Quofum

by Alan Dean Foster

  It was hard. Not because the trio of largely self-erecting buildings proved difficult to put up, but because as soon as they set foot on Quofum, every one of the scientists was overwhelmed by the incredible fecundity of their surroundings. It took an effort of will on the part of every member of the crew in addition to continuous cajoling by an exasperated Boylan to get them to attend to the business of putting together a place to sleep, eat, and work. Everyone wanted to explore the alien forest or the alien beach or the alien river.

  There was life everywhere. Mosi N’kosi, who thought he had been on bountiful worlds, avowed as how he had never seen anything like their new planetfall. Haviti was visibly overcome by both the opportunities that surrounded them as they worked to erect the camp and by its beauty. Being thranx, Valnadireb had never lived on worlds that were anything other than tropical in nature, but even he had to confess that for sheer richness of biota Quofum surpassed any place up to and including the incredibly lush thranx mother world of Hivehom. For its part, what the researchers initially took to be the more advanced native life-forms appeared as interested in the new arrivals as they did in them.

  It took less than a week to set up the tripartite portable facility: living quarters in one extended rectangular structure, lab in another, equipment and gear storage in the third—all laid out like the spokes of an incomplete wheel around the domed main entranceway and biolock. Each successive day they spent on Quofum without succumbing to local bacteria or other infectious microbiota, the less necessary the formal double entrance became. Still, no one suggested doing away with the additional security. Just because they had not yet encountered any hostile life-forms did not mean they did not exist. As experienced xenologists, they knew better.

  They also knew that since there were only four of them in addition to Boylan and Araza, it was necessary to stay and work closely together until they had a far better conception of their surroundings. While having four researchers go off on four different tangents might prove to be individually gratifying and scientifically productive, it could also prove singularly fatal. So for the present they restrained themselves.

  At least there were no arguments over what to do with the skimmer. None of the scientists requested its use. With a lifetime of work easily accessible within walking distance of the camp, none of the researchers felt a need to make use of the long-range vehicle.

  While Boylan and Araza stayed behind to finalize and set up the remainder of the camp’s internal components, everything from the food processing gear to the research lab, the energized scientists paired off. Haviti and Valnadireb chose to focus on the life in and around the river while N’kosi and Tellenberg elected to study the transition zone where forest met the coast.

  Appropriately equipped and armed, the two men restrained themselves from stopping every meter to spend an hour collecting samples of local vegetation. Had they chosen to so indulge themselves, they could have spent weeks without passing beyond view of the camp. This exploratory conservatism would have pleased the ever-cautious Boylan, but not so the sponsors of the expedition. So both men hiked a straight line through the foliage to the beach, resolutely resisting the urge to stop and take samples of blue-orange blossoms and elegantly coiled growths whose trunks glistened like pale green plastic beneath a cloud-scrimmed sun.

  It did not take them long to reach the shore of the alien ocean. In the absence of a moon, there was hardly any wave action. To the alarm of his shorter companion N’kosi, the very first thing Tellenberg did was wade into the shallows, dip a sampling tube, and instead of sealing it and replacing it in his backpack, take an experimental sip of the liquid he had bottled. It was bad science. Still, the host of expressions that played across Tellenberg’s face showed that at least one portion of the initial survey probe’s report had been right on the mark.

  “Nine percent seems about right.” Tellenberg grinned at his concerned colleague. “I expect you could get good and proper drunk on it. But you’d have to like your drinks with a good dose of salt.” Wading back to the beach, the lower third of his field pants drying rapidly, he extended the tube toward his partner.

  Raising a hand, N’kosi demurred. “No thanks. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until we’ve had a chance to analyze the contents. See if it contains anything interesting besides alcohol. Swarms of parasitic alien foraminifer, for example.”

  Tellenberg made a face as he slipped the tube into its waiting receptacle slot. “You’re no fun.”

  “Alien parasites are no fun. Horrible, painful death is no fun,” N’kosi countered.

  “Like I said, you’re no fun.” A stirring at the foot of the alien growths that grew right up to the edge of the beach drew Tellenberg’s attention. “Are those worms?” Disagreement immediately forgotten, the two men climbed the slight slope in the direction of the movement.

  Inland, Valnadireb slowed as he and Haviti approached the river. Though not large or deep, it continued to flow swiftly out of the foothills to the east. Like most of his kind Valnadireb had an instinctive fear of any water that rose higher than the breathing spicules located on his thorax. Furthermore, lacking the large expandable air sac/swim bladders their human friends called lungs, a flailing thranx would sink if immersed over its head. Though some thranx were known to participate in water activities, they were universally considered worse than mad by their contemporaries.

  So Valnadireb held back while Haviti walked down to the river and took samples. At her urging and with her encouragement he edged closer and closer, until he was standing just behind her and to one side. There he was able to assist in storing and cataloguing the water samples she dipped from the shallows. The involuntary quivering and barely perceptible buzzing of his vestigial wing cases was the only visible evidence of his unease. The chitinous thranx, of course, did not sweat.

