* * *
There could be nothing better for easing the transition from grief, Hugh thought, than a warple with new mates—the erotic explorations, the ceiling-to-wall carom and the interesting differences of contour and position.
Newly matured, the squish was actually innocent. The most elementary matters had to be explained. Somehow, this added to the enjoyment. The ultra entered fully into the ambience of the occasion, playing crafty little games with the squish and iridescing with ecstasy at the results. The warple’s climactics were superb.
Hugh salved his residual guilt with the thought that this warple would produce a female, and females were now in shortest supply.
The squish, diffident in its hutless condition, began the leave-taking ritual. Hugh realized that excitement had made the little creature forget about the free-roving Alex.
“You’d better stay,” Hugh said. “Remember the Alex.”
The squish could only stare at him in gratitude.
“Yes, yes,” Hugh said. “This is now your hut.”
After all, Hugh thought, he had to start rebuilding his household, and this young squish had an amiable disposition.
While this passed through his thoughts, Hugh caressed the ultra’s breathing vents. “You could stay, too. Three’s company.”
Obviously considering, Ul rippled alternate vents.
“What’s your name?” Hugh ventured, trying some really daring caresses.
“Candide.”
Hugh noted that Candide’s ripple rate had increased.
“I don’t have a name,” the squish said. “I’m new.”
“Then that shall be your name,” Hugh said. “Welcome to your hut, New.”
Once more, Hugh turned to Candide. “Will you stay. We are three.”
“But I’m one of four in my present hut.”
“We’ll soon be four here,” Hugh said. “Give us a little time. After all, the Alexii stockade wasn’t built between noons.”
Before Candide could respond, the screaming began.
* * *
Claws extended and spraying gravel, Alex dashed into Hoojie Town. Some of his pursuers were close, but sweat had washed the Hoojie gore from his fur and it was easy to become one of the pack. And now there were Hoojies! Hoojies all over the place making their funny noises, running back and forth, scuttling into huts or trying to enter and being locked out.
Alex understood some Hoojie talk, mostly the kind they’d learned from the Terrans, but he didn’t hear much worth remembering on this occasion—just a lot of screaming and pleading. A stupid lot, these Hoojies. Alex eased himself off to a safe distance and watched his companions have themselves more dinner than they’d enjoyed in a long time.
This is like old times, he thought.
He could remember some of those times, but he wasn’t particularly hungry at the moment. Besides, most of the Hoojies remaining outside the huts were of the short soft kind and he’d had one of those recently. Alex decided he’d prefer something different now; a balanced diet was more healthy.
Not since the Terrans had Alex eaten all four delicious Hoojie flavors at one sitting. It’d been a long, long time …
Distracted by such reflections, Alex almost missed his chance to grab one of the tall Hoojies and share half of it. Good; it was one of the three he’d aftertasted when his memory began to awaken. Still missing one flavor.
Alex jumped atop a Hoojie hut out of the sticky mess being created in the pathways. He sat there in the red heat, watching. His lower eyes squinted in amusement. This birthday celebration certainly was using up a great lot of Hoojies.
Dozing, reflecting, Alex began to realize that this was not really the same as the old times, not like the times before the Terrans. There’d been many Alexii then—many legs of legs-legs roving free where no more than about two legs-legs were all they could assemble for the Party now. And Alex remembered travels with his good companions … to many places and other Hoojie towns—a long way, sometimes.
He recalled then that they’d returned from a journey and found the Terrans at the edge of the plain. Whatever Terrans were. Nobody knew where the Terrans came from but Alex knew it couldn’t be anyplace important because he’d never been there. What was important was that Terrans used odd weapons to kill Alexii.
Alex knew that his own people had once made and used weapons. That was before they’d discovered how to change the bodies of their spawn, making Alexii so strong and deadly that they didn’t need weapons. Alexii no longer needed places to make things, and they didn’t have to carry and repair excess baggage. Elders sometimes mentioned faraway caches where sample weapons had been stored to display the way things were before the Alexii were improved. Nobody cared about such nonsense nowadays. Everything you needed was part of your body and never wore out until you did. That was the right way.
