by John Norman
“Yes,” admitted Brenner.
“The scarp may not have been marked,” said Rodriguez. “It might have been missed, the stamper malfunctioning. It might have been defective, and rejected by quality control before being marked, but somehow, by intent or otherwise, been included amongstst trade goods. The company might not even mark them all. It may have been received through the company, or through a company employer, and had its source in an independent supplier. It might even have been made in a shop at Company Station by a mechanic, and not even be a company scarp.”
“Of course,” admitted Brenner. “There are many possible explanations.”
They walked on, in silence, beside the sled for a time.
“Do you know the one that had the scarp?” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner. Over the past few days he had become adept at distinguishing amongst the Pons. As was common with the Pons, as with most sorts of creatures, rabbits, gits, sheep, and such, one recognized them at the beginning only by general, obvious characteristics, and then, later, as one grew more familiar with them, one drew finer distinctions. One begins by recognizing sorts, and, later, individuals within the sorts. Many creatures in the galaxy, incidentally, had difficulty in telling the members of Brenner’s and Rodriguez’ species apart. Whereas to a member of their species, they appeared quite different, indeed, obviously so, even so acute, if ponderous, an intelligence as that of a megabregma might confuse them. To be sure, there was not much interest in the galaxy, amongstst most creatures, in telling the members of Brenner’s and Rodriguez’ species apart. Indeed, there was generally not much point in doing so. Whereas Brenner was now adept at telling the Pons apart, he being interested in them, at least to some extent, and having made a serious effort, if only as a scientist, to do so, it must be admitted that Rodriguez, in spite of his considerable intelligence, had given the matter little consideration. He did not have a great deal of interest, certainly at least at present, in individualizing Pons. It did not seem to him important to do so. He regarded them all as rather ineffectual and despicable, and, for most practical purposes, interchangeable. And, in this, Brenner thought he might actually have the most appropriate perspective. For certain purposes of study, one git or slug, so to speak, would do as well as another.
“Which one?” asked Rodriguez.
“That one,” said Brenner.
Brenner was naturally intrigued at Rodriguez’ apparent interest. Whereas Rodriguez had earlier, at least to Brenner’s satisfaction, settled the matter quite adequately, sufficiently accounting for it, appropriately dismissing it for its inconsequentiality, he had not, apparently, at least upon reflection, managed to similarly assuage his own curiosity. It would be something of an anomaly, of course, to find a company object, particularly a manufactured article, an object for sale or trade, which did not bear the company mark. Rodriguez’ interest, of course, once expressed, immediately revived Brenner’s.
“You!” barked Rodriguez.
The Pons looked up, like small animals startled by a sudden, unexpected, possibly dangerous noise, then holding so still and silent as to be almost invisible.
“You!” said Rodriguez. “Yes, you! Come here. Quick! Quick!”
Rodriguez gestured, impatiently.
Reluctantly the Pon approached, its eyes wide like small moons. It was a small, timid creature.
“Do not be afraid,” said Brenner, slowly, clearly, softly, coaxingly, soothingly.
To be sure, Rodriguez could have broken its neck with one hand.
When it was close enough Rodriguez reached out and drew it to him by the robes.
The other Pons watched, curiously. They made no move to intercede for, or to protect or defend, their fellow creature. That was not the way of the Pons. They were not powerful animals, of course, and, too, perhaps, what was one Pon more or less? This sort of reluctance was understood by some on the home world to be a form of cowardice but by many others as a moral sublimity. If offense were wrong so, too, must be defense. Were not all knives sharp? What difference did it make which way the weapons were pointed? Self-defense, then, must be a criminal act, one worthy only of criminals, one by means of which one put oneself exactly on their level. Too, was not such affront in its way a denial to the predator or aggressor of his rights? Benevolence, and love of other life forms, and recognition of the brotherhood of species, was also muchly praised. More than one Humbler saint, for example, had reputedly fed himself to wild beasts lest they go hungry.
Rodriguez pulled the scarp from the little fellow’s belt and looked at it.
“There,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner looked at the scarp. It bore the company mark.
“You made a mistake,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner, slowly, uncertainly. “I must have made a mistake.”
Rodriguez stuffed the scarp back in the belt of the Pon’s robes. “Go,” said Rodriguez, indicating that it return to its brethren, over to one side.
It lost no time in doing so.
“That is the right fellow?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“It seems strange that you should have overlooked so obvious a mark,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“You made a mistake,” said Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner. “I must have made a mistake.”
Chapter 11
Brenner watched the brush. He could hear movements within it. The hair rose on the back of his neck. He did not have the weapon. Rodriguez, a few moments ago, had taken it suddenly, seizing it up and hurrying down their backtrail. The Pons, those with the sled, and the others, and Brenner, had stopped.
“You seem apprehensive,” Brenner had said to Rodriguez, earlier in the morning.
Rodriguez had not responded.
“The forest is quiet,” Brenner had said.
“It is too quiet,” had said Rodriguez.
