Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









                           THE TIME OF COLD

                            BY MARY CARLSON

              Queer creatures! They fled the life-giving
                sun and hid where even tin froze solid!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
             Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1963.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Curt felt the airship going out of control as he passed over a rock
spattered stretch of sand. Automatically he looked for a smooth place
to land and steered the bucking ship for it. The jolt of the landing
triggered the ejector seat and in a second he was hurtling through the
air away from the explosion of the damaged vehicle. Just before he
blacked out, he thought--almost calmly--"a good hundred and fifty miles
from the colony."

When he regained consciousness, night was passing and the first of the
three suns was peeking over the horizon. Curt lay still for a while,
afraid to find out what might be wrong with him. And the rescue ship
could take anything from an hour to a week to find him. He moved his
head to discover if there might be anything left of his ship; he saw
nothing but pieces.

"Well," he said aloud, "so much for that." He reached back gingerly
and undid the seat straps. Carefully, he sat up and began to ease his
weight onto his feet. A sharp twinge of pain in his knee dropped him
back to a sitting position. He probed at the knee but found no broken
bones.

"Well," he said again, quietly. The colony leaders had had very little
to offer in the way of survival. Rule number 1: Mark the crash site and
your direction of travel. Number 2: Get into shade before the combined
heat of the three suns boils your blood. Number 3: Carry your pistol
for protection against liquid scorpions, and always save the last
pellet for yourself.

Curt glanced about nervously at the thought of the liquid
scorpions--the one form of animal life the colonist had found on this
mineral-rich planet. Liquid scorpions were enormous masses of clear,
jellyish liquid that oozed forward across the rock and sand with
remarkable speed. A liquid scorpion changed shape constantly, its mass
shooting out legs wherever they were needed. Only the eyes, fixed in a
bulge over the center of its mass, and the almost-solid, curved stinger
that arched over its back remained the same.

The first landing party had stood transfixed while one of the crew was
attacked and absorbed before their eyes. Clear, the scorpion had been
almost invisible to them until it flowed about the navigator's legs and
paralyzed him with the swaying stinger. When his frantic struggles had
ceased, the creature flowed over his body and absorbed it. As the party
watched, the clearness slowly became a thin, dark red, and the body
could no longer be seen.

Avengers had poured out of the ship after the giant scorpion, which
reared back, tripling its height and halving its width. At the apex,
the two protruding eyes bulged at them and the stinger swayed back and
forth, reaching out and retreating. Explosive pellets fired into its
flesh were absorbed with a slurping sound. The captain in the end, had
knelt and taken careful aim at the right eye, behind which was the
only unreddened sector of the mass. When the right eye disappeared,
the clear area spurted out of the hole and drained over the jelly-like
surface. Slowly, silently, the first of the liquid scorpions died.

Curt counted the pellets in his belt--an even hundred. Enough ... if
he managed to keep out of sight and had good enough aim. He surveyed
the surrounding countryside. Farther along the valley were shaded caves
where he could find protection once he had marked his course.

If he could walk that far.

       *       *       *       *       *

Xen came sluggishly awake, feeling the warmth penetrate his mass. The
time of heat had come again, the time to search for what would halt the
hunger that ached through every inch of him.

Slowly, his cold-stiffened mass flowed forward from its hiding place in
the warmth-holding sand. The heat melted the stiffness out of him and
he began to slide across the sand, his alert senses functioning again.
Sense of touch led him across rocks and over ridges easily. The touchy
sense of vibration waited apprehensively for movement that would
shake the ground. And the third sense, the one that could be called
only "sense" or "sense of knowing," functioned as always without his
understanding. Today, this third sense told Xen, was different from
other days.

Extra-cautious, Xen oozed over rocky barriers in the direction that his
"sense" told him held food. Once he felt a slight tremor, and in terror
flooded out over the rock into thin, transparent nothing. He waited
several degrees of heat, but no further movement touched the sensitive
receivers in his mass.