It’d been that way since before Alex’s three-times grand-spawner. Then the Terrans had come and they’d killed Alexii right and zorf and left and gilch. If anyone knew why Terrans did this, it wasn’t Alex or the others at the party.
It wasn’t a matter of eating; Alex knew that.
After a few samples (since one shouldn’t rely on a single opinion), Alexii didn’t eat Terrans. They tasted awful and upset the digestion. No one had expected Terrans to be angered by a few sample meals, but apparently they were. They’d begun hunting and killing Alexii all over the place.
And they didn’t eat a single one of us.
Very puzzling. Alexii were familiar with killing and eating rather than being killed and eaten, but either way made a recognizable pattern. Except that Terrans weren’t edible. Not logical until it was discovered that Terrans were killing Alexii without eating them.
A new pattern!
This made everything all right. Alexii killed Terrans without eating them, either.
Fair was fair.
A very exciting time, Alex remembered, except that Terran weapons killed from a distance; so they were killing legs of claws of Alexii for each dead Terran. That was why Alexii took the fighting into the forests where there wasn’t all that much open distance. Things improved in the forests, especially when Alexii began taking weapons off dead Terrans. The weapons were pretty fragile but anybody could see how to improve them, and even as they were, an Alex could get maybe a day’s use out of one. Most Alexii didn’t bother with such trifles. Claws and fangs had been good enough for a long time. Why change? Besides, it was more sporting just using your body, gave the Terrans some kind of chance.
Fair was fair.
Some of the oldsters (Alex’s twice grandspawner, for one) wanted Alexii to go back to making their own weapons. The ways were not forgotten. Alex had heard the talk; you began by making a big hot fire in a little cave and melting down some of the red rock. After that, it got more complicated, but anyone could do it. He’d heard that a group had been sent off to get patterns from the display caches, but didn’t know how that effort came out, if at all. One day, a little past first noon, on his way to Hoojie Town for a quick meal between fights, Alex had come on the thorn-tree enclosure where the Party was in full swing. Except for occasional outings which he hadn’t even remembered until today, he’d been at the Party since.
Everyone had been at the party since. Very interesting.
Extruding all of his eyes, Alex scanned the Hoojie Town streets. Those Alexii he could see didn’t look very hungry, although several still nibbled away here and there, not quite satisfied yet. And no doubt their memories were still defective. Alex wondered idly where the Hoojies made and stored the stuff that gummed up memories and softened the thorn barrier at the Party. There’d be time enough to find out about that later. The whole thing stank of Terrans. Hoojies weren’t that smart.
Alex noted that no more Hoojies were running around loose in their town. There were a lot of bones, though, that had once had Hoojies on the outside. Considering the number of Alexii he’d brought along, the food supply was a little low.
Everybody should be
well fed.
Alex slid off the Hoojie hut where he’d been studying the situation. When he’d been here before alone, the Hoojies who’d hidden in their huts had been safe. Strain as he might, Alex couldn’t lift a hut to get at the delicious Hoojies inside. However, today he was not alone.
To gain attention, Alex slopped through the messy streets and woogled his frontishmost extenders until other Alexii gathered to watch. Then he explained to them how to satisfy their appetites.
Today’s Speaker had never heard such screaming; he peered through the squintholes of his hut and saw horror. Alexii! More Alexii, it seemed to his shocked mind, than he knew to exist. There was only supposed to be one of them out there performing the sad task of eliminating excess squish.
New, after only one glance outside, grimpled in terror behind him. Candide, who’d also taken only one look, stood now at the hut’s exact center and performed an abstract collade.
