by Stephan Wul
Terr was still listening to Sav’s overview of the situation.
‘Well? I know we have bombs, but we don’t have any rockets to fire them. We can’t wage an offensive war.’
‘Think about it, Terr. Once the Traags realise their rockets and bubbles fall in the water, what will they do?’
‘They’ll send their landing troops by sea, of course. Then it will become an infantry battle. Despite our limited resources, thanks to our mobility and the bush we’ll have a chance of discouraging them, and maybe even beat them.’
‘What if I gave you the means to send bombs to the ports?’
‘I’d say you were a genius or a madman. Say it anyway…’
‘Listen, I am no physicist. I know nothing about bombs and I am not in the least interested in manufacturing or blowing them up. I leave that to engineers. But a simple idea came to me, a naturalist’s idea to send them to Traag ports.
Terr looked both annoyed and disappointed.
‘So, you’re not a genius but just a madman. Think of the time and difficulties we faced when we crossed the ocean. We only have one ship left and you want to see it laying bombs under the Traags’ noses. The ship’s batteries will just about last for its expedition along the coast. And we’d need to design some floats!’
‘Listen to me, Terr. I know from the registers that five hundred bombs are aboard the ship; where is it now?’
it’s crossing the prong bay carefully.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought. Yesterday it’d reached Cape Black. In short, it’ll soon be at the 7.36 point in the Siwo.’
‘To do what?’
‘That’s where the Siwo passes near Rotten Island. It’s a dumping ground for non fertilized prong eggs which end up landing on the beach because of their light weight. Many smash against the rocks during the tides, but quite a few remain intact. Here are your floats! Just pierce two holes in each shell to empty them, place the bomb inside with enough ballast to conceal the device. Filling the holes back up is easy and engineers could find a way of setting off the bombs as the shells break, such as beneath a Traag ship’s stem.’
Terr shook his head and said:
‘This still doesn’t give me the means of sending the eggs towards the Traag continents.’
‘Unfold a map, dear Aedile. You’ll see two interesting currents quite capable of diverting the eggs towards their goal: the Return Siwo which bears north and fans out towards A North and A South’s bases; and the great Equatorial Current which heads directly to B North’s coastline. I must admit the explosions will occur at random on that continent!… If I was a Traag Councillor, that’s where I’d give theorder to take to the sea. The Return Siwo can’t miss the moored Traag ships. Even if some of the bombs miss their targets, the sunken ships would lose many landing troops that we wouldn’t need to fight off. As for the other explosions, imagine their effect on the Traags’ morale! Having failed because of our telebarrier, they’ll see us as a dangerous enemy and we may then reach a peaceful agreement based on coexistence. It’ll just be a question of diplomatic bluffing.’
‘Oh dear! Don’t get carried away’, said Terr. ‘I must admit it’s a good idea. Listen, we have time as the ship will be in the prong bay for another two hours. I’m giving you a free hand to gather the specialists needed to study the plan. You’ll have to manage on your own to find where they are. By the way, where are you posted?’
‘Where do you think a naturalist is posted? I’m back with the herd and I’ve just spent two days lying down in corridor 7, which gave me ample time to think about the prongs.’
‘And how are you faring?’
‘My legs are like jelly and my arms are aching, but that will not stop me from finding specialists.’
‘Good luck!’
Terr switched off the telebox and turned towards Char who was writing something dictated to him by a machine. He looked pale.
The Aedile leant over and felt his heart stop as he read:
“Pillage unit 104, changed to an intelligence unit. Posted at Klud (A South)… (indecipherable)… new Great Traag Council chaired exceptionally by Master Singh voted on the… (indecipherable)… announcing that ten rockets will be launched on the Wild Continent’s High Plateaus at 28 hours, 7 x. -1 repeat. - (indecipherable)…”
8
A mass upsurge had caused the Traag First Councillors to lose their seats. In order to appease the unrest it was announced that Master Singh would be taking over.
