Doona Trilogy Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  As he threw open the door to their two rooms, he heard Pat’s startled warning. He managed to prevent the door handle from jamming into the thin back threatened by his precipitate entrance.

  “Mr. Reeve, it is easy to see where your son received his unsocial tendencies,” a whining whisper informed him.

  Quickly closing the door behind him, Ken stared down at the socially correct, emaciated skeleton that housed the petty spirited Proctor of their Aisle Section.

  “A pleasant day to you,” Ken replied with such jaunty good humor that Pat, who had obviously been taking a terrible tongue-lashing, stared at him with dawning hope.

  “How can it be pleasant when a steady stream of tenants report insupportable noise emanating from these rooms?” Proctor Edgar demanded.

  “Oh, but it is the pleasantest of days. Now take your nosy intolerant bitching elsewhere!”

  “Ken!” Pat screamed in a well-trained sotto voce. Then the strain and pallor of her face were replaced by incredulous joy. “Active assignment?”

  “You bet!”

  “Mr. Reeve. Moderate your voice this instant. Your family has

  already been reported nine times this week for social misdemeanors. I am reluctant to reduce your calorie allowance any further but I must demand .

  . .”

  “Demand away,” Ken encouraged him, beaming at Pat. “You have no jurisdiction over us any more. We’re out of it. We’re going to Doona!”

  “Doona!” Pat stifled her elation but she could not suppress the relief she felt, even in the presence of non-family observers. “Oh, Ken, is it really true?”

  “True-true-true, Pat,” and Ken, deliberately aggravating the outraged Proctor, picked up his wife and kissed her lustily.

  Reeve!” the Proctor’s protest was barely audible over the smack of the embrace.

  “Get out if you can’t stand it,” Ken advised. “Go invade someone else’s privacy on the excuse of official business.” He kept his hold on his wife with one arm as he opened the door and shoved the Proctor back into the Aisle. At the door’s resounding slam, Pat came to her senses.

  “Ken, you’re mad. He’ll, he’ll—“ she floundered helplessly.

  “He can’t do a damned thing to us, not ever again,” Ken assured

  her, burying his face in Pat’s silky hair and hugging her for the joy bursting inside him. “We’re going. We’re going to be free to run and yell and stride and—feel!”

  Chapter III

  SURPRISE

  “WELL, GENTLEMEN,” Hu Shih announced as they finished breakfast that morning, “the town is in good order, all winter damage is cleared away, fences mended, fields plowed and sown, and our houses await our families. I believe it is therefore safe to inaugurate those secondary projects we planned during the long months of our winter.”

  When the cheering died, Ken Reeve pointed across the table at Sam Gaynor. “C’mon, pal. Our project is the other side of the river.”

  “Damn walk-about nut,” Gaynor growled with an anticipatory grin spreading across his face. “Remember, you guys, every man jack heard Ken bet he could walk me, me! off my feet.”

  “Anyone who wants to walk after the winter we put in,” Lee Lawrence exclaimed, throwing up his hands in disgust, “is queer.”

  “It’s spring, man, you don’t need snowshoes,” Ken countered, grabbing up a handful of lunch rations.

  “Spring! When a man’s fancies should turn to more than long tiring walks,” Lee Lawrence remarked sourly.

  “Speaks the sociologist?” Macy McKee taunted, for Lee was famed for his ingenuity in avoiding exercise.

  “Walking won’t be so bad now it’s spring,” Vic Solinari put in. “And next winter won’t be so bad either, now we know what it’s like during winter on Doona,” he added, thinking of the exigencies which he, as storemaster, had had to practice over the incredible ten-month winter season.

  “Long and cold,” Sam quipped.

  “But next winter,” and Lee leered significantly, “we’ll have our

  wives with us.”

  Ezra Moody, the doctor, groaned. “God, I’ll be busy next spring!”

  “Who’s going to let you wait till next spring?” Lee demanded,

  bringing his chair down with a crash

  “They’ll be here any day now,” Ken sighed with a sudden harsh yearning. “C’mon, Sam, shake a leg!” he urged and started for the door.

  Their exit signalized an exodus from the mess hall in which they had spent so much of their time. In fact, by the time Ken and Sam were depositing their gear in the small powered skiff at the river’s edge, only Solinari was left in the Common.

  An hour later, when Ken and Sam returned at a dead run and in a kind of incredulous wrath, they had to hang on the air whistle for five minutes before anyone returned.

  “What’n’hell’s the matter with you, Reeve?” demanded Lee Lawrence, the first to arrive.

  “We’re not alone on Doona, Lee,” Ken cried, waving the quick-prints at the startled sociologist. “We’re not alone!”

  “You’re round the bend, man!”

  “No, he’s not,” growled Sam Gaynor, his face set in hard, bitter

  lines. “There’s a village across the river in that grove of porous wood trees, where the river widens below the falls. A big village, full of furred, tailed cats that walk on their hind legs and carry knives.”

