The Creatures of Man

by Howard L. Myers

  She rolled over and sat up in the long grass. Her shield was off, and her respiration had gone on normal exterior mode.

  Once more she tried to semi-inert, without result. Which could mean only that her power pack was totally drained. Just to be sure, she tried the shield screen again, and it did not respond.

  She was definitely on Arbora until she found a recharger, and she would do her searching for it on leg-power alone.

  But more urgent was the subject of food. The instant her breathing had gone external, bringing her the varied aromas of field and forest, she had become ravenous. She had been on the food-concentrate pills and stomach balloon for an uncomfortably long flight, and needed something solid.

  She stood up and walked through the tall weeds to the small brook that gurgled through the valley, her eyes searching for anything edible. Arbora had, she recalled, a seeded Earth ecology—which obviously had turned out better than most other Halstaynian experiments. She recognized a number of briars and bushes that produced edible fruit in season, but the coolness of the air and the yellowish hues of the not-distant eaves of the forest told her this was not the season. It was autumn in this region of Arbora.

  At the brook she knelt and drank, and splashed her face with the clear sweet water. Standing, she considered following the brook downstream, but the thick growth of brambles and weeds would make difficult walking. Instead, she headed uphill toward the nearest trees.

  There her luck improved. Some of the trees were hickories, the ground beneath them liberally sprinkled with small nuts. She spent two hours smashing their tough hulls between two stones and picking out and eating their tiny but rich kernels.

  Then she moved on to a rocky bald on top of the hill. It was late afternoon by now and she scanned the horizon in all directions, searching for a wisp of smoke or any other sign of human presence.

  "Hey!" she yelled at the top of her voice. "Anybody home?"

  The startled birds in her vicinity obligingly ceased their chirping while she listened for a reply. Nothing.

  She turned around and yelled again with the same lack of results.

  So . . . start walking—or try to build a fire and some kind of shelter for the night. The low position of the sun made her choose the latter.

  Try to build a fire . . . ?

  The quickest way was to strike a spark between rock and metal into easily-lit tinder, but she had thrown away everything metallic when she cleaned out her pouch. She tried hitting rock on rock instead, but the stone thereabouts was wrong for the job. It crumbled instead of sparking.

  So . . . she would rub two sticks together, making a groove in one with the end of the other.

  She tried that for a vigorous forty minutes and was surprised when the groove finally began smoking. She dumped the spark into a handful of cedar bark fiber she had gathered and fanned it into flame. A few minutes later she had a roaring fire going.

  For a while she sat beside her fire, resting her arms and rubbing the fatigue out of them as twilight deepened. Then she rose and began searching the nearby trees for pine and cedar bough to break off for bedding. That would be better than a mound of dry leaves, which were certain to be insect-infested.

  5

  "Huy! Was that you yelling a while back?" a man's voice called out of the gloom.

  Gweanvin turned, trying to see him. "Yeah . . . I didn't hear you answer."

  "I was stalking a deer at the time. Couldn't make noise," the man explained. His form moved closer to the fire, and she saw he was carrying something large over a shoulder which he heaved to the ground a moment later. "I finally got within bowshot and brought her down. Then I started looking for you, and saw your fire."

  He turned to look at her, and she could see his face dimly in the flickering light. He was clean-shaven, which she had not expected from a buckskin-clad man of the wilderness, and appeared to be in his thirties.

  "Looks like you've strayed a long way from home, young lady," he said. "You from Bernswa?"

  "Farther away than that. The Commonality," she replied. "My power pack's exhausted. I had to land here to get a recharge."

  "A recharge on Arbora?" he laughed. "Well . . . probably you can, at that. There ought to be a few rechargers scattered about. I don't know for sure, though."

  "You don't know?" demanded Gweanvin. "Where do you go for a recharge?"

  He chuckled. "The only thing I recharge is my stomach. And I'm about ready to do that right now, if you'll let that fire die down to a bed of coals fit to cook over. You hungry?"

  "I'm starving."

  "More than plenty for both of us." He slid the large backpack off his shoulders and busied himself with knife and deer carcass.

  "Then you don't have a life-support system?" she asked.

  "Just Arbora. No implants. I guess that sounds primitive to you, doesn't it?"

  "It sounds restrictive," she said diplomatically, not wanting to offend the source of her supper. "Doesn't anyone on Arbora use implants?"

  "A few do. That's why I say you might be able to get a recharge. There's a settlement called High Pines about five days hiking west of here, and about eight days to the southeast is Lopat. You could almost call Lopat a town, I suppose."

  "What's in between?"

  He shrugged and motioned vaguely at the surrounding woods. "Just this. Good hunting country. And not many hunters. I don't average running into somebody three times a year out here."

  Gweanvin considered this information. At last she said, "Then I'd better start walking for High Pines in the morning, if you'll tell me the way."

