Bruce saw these Skidians as the cutting edge of a campaign to cultivate a general acceptance of organic food among Skid’s populace, and their reluctance to learn anything, let alone do anything, continued to frustrate him. He was still astounded with the lack of support he got from Cyprus, who seemed to regard organic food as a secret he was loath to share with anyone. However, despite Bruce’s best efforts, Cyprus was not much more enlightened about the production of organic food now than he had been before they had started.
As far as Cyprus was concerned, and rightfully so, the small garden seemed inadequate to supply the needs of Skid, judging by how far the material went towards feeding the offworlders themselves. What he failed to understand was that the small garden at Bruce’s farm was merely an example of what could be done if Skid’s industrial might was brought to bear on the problem. This apparent evidence of an obvious lack of progress in the inconclusive report from Cyprus was disquieting news for his colleagues who had staked much of their future prospects on the success of the organic plants.
Strategic stockpiles of synthofood were being steadily depleted as efforts were made to keep the population fed and ignorant of the crisis going on around them. Production from the synthoplants had plateaued at about 15 percent of Skid’s own needs, quite apart from the requirements of the other planets that relied on Skid for food. Worse, rumors of the impending crisis were beginning to leak to the general populace, and the first uneasy stirring of unrest, the likes of which were unheard of on Skid for generations, were becoming apparent. An air of uneasiness hung over the cities like dark threatening storm clouds as Skidians began to sense something terrible was about to happen, while the establishment sought to divert attention away from the increasing deficiencies in the lives of the average Skidian.
Watching his people and their reaction to the now obvious shortages, Inel alone realized how slender had been the thread by which he and all his predecessors had held sway on Skid. It had not been their total domination of Skid in every aspect of life that had given them control at all. Not the cultural programing, the control of the media, and education, all the suppressive traits of a totalitarian regime. It had simply been their ability to provide the necessities of life. Soon the isolated cases of disobedience and destruction of property as Skidians sought to vent their anger at suddenly finding that the comfortable lives they had taken for granted were suddenly endangered would grow beyond the ability of the Skidian security forces to control.
While Inel did not feel personally threatened, Toytoo and his followers certainly did because of the apparent lack of substantial progress in the great ‘organic’ experiment, as it was being hailed. Especially when the results of a trial in which Mulgoon and Sideshow had tried to exist on the organic material that Bruce had used to explain growth to Sideshow became public knowledge in the senate. Never mind that the information available from Cyprus’s latest reports now showed up grave deficiencies in their experimental procedure.
Inel remained apparently unruffled by the situation. So tranquil did he appear that rumors began to surface that he was incapable of leading Skid through its present crisis and should be removed. Inel’s composure was prompted by an inability to react to the situation, some said, not because he was firmly in control.
Inel knew if Skidians were saved from the spectre of starvation by the offworlders then everything else he held dear about Skid and the Skidian way would change as well. Was the probable success of the offworlders’ plans worth the destruction of Skid as he knew it? He was not sure and resolved he must have more time to consider the situation.
It wasn’t simply about deciding if his people would survive the present crisis, the structure of the society he had taken a solemn oath to preserve at all costs was just as, if not more, important to him. It would be more acceptable to save just a few Skidians and preserve the exquisite nature of Skidian culture than save most of the population and lose any control over its future development. Once Skidians were forced to think and act for themselves as a result of instituting the offworlders’ food production schemes it would signal the end of Skid as he and his ancestors had known it.
Neither Iamot nor Laeol returned to the farm with Cyprus at the completion of their few days off in the big smoke.
“Par for the course,” Bruce murmured without surprise. He’d half expected none of them to return. “Just one more example of how eager these people are to help themselves.” He shook his head like an old man with a low opinion of modern youth.
When asked why the other two Skidians had not returned, Cyprus merely shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he said. Meaning he did not care to explain to an outsider, and Bruce could not get any more out of him on the subject.
Sue of course saw the situation in another light. “I can’t blame them really. They are only slaves after all, directed where to go and what to do by their master. As far as they’re concerned there’s nothing important happening here, though their leaders might see things differently.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, you can’t blame the workers for a lack of interest if their bosses don’t give them some positive vibes, you know?”
Bruce didn’t have any sympathy with Sue’s bleeding-heart liberal attitude. He’d been brought up to believe that decent people worked hard and those who didn’t were bludging parasites who expected others to look after them and pay their way. The Skidians were simply a pack of bludgers and their rulers something worse because they condoned the bludging. Bruce descended into one of his ‘I don’t give a shit’ moods. If the Skidians weren’t going to get their act together, then he wasn’t about to go out of his way to exert himself on their behalf.
Twenty-seven
Sue stirred irritably, wondering why Bruce was getting out of bed far earlier than usual the morning after Cyprus and Oridor had returned to the farm.
“Come on, wakey wakey,” he said, shaking her shoulders firmly.
“It’s too early!” she moaned into her pillow, peering at the clock by the bed. “It’s only four-thirty!”
“We need an early start,” Bruce replied, relishing the prospect himself.
