of an immense desert of sand. There are no mountains, no valleys, no woods, no place that can hide dangers. There is no life on this planet, the only living things here are us, at least for the moment."

"All right, listen up everyone," Pat replied. But Lorry cut him off: "The second reason. In addition to the fact that taking away four hours of rest from each of us to keep an eye on the sand is senseless, but what everyone knows and so far no one has mentioned, is that no one will be going home anymore."

"That's enough!" Pat snapped, "I forbid you to talk like that. The watch will be on duty as usual. It's no new experience to be on an unknown planet, and while we've had difficulties before, no one has ever dreamed of going against the rules of exploration. What happened this time? We lose five men when we hadn't even set foot on the surface, okay, the expedition didn't start out well, but so what? It doesn't mean that we should do anything to take away even those few chances we have of going home."

"Pat," Lorry said in a tired voice, looking at the toes of his boots, "even assuming that we manage to get ourselves outside of this planet's gravity without changing engine four, at some point we'll also have to turn on the routing and braking rockets, and we don't even have a spare. And when the first meteorite that's a little larger than a bean manages to pass through the shield and pierce the hull, what will we replace the panels with? And once the hull is completely devoid of air, will the reserves of the Vega be enough for us? And then..." Lorry was speaking now, looking Pat in the eyes, and his voice grew shrill. Then Pat Wheaver grabbed the man by the lapel of his uniform and hissed in his face: "Listen to me, Lorry Anderson, and listen good, I know better than anyone what we're getting into, and I also know what we're going to do and what we won't be able to do. But since they put me aboard this tub as commander I will do everything to bring her home and with as many of us inside her, is that clear? And with this, there's nothing more to say. Dudley! Grab what you need and settle down a kilometer from here, and if you see or hear anything, call."

Dudley nodded and walked away. The others walked slowly towards the spaceship, in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Dudley Hustin was sitting on top of his haversack. He looked at his watch. 02:15. Two and a quarter hours of the long night had passed.

From his observation post he could see neither the immense gray expanse of sand nor the sky blazing with stars, nor the soaring silhouette of the Vega with the black carcass of the Orion beside it. The soft bands of vapor that formed towards the sunset had gradually increased, lurking low enough to cover everything. It was some sort of mist.

"Of course this damned mist has to be here!" he cursed aloud, then continued inwardly, "Maybe Pat was right. When it's day everything seems safe and friendly, and it seems that no danger can threaten you. But when darkness falls, everything changes its appearance, transforms itself, and it feels hostile. This mist! It could hide anything, and maybe you could be suddenly attacked from behind..."

He instinctively turned to stare at the gray curtain that stretched behind him, then made a sharp snap with his head as if to banish the thoughts that had suddenly made their way into his mind. What could he be afraid of? They had completely orbited the planet several times. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, just gray sand, everywhere.

But that mist...

He got up and took a few steps. Then he stopped with his ears perked up and his eyes wide, trying to pierce the gray wall. A rustle like moving sand. The wind that moved the sand? But the air was still...

* * *

On board the Vega, three men slept. The fourth stood with his eyes open and a cigarette between his lips. Pat thought this would most likely be his last trip. Now that he could give free rein to his thoughts, he had to be honest with himself at least. The odds weren't favorable. Nevertheless, he would have tried even the impossible.

Someone stirred in his sleep, rolled over in his bunk grumbling, then fell asleep again. Pat got up and looked out. There was nothing to see. It looked like the quartz plate had been painted gray.

He was about to lie down again when he caught a glimpse of Lorry in the semi-darkness, sitting up and remaining in that position, motionless. He looked at the wall. Then Lorry turned and climbed off the bunk. Pat watched intently. Suddenly his heart leaped into his throat as he noticed that Lorry had his eyes closed.

Pat was now following every slightest movement of his companion, who seemed perplexed but immediately seemed to make up his mind, and started towards the navigation room. His face had a strange joyful expression, his lips parted in a boyish smile.

Pat couldn't get over his posture; a case of sleepwalking had never occurred among his crew and, on the other hand, it would make one ineligible for being an astronaut. He immediately discarded the idea.