  "Sure." he agreed. "Or maybe you should head for Lopat. It's a longer trip, but . . . well, I can't say for sure which place is more likely to have a recharger, but I'd guess Lopat is."

  There was a silence. Gweanvin was waiting for the man to offer some assistance in her search, perhaps hiking to Lopat while she went to High Pines. But he made no offer. Perhaps the primitive life deadened the chivalrous inclinations . . . or perhaps he needed to know her better to exert himself in her behalf . . .

  "My name is Gweanvin. Gweanny. Gweanvin Oster."

  "Glad to meet you, Gweanny. I'm Holm Ocanon."

  "There are a lot of Ocanons in the Commonality," she said.

  "That's nice," he said. Which was a conversation-stopper if ever she had heard one.

  * * *

  When supper was ready they sat by the fire eating the broiled meat strips, roasted roots too fibrous to be potatoes but with a pleasant nutty flavor, and some kind of raw greenery Holm had had in his pack. Also he had brewed a bitter tea that was invigorating, and might have actually been tasty with a little sugar.

  "I have a blanket you can wrap yourself in," he said. "As near naked as you are, you'll sleep mighty cold without it."

  "Thanks. It seems strange to need a blanket on a comfortable E-type planet, when ordinarily I'm perfectly comfortable just like this in interstellar space. It's easy to take life-support for granted."

  "I imagine so," he mused. "It's easy to take living conditions of whatever kind for granted. And some conditions are less dependable, less stable, than others."

  "Yours seem stable enough, but awfully strenuous," she said. "Wouldn't life in or near one of the settlements be easier?"

  "Yes, and wouldn't life in the Commonality be easier without the econo-war?" he returned.

  "Too much easier—as we found out a few decades ago when the war got too one-sided and almost ended."

  "Yes, that was after the Lontastans found the non-human telepath they call Monte, and brought him in on their side," Holm said. "We heard about that. Then your side developed the Bauble to even the sides up again."

  "I hardly expected to find an econo-war fan here in the Arbora wilderness," she said, smiling.

  "People are interested in other people's games . . . to watch if not to play," he said musingly.

  "That's true," Gweanvin replied. "For instance, I'm interested in your game, and why you choose to play it. I wou
ld think the game of family-raising near one of the settlements would have more appeal for an Arboran, and be plenty challenging."

  He nodded slowly. "I'd be playing that game if I could."

  "Why can't you? A shortage of women on Arbora?"

  "No. I could get the women all right. I can't get the children."

  "You look like a thoroughly functional male to me," said Gweanvin, still hoping to recruit Holm's aid with a bit of flattery.

  He laughed. "I feel like one, especially with you sitting next to me. But just the same, I'm out of whack, somehow. I don't reproduce."

  "Oh . . . That's a problem I know a bit about."

  "Probably you don't. It's not simple sterility. We still have medical treatment here, to take care of problems like that. No . . . I seem to be too different . . ."

  Gweanvin started. "D-different? In what way?"

  "Well, if there was enough light for you to see my nose, you might notice a bony look, because—"

  She slipped close to him. "Let me feel it," she breathed.

  "Why . . . sure! Go ahead," he laughed.

  Her fingers found his nose in the dark, and explored its ridge. Solid bone was underneath the skin! Just like her own nose! And Marvis Jans'!

  "Oh, golly! Wow! Oh, golly!"

  He laughed again. "My nose doesn't usually get such a flattering reaction. What's so thrilling about it?"

  "Your turn to feel my nose!" she giggled. As he did so she kept giggling. "This beats everything! We search the files of the Commonality and the Federation, cybernetically examine the genetic profiles of billions of people. Then I land on Arbora of all places, and who walks up to my fire first thing! Oh, Holm, this is a miracle! I've found you!"

  Holm sat without moving or speaking for a long moment, apparently stunned. Then he grunted, "Damned if you haven't!" and took her in his arms.

  * * *

  When Gweanvin woke the next morning Holm was gone, but his pack was still there. She found some live embers in the ashes of the fire, and succeeded in blowing some twigs into flame. Then she went down to the brook for an icy bath and was back at the fire warming herself when Holm returned. He was carrying a rough-woven bag that Gweanvin hoped contained breakfast.

  "Hi," she chirped. "Been hunting?"

  "Yes," he grinned, kissing her tightly. "More than hunting, really. I left you shortly after midnight. Did I wake you?"

  "No." She had felt him leaving, but had not come fully awake.

  "I wanted to check on a cabin that's a couple of hours walk from here," he explained. "I suppose it's been deserted for a century but it's in good condition. We can use it unless you want to be closer to a settlement."

  He took utensils from his pack, some large brown eggs from the sack he was carrying, began working on breakfast.

  "Holm, I can't stay," Gweanvin said softly.

  He hesitated. "What's wrong?"

