Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail by Jack L. Chalker Read Free Book Online Page A

Despite the turbulent air, the pilot managed a nice descent, then glided right up to and into the dock.
    In less than a minute I could hear the airlock door mechanisms operating, and the indicator went from red to orange to green. There was a pneumatic hiss, then the doors rolled back. For a moment, none of us moved. Finally, those nearest the hatch stood up and walked out the open door. Sighing, I got up and did the same.
    The walkway was bitter cold. We were all stark naked, so there was no time to think as we ran for the terminal. A man and a woman, waited for us just as we came inside, by which time I was already turning blue. They shouted at us to get over to a table and take protective clothing as quickly as possible and put it on. None of us needed any urging. Although it was pretty tough finding anything in my size, I did the best I could. I saw that the stuff was standard thermal underclothing, then parka, pants, and soft boots all lined with some sort of fur, with matching fur-lined gloves. Getting them on helped, but I was so damned cold I knew it would take some time to thaw out.
    “As soon as you’re dressed, line up here!” the woman shouted in a commanding, drill-instructor-type voice.
    I did as instructed, feeling a bit as if I was back in training. Only when I was standing there did the reality hit me. Here I was, on Medusa—and even as that first blast of frigid air had hit me, my body was being systematically invaded by an alien organism that was to be my permanent jailer.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Orientation

     
    The couple who had met us looked lean, tough, and mean. They radiated an arrogant sort of cold, businesslike power. Both were dressed in fatigue-green uniforms and wore rubber-soled black shoes, but the uniforms were rather light and did not seem to offer much protection against the cold. In fact, these two were dressed in such a way that you’d swear the ambient temperature in the terminal was not below freezing but rather somewhere in the temperate range. Their uniforms bore sewn insignia of rank—if they followed the usual standard here, the man was a sergeant, the woman a corporal—and an odd-looking, snakelike insignia on their right pockets, but that was it.
    We all lined up, turned, and looked at the couple, who stared back at us as if we were some kind of disgusting specimens for a lab dissection. I took an instant dislike to them both.
    “I’m Sergeant Gorn,” the man said. With his clipped, officious voice he sounded like every sergeant I’d ever heard. ‘This is Corporal Sugra. We are orientation leaders and medical technicians for your group. I think you are as dressed as we can manage. Don’t worry if you have size problems—everyone does. When you become more acclimated to Medusa, you will be issued a full set of tailored clothing. First we must transfer you to the orientation center, so follow me and we will board a bus just outside.” With that he started walking and, after a moment’s hesitation, we all followed. The corporal brought up the rear.
    The bus was of an odd magnetic-drive design, with hard, molded seats, two strings of internal lights, and not much else. There was no operator and, as we quickly discovered, no heat. It was built like a fort, though, so we would be sheltered from the noisy wind and thickly blowing snow if not from the biting cold. As soon as the last of us boarded, the corporal took a card out of one of her pockets and stuck it in a slot in the front panel of the bus. The doors closed with a whoosh and we were off rather smoothly -and quickly, emerging from the tunnel into Medusa proper.
    The spaceport was located some distance from the town. We managed to run out of the blizzard after some ten or fifteen minutes and gained a little visibility of a world that was still totally snow-covered. I could see high mountains off in the distance, grim and foreboding. There was no sign of life out there, though—I had no idea how much snow was there,