  “I know that was difficult for you,” she told him as they moved away from the rushing water and back toward the edge of the forest. While she was perfectly fluent in symbospeech, she did not hesitate to speak in terranglo. Her thranx colleague was equally fluent in both, and certainly more at ease with her language than she would have been attempting the clicks, whistles, and glottal stops of Low Thranx.

  The valentine-shaped head with its golden-banded compound eyes swiveled around almost a hundred eighty degrees to focus on her as she used both hands to adjust the pack that was slung across his upper abdomen.

  “Water is for drinking and ablutions,” he declared firmly. “I can never watch humans voluntarily submerging themselves without incurring distress to my digestive system.”

  Grinning, she stepped away from him and adjusted her shirt. The air was pleasantly warm: a bit cool for a thranx, perfect for her kind. Abruptly, the grin vanished and she froze.

  As sensitive to flexible human expression as he was to the intricate multiple limb and hand movements of his own kind, Valnadireb instantly dropped a truhand toward the small pistol that resided in his thorax holster.

  “You see something that provokes anxiety. Where?”

  Raising one arm, the now wholly serious Haviti pointed. “To the right. Between those two large red-orange growths.” She stood motionless and staring.

  “I have no idea what it is,” she concluded, “but I do know that it’s looking straight at us.”

  2

  Even though every part of the camp from the walls to the laboratory equipment to the furniture was designed to essentially erect itself, a certain amount of supervision was still required to ensure that, for example, the compressed bed erectors were placed in individual rooms instead of the kitchen area. Preprogrammed automatics from the shuttle did the heavy lifting and set everything in place after which Boylan and Araza activated the self-contained shipping crates. That done, all that was necessary was for them to stand back and ensure that the self-powered installations unfolded smoothly.

  It took several days of steady work with everyone pitching in to set up all three sections of the camp and get them connecte
d to the domed entrance lock. It was while the first of these was being furnished and equipped that the captain noticed Araza staring at him.

  “Something wrong, Salvador?” Stepping back from the first of the expandable beds they were installing, Boylan eyed the technician expectantly.

  “No, nothing, sir. I was preoccupied, that’s all.”

  “Time enough for that later. I want every installation done right first time.” He grunted softly. “Nobody want their bed collapsing under them in middle of night, or food processor failing to deliver after hard day’s work.”

  “We are ahead of schedule,” Araza observed mildly. The sultry heat of afternoon saw both of them perspiring heavily.

  “That’s way I like it.” Something in the tech’s voice…“You are maybe needing a break?”

  “No, I am fine. I was just wondering, that is all….”

  Boylan paused while the bed finished installing itself. “Whatever is on you mind, don’t keep it to youself.”

  Turning, Araza indicated the rest of the longitudinal chamber. By tomorrow it would be properly sectioned off and the individual living quarters filled with practical, solid gear as well as items of a personal nature. At present, except for the bed that was rapidly unfolding and positioning itself, it was an empty shell filled with sealed containers waiting to be activated.

  “Did you ever stop to wonder why the government authorized such a small expedition?”

  Boylan snorted. “Of course. There was no point in spending lots of money to send a big ship and big team to a place that might not exist. Based on what we report, I would anticipate a follow-up investigative team to be much larger.”

  Araza nodded thoughtfully. “Assuming we all get off here alive.”

  Boylan’s heavy brows drew together. “We have been here less than day and already you are contemplating catastrophe?”

  The technician did not look in the captain’s direction. “I just think maybe one reason the Commonwealth sent such a small team was so any losses would be minimized. In the event of an unforeseeable disaster.”

  Boylan was not pleased. This wasn’t the kind of talk he wanted to hear from a team member so soon after touchdown. “You are maybe having something specific in mind?”

  Shouldering an installer whose label declared that it contained a compacted chest of drawers, the tech looked back at his superior. “While spotty, what records there are of this world show it not being here much of the time.”

  Boylan let out a short, derisive laugh. “Well, it sure as hell here now!” Raising his right leg, he stomped down with enough force to cause the tough integrated flooring to vibrate slightly underfoot. “It my personal conclusion after past several days working here that I don’t think it or we have to worry about disappearing anywhere soon.”

  “Maybe not soon,” a seemingly reluctant Araza muttered.

  The other man squinted at the tech. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, sir.” He set down the installer he was carrying. “You want this storage unit against the wall or freestanding?”

  Boylan shrugged indifferently. “I not an internal decorator. Just activate it. Whoever picks this room can place it wherever they like.”

  Araza complied. Boylan might have found the technician’s current expression of more than passing interest, but the bigger man was presently focused on the task at hand and as a consequence his face was not visible.

  “What the hell was that?” His attention focused on the tree line, N’kosi took a step backward. Behind him, Tellenberg looked up from where he had been staring in fascination at something long, soft, and multitentacled that was undulating its way through a shallow pool of alcohol-infused seawater.

  “I don’t see anything.” Reluctantly, he abandoned the promising tide pool and walked up the beach to rejoin his colleague.

  N’kosi was standing and staring at the riot of twisted, intertwined growths that formed a wall of green, orange, and russet vegetation above the highest berm. Every square meter of sand was a treasure trove of small, dead alien life-forms. In the absence of strong tides the skeletal flotsam underfoot consisted largely of what had been cast ashore by storm surge.