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“It should teem with life,” said Rodriguez, “but except for a handful of tiny things, some gits, some snakes, some fliers, and such, nothing.
“What is your explanation?” asked Brenner.
“It would seem that our reports on the indigenous fauna must be mistaken,” said Rodriguez.
“It would seem so,” said Brenner.
“There are other possible explanations, of course,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner regarded him.
“Our own passage, for example,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner nodded. They, and even the Pons, would be strangers here. The police, on various worlds, for example, in pursuing bandits, insurgents, and such, in jungles, often carried recordings of animal life with them, birdcalls, insect sounds, simian barkings, and such, indexed to the area and the time of day or night, which they broadcast in their search. In this fashion, their presence might not be belied to their quarry by any sudden or unexpected silencing of the local wildlife.
“It could very easily be our passage,” granted Brenner.
“We are not a large or formidable party,” said Rodriguez.
“There are several Pons with us,” said Brenner. To his annoyance, it seemed that Rodriguez was ready, characteristically, to overlook the Pons.
“The men of Company Station seldom, if ever, hunt in the forest, so it is not as if the animals would have learned to fear them.”
“True,” said Brenner.
“Even when we camp at night,” said Rodriguez, “it has seemed to be very quiet.”
“At such a time the animals would be expected to resume their normal behaviors?”
“After a few minutes, of course,” said Rodriguez. Brenner supposed that Rodriguez might know something about these matters. He had, after all, hunted on several worlds, on some of them professionally.
“Then clearly there must be very little animal life in the forest.
“That would seem so,” said Rodriguez.
“Yet,” said Brenner, “t
hat contradicts the ecological surveys, sketchy as they are.”
“Exactly,” said Rodriguez.
“On the assumption that the reports, which seem clear and consistent, are correct, we are left with no alternative other than to assume that it is our presence which has frightened the animals.”
“Not necessarily,” said Rodriguez.
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“I do suspect that they are afraid,” said Rodriguez, “perhaps even very afraid.”
“It is strange that our presence could have so intimidating an effect,” said Brenner.
“It need not be our presence,” had said Rodriguez.
* * *
The movements in the brush were now closer.
Brenner wished he had some weapon, even a stick.
“You!” said Brenner, in relief, as Rodriguez broke through the brush, the brass barrel of the rifle in hand, disguised as an optical instrument.
Rodriguez was not in a good humor. He was covered with sweat. Small leaves and twigs clung here and there to his wet shirt. His face and arms were marked with scratches from brush. One cheek was bleeding. He had turned about, suddenly, and then, with a grunt, seized up the weapon and hurried down the backtrail. Now he was red-faced. He was breathing heavily. He stumbled, and regained his balance. He put one hand out, to steady himself. His paunch swayed. He is finished, thought Brenner. He is done. He is old. That brave animal, that irascible, uncompromising unique individual, that thing that dared to be different in a world of mediocrity and conformity, that hunter, that explorer, that soldier, that thing that lived by its own stars, that acute intellect, that heart of hearts is done. That body, insulted by age, withered in time, abused by Heimat and weed, is cargo now. He had been sent to Abydos to die. But he had come because he wanted to. There was something on Abydos about which he was curious, something he did not understand, something which might have to do with what he thought of as “the beginning.”
“Did you see anything?” asked Brenner.
“I had thought I did,” said Rodriguez.
“But not now?”
“No,” said Rodriguez, sitting down on the ground. “No.” He put the tube to one side. The Pons looked at it.
“We will rest for a time,” said Brenner to the Pons.
“It has been drifting with us,” said Rodriguez, “like a shark following a ship.”
“There is nothing,” said Brenner.
“It is always downwind.” said Rodriguez.
“There is nothing there,” said Brenner.
“It is the predator’s ambush,” said Rodriguez, absently.
“The shadows are subtle in the forest,” said Brenner. “There could be a mix of light and darkness, a movement of a branch, such things. It is easy to misinterpret such things.”
“You think that is what I have done?” asked Rodriguez.
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“Perhaps,” said Rodriguez.
“Certainly,” said Brenner.
“I do not think so,” said Rodriguez.
After a time the party rose up and continued its journey.
“Do you feel better now?” asked Brenner.
“Yes,” said Rodriguez.
Chapter 12
“It is to be a ceremony of some sort,” said Brenner.
It was now night.
On the next day they had been given to understand that the village would be reached.
“The git is apparently to play some role in the ceremony,” said Brenner.
“Naturally,” said Rodriguez.
“You aren’t going to use the camera,” said Brenner.
“No,” said Rodriguez. This made sense to Brenner. After all, the Pons might be familiar with cameras from Company Station, and the effects of their operation. Some primitive peoples objected to the capturing of their images, so to speak. Some feared this might steal their souls. For such reasons, and because they were still strange to the Pons, Rodriguez and Brenner would not attempt to film the ceremony, that in spite of the fact that the camera was dark-adapted. Rodriguez did have a small recorder with him. That, of course, could be easily concealed.
The Pons were in a circle.
