Aquilon was curious. 'You can explain the manta's actions?'
'I think so. But it's not simple, and the implications may not be pleasant.'
'I think we'd better know,' Aquilon said. 'If it affects our safety ... and it isn't as though there hasn't been unpleasantness already.'
Cal looked at her, concerned for the effect his words might have upon her. She was a very sensitive girl. He glanced at Veg, but knew the big man would shrug off the implications. 'It does affect our safety - and our pride,' he said. 'On Nacre, the ecological chain seems spare: one species of herbivore, one of omnivore, and also, apparently, one of true carnivore. But that's only a very small part of the story. It is impossible for animal and fungoid life to exist to the exclusion of the photosynthesizing plants. Those are the ones that manufacture food from light and inorganic substances, using chlorophyll, the green pigment. Everything else feeds on these, directly or indirectly.'
Veg began to take an interest. 'None of those here.'
'They are here, though. They have to be. They're in the atmosphere, microscopically small, circulating in the higher reaches where sufficient sunlight penetrates. As a matter of fact, the evidence is that the major ecological chains are completed in the atmosphere, and that the ground is merely a wasteland for the debris. Thus the plant life remains primitive, since it can't establish a ground base, send out roots, form a woody structure, flower and so on. It is like plankton in Earth's sea, floating and growing where conditions are favorable, and falling to the bottom when it grows too large to remain suspended. That's our dust - the perpetually sinking plankton. The plants really seem to occupy a subordinate niche here, perpetually retarded, just as many fungi are on Earth. That's an oversimplification, of course-'
He saw their restlessness and realized he was lecturing. 'At any rate, the ground habitat is restricted enough so that three major species of animal have been able to dominate, at least in the section we have seen. The so-called herbivores feed on the dust, and are easy prey, but without them the other species would perish. It would be easy for the omnivore to wipe them out, seemingly-'
'But what about the manta?' Aquilon asked. 'It should be even more-'
'Let him talk,' Veg growled. Nettled, Aquilon shut up.
'The manta, the true carnivore, would maintain the balance by preying on the omnivore, which in turn eats anything available, from dust to men. But the manta shouldn't require the herbivore for food at all-'
'That's it!' Veg exclaimed. Aquilon gave him a look. 'The manta doesn't eat herbies. It protects them!'
'Let him talk,' Aquilon said.
'If I'm right,' Cal continued quickly, 'these creatures would instinctively define everything in terms of their own system. There would be just three animal classifications: herbivore, omnivore and carnivore, preying, respectively, upon no creature, upon all creatures, and upon just one: the middle. So the herbivore would have to fear only the omnivore, and might even be protected by the manta. They would distinguish each other by type, not physical appearance, since their shapes are somewhat flexible - and may even be able to distinguish similar divisions in unrelated species. As fate would have it, the three of us represent-'
The other two came to life.'Herby!'
'Omnivore!'
'And carnivore,' Cal finished. 'In that light, the manta's motives are clear. To it, Veg is a helpless creature in need of protection. Every time a manta has seen him, it has followed, probably in response to that impulse. Naturally it has to safeguard him from the menace so close at hand.'
'It was protecting him from me,' Aquilon said, not entirely pleased.
'That tune in the herby herd,' Veg said, running it down. 'The manta sailed right over me. It could have sliced me in half with that tail, but it was headed for her. And when that omnivore attacked, our manta didn't budge until I got in the way. It must've figured Cal could take care of himself, and it didn't care about 'Quilon ...' He paused. 'And I killed the first one. It was trying to help me, and I shot it down-'
'It might have killed 'Quilon, otherwise,' Cal reminded him.
'But why,' Aquilon said, beginning to comprehend her personal danger, 'why didn't this one attack me right away, instead of watching?'
'It must have realized that all three of us were alien,' Cal said, finding the need to offer something though this question bothered him considerably. 'It may not know quite how to deal with us, and is holding off until it can make up its mind.'
'Still no call to cut the alligator pack-straps,' Veg muttered.
'Don't you know the difference between alligator and granulated pig leather?' Aquilon demanded. "Those straps are omnivore hide.'
Veg looked embarrassed.
'After a rude surprise like that, no wonder it wanted to keep an eye on us,' she continued.
'A large eye,' Veg said, staring at it.
'But when it finally comes to a decision-'
'I suggest that we get back to the base before it comes to that,' Cal said.
Aquilon looked at the manta's well of an eye and shuddered. Death stared back at her.
They climbed with new incentive. The manta followed, declining to take action - yet.
The trail ended in midafternoon. One moment they were toiling past coral cones and hanging yellow strings crowding the path in increasing proliferation; the next, they faced a vast level plain extending into the haze. To either side the fungus colored the brink, setting it off, but most species did not venture far onto the plateau.
Veg studied the compass. 'Six miles. But we can't make it today.'