He took care not to wake Lorry but followed him silently to the navigation room. The man sat on his seat and suddenly his expression changed and became a mask of pain, as if he was enduring a tremendous effort. He put his hands to his head and stayed there, his elbows resting on the ignition, his head clutched in his clenched fists.

Pat observed the reactions of his companion and studied his face, which from time to time showed the signs of a desperate inner struggle and then relaxed into a joyful expression of hilarity.

In the end he decided to stop this excruciating situation and started to touch Lorry's shoulder, but a footstep stopped him at the last moment. Eb Doyle was walking toward him with a scowl. Eb also had his eyes closed.

Pat thought he was going mad. He stepped aside to let his companion pass, and he went straight to the transmitter panel. He sat down, opened the accessories closet, took out a large wrench and with an expression of felicity, started to forcefully hit the panel.

Pat rushed at him. A second later the most complete confusion reigned aboard the Vega. Eb and Lorry stood petrified, the first staring at the wrench he still held tightly in his hand, the other trying to understand why he was sitting in his place in the navigation room. Cliff Donovan had burst into the room to see what was happening. Pat screamed trying to shake the two men.

Then Eb passed out.

* * *

Cliff Donovan looked at his watch. It was a few minutes until 10:00.

"How long do we still have to stay here?" Lorry Anderson asked wearily.

"A little over two hours. How do you feel? "

"Bah!" Lorry said, looking around and seeing only gray vapor, motionless, opaque, "Two hours, that's something. I fell asleep."

"You slept for almost an hour but you were restless, you were talking in your sleep."

"What was I saying?"

"I couldn't understand. Just a few nonsense words. And sometimes you laughed. You seemed..."

"Like a fool, right? Yeah, like Pat also said on board. I can't understand what's happening to me. This is the first time this has happened to me, Cliff, I swear. Maybe my brain is running away. "

"I don't believe that. If it happened only to you, you might think it was some sort of an imbalance, but it's very unlikely that two people would go crazy at the same time with the same symptoms. No, there must be another explanation. Perhaps it hinges on the Orion's accident. She has touched us all to a degree that is by no means negligible. Losing a mothership and five men like that has never happened, at least as far as I can remember. "

"This is a cursed planet, that's what it is!" Lorry spat on the sand, "Everything's gone wrong from the first moment and you'll see how it turns out, we'll all go crazy before we die!"

"Don't start being superstitious now!"

"You talk like that because you haven't experienced it. I tell you it was terrible, it seemed like I was no longer me, I felt that someone or something was pushing me with incredible force to act against my will. But this isn't even completely accurate, because it was also me who wanted to do it at times, and I struggled to be able to act as I am, but then I couldn't resist and then I returned to myself and saw with horror what I was doing and at the same time I struggled to go back to do it... and was always so... until I no longer had the strength to fight and then... only when I woke up did I feel relief. But it only lasted a moment because I immediately realized where I was, and that what had seemed a nightmare to me was reality... I don't know how I didn't faint too, like Eb."

Cliff clapped him on the shoulder, "You'll see it won't happen again. What you need, what everyone needs, is real rest. Try to sleep a little longer. "

Lorry stretched out on the sand and stood with his eyes open staring up at the invisible sky. Then he jumped up, "Cliff! Look at the sky, it's turning red!"

The vapors were no longer gray now but trended towards a faint pink color, and at one point towards the horizon they were indisputably red. The two men silently watched the phenomenon, then Cliff burst out laughing, "You're also making me nervous with your fears. It's one of the moons that's rising. With this damned mist I couldn't remember that the planet had satellites, moreover red ones. "

Lorry said nothing. He lay back on the sand. But he couldn't keep his eyes closed.

Inside the Vega, Pat, Eb and Dudley sat over three cups of strong black coffee. They had argued and discussed the matter and had not come to any satisfactory conclusion. So now everyone was silently following their own personal thoughts, too ominous to be expressed aloud.

Pat got up and walked to the sleeping cabin carrying his cup of coffee. Dudley followed after a few seconds.

"Listen Pat," he said a little awkwardly, "There's still something I wanted to tell you."

"I guess it's something that has no explanation. This is the night of inexplicable things. Is it possible that when there is no light from any sun... when it's all been exhausted, what's left there?"

