by Isaac Asimov
Red said, “Ssh. Look. You take this stuff and stick it in the cage. I’ve got to scoot back to the house.”
“What is it?” Slim reached reluctantly.
“Ground meat. Holy Smokes, haven’t you ever seen ground meat? That’s what you should’ve got when I sent you to the house instead of coming back with that stupid grass.”
Slim was hurt. “How’d I know they don’t eat grass. Besides, ground meat doesn’t come loose like that. It comes in cellophane and it isn’t that color.”
“Sure—in the city. Out here we grind our own and it’s always this color till it’s cooked.”
“You mean it isn’t cooked?” Slim drew away quickly.
Red looked disgusted. “Do you think animals eat cookedfood. Come on, take it. It won’t hurt you. I tell you there isn’t much time.”
“Why? What’s doing back at the house?”
“I don’t know. Dad and your father are walking around. I think maybe they’re looking for me. Maybe the cook told them I took the meat. Anyway, we don’t want them coming here after me.”
“Didn’t you ask the cook before you took this stuff?”
“Who? That crab? Shouldn’t wonder if she only let me have a drink of water because Dad makes her. Come on. Take it.”
Slim took the large glob of meat though his skin crawled at the touch. He turned toward the barn and Red sped away in the direction from which he had come.
He slowed when he approached the two adults, took a few deep breaths to bring himself back to normal, and then carefully and nonchalantly sauntered past. (They were walking in the general direction of the barn, he noticed, but not dead on.)
He said, “Hi, Dad. Hello, sir.”
The Industrialist said, “Just a moment, Red. I have a question to ask you?”
Red turned a carefully blank face to his father. “Yes, Dad?”
“Mother tells me you were out early this morning.”
“Not real early, Dad. Just a little before breakfast.”
“She said you told her it was because you had been awakened during the night and didn’t go back to sleep.”
Red waited before answering. Should he have told Mom that?
Then he said, “Yes, sir.”
“What was it that awakened you?”
Red saw no harm in it. He said, “I don’t know, Dad. It sounded like thunder, sort of, and like a collision, sort of.”
“Could you tell where it came from?”
“It sounded like it was out by the hill.” That was truthful, and useful as well, since the direction was almost opposite that in which the barn lay.
The Industrialist looked at his guest. “I suppose it would do no harm to walk toward the hill.”
The Astronomer said, “I am ready.”
Red watched them walk away and when he turned he saw Slim peering cautiously out from among the briars of a hedge.
Red waved at him. “Come on.”
Slim stepped out and approached. “Did they say anything about the meat?”
“No. I guess they don’t know about that. They went down to the hill.”
“What for?”
“Search me. They kept asking about the noise I heard. Listen, did the animals eat the meat?”
“Well,” said Slim, cautiously, “they were sort of lookingat it and smelling it or something.”
“Okay,” Red said, “I guess they’ll eat it. Holy Smokes, they’ve got to eat something. Let’s walk along toward the hill and see what Dad and your father are going to do.”
“What about the animals?”
“They’ll be all right. A fellow can’t spend all his time on them. Did you give them water?”
“Sure. They drank that.”
“See. Come on. We’ll look at them after lunch. I tell you what. We’ll bring them fruit. Anything’ll eat fruit.”
Together they trotted up the rise, Red, as usual, in the lead.
CHAPTER V
The Astronomer said, “You think the noise was their ship landing?”
“Don’t you think it could be?”
“If it were, they may all be dead.”
“Perhaps not.” The Industrialist frowned.
“If they have landed, and are still alive, where are they?”
“Think about that for a while.” He was still frowning.
The Astronomer said, “I don’t understand you.”
“They may not be friendly.”
“Oh, no. I’ve spoken with them. They’ve—”
“You’ve spoken with them. Call that reconnaissance. What would their next step be? Invasion?”
“But they only have one ship, sir.”
“You know that only because they say so. They might have a fleet.”
“I’ve told you about their size. They—”
“Their size would not matter, if they have handweapons that may well be superior to our artillery.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I had this partly in mind from the first.” The Industrialist went on. “It is for that reason I agreed to see them after I received your letter. Not to agree to an unsettling and impossible trade, but to judge their real purposes. I did not count on their evading the meeting.”
He sighed. “I suppose it isn’t our fault. You are right in one thing, at any rate. The world has been at peace too long. We are losing a healthy sense of suspicion.”
The Astronomer’s mild voice rose to an unusual pitch and he said, “I will speak. I tell you that there is no reason to suppose they can possibly be hostile. They are small, yes, but that is only important because it is a reflection of the fact that their native worlds are small. Our world has what is for them a normal gravity, but because of our much higher gravitational potential, our atmosphere is too dense to support them comfortably over sustained periods. For a similar reason the use of the world as a base for interstellar travel, except for trade in certain items, is uneconomical. And there are important differences in chemistry of life due to the basic differences in soils. They couldn’t eat our food or we theirs.”
“Surely all this can be overcome. They can bring their own food, build domed stations of lowered air pressure, devise specially designed ships.”
