Classic Fiction

by Hal Clement

  “Not that I can see,” replied the woman. “And would they be chasing? In a pack?”

  “Who knows, now?”

  “Are there any more behind you, or on either side?” D’Orrey cut in. “Could you tell whether they were all coming from the same place?”

  There was a pause before Peter answered, still more calmly this time. He seemed to be getting back his control, and actually to have looked before answering.

  “I don’t see any more. These were all between me and the rock when I first saw them.”

  “Can you check in both directions—sideways, that is—and get some idea whether this is just a small bunch or whether more are coming from somewhere?”

  “All right.” The suit vanished once more, to D’Orrey’s satisfaction; Peter must really be thinking again as an observer. He even began reporting his position every few seconds, realizing that the others would have trouble spotting him.

  “Ten meters to your left of where I was. No more snakes . . . Twenty meters. Still none. Thirty . . . I’m getting near the trees. Still none. I’m heading back the other way . . . back where I first saw them . . . now to your right . . . ten meters . . . Another bunch from the trees—I’m going back,: There was silence for several seconds. “There are fourteen or fifteen in this bunch, mixed up together so they’re hard to count. They’re heading your way, too. They can’t be chasing mice.”

  “Or you?” queried Vicki.

  “No, neither group cared about me. It’s something near you, or at least the rock.”

  “How closely do you feel like following them?” asked D’Orrey.

  “I’m keeping them in sight. I’m about five meters behind a couple of stragglers in the new bunch. D’you want my suit off so you can track us?”

  “No need. We both have strobes if we need ‘em, and as long as you’re moving can see you fairly well anyway. If you keep your suit on, you won’t have to worry about any more behind you.”

  “Why not? I’d be less worried if they could see me!”

  “Are you sure? We don’t know yet what has them excited. If you feel like being experimental bait, of course, we could start finding out.”

  The boy did not answer for a moment. Then, “Why not? There’s plenty of trees. I’ll catch up with this batch.”

  Vicki stirred and almost uttered a protest, then looked at Jaques and merely frowned. Both waited silently and attentively, watching with narrowed eyes the barely visible figure sixty meters away. Not even the first group of snakes he had reported could be seen yet from the rock.

  Peter’s indistinct outline was approaching them, but no quite directly; apparently he was trying to come up on the right of the group—or should it be called a gaggle, a wisp, or a pride. D’Orrey wondered briefly and irrelevantly. Surely the language had a collective term for snakes; it wouldn’t be surprising if it had several for different kinds, though of course serpents had never been game animals in medieval Europe. As far as he knew.

  “I’m only a meter to one side of the group, about halfway between front and rear. They’re not paying any attention to me so far. I’m going to cut my suit—don’t worry, Vick, I’m good and ready to run.”

  The tall figure sprang into visibility, heading toward the watchers at nearly a run; if he were still matching speed with the rattlers, both adults thought, the snakes were certainly enthusiastic about something.

  “They still don’t care about me. I’m going to get right among them.”

  “Don’t be crazy!” called Vicki.

  “Don’t worry. I’m set to jump, far and fast. What was that poem? Snakes to the right of me, snaked to the left of me, snakes before me—they still don’t care. I’m going to stop for a minute and check readings.”

  They watched as he took the monitor from his belt and held it near his face. They then saw that his claim to be ready to jump was fully justified.

  He jumped, farther and faster than D’Orrey had thought possible even for someone with Peter’s build.

  “Hey! They stopped and—reporting later. I’m leaving.” The departure could also be watched easily; he did not reactivate his suit. He made four tremendous leaps, the monitor still in his hand, taking him over a dozen meters from his starting point; then he paused and looked back.

  “They’re interested in me now. They’re all coming at me. I hope whoever pulled this trick hasn’t taught them to climb trees.” He resumed his flight.

  “Lots of snakes can,” D’Orrey remarked mostly to hide his own mounting anxiety. “Pick a tree with—”

  “If that includes rattlers I don’t want to know it. Wait a minute.” The boy stopped again, once more looking back at his pursuers. Then a chuckle came over the communicators.

  “I thought it was too much of a coincidence. They’ve lost interest in me again. I turned my monitor off. They’re milling around sort of confused—now they’re starting back your way.”

  “And your first group is in sight here,” added Vicki. “Snakes, nut no mice or any other prey.”

  “Did they get distracted when I had my monitor on?”

  “I didn’t notice, I’m afraid.”

  “All right. Let me get farther from this bunch—no, I’ll wait here and let them get farther from me, and I’ll turn it on again. I’ll tell you when to watch for results. All right?”

  The woman, and even the uncle, were less worried now; a straightforward and only mildly risky experiment was under way. They waited in relative calm until the second pack—that was the best word, D’Orrey decided—of rattlers had come close enough to count.

  “All right, if you think you’re far enough—or close enough!” Vicki called.

  “Right, Monitor on—now!” The pair on the rock watched the reptilian assembly below for long seconds, but no change in behavior was evident. The creatures had come to the base of the declivity, and some of them seemed interested in trying to climb the relatively smooth stone. This was not worrisome; even the human beings had not been able to ascend this face, though mice or squirrels no doubt could have. D’Orrey felt a twinge of uneasiness as some of the snakes wriggled off to both sides; if the surrounded the boulder, there was at least one place where they could certainly get up.

