by Mike Resnick
B’narr put his hands on his hips and took his first long look at the mountain where he would live and die. He knew that some of the fruits and animals would be edible; they wouldn’t have spent millions flying him here just to let him die of systemic poisoning or starvation in the first few weeks. He looked down and saw the footprints of an elephant. He had no idea what the beast looked like, but given its size he hoped that it wasn’t a carnivore.
Avians sang in the trees. He studied them until he was convinced that they presented no threat. He could see a village perhaps a mile away, but he decided not to try to make contact until he knew more about the inhabitants. He couldn’t imagine that his captors had chosen a mechanized or sophisticated world for him-and there was no sense showing himself to a people who probably didn’t know any other sentient species existed, at least until he studied them further and felt confident of a non-violent reception.
Suddenly he heard a roar. It wasn’t close, but it was loud enough to convince him that his first order of business was to find a sanctuary where he could sleep in safety.
He began walking. As he did so he passed a number of caves, but he couldn’t be sure that they weren’t home to whatever had roared. He considered climbing a tree and sleeping on a broad branch, but he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t fall off, and besides there was every possibility that at least one carnivore was arboreal.
He continued exploring his surroundings. After two more hours it began getting darker, and he realized that he didn’t know the planet’s rotation speed, and hence the length of its days and nights. He looked toward the top of the mountain. The dense vegetation thinned out the higher he went, and seemed to vanish entirely at the edge of the glacier.
It was an easy decision. Until he knew the mountain and its residents-sentient and otherwise-better, he’d spend his time up near the ice cap, where there was less vegetation, because less vegetation meant less herbivores and less herbivores means less meat-eaters. They might even avoid the glacier entirely.
He trudged up the mountain, alert to every sound and movement, and made it to his destination without seeing a single animal. He found the edge of the glacier cold, but not unbearably so, and he began looking for shelter. He found a cave, made sure that it bore no trace of any other resident, and entered it. He was aware that the air was much thinner up here, but his body adjusted to it and he paid it no further notice.
He awoke from his first night on his new world, stepped out into the sunlight, and walked down to the tree line. His first task was to find some nourishment, and he tried some nuts from one of the trees. They didn’t have much taste, but they didn’t do him any harm, and he began sampling fruits, grasses, barks, and other nuts, making mental notes about which tasted better. When he had satisfied his appetite, he decided self-defense was the next order of business. He found some flat stones just below the edge of the glacier, appropriated the two sharpest of them, tore a straight branch off a tree, and spent the next few hours working on it with the stones until he had a formidable spear. One of the stones was almost the right shape to double as a dagger, and he created a necklace of woven grasses to hold it.
He saw some small antelope and a variety of rodents, all of them moving very cautiously, which implied to him that predators did reach this altitude. Just at twilight he impaled a spring hare with his spear, and took it back to his cave with him, where he ate the meaty parts and buried the rest beneath the snow so that it wouldn’t attract any predators.
That was his routine for the next month. Each day he went a little farther afield, either at the same altitude or a bit lower. By the end of the month he had seen elephant, rhino, buffalo, and leopards, plus smaller game, but he still hadn’t seen any member of the sentient species. He decided that was his next step.
There was a village about two miles away from his cave, mostly to the south and also a few thousand feet lower in altitude. Were it not for their nightly fires he would not have known for sure it was still populated, for they made almost no noise and never climbed higher up the mountain. He decided that twilight was the best time to approach it. It would be too hard for him to hide in the daylight, and he wouldn’t be able to observe them once the fires went out at night.
So he very carefully made his way to the village, a series of some thirty huts, and hid behind a large tree while the women prepared their food over the open fires. He’d been eating his food raw since he’d arrived, and while he hadn’t suffered any ill effects, he made a mental note to try cooking it as these beings did to see if it made it any tastier.
One of the men came over and said something to a woman. She replied, he frowned and spoke again, she yelled at him, and he shrugged and walked away. B’narr wished this society had language and educator disks that he could tie into, so that he could learn their speech and their customs in a day or two while he slept. But clearly they didn’t, and he was going to have to do it the hard way. If he was going to share the mountain with them, it was counter-productive not to be able to communicate with them-and if their reaction was hostile, he would at least be able to explain that he, too, was a sentient being.
It wasn’t easy. He learned only twenty-seven words in the first two weeks. But he hid near the huts every night, and before too many months had passed he was able to understand almost half the exchanges. By the time he’d been observing and listening for a year, he considered himself reasonably fluent, though his elongated foreface could not pronounce the words quite the way the men and women did.
On the night he decided he was ready to show himself, he elected to do it before the sun had set. He didn’t want anyone mistaking him for a large cat in the dark, especially since he had seen a handful of black leopards over the past few months.
He waited until most of the village was gathered around their fires, eating their evening meal. Then he raised his voice as much as he could without it turning into a yell.
"I bid you greetings," he said in Swahili. "I am a stranger, alone and helpless. I mean you no harm."