Dudley turned and started to leave. Pat took him by the arm, "Come on, come here. What's wrong now?"

"You might as well look at it this way..."

"Just forget it, you know you have to tell me everything, even the details which seem insignificant. Don't take into account what I've said. "

"It was during the last half hour of my shift. I heard a rustle of loose sand, like someone approaching. At first I thought it was one of you, and in fact I called, but no one answered. "

"Go on."

"Well, it occurred to me there are a lot of things that I think could have caused that noise, but due to the nature of this planet I had to discard them all. Then I began to see the shadows."

"The shadows?"

"Yes, the mist prevented me from seeing the details but they were certainly the outlines of human figures. I saw them twice, wandering about ten meters from the guard post. I called again, but nothing, no answer. I only heard a sound like someone giggling. Then the footsteps moved away and I couldn't hear anything. "

"Why didn't you call on the radio?"

"It was too absurd. I thought there was no point in making a lot of noise. In fact, I wouldn't have even told you about it if that affair hadn't happened on board."

Pat scratched his chin. He went to look out of the porthole at the mist made reddish by the invisible moon that made its passage. "But when will this night end?" he thought.

"Pat."

"Yes?"

"There's something else. Those shadows I saw... one of them looked like Peter. "

Pat whirled around, "Don't be ridiculous! Your brother is dead, we buried him along with the other four. You have to convince yourself that there's nothing more to be done, Dudley!"

Dudley returned in silence to finish his coffee.

The squawking of the radio made everyone jump to their feet as if pushed by a spring. Pat rushed to the receiver, "What's going on?"

The voice that boomed in the cabin didn't sound like Cliff's at all, it was so altered.

"Try to speak slower, Cliff, we don't understand."

"...terrible, Pat, come now, Lorry is crazy and I think I am too... there are ghosts, Pat... there are ghosts!"

"All right, Cliff, we're coming right away. You two, get your weapons. "

There was a moment when Pat's gaze met Dudley's, then everyone just thought about getting out of the ship as soon as possible. They found Cliff half running towards them, eyes wide open, terror on his face.

"Vasco and George... and Peter... and all the others..." Cliff was speaking in jerks, panting: "I saw them... we saw them... they came to visit us, all together... God what horror!" Cliff covered his face with his hands.

Pat handed him a drink, "Come on, Cliff, tell me what happened, take it easy."

After a few minutes Cliff was able to speak more freely: "We heard footsteps, several times, but in this mist we couldn't see anything. Lorry was very agitated, and his agitation had increased so much upon hearing that sound that I decided to call you to take him back to the ship. At some moment I saw shadows not far from us and I heard voices, like little screams or suppressed laughter. The shadows approached and I didn't know whether to open fire... I didn't know who I was dealing with. Then... then we got a glimpse of what it was all about. Lorry screamed and stood still. I didn't even have the strength to breathe because... you know, Pat? There were all our companions there in front of us, all those who died, and they were exactly as we extracted them from the wreckage of the Orion. Vasco Ramirez had only half his head and his whole body crushed and... and Peter without one arm and mangled legs and everyone was covered in blood... oh my God, something impossible to describe!"

Everyone looked at Cliff, undecided whether to believe what he was saying. Only Dudley nodded. But too many things had happened on that terrible night to not believe their companion's words.

"Okay," Pat said, "You, Dudley, go with Cliff... by the way, where is Lorry now?"

"I don't know," Cliff said with a dazed air, "The last time I saw him he was looking at those ghosts with an expression that... then I ran away."

"Then you and Dudley go back there and take Lorry back to the ship. Eb, come with me. "

The two men walked in the direction of the Orion. The mist had a diffuse, reddish luminescence. Eb looked at his watch. It was 10:36.

After about ten minutes the two men stopped a short distance from the remains of the ship. They both were envisioning what they would find, even though there was always a trace of disbelief that made them hope. It was for this reason that, when they saw the five graves open, they could not hold back an exclamation of horror.

Inside the five pits and scattered about, were the plastic sheets that had served as a shroud to their unfortunate companions.

* * *

Hour 17:00.

Inside the Vega Eb Doyle and Pat Wheaver listened to the slow passage of time.