  “They doing anything?” came Peter’s voice.

  “Not exactly,” replied his uncle. “If they were responding to your monitor before, it must be too far away now.”

  “Okay. This lot is coming back. Easy to check the distance effect, but I’ll cut off again and wait ‘til they all reach you.”

  Neither Jaques nor Vicki had to look up to know what Peter was doing: there was only one obvious way to make the test. It made more sense for them to keep observing the rattlers.

  These showed no change in behavior for some time, even after the second lot arrived. When they did, D’Orrey felt little relief. The reptiles directly under him were starting to behave aimlessly, as though uncertain of which way they wanted to go, but those farthest to the sides still seemed to keep their interest in the rock itself, and were gradually surrounding it, moving out of sight to each side. He did look outward, then.

  Peter was scarcely a dozen meters away, still easily visible.

  “You’re distracting the ones closest to you, I think,” his uncle reported as calmly as he could. “You’d better stop where you are—no, move to one side. Can you see them well enough, or should we warn you if they start your way?”

  “I can see ‘em. We’ve settled something, anyway.”

  “What?” asked the woman.

  “They’ve been implanted with something. They’re homing, though I’ll need the kit up there to spot the actual radiation. My monitor broadcasts too, of course, but they seem to have a stronger yen for the kit itself. If it had been one of the suit processors, of course, this would all have happened the day before yesterday.”

  “Why didn’t they come to the camp? You were working there for long enough,” D’Orrey pointed out.

  “I suppose no rattlers, or at l
east no implanted ones, were close enough. We’ll have to try parts of the kit, one by one, to find out just what’s the light that’s drawing them. I’ll shut this off, and come on up.”

  “Be careful on your way,” Vicki spoke up. “The things seem to be working round the rock on both sides. There was only one place we could climb, but maybe you’d better approach that a bit cautiously.”

  “Sure thing, Ma.” What seemed to be progress was apparently restoring Peter’s ego. He vanished once more in camouflage, but the others could still make him out vaguely as he started around the boulder to their right. D’Orrey picked up the nano kit and placed it as far to the left as was practical; maybe this would draw the rattlers away from the climbing spot. Turning off its contents would presumably be better, but that would have to be left to its owner.

  “Watch it!” Peter’s voice came again. “A couple of them are working their way up. I’m not sure I can—”

  “Don’t try!” snapped his uncle, leaping toward the climbway. There was not sharp drop-off. Smooth top gave way with increasing steepness to an irregular lope much more overgrown than the flat part. The growth hid the top of the narrow path until he had descended nearly half way. No snakes were visible even when he got there, and after a moment he went a little farther and ensconced himself a short distance to one side of the route where the snakes might be expected to pass. The interesting question was whether the lure of the kit would cause them to continue up the rather vague trail or allow them to explore. Toward him. It would depend, he feared, on their intelligence level. He hoped this was no higher than he believed. If they passed him without noticing . . .

  The first one, an eighty-centimeter youngster, did. He waited until it was a little farther up than his own position, set his jaw, and snatched at its tail. He caught it just ahead of the rattles and whipped it outward and upward away from the rock, only then wondering whether it would land anywhere near Peter.

  A second rattler was now in sight, but he took time to call a warning.

  “Pete, I’m tossing them back down, but can’t tell where they’ll land. Watch for snakefalls.”

  “Fine. Half a dozen are at the foot of the climb, and more are coming. How do I get up?”

  No one had an answer for the moment. D’Orrey flipped the second snake back to the ground, and half a minute later processed a third. None of the creatures had so far noticed him; their I.Q.s seemed acceptably low, or the implanted homing urge very strong, but he wondered what would happen when his first subject got back. Snakes do have memories of a sort.

  “Maybe you could let all the ones on this side get up on top, so I could follow—”

  “And get there to find them all wrapped around your high-tech brick?” Vicki finished.

  “But if we tossed ‘em off the tock from there, it’s take them a long time to get around and back up, and I’d have time to find out which unit was attracting them.”

  “If you really want to handle rattlesnakes when they’ve gotten where they want to go and probably have attention to spare, say the word and I’ll let ‘em up,” snapped D’Orrey.

  “Well—let me think a minute.” The pause was brief. “Tell you what. I’ll go back around to the front, and you can keep tossing ‘em down here, Uncle Jaques.”

  “Thanks.”

  “The when you can see me, Vicki, and I tell you I’m ready, you can throw me the kit. I’ll catch it and start running, turning things off as I go. When they stop chasing me, I’ll know which was the right unit and I can keep it off, and the rattlers can go about their business, and I can come back up with you and we can work things out from there. How about that?”

  “How long will this all take? I don’t want to keep grabbing tails of poisonous snakes all morning. I may improve with practice, but the statistics are against me.”