“They can. And how glibly you can describe feats that are easy to a race in its youth. It is simply that they don’t have to do any of that. There are millions of worlds suitable for them in the Galaxy. They don’t need this one which isn’t.”
“How do you know? All this is their information again.”
“This I was able to check independently. I am an astronomer, after all.”
“That is true. Let me hear what you have to say then, while we walk.”
“Then, sir, consider that for a long time our astronomers have believed that two general classes of planetary bodies existed. First, the planets which formed at distances far enough from their stellar nucleus to become cool enough to capture hydrogen. These would be large planets rich in hydrogen, ammonia and methane. We have examples of these in the giant outer planets. The second class would include those planets formed so near the stellar center that the high temperature would make it impossible to capture much hydrogen. These would be smaller planets, comparatively poorer in hydrogen and richer in oxygen. We know that type very well since we live on one. Ours is the only solar system we know in detail, however, and it has been reasonable for us to assume that these were the only two planetary classes.”
“I take it then that there is another.”
“Yes. There is a super-dense class, still smaller, poorer in hydrogen, than the inner planets of the solar system. The ratio of occurrence of hydrogen-ammonia planets and these super-dense water-oxygen worlds of theirs over the entire Galaxy—and remember that they have actually conducted a survey of significant sample volumes of the Galaxy which we, without interstellar travel, cannot do—is about 3 to 1. This leaves them seven million super-dense worlds for exploration and colonization.”
The Industrialist lo
oked at the blue sky and the green-covered trees among which they were making their way. He said, “And worlds like ours?”
The Astronomer said, softly, “Ours is the first solar system they have found which contains them. Apparently the development of our solar system was unique and did not follow the ordinary rules.”
The Industrialist considered that. “What it amounts to is that these creatures from space are asteroid-dwellers.”
“No, no. The asteroids are something else again. They occur, I was told, in one out of eight stellar systems, but they’re completely different from what we’ve been discussing.”
“And how does your being an astronomer change the fact that you are still only quoting their unsupported statements?”
“But they did not restrict themselves to bald items of information. They presented me with a theory of stellar evolution which I had to accept and which is more nearly valid than anything our own astronomy has ever been able to devise, if we except possible lost theories dating from Beforethewars. Mind you, their theory had a rigidly mathematical development and it predicted just such a Galaxy as they describe. So you see, they have all the worlds they wish. They are not land-hungry. Certainly not for our land.”
“Reason would say so, if what you say is true. But creatures may be intelligent and not reasonable. Our forefathers were presumably intelligent, yet they were certainly not reasonable. Was it reasonable to destroy almost all their tremendous civilization in atomic warfare over causes our historians can no longer accurately determine?” The Industrialist brooded over it. “From the dropping of the first atom bomb over those islands—I forget the ancient name—there was only one end in sight, and in plain sight. Yet events were allowed to proceed to that end.”
He looked up, said briskly, “Well, where are we? I wonder if we are not on a fool’s errand after all.”
But the Astronomer was a little in advance and his voice came thickly. “No fool’s errand, sir. Look there.”
CHAPTER VI
Red and Slim had trailed their elders with the experience of youth, aided by the absorption and anxiety of their fathers. Their view of the final object of the search was somewhat obscured by the underbrush behind which they remained.
Red said, “Holy Smokes. Look at that. It’s all shiny silver or something.”
But it was Slim who was really excited. He caught at the other. “I know what this is. It’s a space-ship. That must be why my father came here. He’s one of the biggest astronomers in the world and your father would have to call him if a space-ship landed on his estate.”
“What are you talking about? Dad didn’t even know that thing was there. He only came here because I told him I heard the thunder from here. Besides, there isn’t any such thing as a space-ship.”
“Sure, there is. Look at it. See those round things. They are ports. And you can see the rocket tubes.”
“How do you know so much?”
Slim was flushed. He said, “I read about them. My father has books about them. Old books. From Beforethewars.”
“Huh. Now I know you’re making it up. Books from Beforethewars!”
“My father has to have them. He teaches at the University. It’s his job.”
His voice had risen and Red had to pull at him. “You want them to hear us?” he whispered indignantly.
“Well, it is, too, a space-ship.”
“Look here, Slim, you mean that’s a ship from another world.”
“It’s got to be. Look at my father going round and round it. He wouldn’t be so interested if it was anything else.”
“Other worlds! Where are there other worlds?”
“Everywhere. How about the planets? They’re worlds just like ours, some of them. And other stars probably have planets. There’s probably zillions of planets.”
Red felt outweighed and outnumbered. He muttered, “You’re crazy!”
“All right, then. I’ll show you.”
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Down there. I’m going to ask my father. I suppose you’ll believe it if he tells you. I suppose you’ll believe a Professor of Astronomy knows what—”
He had scrambled upright.
Red said, “Hey. You don’t want them to see us. We’re not supposed to be here. Do you want them to start asking questions and find out about our animals?”
