(1/15) The Golden Age of Science Fiction: An Anthology of 50 Short Stories

by Various

  "But there's no mustache!"

  Stetson smiled without humor. "That's one of I-A's answers to those fat-keistered politicians. We're setting up our own search system to find the planets before they do. We've managed to put spies in key places at R&R. Any touchy planets our spies report, we divert the files."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we look into them with bright boys like you--disguised as R&R field men."

  "Goody, goody. And what happens if R&R stumbles onto me while I'm down there playing patty cake?"

  "We disown you."

  "But you said an I-A ship found this joint."

  "It did. And then one of our spies in R&R intercepted a routine request for an agent-instructor to be assigned here with full equipment. Request signed by a First-Contact officer name of Diston ... of the Delphinus!"

  "But the Del--"

  "Yeah. Missing. The request was a forgery. Now you see why I'm mostly for rubbing out this place. Who'd dare forge such a thing unless he knew for sure that the original FC officer was missing ... or dead?"

  "What the jumped up mazoo are we doing here, Stet?" asked Orne. "Alien calls for a full contact team with all of the--"

  "It calls for one planet-buster bomb ... buster--in five days. Unless you give them a white bill in the meantime. High Commissioner Bullone will have word of this planet by then. If Gienah III still exists in five days, can't you imagine the fun the politicians'll have with it? Mama mia! We want this planet cleared for contact or dead before then."

  "I don't like this, Stet."

  "YOU don't like it!"

  "Look," said Orne. "There must be another way. Why ... when we teamed up with the Alerinoids we gained five hundred years in the physical sciences alone, not to mention the--"

  "The Alerinoids didn't knock over one of our survey ships first."

  "What if the Delphinus just crashed here ... and the locals picked up the pieces?"

  "That's what you're going in to find out, Orne. But answer me this: If they do have the Delphinus, how long before a tool-using race could be a threat to the galaxy?"

  "I saw that city they built, Stet. They could be dug in within six months, and there'd be no--"

  "Yeah."

  Orne shook his head. "But think of it: Two civilizations that matured along different lines! Think of all the different ways we'd approach the same problems ... the lever that'd give us for--"

  "You sound like a Uni-Galacta lecture! Are you through marching arm in arm into the misty future?"

  Orne took a deep breath. "Why's a freshman like me being tossed into this dish?"

  "You'd still be on the Delphinus master lists as an R&R field man. That's important if you're masquerading."

  "Am I the only one? I know I'm a recent convert, but--"

  "You want out?"

  "I didn't say that. I just want to know why I'm--"

  "Because the bigdomes fed a set of requirements into one of their iron monsters. Your card popped out. They were looking for somebody capable, dependable ... and ... expendable!"

  "Hey!"

  "That's why I'm down here briefing you instead of sitting back on a flagship. I got you into the I-A. Now, you listen carefully: If you push the panic button on this one without cause, I will personally flay you alive. We both know the advantages of an alien contact. But if you get into a hot spot, and call for help, I'll dive this cruiser into that city to get you out!"

  Orne swallowed. "Thanks, Stet. I'm--"

  * * * * *

  "We're going to take up a tight orbit. Out beyond us will be five transports full of I-A marines and a Class IX Monitor with one planet-buster. You're calling the shots, God help you! First, we want to know if they have the Delphinus ... and if so, where it is. Next, we want to know just how warlike these goons are. Can we control them if they're bloodthirsty. What's their potential?"

  "In five days?"

  "Not a second more."

  "What do we know about them?"

  "Not much. They look something like an ancient Terran chimpanzee ... only with blue fur. Face is hairless, pink-skinned." Stetson snapped a switch. The translite map became a screen with a figure frozen on it. "Like that. This is life size."

  "Looks like the missing link they're always hunting for," said Orne. "Yeah, but you've got a different kind of a missing link."

  "Vertical-slit pupils in their eyes," said Orne. He studied the figure. It had been caught from the front by a mini-sneaker camera. About five feet tall. The stance was slightly bent forward, long arms. Two vertical nose slits. A flat, lipless mouth. Receding chin. Four-fingered hands. It wore a wide belt from which dangled neat pouches and what looked like tools, although their use was obscure. There appeared to be the tip of a tail protruding from behind one of the squat legs. Behind the creature towered the faery spires of the city they'd observed from the air.