One of his favorite things in life was to be out mustering in the predawn darkness and then watch as the first rays of sunshine hit the hills alive with straggling lines of sheep or cattle harried by a good team of dogs. To feel his booted feet swish through dewy grass and the fresh clean smell of the open air was his personal nirvana. Bruce tipped Sue out of bed, leaving her to disentangle herself from the bed covers and went to rouse the Skidians.
By the time he had eaten, drunk a cup of coffee and almost finished a second, let the dogs off for a run and had a couple of smokes, the others had dragged themselves into the kitchen, complaining sleepily about being torn from their beds at this ungodly hour.
“Ready?” Bruce demanded as the Skidians and Sue did their best to dawdle.
“Oh, come off it, Bruce! It’s still dark outside!” Sue snarled.
“So what? I want to round a bunch of ivops up and get them moving before it gets too hot.”
“Who do you think you’re kidding?” Sue muttered under her breath.
None of them were too keen on venturing out into the night, but the thought of incurring Bruce’s anger was a more frightening prospect, so Bruce was eventually able to hustle them out outside into the darkness.
Half an hour later they came across the herd of ivops that seemed to migrate slowly back and forward in the vicinity of the farm, their eyes gleaming in the darkness like distant stars.
Bruce stopped the ute and looked around, relishing the unmistakable aroma associated with cattle on the move. The dusty, acrid odor of bruised, dry grass mixed with urine and fresh dung.
The ivops appeared unconcerned by the nocturnal visitors as Bruce tried to clear a path through them, intending to break off a small section of the vast herd and drive it back to the farm. However, as he bumped a gap through the animals in the ute, nudging them out of
the way, it immediately closed behind him.
“Well, that’s not going to work,” he muttered.
A change of tactics was obviously needed. Bruce had chained the dogs to the back of the ute to stop them taking off on their own and had already taken a stick to Punch, threatening him and wacking it on the roof of the ute to stop him barking. It did not stop all three dogs from whining expectantly, however, and trying to shake themselves free in their eagerness to join the fray.
“Here, way out!” One by one the dogs leaped down as he unchained them, barking madly as they charged at the mass of much larger animals. Cop made straight for the heels of an ivop, nipping at them and avoiding the kicks as the animal tried to dispatch this new pest into orbit. Can was a more spectacular performer, leaping up to bite the rumps of the ivops and hanging on until the unfortunate animal began to move. Punch just barked loudly and mechanically, like a wind-up toy.
“That’ll do, Can. Shut up, Punch! Get in.”
Amidst the barking and shouting from the dogs and Bruce, Sue and the Skidians looked on nervously. They were unsure what to do and were disinclined to get in the way and bring down the sort of wrath on themselves that Bruce seemed to be dishing out to his dogs and the ivops.
Eventually a group of ivops slowly broke away from the main herd and began to drift in the general direction of the farm. The dogs, sensing victory, redoubled their efforts, with Cop acting like a general directing operations from the rear alongside Bruce. The other dogs moved to the flanks of the breakaway herd to try to ensure they headed in the right direction. But however hard they worked the ivops steadfastly refused to move at a pace any faster than a very slow walk.
Cyprus and Oridor kept well out of Bruce’s way in order not to draw attention to them. They were more worried about what Bruce might do to them if they got in his way than any potential dangers lurking in the wilderness. Or the ivops they cautiously trailed, after Bruce called in his dogs and stopped to make sure none of the main herd tried to join the small group.
Suddenly the breakaway group stopped en mass, almost as if an order had gone out to resist any further forward movement.
The efforts of Oridor and Cyprus failed to get the stationary ivops moving. Bruce had told them to yell and scream at the animals or hit them with a stick if the ivops stopped or deviated from their course. When both those options failed they stood back, confused as to what to do next.
A little way behind them Bruce had seen what was happening and was yelling and whistling unintelligible commands to the dogs (that is, unintelligible to any but Bruce and them) in an attempt to regain the lost momentum and get the mob on the move again.
“Pheep, pheep, pheeeeep, pheep! Get in here, you bastards, get into them! Get back, Punch, you bloody idiot.” Punch and Can barked maniacally, Cop nipped, Bruce ranted and raved and Sue cowered in the ute, curling up into a tight ball in her seat beside him, worried that Bruce might suddenly turn and swat her just for being there.
The ivops stood docilely like very tame cattle, except for the way they lowered their heads and stabbed tiredly at the dogs with their single horns. Most of them had resumed grazing as though nothing unusual was happening. Worst of all, the main herd had begun to creep slowly towards their compatriots as if they wanted to make the herd whole again and were curious about the strange events of the last half-hour or so.
The gap slowly closed between the two mobs of animals, and unless the mob that Bruce was trying to push along began moving again, all the work they had done so far would be wasted. Bruce stopped the ute, cursing the Skidians for their ignorance in forgetting to add a horn to the list of essentials they had provided and reached behind the seat for the rifle. Perhaps if he let off a few shots the ivops might be persuaded to move on. However, before he could lift the rifle off its rack, the ivops in front of him began to move again as suddenly as they had come to a standstill.