'So close?' Aquilon asked him. 'But why not?'
'We could make the level distance, all right. It's the updown that bothers me. We must be a mile in the air. Got to be a drop-off somewhere....'
'Oh.'
'One more night on the road won't hurt us,' Cal said. 'Manta permitting. I'd certainly like to know just how smart this creature is.'
'Smart as a man, you figure?' Veg asked.
'I didn't say that. We know that it has a complex brain, or something analogous, and its actions certainly show something more than blind impulse. But with its superb fighting equipment, it doesn't really need intelligence as we think of it. There isn't enough challenge. It could have genius, but-'
Aquilon's brush and canvas appeared. She seemed to have shaken off her apprehension about the manta. Once again the vitality of her personality showed in two dimensions as the brush created its extemporaneous color. Sitting before the manta, trying to conceal any nervousness she might have felt, she painted its portrait: the midnight hump of a body, the flickering depth of the mighty eye that transfixed her with unblinking candor, the cruel whip-length of the tail, now curled on the ground in a circle about its foot.
The manta sat through this, quite still.
'Try one of the omnivore,' Cal said, understanding her purpose. Aquilon obliged, producing from memory an effective rendition of the charging monster. She presented it to the manta, but met with no response.
She tried a herbivore, a fungus, an enlarged manta eye, all to no avail. It would not be possible to establish communication unless she could find some point of reaction. At Cal's further suggestion she drew an omnivore charging at a group of herbivores. Still nothing. She went on to portray lifelike caricatures of the three human beings. Finally she drew a picture which she concealed from the men, showing it only to the manta. When that also brought no response, she hesitated, flushed gently, and signaled to Veg, who was getting ready to backtrack for the pack down the trail.
'Something I can do for you, Beautiful?' he inquired. Cal noted this with interest; apparently whatever had soured them earlier was fading, and the subdued flirtations were recommencing. Thus encouraged, Aquilon beckoned again.
Veg came - and the manta moved. Dust swirled as its flat body angled between them. Aquilon cried out and dropped the sketch, while Veg jumped back.
'Still forbidden,' he commented sadly. 'That thing sure watches out for what it thinks
are my interests. Otherwise you know what I'd-'
His eye fell on the picture, laying face up on the ground. 'Yeah, I guess you do.'
Cal looked at it. It was a picture of Veg embracing Aquilon.
The following day opened with uneasy turbulence. On Nacre, the shrouded planet that sparkled in space like a pearl, the wind was seldom more than a wash of mist, and the day-to-night extremes of temperature fluctuated within ten degrees. There appeared to be no rain other than the constant fall of dust - yet on this morning something was developing, something very like a storm.
They moved on, traversing the last few miles toward the base. Veg's estimate was verified within two hours: there was a sheer drop at the other side of the plateau. The human base was so close that they could hear the distant clank of machinery, but it remained invisible in the mist.
The cliff was authoritative, here; there was no feasible way for them to scale it. A few puttylike fungi leaned over the edge, but did not brave farther. Veg shouted into the gulf, but without effect There would have to be a detour.
As suddenly as it had come, the manta left. It sailed off the edge, spiraling down to disappear in the dust.
Veg peered after it, astonished. 'It can fly,' he said. Then his mind reverted to first principles. 'Chaperone's gone!' He caught hold of Aquilon's slim waist and drew her close. He kissed her.
'Not bad,' he said after a moment. 'For an omnivore ... maybe we should marry.'
She kicked him and moved out of reach. Cal still wondered what had caused the rift, now evidently healed and more than healed, but did not care to inquire. He felt no jealousy; it was enough that dissension had been removed.
With something less than enthusiasm they turned to the right and proceeded down a slight incline parallel to the cleft. Two miles to go and they had had to turn aside.
An hour later they had to halt again. Across the sloping plain a thin line of disks appeared, emerging from the obscurity with astonishing rapidity.
'Mantas,' Veg said. 'Dozens of them.'
'I'm afraid Ragnarok is at hand,' Cal said. 'Our guardian has returned with his company. If only we had been able to make some kind of contact.' But he was not seriously worried; had immediate death been the verdict, the original manta would have handled it alone. This was something else, and therefore promising.
In moments the line of sailing creatures closed the distance and circled the human group. It was strange to see so many at once, after the three contacts with individuals. A single ring of them settled down, a manta every five or six feet, eyes facing into the center where the human trio stood. Most were sleek and black, though they were of differing sizes and variable posture. There was no way to distinguish one from another with certainty, since the shape of each body was not fixed, except by size. Cal could not even be sure that their erstwhile companion was among them.
They found the one I shot!' Veg exclaimed. 'They're here for revenge.'
'I doubt it,' Cal said. 'How would they know which one of us fired the weapon?' But that suggested a manta investigation, a trial. ... 'Probably they are merely curious how this weird collection of aliens manages to associate in harmony.'