  "Tails?" asked Orne.

  "Yeah. They're arboreal. Not a road on the whole planet that we can find. But there are lots of vine lanes through the jungles." Stetson's face hardened. "Match that with a city as advanced as that one."

  "Slave culture?"

  "Probably."

  "How many cities have they?"

  "We've found two. This one and another on the other side of the planet. But the other one's a ruin."

  "A ruin? Why?"

  "You tell us. Lots of mysteries here."

  "What's the planet like?"

  "Mostly jungle. There are polar oceans, lakes and rivers. One low mountain chain follows the equatorial belt about two thirds around the planet."

  "But only two cities. Are you sure?"

  "Reasonably so. It'd be pretty hard to miss something the size of that thing we flew over. It must be fifty kilometers long and at least ten wide. Swarming with these creatures, too. We've got a zone-count estimate that places the city's population at over thirty million."

  "Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too."

  "We don't know much about this place, Orne. And unless you bring them into the fold, there'll be nothing but ashes for our archaeologists to pick over."

  "Seems a dirty shame."

  "I agree, but--"

  The call bell jangled.

  * * * * *

  Stetson's voice sounded tired: "Yeah, Hal?"

  "That mob's only about five kilometers out, Stet. We've got Orne's gear outside in the disguised air sled."

  "We'll be right down."

  "Why a disguised sled?" asked Orne.

  "If they think it's a ground buggy, they might get careless when you most need an advantage. We could always scoop you out of the air, you know."

  "What're my chances on this one, Stet?"

  Stetson shrugged. "I'm afraid they're slim. These goons probably have the Delphinus, and they want you just long enough to get your equipment and everything you know."

  "Rough as that, eh?"

  "According to our best guess. If you're not out in five days, we blast."

  Orne cleared his throat.

  "Want out?" asked Stetson.

  "No."

  "Use the back-door rule, son. Always leave yourself a way out. Now ... let's check that equipment the surgeons put in your neck." Stetson put a hand to his throat. His mouth remained closed, but there was a surf-hissing voice in Orne's ears: "You read me?"

  "Sure. I can--"

  "No!" hissed the voice. "Touch the mike contact. Keep your mouth closed. Just use your speaking muscles without speaking."

  Orne obeyed.

  "O.K.," said Stetson. "You come in loud and clear."

  "I ought to. I'm right on top of you!"

  "There'll be a relay ship over you all the time," said Stetson. "Now ... when you're not touching that mike contact this rig'll still feed us what you say ... and everything that goes on around you, too. We'll monitor everything. Got that?"

  "Yes."

  Stetson held out his right hand. "Good luck. I meant that about diving in for you. Just say the word."

  "I know the word, t
oo," said Orne. "HELP!"

  * * * * *

  Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles between monstrous bluish tree trunks--that was the jungle. Only the barest weak glimmering of sunlight penetrated to the mud. The disguised sled--its para-grav units turned off--lurched and skidded around buttress roots. Its headlights swung in wild arcs across the trunks and down to the mud. Aerial creepers--great looping vines of them--swung down from the towering forest ceiling. A steady drip of condensation spattered the windshield, forcing Orne to use the wipers.

  In the bucket seat of the sled's cab, Orne fought the controls. He was plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating sensation that a heavy planet native always feels in lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy stomach.

  Things skipped through the air around the lurching vehicle: flitting and darting things. Insects came in twin cones, siphoned toward the headlights. There was an endless chittering whistling tok-tok-toking in the gloom beyond the lights.

  Stetson's voice hissed suddenly through the surgically implanted speaker: "How's it look?"

  "Alien."

  "Any sign of that mob?"

  "Negative."

  "O.K. We're taking off."

  Behind Orne, there came a deep rumbling roar that receded as the scout cruiser climbed its jets. All other sounds hung suspended in after-silence, then resumed: the strongest first and then the weakest.