A massive Om hunt had been launched spontaneously on the four artificial continents. The Traags went as far as burning parks and any old suspicious buildings. The murderous frenzy caused Oms to appear all over the place. They came out in gangs from the smoked out gutters, ran through the streets screaming, got out of wastelands encircled by flames and ran away in large panic-stricken groups. Though they had been warned, the Traags never expected to see so many. The hunt had revealed the unbelievable number of free Oms who survived by plundering at the expense of the Traags. The more they killed, the more were found to be killed.
Terror made them aggressive. They bit in passing, leapt from their holes to throw all sorts of projectiles in the hunters’ faces as they were leaning over them. Some had invaded arsenals and stood up to an all out siege by throwing ray grenades.
Yet some Traags had stayed home. Dismayed by the turn of events they were in tears as they caressed their harmless Oms prior to sacrificing them. Others refused to obey their neighbours, sometimes even their relatives. They claimed out loud that their Oms had remained good animals with no intelligence and they defended them with all their strength. Others acted through trickery: they showed unidentified corpses and said they had killed their Oms when they were in fact keeping them hidden.
Most of the victims were wild Oms stunned by the Traags’ sudden wrath after so many tolerant years. Those who had been part of the old port had sensed the danger long ago. They had taken cover in hiding places where they could not be found and continued as best as they could to give information by telebox to the city on the Wild Continent. Others, more active, blew up public buildings and communication routes.
Meanwhile Master Singh benefitted from an old title which had become obsolete for aeons. He was called the Supreme Aedile and had absolute power. He was surrounded by advisers in one of Klud Palace’s rooms and was staring at an illuminated Ygam planisphere.
At twenty eight hours seven, three blue dots lit up south of A North and seven others A South’s coastline. The rockets were heading for the Wild Continent. They were carrying payloads aimed at the High Plateaus and their trajectory could be seen converging on the map.
When the flight paths neared the continent, Master Singh gripped his mattress’s armrests and leant forward.
‘This time!…’ he said.
But to everyone’s astonishment the bright lines suddenly went out. A second of deep silence ensued. Then everyone cried out, doubting the planisphere’s screen and commenting disagreeably on the engineers’ merit. Master Singh stretched out a membrane to quieten down the commotion.
‘Go and check!’ he said.
A Traag grabbed a telebox as it was receiving a call.
‘What? Yes, the rockets… well? Are you sure?… I’ll refer immediately to the Supreme Aedile.’
He put the telebox down, his red eyes showing sorrowful amazement, and said:
‘The ten rockets fell into the sea.’
Master Singh did not let his feelings show.
‘Send ten more rockets from the B Continents’, he said coldly.
Fifteen minutes later the new rockets met the same fate as the previous ones.
‘They have a barrier!’ someone said, it’s incredible!’
The Supreme Aedile gave the order to bomb for an hour without stopping. The missiles could be seen going out steadily as they neared the continent.
Reconnaissance spheres were sent out. They did not return. Then, his heart aching, Master Singh ordered landing ships to be launc
hed.
‘The engines will probably stop near the coast’, he said. ‘Our Traags will then swim. At least we’re excellent swimmers and superior to the Oms in this respect.’
An hour later, terrible news reached the Palace. Out of forty ships, thirty had been hit by unknown devices and had sunk not far from the port. The surviving troops were getting panicky and the Supreme Aedile
cancelled his orders. He held his head in his hands in the midst of widespread dismay.
‘It’s dreadful’, he whispered. ‘I never imagined how right I was!’
Just then a telebox rang.
‘What disaster can this be!’ sighed Master Singh.
A Traag leant over the telebox and cried out:
‘Send the text immediately.’
He turned towards the old disheartened Traag:
‘Supreme Aedile’, he said. ‘We’ve just picked up a broadcast from the Oms. They’re making us a proposal.’
9
In the High Plateaus city, far from crowing over their victory the Oms were anxiously waiting for a reply from the Traags. They were exhausted by the night’s fighting, even though most had done little more than lying down to give current for the transmitter.