"Where are you?" demanded one of the men, looking around.
"I will show myself in a moment," said B’narr. "But first I must warn you that I do not look like you. Please do not be frightened. I wish only to be your friend."
"Show yourself," said another man, "and we shall decide."
B’narr leaned his spear up against the tree behind which he had been hiding, then removed his grass necklace and dagger as well, in the hope that appearing unarmed would convince them he was no threat. Then he walked to the edge of the village.
Three of the women screamed, and every man, without exception, grabbed a spear or a bow and arrow and faced him. A little girl, totally naked, perhaps two years old, approached him fearlessly, and before anyone could stop her or call to her, she ran right up to him and wrapped her arms around his leg. He reached down and gently stroked her hair.
"Who are you?" demanded the man who seemed to be their leader. "And what are you?"
He knew from a year of observing and listening to them that they were unaware of any other planets in this star system, let alone in any other, and they would never be able to comprehend the truth. So instead he said, "I was born of normal parents, just like you. But because I am so different they abandoned me. I have been living up there"-he pointed to the glacier-"ever since. But food has become scarce, and I decided it was time to live with men again-if you will have me."
"We will consider your request," said the leader.
"I will wait," said B’narr.
"Come back tomorrow. We will have an answer then."
He gently extricated himself from the little girl’s grasp, turned, and began walking back to where he had left his weapons. The girl began crying, ran after him, and once again wrapped her arms around his leg. He bent over and reached down for her. She released her grasp when she felt his hands on her, and he carried her to the nearest woman, who took her from him.
That may have been beneficial, he thought as he walked aw
ay. At least they know children are not afraid of me, and that I have no interest in harming or stealing them.
He retrieved his weapons, and made his way up the mountain to his cave. He was up at sunrise, and this time he did not wait until twilight to approach the village but walked openly into it at noon.
The leader emerged from his hut and approached him.
"My name is Goru," he said. "This is my village. If you do no harm, you will be welcome here."
"Thank you," said B’narr.
"Bira thinks you are a devil, and he will be watching you closely."
"Who is Bira?"
"Our mundumugu."
"Mundumugu?" repeated B’narr.
"He who makes the laws," explained Goru.
A wizened old man approached them. "I can speak for myself," he said.
"You are Bira?" asked B’narr.
"I am Bira, creature," he answered. "And I know you for what you are."
"I wish only to befriend your people and be of service to them," B’narr assured him.
"If that is true, we will hide you when the Germans come," said Goru. "Or if we have ample warning, you will retreat to where you live now until they have gone."
"What are Germans?" asked B’narr.
"Europeans."
"And what are Europeans?"
"Unlike you, they are men," interjected Bira.
"They are white men who have superior weapons," continue Goru. "They came to the land many years ago, when I was still a child, and declared that it was theirs and not ours."
"And they have driven all your people to this mountain?"
Goru shook his head. "No. My tribe has always lived on Kilimanjaro. But many tribes live on Serengeti and near Ngorongoro and Olduvai, and the Germans rule us all."
"How many Germans are there?"
Goru shrugged. "Who can know? They come from a land that is far away."
"So only some of them live here?" persisted B’narr.
"That is correct."
"How many?"
Another shrug. "I don’t know. A hundred. A thousand. A million. Enough."
"Are any on the mountain right now?"
"I do not think so," said Goru. "But Kilimanjaro is a big mountain."
"Perhaps we should talk about these Germans," said B’narr.
"That is what we have been doing," said Goru, confused.
"I mean everyone who lives on Kilimanjaro."
"Why?"
"Because it is our mountain, not the Germans," answered B’narr. "We must find a way to let the Germans know that."
"We cannot fight them," said Goru.
B’narr smiled a very alien smile. "There are ways," he said. "We will discuss it tomorrow."
"My magic cannot defeat them," said Bira. "If yours can, it is more proof that you are a devil."
"I am not a devil," answered B’narr. "And there is something else I am not: a mundumugu. You are the only one in this village. I do not want your job."
"You do not think it is worthy of you?" spat Bira.
"I am just a stranger who wishes to help." B’narr spent an hour in the village, learning the people’s names, learning who lived in which hut, learning where the other villages on this side of the mountain were and which tribes lived in them, and then he went back to his cave with a sense of deep satisfaction.
They needed him.
Far from being banished here, he now knew that he’d been put here for a purpose. He suddenly felt complete again.
The next morning he returned to the village. He had hoped to find some fifty village leaders gathered there. Instead there were only eighteen, plus Goru and Bira, but he wasn’t discouraged. One had to start somewhere.
"I am pleased to meet you all," he said by way of greeting. "I will learn each of your names before the meeting is over."
"What are you?" the tallest of the leaders,
"I thought Goru had explained it to you," said B’narr.
"Bira is right," replied the man. "You were never born of human parents."
"I know it is difficult to believe-" began B’narr.