  A heavy object suddenly arced through the headlights, swinging on a vine. It disappeared behind a tree. Another. Another. Ghostly shadows with vine pendulums on both sides. Something banged down heavily onto the hood of the sled.

  Orne braked to a creaking stop that shifted the load behind him, found himself staring through the windshield at a native of Gienah III. The native crouched on the hood, a Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in his right hand directed at Orne's head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, Orne recognized the weapon: standard issue to the marine guards on all R&R survey ships.

  The native appeared the twin of the one Orne had seen on the translite screen. The four-fingered hand looked extremely capable around the stock of the Mark XX.

  Slowly, Orne put a hand to his throat, pressed the contact button. He moved his speaking muscles: "Just made contact with the mob. One on the hood now has one of our Mark XX rifles aimed at my head."

  The surf-hissing of Stetson's voice came through the hidden speaker: "Want us to come back?"

  "Negative. Stand by. He looks cautious rather than hostile."

  Orne held up his right hand, palm out. He had a second thought: held up his left hand, too. Universal symbol of peaceful intentions: empty hands. The gun muzzle lowered slightly. Orne called into his mind the language that had been hypnoforced into him. Ocheero? No. That means 'The People.' Ah ... And he had the heavy fricative greeting sound.

  "Ffroiragrazzi," he said.

  The native shifted to the left, answered in pure, unaccented High Galactese: "Who are you?"

  Orne fought down a sudden panic. The lipless mouth had looked so odd forming the familiar words.

  Stetson's voice hissed: "Is that the native speaking Galactese?"

  Orne touched his throat. "You heard him."

  He dropped his hand, said: "I am Lewis Orne of Rediscovery and Reeducation. I was sent here at the request of the First-Contact officer on the Delphinus Rediscovery."

  "Where is your ship?" demanded the Gienahn.

  "It put me down and left."

  "Why?"

  "It was behind schedule for another appointment."

  * * * * *

  Out of the corners of his eyes, Orne saw more shadows dropping to the mud around him. The sled shifted as someone climbed onto the load behind the cab. The someone scuttled agilely for a moment.

  The native climbed down to the cab's side step, opened the door. The rifle was held at the ready. Again, the lipless mouth formed Galactese words: "What do you carry in this ... vehicle?"

  "The equipment every R&R field man uses to help the people of a rediscovered planet improve themselves." Orne nodded at the rifle. "Would you mind pointing that weapon some other direction? It makes me nervous."

  The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly on Orne's middle. The native's mouth opened, revealing long canines. "Do we not look strange to you?"

  "I take it there's been a heavy mutational variation in the humanoid norm on this planet," said Orne. "What is it? Hard radiation?"

  No answer.

  "It doesn't really make any difference, of course," said Orne. "I'm here to help you."

  "I am Tanub, High Path Chief of the Grazzi," said the native. "I decide who is to help."

  Orne swallowed.

  "Where do you go?" demanded Tanub.

  "I was hoping to go to your city. Is it permitted?"

  A long pause while the vertical-slit pupils of Tanub's eyes expanded and contracted. "It is permitted."

  Stetson's voice came through the hidden speaker: "All bets off. We're coming in after you. That Mark XX is the final straw. It means they have the Delphinus for sure!"

  Orne touched his throat. "No! Give me a little more time!"

  "Why?"

  "I have a hunch about these creatures."

  "What is it?"

  "No time now. Trust me."

  Another long pause in which Orne and Tanub continued to study each other. Presently, Stetson said: "O.K. Go ahead as planned. But find out where the Delphinus is! If we get that back we pull their teeth."

  "Why do you keep touching your throat?" demanded Tanub.

  "I'm nervous," said Orne. "Guns always make me nervous."

  The muzzle lowered slightly.

  "Shall we continue on to your city?" asked Orne. He wet his lips with his tongue. The cab light on Tanub's face was giving the Gienahn an eerie sinister look.

  "We can go soon," said Tanub.

  "Will you join me inside here?" asked Orne. "There's a passenger seat right behind me."