  “Well, I did.” Checking his gear to ensure that everything was in place, the other xenologist started inland. “It was watching us.”

  Tellenberg was hesitant to follow. “If you did see something and if it was watching us, I’m not sure pushing into dense unknown forest is the appropriate procedure for preliminary follow-up. We just got here and we know next to nothing about this place.”

  Standing at the transition zone where sand met soil, N’kosi looked back at him. “Then here’s an opportunity to add to our limited store of knowledge in a hurry.” Reaching up to make sure the recorder clipped over his right ear was working, he pushed aside a low-hanging branch of what looked like a giant white rosebush and stepped into the verdure. With a reluctant sigh, Tellenberg moved to catch up.

  Walking was easier once they had progressed a little ways from the beach. Forced to compete for available sunlight, plant growth diminished, leaving adequate room to step around or between the various boles. Moist ground revealed the tracks of whatever it was that had been spying on them.

  “See?” A crouching N’kosi pointed out the path: two sets of dashes like parallel dotted lines. Whatever creature had made them walked on a very narrow foot.

  Looking down, Tellenberg nodded. “I suppose tracking unknown creatures through wild forest is a talent you inherited from your ancestors?”

  Staring straight ahead, N’kosi straightened. “All my ancestors have been scientists or teachers, except for one who was an inventor of cheap kitchen appliances. At least, that’s how it has been in my family for the past several generations. Further back than that, I couldn’t tell you.”

  Who could? Tellenberg reflected. Like that of most people, his own personal ancestry was lost in the mists of time, buried in the ancient history of the homeworld when humankind had, difficult as it was to imagine, been restricted to a single planet. He trailed N’kosi as the other researcher led the way deeper into the forest.

  There was no risk of them becoming lost. Disoriented, yes, but a quick check of their individual communits would guide them back to the camp. He checked the time. If everything was going according to plan, Boylan and Araza would have at least the life-support basics up and running by the time the two teams of xenologists returned from their initial exploratory forays into the surrounding environment.

  The fecundity they had detected from orbit was no illusion. In addition to the vigorous plant life, the forest was alive with a remarkably dynamic fauna. Serpentine shapes of varying length, color, and pattern slithered along the forest floor or burrowed into its rich soil. Vertebrates with two, four, six, and more legs scurried away from their approach. Such instinctive wariness suggested that they were hunted, or at least harried. Long-armed, tentacled, and sucker-equipped arboreal residents made their way through the branches, traveling from tree to tree. Splashed with the color of perpetual sunset, the pink sky was awing with all manner of flying things. Quofumian taxonomy, he reflected as he stepped over an arching root the color of burnt sienna that was spotted with mauve fungi, could easily be a full-time career.

  Not theirs, however. This was a preliminary survey. Their job was to observe, record, and where time and gear permitted, collect. The task of classification would fall to scientists back home blessed with more time and better-equipped labs.

  The longer they walked the more troubled he became, though he could not identify the source of his growing unease. The forest was a wonderful place. No xenologist could ask for more varied, exhilarating, stimulating surroundings. Every minute it seemed as if his eyes and his recorder saw something new and exciting. Nothing had threatened them. The local life-forms appeared alternately curious and chary of their presence. It was almost as if, he reflected, the many and varied creatures had encountered humans before. Or something like them. More likely,
he decided, local predation was governed by a set of rules yet to be revealed. Perhaps the resident carnivores only hunted at certain times of the day, or according to species-specific biocycles. So much to see, he mused. So much to learn. A whole new world, wide-ranging and vast.

  He ought to have been quietly ecstatic. Instead, an imperceptible something he could not define continued to nag at him.

  He forgot about it when N’kosi halted abruptly and gestured. Tellenberg did not have to squint to see what his partner was pointing at. The subject of their search was staring right back at them.

  There were four of the natives. They wore no clothing. Tellenberg was not surprised by their nakedness. How would you clothe something that looked like a stack of sticks encased in translucent rubbery jelly? Attached to a ganglion of nerves, what must have been eyes floated around in the top of the vertical mounds. The shadows of other internal organs were clearly visible. Where the base of each mound had split, the gelatinous material had hardened into a pair of flat-bottomed, hard-edged runners. Their method of locomotion and the source of the peculiar dashed tracks N’kosi had found were revealed when one of the creatures retreated slightly. They slid, rather than stepped.

  Upper-body appendages curled to grip sharpened sticks. A couple of these were aimed in the direction of the two explorers. One stick-wielder used his primitive weapon to make what could have been construed as threatening or warning gestures in the humans’ direction.

  “This is too abrupt,” Tellenberg found himself arguing aloud. “We tracked them down. That kind of action leaves too much room for misinterpretation.” Keeping his hands in plain view, he started to backtrack. Not too rapidly, lest it suggest fear.

  “I agree.” An utterly enthralled N’kosi lingered, reluctant to leave. “But just think of it! Contact with intelligent indigenes, in the first week.” As he joined his friend in retreating, his enthusiasm was matched by that of his more cautious companion. “Physically, they’re different from anything in the directory.”