"It is impossible to believe. What tribe do you belong to?"
"Until yesterday I lived by myself since I was a child," answered B’narr, "so it was a tribe of one. But now I declare myself a member of the tribe of men that live on the slopes of Kilimanjaro."
"I do not like this person, Goru," said the tall man. "He will not answer my questions."
"I told you he wouldnt," said Bira emphatically.
"That is not so," said B’narr. "I have answered your questions. You just do not like my answers, which is not the same thing." He looked at the assembled leaders. "But when we talk about the Germans, I think you will like my answers then."
"How do we know you are not in league with them?" asked another leader.
"How could I be?" replied B’narr. "I have spent my whole life higher on the mountain than this village. Have the Germans ever come this high?"
"No," admitted the man. "But if you have never seen a German, why are you opposed to them?"
"Because everyone who lives on the mountain is my brother, and they have no right to give my brothers orders."
"You are not my brother!" snapped Bira.
"Bira fears that I wish to replace him as mundumugu," said B’narr. "I do not. He is a small, jealous man, but his jealousy is misplaced. I want only to show you how to rid yourselves of the Germans."
There was a momentary silence. Then the tall leader said, "You may speak. We will listen to you."
"That is all I ask," said B’narr. "This will take time. Why don’t you all sit down?"
They seemed surprised by the request, but they did as he asked, except for Bira, who remained standing.
"Let us begin," he said, "by examining how best to protest any demands the Germans make upon you. Do they conscript you for their army?"
"No."
"Do they tax you?"
"One pig per hut," was the answer.
"Every year?"
"Whenever they come."
"Since you cannot match weaponry with them, you must be more clever," said B’narr. "And you must work in unison. Each village must designate two or three boys as runners."
"Runners?" asked another leader.
"Bear with me. We never want the Germans to surprise us with a visit, so we will post seven or eight boys along the approach trails, and whenever they see the Germans coming they will race back to the mountain and tell the lowest villages. Runners from those villages will each go to a designated village and pass the word, so that everyone will know, and most will know before the Germans reach the mountain." B’narr looked at his audience, which was suddenly paying rapt attention. "Now, beginning tomorrow, we will build an enclosure in the thickest part of the highest forest on the mountain. And whenever we know that the Germans are approaching, the children from each hut will drive the pigs up to the enclosure."
"They will not all go," said a leader.
"Yes they will," said B’narr, "because the day the pen is finished, your children, under your supervision, will drive the pigs up to it once a week, until it becomes routine to them. Then, when the Germans enter the villages, you will explain that a disease has wiped out all your pigs." Suddenly he smiled. "You can even ask them to replace the pigs, since they are in charge of the country."
Goru chuckled at that.
"They will just find something else they want," said the tall leader.
"Then we will adapt our strategy to accommodate whatever it is they want," said B’narr. "Not only that, but we will use our runners to pass the word of our accomplishments to all the villages that are near the mountain, and encourage them to pass the strategy along until the whole country knows of it."
"It will be much harder to hide pigs on flat ground," said another leader.
"We will help them think of ways to hide them. Do not forget: yesterday you would have said you could not hide your villages’ pigs so that the Germans coul
d not find them."
"Sooner or later they will find then, or they will ask for something else," said a leader. "Our women, perhaps."
"This is just the first step," said B’narr. "You say they have superior weapons?"
"Yes."
"Do they claim all of Africa?"
"What is Africa?" asked one of the leaders.
"Do they claim all the land there is?" said B’narr, re-wording the question.
"No. Only Tanganyka."
"But why, if they have the best weapons?"
"The British have similar weapons."
B’narr smiled. "And where are the British?"
"I do not know where they come from," said the leader, "but they rule Kenya."
"Where is Kenya?"
The leader pointed to the north. "There."
"How far is it?"
"A day’s march, maybe a little less."
"There is your answer," said B’narr.
He was met with confused frowns.
"The Germans didn’t invent their powerful weaponry to conquer you. So they must have created it to match some other tribe’s weaponry, and you have told me that tribe is the British. After the first step, which is hiding the pigs, the Germans will demand something else. Then you will send representatives to the British a day’s march away and complain about your treatment at the Germans’ hands and tell them that you would much rather be ruled by them. And at the same time, you will have Kenyan tribes on the other side of the border complain to the Germans that they cannot stand British rule."
Suddenly there were smiles among his audience.
"You will volunteer to help each side as camp attendants. You will cook and wash their clothes and do whatever menial tasks they give you. And every time a soldier from either side dies in battle, you will appropriate his weapon and ammunition. When the military you are serving is small enough, you will poison their food. If it is larger, you will find ways, through children who are always above suspicion, to let the other side know where it is. And when the two sides have decimated each other, and one is totally destroyed or at least so badly beaten that it gives up all claim to any territory, you will have enough weaponry and enough experience to annihilate the winning side." He paused. "It will not happen overnight, and it will not be easy. But if you are determined enough, it can happen."