In the Council Room, Terr was fiddling nervously with the text of his proposal. He was chewing over it in a low voice:
“For many years now, millions of Oms have embarked secretly for the Wild Continent. There, we have built a civilisation equal to yours. Traags, why continue with a pointless war when you can only gain from collaborating with us? We are not your enemies. We are merely defending ourselves. It would be easier for us to burn down your capital cities…”
Terr sighed and threw the document on the table.
‘This bluff is our last chance’, he said. ‘We only have enough current left to deflect another twenty rockets. The Oms can’t hold out much longer. There are only a few hundred thousand left, as the others had to be gradually exempted.’
Char put his hand on his shoulder.
it’s no use getting upset. Anyway, we’d have led wretched lives with the Traags. Thanks to you we’ve lived an amazing adventure. Besides, nothing says that…’
A telebox rang. Vail rushed onto it and looked up immediately, his cheeks red with excitement.
‘The Traags accept our proposal!’ he yelled out.
Everyone stood up at once, gripped by an almost painful joy which soon gave way to laughter, cheers and antics little befitting a Council.
When things calm down a little, Terr banged his fist on the table.
âIn order to uphold our bluff to the end’, he said, ‘the plenipotentiaries have to meet the Traags with a dazzling display. A Traag ship is due to meet ours in five days half way between our respective coasts. This gives us ample time to work wonders. I want the ship to be entirely serviced, repainted and equipped with false aerials and fake ray launchers to impress the Traags with our advanced technology. We have nothing to fear from checks, since their size prevents them from visiting the ship.’
Vail interrupted him. He was pallid.
‘There’s one thing we didn’t think about’, he said. ‘The Traag ships will continue blowing up on the eggs rotting away in the Return Siwo! The Traags will suspect us of disloyalty and launch a desperate offensive!’
‘We’ve made provision for that’, sniggered Terr. ‘We’ve warned the Traags their military ports are threatened by our weapons. They’ve accepted sending their ship from a civilian port located further south in a safe area. We took a hard line on that point because we couldn’t do otherwise. In fact I was really scared they’d refuse.’
Vail was surprised:
‘An ultimatum. And they accepted it!’
‘Unbelievable, but true! Don’t forget the Traags haven’t been used to warfare for a long time. The failure of their offensive has broken their morale. This makes us appear like victors. They believe we’re capable of anything. We’ll be in a position to dictate terms which although bold for our part will appear relatively mild to them given our success.
A racket could be heard filtering from the troglodytic city. An Om entered in the room, his eyes crazed, his lips smiling.
‘We’re asking to see the Aedile’, he yelled. ‘Show yourself, or else the crowd will force open the police cordons.’
Followed by the Council members, Terr took a corridor leading to an opening. He emerged onto a terrace half way up a massive cave and he raised both his hands, saluted by a howling crowd of delirious Oms. The bottom of the cave was swarming with raised faces, open mouths and gesticulating silhouettes. In their primitive enthusiasm, female Oms were pulling their hair off and throwing it towards the Aedile. Males were forming pyramids of muscles on top of which children roared with laughter whilst shaking their small arms.
10
Five days later, two ships met in the high sea greeting each other by sending out bursts of rays towards the sky.
The Om vessel was gleaming with a thousand lights beneath the sun. It approached the Traag ship at speed and drew alongside it with a perfect manoeuvre. Lined up on the deck, the ship’s crew, helmeted and magnificent in their uniforms were paying respect to their recent enemies.
Strapped up in a shiny tunic, wearing plastic boots and sporting a gleaming breastplate, Terr slowly climbed onto the Traag ship followed by ten or so Oms.
The Traags could not get used to meeting Oms rigged out in such a way. They’d always seen them naked and humiliated by having to wear a collar. Such a sight would have seemed comical prior to the recent events.
Also wearing the insignias of his office, Master Singh greeted the Oms’ Aedile with great consideration and asked him to his cabin.