  “Right.” The boy might have been concerned. “It’ll be quickest if we start right now. All right, Vick? Heft the kit and try to guess how far you can throw it. I’ll get as close as you tell me, unless—” he didn’t finish the sentence, but neither listener needed the rest. Vicki picked up the kit, judged the weight something over two kilograms, and made a number of simulated throws while waiting for Peter to appear. She was careful about this, fortunately; she stood well back from the edge of the rock, and when the smooth surface did slip from her hand on the third try, it did not fall over the edge. She didn’t mention the incident aloud. She had decided that a one-hand underarm toss would be most effective by the time Peter appeared below.

  He approached the still numerous snakes to within three meters, his suit off, and looked up anxiously.

  “Think you can get it out to me here? I’d rather catch it than have it hit a rock, but I don’t think I want to get much closer in.”

  “Should I give a practice try up here once or twice?”

  “Not unless Uncle Jaques is through snake-tossing and can get up there to catch it. Maybe—” He left the sentence unfinished and both hearers guessed that he had been about to suggest that they change places so that D’Orrey could do the throwing, and then remembered the man’s lesser size and strength.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m not guaranteeing to get it all the way out there, so be ready to come in for the catch. All ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Vicki gripped the smooth, stony material as firmly as she could in her right hand, swung her arm backward as far as she could and forward as hard as she could. She meant to hold on a little longer than she actually managed, and the block started out at a slight downward rather than a slight upward angle. Peter saw, and leaped inward without regard for the snakes so as to catch it before it reached the ground.

  He was not quite successful. It slipped through his hands and thudded to the surface, fortunately not directly on any of the numerous rocks. His luck was mixed, however; it buried itself partly in the softer ground, and Peter needed an extra second or two to get his fingers under it. He got it away a hand’s-breath from the head of a very interested rattler, took an extra split second to make sure he had a firm grip, and began running. The snakes, after a second or two of apparent uncertainty, followed. The monitor was off; if there had been any doubt about the center of their attraction, it was gone.

  Peter gave himself a good lead before opening the kit. Giving it part of his attention slowed him down, but he had planned his procedure already. Without regard to possible effects on the test devices he had planted around the area, he opened half a dozen switches as quickly as he could. He ran a few more paces, and slowed to look back. The snakes were still coming. He touched another half-dozen, put more distance behind him, and looked back again.

  There were nearly eighty units to cut off, and he was not surprised to find that the appropriate ones were in the last group. That was Life. It was also sloppy thinking, but he didn’t realize this just yet. He watched, ready to resume his flight, as his pursuers finally lost their interest and began to spread out. One or two were coming almost toward him, but that could be mere statistics; they showed no real interest, though he was fully visible. He began to walk slowly back toward the rock, and incidentally toward the nearest snakes.

  “That’s done it,” he reported. “Good old Murphy—it was one of the last bunch. I can do without this last stuff I’ve cut off for a while at least. I’ll get the rest back in operation right away; I’ve gut off nearly all the equipment I’ve set out.”

  “Are you sure it was Murphy?” asked his uncle.

  “What else? It had to be something, and why else would—oh my gosh! They’re coming back! What?—Why?—”

  “First things first. Can you beat them back here?” D’Orrey seemed unsurprised.

  “I’ll try. Some of them must be nearly straight ahead of me, though.”

  “You’re a good jumper.” Vicki too seemed to be taking the matter calmly.

  “Yes, but—yeah, I can get over this couple. I hope the climb is clear. But—but why?”

  “You mean why did you a
ssume that only one gadget was attracting them?” asked D’Orrey as tonelessly as he could manage. Peter gave no answer, perhaps because he was concentrating on travel. His uncle was too kind to repeat the question; the point must already be clear.

  The youngster came across the Stage at a speed both adults envied, and disappeared to their right. A moment later there was a yelp.

  “There are still some back here!”

  “Are they blocking the climbway?”

  “Well, no. They don’t seem interested in anything special. I guess I can dodge them. But why didn’t they come back around front with the others?”

  “At a guess, when Vick threw down your kit, the radiation had a lot more rock to shine through and not enough of it made the grade to affect their implants. You could check by flipping a switch or two.”

  “Just a minute ‘til I’m a little higher—you’re right, I guess. Here they come. One of you will have to take on the snake-tossing duty for a few minutes while I find all the sources. It takes a little while after each cut before I’m sure they’re not interested any more. I wonder how many—”

  “You said something about six variables being enough, the other day.”

  “It would be for the sort of behavior they were showing. But that doesn’t mean they’d home on all the control frequencies somebody chose—that wouldn’t make sense—or that there wouldn’t be anything I’m putting out that would attract them even if it wasn’t part of this character’s control set.”

  “Bad sentence structure but good thinking—or at least, better. I’ll watch the path. Do your testing.” D’Orrey worked his way down to where the rock steepened, and met his nephew there. No snakes were following; presumably all significant switches were off.

  “We could wait until they’ve all gone out of range,” he suggested.

  “How long would that be, if they’re moving at random?” Peter asked, already supercilious again. “And why wait, anyway? The sooner I know what we can use, the sooner I can shift to innocent wave patterns. All we’ll have to wait for is the mice coming back. That’ll be long enough, I bet; they must be scared off the hill with all these snakes.”