The Native Soil

by Alan Edward Nourse

evidence of incompetence,the time to correct it is now."

  "Well--maybe we can go outside and see him."

  "We'll see him right here." Kielland sank down on the bench near thewall. A tiny headache was developing; he found a capsule in his samplescase and popped it in his mouth.

  Simpson looked sad and nodded to the orderly who had stopped scrubbingdown the wall. "Louie, you heard the man."

  "But boss--"

  Simpson scowled. Louie went to the door and whistled. Presently therewas a splashing sound and a short, gray creature padded in. His hindfeet were four-toed webbed paddles; his legs were long and powerful likea kangaroo's. He was covered with thick gray fur which dripped withthick black mud. He squeaked at Simpson, wriggling his nose. Simpsonsqueaked back sharply.

  Suddenly the creature began shaking his head in a slow, rhythmicundulation. With a cry Simpson dropped behind the desk. The orderly fellflat on the floor, covering his face with his arm. Kielland's eyeswidened; then he was sitting in a deluge of mud as the little Venusianshook himself until his fur stood straight out in all directions.

  Simpson stood up again with a roar. "I've told them a thousand times ifI've told them once--" He shook his head helplessly as Kielland wipedmud out of his eyes. "This is the one you wanted to see."

  Kielland sputtered. "Can it talk to you?"

  "It doesn't talk, it squeaks."

  "Then ask it to explain why the platform it built didn't hold thelanding craft."

  Simpson began whistling and squeaking at length to the little creature.Its shaggy tail crept between its legs and it hung its head like ascolded puppy.

  "He says he didn't know a landing craft was supposed to land on theplatform," Simpson reported finally. "He's sorry, he says."

  "But hasn't he seen a landing craft before?"

  Squeak, squeak. "Oh, yes."

  "Wasn't he told what the platform was being made for?"

  Squeak, squeak. "Of course."

  "Then why didn't the platform stand up?"

  Simpson sighed. "Maybe he forgot what it was supposed to be used for inthe course of building it. Maybe he never really did understand in thefirst place. I can't get questions like that across to him with thiswhistling, and I doubt that you'll ever find out which it was."

  "Then fire him," said Kielland. "We'll find some other--"

  "Oh, no! I mean, let's not be hasty," said Simpson. "I'd hate to have tofire this one--for a while yet, at any rate."

  "Why?"

  "Because we've finally gotten across to him--at least I _think_ wehave--just how to take down a dredge tube." Simpson's voice was almosttearful. "It's taken us months to teach him. If we fire him, we'll haveto start all over again with another one."

  Kielland stared at the Venusian, and then at Simpson. "So," he saidfinally, "I see."

  "No, you don't," Simpson said with conviction. "You don't even begin tosee yet. You have to fight it for a few months before you really see."He waved the Venusian out the door and turned to Kielland with burden often months' frustration in his voice. "They're _stupid_," he saidslowly. "They are so incredibly stupid I could go screaming into theswamp every time I see one of them coming. Their stupidity is positivelyabysmal."

  "Then why use them?" Kielland spluttered.

  "Because if we ever hope to mine anything in this miserable mudhole,we've got to use them to do it. There just isn't any other way."

  With Simpson leading, they donned waist-high waders with wide, flatsilicone-coated pans strapped to the feet and started out to inspect theinstallation.

  A crowd of a dozen or more Venusian natives swarmed happily around themlike a pack of hounds. They were in and out of the steaming mud,circling and splashing, squeaking: and shaking. They seemed to be havinga real field day.

  "Of course," Simpson was saying, "since Number Four dredge sank lastweek there isn't a whale of a lot of Installation left for you toinspect. But you can see what there is, if you want."

  "You mean Number Four dredge is the only one you've got to use?"Kielland asked peevishly. "According to my records you have fiveAxis-Traction dredges, plus a dozen or more of the old kind."

  "Ah!" said Simpson. "Well, Number One had its vacuum chamber corrodedout a week after we started using dredging. Ran into a vein of stuffwith 15 per cent acid content, and it got chewed up something fierce.Number Two sank without a trace--over there in the swamp someplace." Hepointed across the black mud flats to a patch of sickly vegetation. "TheMud-pups know where it is, they think, and I suppose they could go dragit up for us if we dared take the time, but it would lose us a month,and you know the production schedule we've been trying to meet."

  "So what about Numbers Three and Five?"

  "Oh, we still have them. They won't work without a major overhaul,though."

  "Overhaul! They're brand new."

  "They _were_. The Mud-pups didn't understand how to sluice them downproperly after operations. When this guck gets out into the air ithardens like cement. You ever see a cement mixer that hasn't beencleaned out after use for a few dozen times? That's Numbers Three andFive."

  "What about the old style models?"

  "Half of them are out of commission, and the other half are holding theislands still."

  "Islands?"

  "Those chunks of semisolid ground we have Administration built on. Thechunk that keeps Control Tower in one place."

  "Well, what are they going to do--walk away?"

  "That's just about right. The first week we were in operation we keptwondering why we had to travel farther every day to get to the dredges.Then we realized that solid ground on Venus isn't solid ground at all.It's just big chunks of denser stuff that floats on top of the mud likedumplings in a stew. But that was nothing compared to the otherthings--"

  They had reached the vicinity of the salvage operation on Number Fivedredge. To Kielland it looked like a huge cylinder-type vacuum cleanerwith a number of flexible hoses sprouting from the top. The wholemachine was three-quarters submerged in clinging mud. Off to the right aderrick floated hub-deep in slime; grapplers from it were clinging tothe dredge and the derrick was heaving and splashing like a trappedhippopotamus. All about the submerged machine were Mud-pups, workinglike strange little beavers as the man supervising the operation wipedmud from his face and carried on a running line of shouts, curses,whistles and squeaks.

  Suddenly one of the Mud-pups saw the newcomers. He let out a squeal,dropped his line in the mud and bounced up to the surface, dancing likea dervish on his broad webbed feet as he stared in unabashed curiosity.A dozen more followed his lead, squirming up and staring, shaking gobsof mud from their fur.

  "No, _no_!" the man supervising the operation screamed. "_Pull_, youidiots. Come back here! Watch _out_--"

  The derrick wobbled and let out a whine as steel cable sizzled out.Confused, the Mud-pups tore themselves away from the newcomers andturned back to their lines, but it was too late. Number Five dredgetrembled, with a wet sucking sound, and settled back into the mud,blub--blub--blub.

  The supervisor crawled down from his platform and sloshed across towhere Simpson and Kielland were standing. He looked like a man who hadsuffered the torment of the damned for twenty minutes too long. "Nomore!" he screamed in Simpson's face. "That's all. I'm through. I'llpick up my pay any time you get it ready, and I'll finish off mycontract at home, but I'm through here. One solid week I work to teachthese idiots what I want them to do, and you have to come along at theone moment all week when I really need their concentration." He glared,his face purple. "Concentration! I should hope for so much! You got tohave a brain to have concentration--"

  "Barton, this is Kielland. He's here from the Home Office, to solve allour problems."

  "You mean he brought us an evacuation ship?"

  "No, he's going to tell us how to make this Installation pay. Right,Kielland?" Simpson's grin was something to see.

  Kielland scowled. "What are you going to do with the dredge--just leaveit there?" he asked angrily.

>   "No--I'm going to dig it out, again," said Barton, "after we takeanother week off to drum into those quarter-brained mud-hens just whatit is we want them to do--again--and then persuade them to doit--again--and then hope against hope that nothing happens along todistract them--again. Any suggestions?"

  Simpson shook his head. "Take a rest, Barton. Things will look brighterin the morning."

  "Nothing ever looks