  "An obligation. My job in the econo-war. I'm a spy-saboteur for the Commonality. I have to go home to report on a matter that could be crucial to keep the war in balance. Somehow I have to get my power pack recharged, and do that. Then I can resign and come back."

  Holm put the teapot on the fire and began cutting fat into a frying pan. "How long will that take? A couple of months?"

  "More like three years, I'm afraid. You see, the critical part of my report involves a technique that I've seen employed, and that I can do myself but can't describe verbally. I'll have to show others how it's done, and some special equipment will have to be built before I can do the demonstration. That's what will take time."

  After a moment, Holm nodded. "Okay, Gweanny, I won't give you any argument—except that I don't want you giving birth to a child of mine in the Commonality."

  "Don't worry," she giggled. "I'll wait till I get back for that."

  "And you can't do anything until you're equipped to travel on foot through the forest," he added. "You need a bow and training in how to use it to bring down game. You need warm clothing. We should stay here at the cabin for at least three days getting you prepared. Then you go to High Pines while I go to Lopat. That's the fastest way we can find out if there's a recharger at either settlement. We'll meet back here. Okay?"

  "Fine. But there's one thing you should know, Holm. I'm sure I was pursued into the Independency by at least one Lontastan agent."

  He nodded. "Right. I'll keep my mouth shut about you—but there's probably nothing to worry about. The people here won't cooperate with the Lontastans, of course. And Arbora would be the last planet your pursuers would expect you to land on. Even then, there are thousands of villages on Arbora, in all of which they would have to make inquiries. I'd say they don't stand a chance of finding you until after you're recharged."

  "That's good to know," she said gratefully. But what pleased her most was his assumption that there were several agents on her tail—not just one female with a big bust and bony nose. Above everything, she could not allow Marvis Jans and Holm Ocanon to find out about each other. Thank goodness, the likelihood of that was slight with Holm out of communication this way, playing his game of self-sufficiency in the wilderness.

  But even Marvis Jans' presence in the Independency was in itself more of a risk than she was willing to accept. She resolved that when she resumed her homeward journey she would make sure Marvis pursued her right out of the Independency.

  * * *

  The three days at the cabin passed swiftly and busily. She had much to learn before undertaking a two-week trek alone . . . how to handle the bow Holm made for her, how to find edible vegetables in field and forest, how to quickly build a shelter that would keep out most of the rain. She was a good student, however, and often asked questions that gave Holm pause. Perhaps, she mused, there was no such thing as a completely expert woodsman. Holm, who had lived in the wild most of his adult life, seemingly had missed many points.

  He was often away from the cabin for stretches of ten or more hours, ranging far among the scattered derelict habitations in search of bits of equipment she would need. His finds included a good knife, a chunk of sound velveen fabric from which she made herself warm trousers and jacket, a few pots and pans, and a flint and steel for firemaking.

  Then one clear morning they began their separate journeys, she heading west and he southeast. She had a roughly sketched map Holm had made for a guide, showing the major landmarks on the way to High Pines with a line indicating the best route to follow.

  Even with that help, it was a tough trip. Gweanvin guessed it had been years since Holm had actually traveled this particular course, because she kept coming up against impassable thickets and bogs that must have formed since then.

  What he had described as a five-day hike turned out to be seven. But at last she came to the settlement of High Pines—some two dozen houses in a loose cluster under the trees with a scattering of cultivated fields nearby.

  There she was welcomed with hospitality, a couple of good meals, and a cozy bed for the night. But no recharger.

  Did they know if there was a recharger in Lopat, or anywhere else nearby?

  No . . . they weren't sure. Only seven of the villagers had life-support implants, and didn't use them much. The last person there to get a recharge had gone to the planet Bernswa for it—and that was seventeen years back.

  The picture wasn't encouraging as she began the long hike back to the cabin. The chance of Holm finding a recharger in Lopat seemed slight indeed from what she had learned.

  Well, if that meant she was stuck here indefinitely, then the econo-war would just have to get along without her. Perhaps getting the new breed started would have more long-term significance anyway.

  And she could get home at some indefinite time in the future. A couple of oldsters in High Pines had told her that when one of them died she would be welcome to salvage his partially-charged power implant from his corpse.

  Both of them were discouragingly spry and healthy. She wondered how much use her report would be to the Commonalit
y, if it didn't arrive until twenty years from now.

  * * *

  Holm was waiting for her when she reached the cabin. "Poor Gweanny," he murmured, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

  "You look exhausted."

  "I can believe it. Did you . . . have any luck?"

  "Yes, I brought a recharger back with me," he replied, surprisingly. "It's inside."

  "Wow! That's a relief! From what I was told in High Pines, I wondered if there was one this side of Bernswa."

  "At least one," he smiled, giving her a squeeze, "and you've got it."

  "Golly! I don't know how to thank you, Holm!"