“I don’t care. You said I was crazy.”
“Snitcher! You promised you wouldn’t tell.”
“I’m not going to tell. But if they find out themselves, it’s your fault, for starting an argument and saying I was crazy.”
“I take it back, then,” grumbled Red.
“Well, all right. You better.”
In a way, Slim was disappointed. He wanted to see the space-ship at closer quarters. Still, he could not break his vow of secrecy even in spirit without at least the excuse of personal insult.
Red said, “It’s awfully small for a space-ship.”
“Sure, because it’s probably a scout-ship.”
“I’ll bet Dad couldn’t even get into the old thing.”
So much Slim realized to be true. It was a weak point in his argument and he made no answer. His interest was absorbed by the adults.
Red rose to his feet; an elaborate attitude of boredom all about him. “Well, I guess we better be going. There’s business to do and I can’t spend all day here looking at some old space-ship or whatever it is. We’ve got to take care of the animals if we’re going to be circus-folks. That’s the first rule with circus-folks. They’ve got to take care of the animals. And,” he finished virtuously, “that’s what I aim to do, anyway.”
Slim said, “What for, Red? They’ve got plenty of meat. Let’s watch.”
“There’s no fun in watching. Besides Dad and your father are going away and I guess it’s about lunch time.”
Red became argumentative. “Look, Slim, we can’t start acting suspicious or they’re going to start investigating. Holy Smokes, don’t you ever read any detective stories? When you’re trying to work a big deal without being caught, it’s practically the main thing to keep on acting just like always. Then they don’t suspect anything. That’s the first law—”
“Oh, all right.”
Slim rose resentfully. At the moment, the circus appeared to him a rather tawdry and shoddy substitute for the glories of astronomy, and he wondered how he had come to fall in with Red’s silly scheme.
Down the slope they went, Slim, as usual, in the rear.
CHAPTER VII
The Industrialist said, “It’s the workmanship that gets me. I never saw such construction.”
“What good is it now?” said the Astronomer, bitterly. “There’s nothing left. There’ll be no second landing. This ship detected life on our planet through accident. Other exploring parties would come no closer than necessary to establish the fact that there were no super-dense worlds existing in our solar system.”
“Well, there’s no quarreling with a crash landing.”
“The ship hardly seems damaged. If only some had survived, the ship might have been repaired.”
“If they had survived, there would be no trade in any case. They’re too different. Too disturbing. In any case—it’s over.”
They entered the house and the Industrialist greeted his wife calmly. “Lunch about ready, dear.”
“I’m afraid not. You see—” She looked hesitantly at the Astronomer.
“Is anything wrong?” asked the Industrialist. “Why not tell me? I’m sure our guest won’t mind a little family discussion.”
“Pray don’t pay any attention whatever to me,” muttered the Astronomer. He moved miserably to the other end of the living room.
The woman said, in low, hurried tones, “Really, dear, cook’s that upset. I’ve been soothing her for hours and honestly, I don’t know why Red should have done it.”
“Done what?” The Industrialist was more amused than otherwise. It had taken the united efforts of himself and
his son months to argue his wife into using the name “Red” rather than the perfectly ridiculous (viewed youngster fashion) name which was his real one.
She said, “He’s taken most of the chopped meat.”
“He’s eaten it?”
“Well, I hope not. It was raw.”
“Then what would he want it for?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. I haven’t seen him since breakfast. Meanwhile cook’s just furious. She caught him vanishing out the kitchen door and there was the bowl of chopped meat just about empty and she was going to use it for lunch. Well, you know cook. She had to change the lunch menu and that means she won’t be worth living with for a week. You’ll just have to speak to Red, dear, and make him promise not to do things in the kitchen any more. And it wouldn’t hurt to have him apologize to cook.”
“Oh, come. She works for us. If we don’t complain about a change in lunch menu, why should she?”
“Because she’s the one who has double-work made for her, and she’s talking about quitting. Good cooks aren’t easy to get. Do you remember the one before her?”
It was a strong argument.
The Industrialist looked about vaguely. He said, “I suppose you’re right. He isn’t here, I suppose. When he comes in, I’ll talk to him.”
“You’d better start. Here he comes.”
Red walked into the house and said cheerfully, “Time for lunch, I guess.” He looked from one parent to the other in quick speculation at their fixed stares and said, “Got to clean up first, though,” and made for the other door.
The Industrialist said, “One moment, son.”
“Sir?”
“Where’s your little friend?”
Red said, carelessly, “He’s around somewhere. We were just sort of walking and I looked around and he wasn’t there.” This was perfectly true, and Red felt on safe ground. “I told him it was lunch time. I said, ‘I suppose it’s about lunch time.’ I said, ‘We got to be getting back to the house.’ And he said, ‘Yes.’ And I just went on and then when I was about at the creek I looked around and—”
The Astronomer interrupted the voluble story, looking up from a magazine he had been sightlessly rummaging through. “I wouldn’t worry about my youngster. He is quite self-reliant. Don’t wait lunch for him.”