He hardly believed this now, and was sure neither other person was fooled. There was too much they did not know about these creatures. The mantas must have surrounded them for some purpose. Did they have a leader? A decision maker?
He spied a huge grizzled individual, two hundred pounds at least and almost five feet tall. It's eye bore upon him. Menacingly? Intelligently? Could size be an indication of status, since presumably the largest was the oldest?
Outside the immediate ring the smaller mantas moved , about, leaping and cruising in widening spirals, their paths crossing and recrossing. It seemed to be an aimless pattern, antlike; and like ants, each member hesitated as it met another, exchanging glances and dodging by.
Cal observed all this with growing excitement. 'That eye why didn't I think of it before! It is constructed like an electronic tube, a cathode. It must generate a communication signal!'
'But why didn't my pictures-'
'I see it all now,' Cal rushed on, hardly hearing her. 'Why, more straight perception must be massed in that one optic than in all our multiple senses. It would be a highly effective natural radar device, emitting a controlled beam and coordinating the data returned. The dust would prevent confusion by limiting the range. I wouldn't be surprised if it detected depth by analyzing the tune-delay of the returning signal.'
'But if it could see that well-' Aquilon began.
'That's the reason! We see by our own "visible" spectrum, but the manta wouldn't necessarily operate on that level at all. Even if it could make out the colors, it would hardly interpret them as a representation of a three-dimensional object. Its vision wouldn't utilize the same illusions of perspective as our own. You may have been showing it a flat, blank sheet.'
Veg had been walking around the circle. 'So it sees too well for us?' he asked.
Tartly that, but-' Cal drifted off, working it out. 'We know from that dissection that virtually all of the manta's brain is tied directly to the eye. If it emits a modulated signal - why, its whole intellect is keyed in. Think of the communication possible, when two of them lock their gaze. The full power of each brain channeled through the transceiver ... pictures, feelings, all of it in an instant....'
"They must be pretty smart,' Veg said.
'No, probably the opposite. They-'
Both stared at bun curiously. He tried again. 'Don't you see - so much of man's vaunted intelligence is required simply to transmit and receive information. Each of us has a wall of isolation, of ignorance, to transcend. We have no direct communication, and so we have to master complex verbal codes and symbolic interpretations, merely to get our thoughts and needs across. With such second-hand contact, no wonder a powerful cerebral backstop is necessary. But the manta must have virtual telepathy: one glance, and communication is complete. It needs no real intelligence.'
'Yeah. Sure,' Veg said dubiously.
The grizzled leader (presumed) swiveled to meet the glance of a traveling manta as a strangely hot gust of air washed over the assemblage. Then it was moving, and so were the others.
"There's something else going on,' Aquilon said nervously. 'I don't think they care about us. Not to talk with, anyway.'
'If only we had the proper equipment here - a television transducer, perhaps - we might be able to establish direct contact,' Cal said, disappointed. 'We could photograph their signal and analyze it. But right now we have no way to know their motives.' But he knew that she had a good point. It was a strange day in a strange area, and the strange actions of the mantas were more likely than not to be connected. Had the human party overrated its importance?
Across the plateau the gray mists parted. A brilliant light appeared, widening rapidly. The mantas scattered across the plain reacted with bursts of energy that tore up the ground.
'Look at them move!' Veg exclaimed admiringly.
The light expanded, sweeping toward them in a burning arc. 'What is it?' Aquilon demanded, clutching Veg's arm. 'That light - like a furnace. Where is it coming from?'
She realized what she was doing and jerked her hand away, but the sweeping shapes paid no attention. The mantas seemed possessed, darting about in a crazed firefly pattern.
More flares appeared, as far as he could see across the plain. It was a phenomenon that extended for miles, if what he observed were typical. Volcanic eruption? Then where was the noise, the earth-shuddering? This was silent light, flaring intermittently as though a curtain flapped before a projector.
Then he understood. 'The sun - the storm has let in the sun!'
The advancing light struck one of the billowing fungi spotting the plain in this neighborhood. Almost immediately the structure began to twist and shrivel; then, as the radiation and heat penetrated its rind, the dormant gases inside expanded. The skin of the fungus distended in gross blisters; then the entire growth
shattered.
'I never thought of that,' Aquilon said, fascinated. 'Nacre hardly ever sees the direct light of the sun. The native life isn't conditioned to it.'
'Like a forest fire,' Veg agreed. 'Wipes out everything it touches, and nobody knows how to get away.'
It occurred to Cal that this could explain the barrenness of the upper plain. The higher elevation might predispose it to such breakthroughs, letting the sun blast away all life periodically. Had the mantas come to warn them? Convection currents at the edges could keep enough new dust stirred up so that the fungus there was protected.
Of Man and Manta Omnibus Page 13