Rodriguez and Brenner stood back, that they might not be obtrusive. They were close enough, of course, for the effective functioning of the recorder.
In the center of the circle of the Pons was a small cage of twigs. Within it, crouching down, was a tiny, stub-tailed rodent, the Abydian mouse, or git. Brenner could have held it, squirming, in his hand. This had been caught in a nest of rotted wood, half under a fallen log, earlier in the afternoon, in a sack, and then placed in the small enclosure of twigs, about which the Pons were gathered.
Rodriguez put on the recorder.
“We love you, father,” called a Pon, the voice high in the night.
“‘Father’?” asked Brenner.
“The totem animal,” said Rodriguez. “It is always referred to as “ancestor,” as “father,” as “primal father,” and such. The totem group regards itself as descended from it.”
“That is absurd,” said Brenner.
“Surely you are familiar with totemistic theory,” said Rodriguez. “The totem bond is regarded by these people as one of complete consanguinity, as one of blood, literally one of blood.”
“Forgive us, father, for what we have done,” called the Pon. “We are contrite! Show us forbearance! Be kind to us! Cherish us. Protect us! We will refrain from touching the soft ones!”
“That is exogamy, denial of the in-group females to the in-group males,” said Rodriguez. Brenner nodded. The two central tenets of totemism were reverence for the totem animal, respecting it, sparing it, and such, and exogamy. Mating was forbidden within a given totem.
“We beg your forgiveness, father!” called the voice.
“What did they do?” asked Brenner.
“Probably nothing,” said Rodriguez. “Maybe they have thought about breaking a taboo, or something, who knows?”
“Forgive us, father,” said the voice. “Love us! Cherish us! Protect us!”
There was then silence amongst the Pons.
“They are waiting for the response of the father,” whispered Rodriguez.
This rather surprising communication made Brenner, for no good reason, decidedly uneasy. There was only a little wind, however, amongst the branches. Some lantern fruit, softly glowing, moved on its stems.
Then, after a time, another Pon, from somewhere in the circle, called out the following:
Oh, I could get me in.
I could lay them waste.
But I will not do so,
for they are my children.
I am the father.
“That makes no sense,” said Rodriguez.
Brenner was forced to agree.
“Apparently the ceremony is over,” said Rodriguez. He turned off the recorder and slipped it into his pocket.
“Tomorrow,” said Brenner, “we reach the village.”
“It would seem so,” said Rodriguez. He then looked about, at the trees, and the clearing.
“You are still concerned that something is out there?” asked Brenner.
“Yes,” said Rodriguez.
“Surely the Pons know the forest,” said Brenner. “And they do not seem frightened.”
“They are stupid,” said Rodriguez.
“We reach the village tomorrow,” said Brenner.
“It will not be too soon for me,” said Rodriguez.
“You are concerned, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Rodriguez.
Chapter 13
“Let us take stock,” said Rodriguez.
It was their first night in the village, and they were alone in a small hut, on the periphery of an open, circular area in the center of the village.
“The palisade does not appear very formidable,” said Rodriguez.
“No,” said Brenner.
“The Pons seem friendly,” said Bre
nner.
“One of them rushed up and struck at you,” said Rodriguez.
“They seem friendly, on the whole,” said Brenner.
“Why did that one strike at you?” asked Rodriguez.
“I have no idea,” said Brenner. “As far as I know I have done nothing to generate his hostility.”
“He did not strike at me,” said Rodriguez.
“No,” said Brenner.
“The area of the village is perhaps two acres,” speculated Rodriguez.
Brenner nodded. That seemed about right. It was certainly not large.
“The Pons here would number in the vicinity of a hundred or so,” said Rodriguez.
“Perhaps,” said Brenner.
“I counted ninety-seven,” said Rodriguez, “but I may have missed some, and counted others twice. They all look the same, even the females, and they move about a lot, trying to keep the distances between them.”
“They do differ one from the other,” said Brenner, “if you pay attention. Too, the females are for the most part distinguishable from the males. They tend to be smaller, and their features seem to be different, finer, or more delicate, or less coarse, or something.”
“They all dress the same,” said Rodriguez.
“One clue as to whether females are present,” said Brenner, “is to observe the spatial relationships.”
“Of course,” said Rodriguez.
“Males will crowd together,” said Brenner. “Females usually keep about a yard between themselves and other females. The intersexual distances are at least ten feet.”
“Yes,” said Rodriguez.
It was sometimes interesting, incidentally, to note the rapid shifting in spatial relationships which might occur in groups, given the entry or exit of various individuals, of one sex or another. This sort of thing, of course, objectively, was no more strange than similar sorts of distance observances in various cultures. Distance arrangements occur also, apparently naturally, amongst the individuals of many species. In some species, literally thousands of individuals could cluster in small spaces, or move about one another, even at high speed, and, almost as if by magic, avoid physical contact. Dominance orders, too, of course, of various sorts, were almost universal. In a flight of birds it is not an accident that the first bird is first, or the second second, and so on.