A falling rock, he decided, collecting himself and starting forward
again. He slithered down rocky walls, pouring almost like water when
the drop was long and drawing together at the bottom. When his feeling
of touch warned him of the shade whose coolness might solidify him and
leave him helpless in the open, he drew hurriedly away and changed
direction.

Finally, he reached an open spot that was likely to contain food.
His mass ached for something to consume, but he flooded himself thin
again and waited, feeling. There was no vibration through the surface,
nor did his "sense" tell him of anything other than the possibility
of nourishment. Xen hesitated only a degree of heat before bubbling
excitedly into the open space.

Touch found him something edible almost immediately--he flowed around
and over it, absorbing it hungrily. His mass dissolved it almost
immediately and ached for more. He slid thin, reaching out in every
direction until contact was made, then absorbing the food instantly and
moving on.

       *       *       *       *       *

Curt, lying in meager shade that would be gone in half an hour when
the third and largest sun rose, first saw the movement when it was on
the rocks. His already frayed nerves gave a frightened leap. He lay
perfectly still. Where he had seen the movement on the rocky shelf
there was now nothing.

The nothing moved forward.

Curt shivered. He was certain he was seeing nothing, and yet his eyes
were trying to tell him there was movement. When it reached the flat
place and flowed swiftly forward, he realized that it was a liquid
animal and was suddenly pointedly conscious of the weight of the pistol
against his hip.

He watched carefully for the eyes and the stinger, but saw none. That
frightened him. If he could not find the brain, he had no mark to
shoot at. As he watched, the liquid creature flowed against one of the
hardy, sun-browned plants and jerked in reaction. Instantly, it flowed
over the plant and absorbed it. The liquid turned momentarily a thin
brownish green and then cleared again.

Curt watched it with narrowed eyes. It was just possible that this
creature ate only plant life. The colonists had realized that the
liquid scorpions had fed upon something else before they arrived, but
no one had been able to discover what that something was.

       *       *       *       *       *

Xen was in the process of absorbing a plant when the vibration sense
alerted him. Terror shot through him and he spread thinly across thirty
feet of ground and lay motionless, his "sense" telling him frantically
that a Sting was hunting nearby.

He lay for many degrees of heat, waiting. Sense of vibration and
knowing both told him that the Sting was approaching, but uncertainly,
searching. Then both senses reacted startledly to a new danger on the
other side. New movement! A new feeling that his "sense" could not
understand.

The Sting was approaching at an angle that would inevitably bring it in
contact with Xen. Absorption was the penalty for being caught. Xen was
resigned to death, for he could not possibly escape the Sting. And now
there was this new sensation on the other side of him. Whatever it was,
he had no idea; but likely it was as voracious as the Sting.

Now the new thing vibrated jerkily around him and stopped between him
and the Sting. The vibrations from the eager Sting accelerated rapidly,
eagerly, as it flowed over the ground. Then, for no reason except that
the new creature had moved slightly, the Sting recoiled. The jerks were
plainly recorded through the earth to Xen; and as he felt the heavy
jar, his "sense" told him that the danger from the Sting was past. The
Sting was dead.

Xen drew himself together and considered that.

The new thing vibrated jerkily the place from which Xen had first felt
it move. It must be solid as the rocks to move so jerkily, Xen thought.
The Sting-killer drew itself back under the enormous rock and ceased to
move.

Curiosity drew Xen forward, fear dragged him back. He spread thin and
drew together with uncertainty. At last, he oozed forward carefully
until he reached the rock. The Sting-killer was pressed back under the
rock, where touch told Xen a tiny amount of the cold-carrying shade
remained. Xen puzzled at that. Why should this creature hide from the
life-giving suns?

He reached out and absorbed a plant thoughtfully. This thing was
different from the liquid structures he had always known. If it was
solid where they were liquid, perhaps then it was also opposite in its
needs. Maybe this Sting-killer needed cold instead of heat.

While Xen was considering this difficult thought, the Sting-killer
began to move again.

       *       *       *       *       *

Curt gasped. The shade was gone. The third sun was reaching long rays
under the rock to sear his already-burned flesh. He had to find more
shade.