  Tanub's eyes moved catlike: right, left. "Yes." He turned, barked an order into the jungle gloom, then climbed in behind Orne.

  "When do we go?" asked Orne.

  "The great sun will be down soon," said Tanub. "We can continue as soon as Chiranachuruso rises."

  "Chiranachuruso?"

  "Our satellite ... our moon," said Tanub.

  "It's a beautiful word," said Orne. "Chiranachuruso."

  "In our tongue it means: The Limb of Victory," said Tanub. "By its light we will continue."

  Orne turned, looked back at Tanub. "Do you mean to tell me that you can see by what light gets down here through those trees?"

  "Can you not see?" asked Tanub.

  "Not without the headlights."

  "Our eyes differ," said Tanub. He bent toward Orne, peered. The vertical slit pupils of his eyes expanded, contracted. "You are the same as the ... others."

  "Oh, on the Delphinus?"

  Pause. "Yes."

  Presently, a greater gloom came over the jungle, bringing a sudden stillness to the wild life. There was a chittering commotion from the natives in the trees around the sled. Tanub shifted behind Orne.

  "We may go now," he said. "Slowly ... to stay behind my ... scouts."

  "Right." Orne eased the sled forward around an obstructing root.

  * * * * *

  Silence while they crawled ahead. Around them shapes flung themselves from vine to vine.

  "I admired your city from the air," said Orne. "It is very beautiful."

  "Yes," said Tanub. "Why did you land so far from it?"

  "We didn't want to come down where we might destroy anything."

  "There is nothing to destroy in the jungle," said Tanub.

  "Why do you have such a big city?" asked Orne.

  Silence.

  "I said: Why do you--"

  "You are ignorant of our ways," said Tanub. "Therefore, I forgive you. The city is for our race. We must breed and be born in sunlight. Once--long ago--we used crude platforms on the tops of the trees. Now ... only the ... wild ones do this."

&nb
sp; Stetson's voice hissed in Orne's ears: "Easy on the sex line, boy. That's always touchy. These creatures are oviparous. Sex glands are apparently hidden in that long fur behind where their chins ought to be."

  "Who controls the breeding sites controls our world," said Tanub. "Once there was another city. We destroyed it."

  "Are there many ... wild ones?" asked Orne.

  "Fewer each year," said Tanub.

  "There's how they get their slaves," hissed Stetson.

  "You speak excellent Galactese," said Orne.

  "The High Path Chief commanded the best teacher," said Tanub. "Do you, too, know many things, Orne?"

  "That's why I was sent here," said Orne.

  "Are there many planets to teach?" asked Tanub.

  "Very many," said Orne. "Your city--I saw very tall buildings. Of what do you build them?"

  "In your tongue--glass," said Tanub. "The engineers of the Delphinus said it was impossible. As you saw--they are wrong."

  "A glass-blowing culture," hissed Stetson. "That'd explain a lot of things."

  Slowly, the disguised sled crept through the jungle. Once, a scout swooped down into the headlights, waved. Orne stopped on Tanub's order, and they waited almost ten minutes before proceeding.

  "Wild ones?" asked Orne.

  "Perhaps," said Tanub.

  A glowing of many lights grew visible through the giant tree trunks. It grew brighter as the sled crept through the last of the jungle, emerged in cleared land at the edge of the city.

  Orne stared upward in awe. The city fluted and spiraled into the moonlit sky. It was a fragile appearing lacery of bridges, winking dots of light. The bridges wove back and forth from building to building until the entire visible network appeared one gigantic dew-glittering web.

  "All that with glass," murmured Orne.

  "What's happening?" hissed Stetson.

  Orne touched his throat contact. "We're just into the city clearing, proceeding toward the nearest building."

  "This is far enough," said Tanub.

  * * * * *

  Orne stopped the sled. In the moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns all around. The buttressed pedestal of one of the buildings loomed directly ahead. It looked taller than had the scout cruiser in its jungle landing circle.

  Tanub leaned close to Orne's shoulder. "We have not deceived you, have we, Orne?"

  "Huh? What do you mean?"

  "You have recognized that we are not mutated members of your race."