The Vanishing VenusiansLeigh BrackettPlanet StoriesSpring 1945 The breeze was steady enough but it was not in a hurry. It filled the lug sail just hardenough to push the dirty weed-grown hull through the water and no harder. MattHarker lay alongside the tiller and counted the trickles of sweat crawling over hisnakedness and stared with sullen opaque eyes into the indigo night. Anger leashedand impotent rose in his throat like bitter vomit.The sea—Rory McLarens Venusian wife called it the Sea of Morning Opals—layunstirring black streaked with phosphorescence. The sky hung low over it the thickcloud blanket of Venus that had made the Sun a half-remembered legend to the exilesfrom Earth. Riding lights burned in the blue gloom strung out in line. Twelve shipsthirty-eight hundred people going no place trapped in the interval between birth anddeath and not knowing what to do about it.Matt Harker glanced upward at the sail and then at the stern lantern of the shipahead. His face in the dim glow that lights Venus even at night was a gaunt oblong ofshadows and hard bone seamed and scarred with living with wanting and not havingwith dying and not being dead. He was a lean man wiry and not tall with a snake-likesurety of motion.Somebody came scrambling quietly aft along the deck avoiding the sleeping bodiescrowded everywhere. Harker said without emotion quotHi Rory.quotRory McLaren said quotHi Matt.quot He sat down. He was young perhaps half Harkersage. There was still hope in his face but it was growing tired. He sat for a while withoutspeaking looking at nothing and then said quotHonest to God Matt how much longer canwe lastquotquotWhats the matter kid Starting to crackquotquotI dont know. Maybe. When are we going to stop somewnerequotquotWhen we find a place to stop.quotquotIs there a place to stop Seems like ever since I was born weve been hunting.Theres always something wrong. Hostile natives or fever or bad soil alwayssomething and we go on again. Its not right. Its not any way to try to live.quotHarker said quotI told you not to go having kids.quotquotWhats that got to do with itquotquotYou start worrying. The kid isnt even here yet and already youre worrying.quotquotSure I am.quot McLaren put his head in his hands suddenly and swore. Harker knewhe did that to keep from crying. quotIm worriedquot McLaren said quotthat maybe the samethingll happen to my wife and kid that happened to yours. We got fever aboard.quotHarkers eyes were like blown coals for an instant. Then he glanced up at the sailand said quotTheyd be better off if it didnt live.quotquotThats no kind of a thing to say.quotquotIts the truth. Like