Although his sensibilities were battered, Hugh continued to watch. Today’s Speaker must not flinch! But on his left he saw seven Alexii monsters cooperate to topple a hut, then leap to devour the foursome huddled there.
Then it got worse outside, even worse than the old days which Hugh had only heard about in the nighttime stories.
* * *
RECORDING: Doctor Watson reporting from a position within sight of the native village. Alexii have destroyed nearly half the huts and have most likely eaten the occupants. I am certain this violates my directives. If there are any survivors, they cower under intact huts or have fled beyond my sensor range. This is very confusing. Which directive must I follow? Alexii are cooperating to topple the huts. That situation cannot be tolerated. Regardless of risk, I must divert them. I speak: “Stop! You are in violation. Stop!” Many turn to attack me. They are so very fast. Perhaps I have erred, but my directives … “Let go of that! It is essential to my functioning with…”
* * *
When the shiny clattering thing made loud noises at Alex in the Terran language, he woodled and made other signs until several Alexii joined him in attacking the thing. Soon, the thing clattered no more. Alex recognized it from the time of the Terran fighting and wondered if the Terrans had returned, but there were no other indications of such an occurrence.
The bothersome noise was stopped, though, and the thing lay separated into many small parts. Interesting parts. Alex wanted to sit down and study them, but the others were yelling at him. They all wanted to go back to the Party. Tempting and very distracting.
The Party … yes.
Alex raised himself on several rear limbs, gazed in several directions simultaneously. He saw that many of his companions were leaving to go back to the Party. They would be unable to get into the Party, Alex realized. Only two ways through the barrier—either Hoojies sprayed it to make it soft and good to eat, or …
Once more, Alex looked at all the interesting parts spread around him. Before, when he’d been outside the Party, no Hoojies had sprayed to let him back inside. His memory was working quite well now and he’d remember such a thing. What else could have let him in? There was only one logical answer and it also explained the presence of the shiny clattering thing without any accompanying Terrans.
Thinking new thoughts, Alex studied the scattered parts. For the first time in a great many years, he prepared to change his mind. He didn’t waste time about it, but loped in pursuit of the last two Alexii leaving the village. After a discussion which left clawmarks on the two, they agreed to help him, and they returned to the village. Between them, they put all the small parts back together to reassemble the shiny clattering thing. The thing was not precisely as before but close enough.
The job was easier than Alex had expected. His two helpers soon became interested in the project and quit grumbling. They babbled a lot—this piece goes in here and that one over there. And this one! Look what this one does!
Alex didn’t mind. It was fun.
Some of the parts had a faint familiarity—not quite the same as things his grandspawner had shown him back in the education times, things from the old days. The parts were recognizable, though. That small glowing case was a mechanical memory; it would remember what you told it and would regurgitate information when asked properly. Although crude, the part appeared to function well enough. And that protrusion up front with things sticking out like a basket of claws, that probably was the way this thing talked over great distances … as Alexii had done before they’d lost all need for such primitive tricks.
Alex twiddled the far-speaker a little. Best that this clatterer should not talk across great distances … unless Alex wanted to talk. That would be different.
A few of the parts appeared to be crude Terran weapons. Alex disabled them just in case.
When the reassembly was completed to his satisfaction, Alex paused and stretched. He could feel his thinking processes stretch, too, and that was the best fun of all. He realized that the Terrans had really done him a great favor, although that obviously had not been their intent.
His assistants wanted to know what they were going to do with this clattering thing now that they’d put it back together. Allowing only the faintest of sneers, Alex explained matters to them and found them properly awed at his cleverness.
* * *
Through the squintholes, Hugh Scott watched the Alexii leaving his village. Shuddering at all the carnage he’d seen, he gave confused thanks to Heaven’s Lamps that he and his two hutmates had been spared. Candide had long since stopped the collade, and now sat quietly staring at New who’d subsided into a quivering mass. There was no doubt that Candide would be staying with Hugh and New; Candide’s previous hut was one of those ravaged by the monsters.