There were two left. Cliff and Dudley had been looking for Lorry a long time and never returned. From the ship they had heard gunshots, then nothing more.

"I remain of the opinion that it is better to go and see." Pat said.

"But see what? Do you really want to see that spectacle, and maybe get shot in the back if there is still someone alive?" Eb spoke looking out the porthole.

"You're convinced Cliff and Dudley are dead, aren't you?"

"No doubt. The transmitter light is always on, why aren't they transmitting?"

"I can't believe such a thing."

From Eb's lips came out like a sob: "Over there... look over there!"

Not far away, the materialization of a madman's dream had emerged from the mist. There were all the men from Vega and Orion. Everyone held hands and danced with loud cheers, and everyone was happy as children playing in a circle. Dudley held the practically halved body of his brother Peter in his arms.

"There's Lorry too," Pat said softly, "And Cliff's with them too. My God, how is it possible..."

"Look at Dudley's forehead," said Eb.

An explosive bullet had hit Dudley right in the middle of the forehead and now his face was a clot of blood. Lorry had been shot too. His suit appeared torn in the position of his stomach.

"Lorry killed them," Eb said, "He was obviously completely mad and when they arrived he shot them point blank. But, one of the two had time to draw their gun. They look like... they look like children having fun..."

Pat Wheaver nodded. "I think you said it right, Eb. Children having fun. In your opinion, what makes a man different from a child?"

Eb looked at him puzzled, "Well, experience, the use of inhibitions..."

"Exactly. So if you remove the inhibitory brakes of the Ego from a man, the overbearing strength of the Id resurfaces from the depths. Imbalances of this kind are quite common, but in a mild form... but if they were severe... "

"And you believe that the cause of all this..."

"I can't see any other explanation. They're children again. Look at them, they're playing ring-around-the-rosey. And you too, when you got off the bunk in your sleep and started fiddling with the wrench, you were nothing more than a kid driven by the desire to break a toy to see what it was like inside. And you had an expression of childish gaiety on your face. There must be some unknown force on this planet that acts on our psyche and takes away the inhibitory brakes of the Ego by making the distant needs of the Id resurface."

"But Pat, they're all dead over there!"

"It means that physical death is not an obstacle, on the contrary, it is precisely after physical death that this mysterious force finds a free field to call the ghosts of the Id to the surface. I don't think our companions will ever die completely as we understand it, even if we riddle them with blows, their Id will always make them act like children," then he added softly: "At least they, perhaps unwittingly, are happy... envy them."

The group of frightful beings broke up and they all ran away throwing handfuls of sand at each other and firing into the air.

 * * * 

Inside the Vega, the clock read 18:23.

The two men had been overwhelmed with exhaustion and emotion. Still vapors covered the planet's surface, hiding everything. Somewhere a mob of hideous corpses was going mad.

Pat opened his eyes. He immediately looked at his watch. 19:05.

"Just a little while longer," he thought, "Then it'll finally be dawn."

A great deal of papers were scattered all over the floor. All the maps, travel reports, and computer tapes were strewn all over the cabin, as if a child had enjoyed tossing them into the air.

The second thing Pat noticed was that Eb was no longer in the ship. Finally he saw the door open wide.

"Eb too," Pat said in a broken voice, "I'm left alone now. Why is it me who's the last one?"

Outside, the gray vapors had cleared a little. From the Vega he began to make out the black mass of the Orion and, a hundred meters further to the left, a portion of loose ground, dug up, trampled and strewn with shreds of plastic. A modulated singing sound came from distances, still hidden by the mist.

It was a few minutes until Pat exited the ship at 20:00. The vapors continued to dissolve. The commander of the Vega took the gun out of its holster and checked its efficiency. He walked a long way before he saw figures moving in the distance in a disorderly fashion. Drops of sweat ran down his face and along his body. When he was a few dozen meters away the figures stopped writhing in absurd dances and watched Pat approaching.

"Wait, friends," Pat murmured, "one more moment and I'll join you."

A very white sun was about to rise from the gray line of the horizon. The nocturnal vapors had almost completely disappeared, the sky had lost its clusters of stars.

A shot broke the silence and propagated across the plain.

Festive shouts rose from the group as they began to dance around Pat's body again.