Oridor and Cyprus, now directing the ivops towards the race up the center of the farm, were feeling pretty pleased with their efforts. However, from his position at the rear of the mob, Bruce, hearing the Skidians’ excited yells, wondered what they thought they were doing, standing about five hundred meters away from the ivops and waving their arms about. Despite the efforts of the Skidians, Bruce noticed the ivops were drifting towards the farm almost as if they were attracted there like bees to a honey pot.
As the last ivop entered the race, Bruce stopped the ute, got out, rolled up a cigarette and watched the ivops wander towards the holding pens beside the yards. Occasionally one of them would stop to examine the fences on either side of the race, sniffing closely or taking a tentative lick at the wires and getting an electric shock for their trouble. Some stopped in their tracks to try and establish with more certainty what had hit them, while others turned, snorting and bellowing in fear and pain, and chased after their companions.
Oridor and Cyprus stood proudly by the gate to the big holding pens, looking as if they had just completed some Herculean task and deserved an appropriate reward. Bruce ignored them as he cast an expert eye over the ivops; the dogs had done most of the work.
“Let’s go and have smoko while they settle down, eh?”
“What?” Sue and the Skidians stared at Bruce as if he had suddenly started speaking a new language of his own.
“I wish you’d learn to speak English as she is meant to be spoken proper, eh. Let’s go have a cup of tea. Get in Punch or I’ll kill you!” He yelled at the dog that had slipped through the railing and was busy bailing up an ivop cow in a corner of the yard.
Punch gave Bruce a look which said, ‘Well this is what I’m supposed to be doing, isn’t it?’ Then just to show everyone who was really in control, the dog barked once more before loping back to the fence. Bruce aimed a kick at the dog, missing by a large margin as Punch slunk away with his tail between his legs and joined the other two dogs splashing about in a trough.
Sue watched Bruce’s face as he dealt with Punch and said somewhat uneasily, “Do you have to be so hard on them, Bruce?”
“Whaddaya mean?” he retorted defensively. Bruce reckoned he was pretty good with his dogs.
“The way you treat them, the poor animals. I mean, it’s a wonder they stay with you at all.”
“Just wait until they really annoy me. Then you’ll see something,” he muttered.
Sue was not sure she wanted to be around to see that, his temper for the last few hours had been bad enough. The dogs seemed so well behaved too.
“Sometimes they just get too smart for their own good, or they need a bit of straightening out occasionally, like kids.” Bruce played absently with Can’s ears, while the other two dogs sat attentively behind him as he squatted, looking around from time to time to see what was going on. “They’ve got to be reminded of who’s the boss.”
“How do you do that?”
“Oh, chain them up to something so they can’t move, and give them a good whack.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“Oh, only once a month or so.” Bruce decided there were some things Sue didn’t need to know.
Sue, who had been standing beside him, now fidgeted uneasily. Once again realizing how little she knew about this man whom fate had thrown her together with. Behind his usually impassive face, now mostly covered by a thick beard, there were hidden and sometimes murky depths to his character. She shivered as she wondered if it would be long before some really dark side to his character was revealed.
“Let’s go up to the house and have that drink,” Bruce suggested. He didn’t like the way the conversation was headed.
Afterwards Bruce shepherded a grumbling and most unwilling workforce back to the yards. Cyprus, believing the day’s work complete, could not understand why Bruce was so insistent that it was not. Surely they had done enough? The four of them climbed into the holding pens and accompanied by the barking dogs and Bruce’s whippy stick slicing through the air chased the ivops into the yards.
Cypru
s and Oridor, who had seen the stick in action at close quarters, and Sue, who had just decided Bruce’s temper wasn’t really to be trusted, kept a wary eye on both him and the ivops.
Their tentativeness seemed to incense Bruce. He thrashed the ivops with his stick when they tried to run past him and then most disconcertingly he started screaming at them. “Hit the bloody thing, Cyprus! Why do you think you’ve got a stick in your hand?” he demanded as a group of ivops turned and ran past Cyprus, who stood on the outer edge of a line that the four of them had formed across the holding pen.
“Get back!” Bruce yelled, and the dogs took off to round up the escaped ivop. “Don’t let them turn on you like that!”
Not quite understanding what they were doing, Sue and the Skidians were on tenterhooks, not wanting to incur Bruce’s wrath. It had all sounded so easy when he was telling them what he wanted at smoko time.
At least the cowboys had horses, Sue thought; this was not how they did it in the movies.
“Hit it, Sue! Hit the bloody thing!”
Sue stumbled and screamed as she saw a huge old bull looking menacingly at her as he made a break for the rear of the holding pen.
“Hit the bastard! Shit!” Bruce shouted disgustedly, throwing his stick at the offending beast as it ran past him.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Sue dropped her stick and ran for the fence. If she knew anything about bulls it was that they were dangerous, and she was not giving this one half a chance to hurt her.
“There’s no need to yell,” she whined petulantly, starting to clamber up the rails, realizing the bull had taken off faster than she had in the opposite direction. She stopped with one foot on the ground and one on the lower rail.
“Look, just whack them with your stick. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.” Bruce was almost beside himself with frustration. Neither Sue nor the Skidians had any idea at all, and the ivops, sensing their lack of commitment and confidence, treated them with total disdain.
Skid Page 24