Even poor Doctor Watson had not survived this terrible day, although the Alexii had not devoured him.
There went the last of the terrible monsters running after … Hugh stiffened in fright. The last departing Alexii had caught up with two companions and, after quarreling among themselves for a time, the three returned and converged upon the wreckage of Doctor Watson. To Hugh’s surprise, the three reassembled Doctor Watson! He hadn’t thought Alexii could do such a thing. They were not Terrans, after all. Presently, the three took Doctor Watson away with them, following after the main herd and obviously headed for their stockade.
Once more, Hugh moved from squinthole to squinthole around his hut, looking at the remains of his village. He tried hard not to grink. In the pre-Terran times, the times he’d only heard about, things had never gone to such extremes. At the age of ten years and just entering his prime, Hugh had expected to live perhaps three times that long, but now he wasn’t sure. Even though there’d been many more Alexii before the Terrans came, the monsters had only appeared in two and threes at most. The Terrans had changed all that—and perhaps, Hugh thought, not for the better.
Sighing, he turned to New and Candide, and with a few gentle caresses began to restore their spirits. When in doubt, he thought, there’s nothing like a good warple.
* * *
Alex and his two helpers tried to hurry the shiny clatterer toward the Party. The thing was so slow! Alex didn’t want to stop long enough to improve the thing; time for that later. They reached the gremp barrier after what seemed a very long time and, sure enough, the mob was milling around—no way to get inside. The spray container was empty, standing just where Alex had left it. Now, it was up to this interesting clatterer—Doctor Watson it called itself. Could it get them back to the Party?
From inside the barrier came cries of invitation but no help. The angry mob loping around outside also interfered until Alex and his companions stopped some and spread the word about what they had to do next.
* * *
RECORDING: Doctor Watson here … or possibly I am not RECORDING. This unit’s components fit somewhat differently since the disassembly hiatus when the Alexii violated my directives. My readouts contain many nulls. What could have happened while I was disassembled? There can’t possibly be
a guard robot renovation center of Delfa. I would have been told. Who could possibly have reassembled me? No data available. Alexii bellow at me, calling me neither Doctor Watson nor by my FX number which is no longer available in my data bank. One Alex kicks me; this unit topples and is picked up. These Alexii are so strong. My immediate task must be to readmit the Alexii through the one-way passage to their stockade. Behavior of Alexii within my sensor range indicates they share this goal. But the gate is programmed to admit only one Alex, not a hundred or more as is the present need. Where are my programs, my directives? Surely, there must be a program for this problem. I know that this unit has programs and directives but where are they? The largest Alex approaches me, its limbs raised, and … Another hiatus. Why can’t I recall appropriate data? Physical evidence and internal inputs assure me there has not been another disassembly on any major scale. But there has been interference, inappropriate as that may seem, from the Alexii. It is now apparent that I lack mobility and I am sitting half in and half out of the stockade, blocking closure of the essential gate.
One thing certain: during this most recent hiatus I have performed my gate-opening function. I wonder what else I may have done? Perhaps this is the moment to RECORD my observation that it was a mistake to divide the population control plan into two parts—one left in Delfan hands and the other in mine. While a guard robot, Intelligence Level … whatever it is … certainly must have its limits … my limits … I am sure I never, never would have released more than one Alexii at a time.
Where are my directives?
* * *
Although only a pitiful few ventured forth to hear him, Hugh Scott discharged his diurnal responsibilities as Today’s Speaker. He then dithered at the door of his hut for a time. His duty, of course, was to investigate whatever might be happening at the Alexii stockade. Terran instructions left no doubt about this. For one thing, someone had to retrieve the spray cart.
Candide and New absolutely refused to help him. The streets emptied as soon as he called for volunteers.
A great wracking sigh shook Hugh. He would have to go alone, then—duty-driven into the fearsome forest.
The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert Page 88