They had a long conversation. Terr endeavoured to speak slowly and to pronounce all consonants in order for the Traag to understand him. But his thoughts were going faster than his words, giving him an edge in the talks.
The old Traag felt inferior.
‘I am afraid’, he was saying, ‘that signing this agreement might soon make you this planet’s masters. You are much faster than we are. Admittedly we live much longer, but you multiply very quickly. Your civilisation will easily overtake ours in a few years.’
Terr’s reply was peremptory and sincere.
‘No!’ he said, ‘there exists, Supreme Aedile, a great danger for an evolved race: sclerosis. You know the Oms’ past and understand that. Once a civilisation reaches a point of perfection it becomes a gigantic machine incapable of progress and whose members are nothing but thoughtless cogs.’
‘That’s what we freed you from when we brought you to Ygam.’
‘I know. And in a way we are grateful to you. That is why I am putting you on your guard, Supreme Aedile. Your society is showing signs of senility. It is too perfect, and little by little Traags are becoming routine-minded robots. Look at the problems you faced trying to stir your fellow citizens. If you stay on that easy slope any longer you’ll become nothing but a great ants’ nest without a soul. I am using words you’re familiar with, since you’ve studied planet earth’s animals.’
Master Singh waved his membrane vaguely. He leant forward to be levelled with his interlocutor.
‘We’d be even more at your mercy.’
‘Not at all. If you look closely at article 10 of the treaty, which I hope you will sign, you will see the significance for both our peoples. It allows for a partnership between our two civilisations. There will be no master race anymore, but two equal races working side by side and mutually benefitting from their progress. Thanks to such a close friendly rivalry, you will avoid the collective sclerosis I was talking about earlier. And you’ll play the same part for us. I foresee an incredible future for both our races, achieved thanks to the spirit of emulation.’
‘That will take a long time to set in motion. The Traags are still distraught about you. Some cherish you like nice animals, others fear you like future conquerors.’
‘And both these attitudes offend us
equally, one in our pride, the other in our loyalty. The wounds are still too fresh. Put your trust in time and the future.’
The Traags’ Supreme Aedile slowly held out his hand to the Oms’ Aedile. He then appended his seal on the treaty.
He straightened his old body and went to open the cabin’s door.
‘Traags’, he said, ‘and you, little Oms, I have signed! Your Aediles’ work is over. The details will be ratified by the Councils. Our two races are united for the better or the worse!’
***
In the golden night descending onto the sea, two vessels leant against each other like two friends. Traag anthems and Om songs could be heard undulating in the breeze.
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Rene Laloux’s mesmerising psychedelic sci-fi animated feature won the Grand Prix at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival and is a landmark of European animation. Based on Stefan Wul’s novel Oms en Serie, Laloux’s breathtaking vision was released in France as La Planete Sauvage [The Savage Planet]; in the USA as Fantastic Planet; and immediately drew comparisons to Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels and Planet of the Apes (both the 1968 film and Boule’s 1963 novel). Today, the film can be seen to prefigure much of the work of Hayao Miyazaki at Studio Ghibli (Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away) due to its palpable political and social concerns, cultivated imagination, and memorable animation techniques.
La Planete Sauvage tells the story of “Oms”, human-like creatures kept as domesticated pets by an alien race of blue giants called “Draags”. The story takes place on the Draags’ planet
Ygam, where we follow our narrator, an Om called Terr, from infancy to adulthood. He manages to escape enslavement from a Draag learning device used to educate the savage
Oms â and begins to organise an Om revolt. The imagination invested in the surreal creatures, music and sound design, and eerie landscapes, is immense and unforgettable.
Widely regarded as an allegorical statement on the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia, La Planete Sauvage was five years in the making at Prague’s Jiri Trnka Studios. The direction of Rene Laloux, the incredible art of Roland Topor, and Alain Goraguer’s brilliant complementary score (much sampled by the hip-hop community) all combine to make La Planete Sauvage a mind-searing experience.