Movements were very painful. His lips were cracking and his face had
blackened. The injured knee had swollen inside the protective suit; it
throbbed and ached. Dazedly, he pulled himself to his feet.

On the rock beside him, spread an inch thick, was the almost-invisible
creature he had been forced to circle in order to stop the liquid
scorpion. He wondered tiredly if it was dangerous. It lay completely
motionless, just as it had when the liquid scorpion had approached. So
it was probably more afraid of him than he was of it. He turned away.
There appeared to be shade down the valley--perhaps a mile, perhaps
three. Too much for him, he knew, but he set out, feeling the sun beat
cruelly at him, crying out when the pain in his knee forced him to
catch his balance against the sun-heated rock.

He knew without turning that the liquid creature was following him,
stopping when he stopped, starting when he started. When he knew he
could go no farther and felt his knee give weakly to his weight, he saw
it ooze forward and began to flow over his legs. He tried to reach his
pistol, but it seemed so far away.

       *       *       *       *       *

Xen, following the Sting-killer curiously, put together all that he had
learned. This creature was different from himself. It needed shade. It
had killed his enemy, which was possibly also its own enemy. Now it was
trying to reach the shade, but its progress grew steadily slower.

He considered that progress. The only thing he could liken it to was
one of his own kind, caught out in the time of cold, trying to reach
the heat-retaining sands, slowly congealing into a solid mass and
dying. This, then, was the reverse process. Perhaps the Sting-killer
would become liquid after a certain degree of heat.

Xen's sense of knowing warned him gently about too much wandering
in the open, where countless Stings could be hiding. He drew back,
unwilling to stop following this interesting creature. The Sting-killer
vibrated the ground and lay still suddenly. Xen waited for a "sense" of
death but none came. This might be for the new thing a stage similar to
that when one of Xen's own kind became unable to move from the cold,
but still lived and feared.

Caught between his own fear and a very strange sensation that he could
not interpret, Xen waited a degree of heat. Then he oozed forward and
spread himself over the still shape, until it floated within him. When
he flowed over one part, the thing struggled pitiably. Xen drew back
startedly and the movement ceased. Carefully, he retraced his course,
leaving the part free. This time there was no struggling.

Spurred by fear of Stings, Xen began to flow across the land, letting
his "Sense" guide him to the coldness. He slithered up slopes, poured
over steep drops, always collecting himself in time to catch his burden.

He found a place that would stay cold until the next time of heat
and halted in front of it, his anxiety evident in the way he spread
and collected himself, back and forth. At last he inched forward,
feeling the agony of the cold bite into every cell. Bunching himself
behind the Sting-killer, he made it flow along him until it broke
free and lay upon the shaded rock. Xen drew back as hurriedly as his
already-sluggish mass would allow. He spread thin across the earth and
let the heat liquefy his body again....

       *       *       *       *       *

It was when the time of cold was only a few degrees away that Xen felt
the heavy vibration which nearly made him dissolve with fear. It lasted
for a few degrees and then weakened and made only a small tremor. Now
many smaller vibrations reached him, like many creatures moving about.
The tremors spread out, moving slowly toward the rocky valley.

Xen lay still trying to identify the vibrations. They were not those of
Stings. As they approached, he recognized them as resembling in great
numbers the creature he had put upon the rock.

       *       *       *       *       *

Curt imagined he heard voices, an incoherent babble of them. He
struggled to sit up, but there was an incredible weight on his chest.

"Lie still," a voice said clearly, and his mind echoed, "Still ...
still ... still...."

He struggled again. "Liquid," he croaked painfully, "liquid animal ...
liquid...." The weight was still there. He heard one last voice say,
"Poor guy, he must have run into scorpions."

Then he was lifted and it seemed as though the lifting would never
cease.

       *       *       *       *       *

Xen waited until the small tremor was gone and the great vibration had
roared and disappeared. He knew by the sense of emptiness that the
Sting-killer had gone back to his own kind. For a moment he felt very
alone, though he knew the sand was full of Xens.

Slowly, he drew himself together. For the time of cold was but a few
degrees away, and he must seek the warm sands.