  Lee sat down slowly on the top step of the mess hall porch, staring at the photographs Sam thrust in front of his face.

  “If I didn’t have these, I’d’ve sworn it was a mirage or something,” Sam went on. “Because, Almighty God, I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “And there was no village in that clearing when we were there last fall or last winter,” Ken added, white beneath his tan.

  “It stinks!” Lawrence grated out. “Oh God, you didn’t talk to ‘em?

  You weren’t seen?” he added, reverting to his professional self.

  “Hell, no. I shot the camera and we sloped out of there,” Ken assured him.

  “Oh God, what do we do now? Phase IV is already started,” Lawrence groaned.

  “One thing’s sure,” Ken reminded him sourly, “they can’t reach the ship in warp drive to turn it back, and it’s not scheduled to stop this side of Doona.”

  At that moment, Hu Shih, Ramasan and Ben Adjei came running across the Common and by the time the others had reported in, Sam, Ken and Lee had some-what adjusted to the unsettling discovery. Hu Shih was already running through the tapes and films of Phase I and II for any references to the porous wood forest in which the village so blatantly existed.

  “There is absolutely no evidence of any habitation in that area on any of these reports,” he said in a decisive tone, his face inscrutable. “Not a house, not a roof, not a shingle in sight.” Hu Shih picked up one of Ken’s quick-prints, regarded it thoughtfully a moment before placing it carefully beside the inaccurate films.

  “Well, the place is now crawling with cats,” Sam Gaynor said into the silence.

  “I thought cats lived in caves,” Eckerd, the other jack-of-all-trades, remarked inanely, looking up from his elaborate doodle in spilled sugar.

  “That is not as odd,” Dautrish, the botanist, added, “as the fact that there is no other even faintly felinoid species on this planet. Strange that only one would evolve and to such a dominant position.”

  “Hmmm, a very interesting observation, Abe,” Lee drawled. “Nevertheless, it does not bear on the fact that our noble Spacedep has committed a grave error.”

  “Error” cried Victor Solinari in mock horror. The storemaster’s voice was edged with bitter sarcasm. “Our noble spacemen fallible?”

  “But how could the Phase II scouts have missed a village as big, as well established as this one?” Gaynor demanded, jutting his chin out with ursine aggressiveness.

  “Tell you what,” Lawrence suggested, waggling a finger at Sam, “I’ll bet those Phase II-ers experimented with that loc
al red berry and they thought the pussycat people were just hallucinations! Last night I went upon a bat, and saw a tawny six-foot . . .”

  “This is no joke!” Gaynor snapped.

  “Son,” drawled Lawrence, his mockery gone, his voice rough, “iffen

  Ah doan laff, Ah sure as hell stinks am gwanta cry!”

  Silence gripped the eleven men as each fought to control his emotions at this crushing blow; this unexpected denouement to years of training and hope.

  The grotesque injustice of it all threatened to over-whelm Ken Reeve. He thrust back the childish desire to deny what his eyes had seen, to disregard the evidence of the pictures he himself had taken. He thought of the incredible effort required of them throughout the past ten months; physical, mental and emotional. Not merely the hard work of building the colony’s headquarters and family homes, of enduring the unfamiliar discomforts of a long hard cold winter, but the psychological upheavals of adjusting to something as fundamental as open sky, broad fields—everyone had experienced some agoraphobia—organic foods which, no sweat, had had to be killed by men who had never before ended the life of an ant. However, once they’d run out of their pre-packaged protein supplies, any reluctance had quickly disappeared with the onslaught of hunger pangs. But such minor things as learning to shout to bridge distance, to run, even to be able to hike for miles at a time—all these new skills had had to be learned in painful adjustments. The idea of having to return to Earth and its stale, antiseptic sham life was grossly repellent.

  “There must be a mistake,” Reeve heard himself say.

  “No, we’re the mistake,” Lawrence replied bitterly. “If the cats

  are here, we shouldn’t be. Simple as that. And at that, we have already broken the guiding principle of the Colonial Department.”

  “Sweat the goddamned stinking principle,” Gaynor said obscenely. He lurched to his feet and faced Hu Shih. “We’re here. We’ve worked, we’ve bled, we’ve—sweated . . .”

  “Gentlemen,” the colony leader cut in sharply, rising to his feet.

  He turned to Gaynor, waiting until the engineer had subsided to his seat. “It would be nice to believe that the evidence of these pictures is a mistake—a mirage, as Sam suggested. But such houses are all too solid and cameras do not lie, despite the Phase I and II inaccuracies. Such houses do not grow overnight. Although I could wish that they did. We might then establish a prior claim to our lovely Doona.” He surveyed his fingertips contemplatively before he continued. “How such evidence of habitation can have escaped not only the robot cameras of the orbiting probe in Phase I but also the trained eyes of the scouts is beyond my comprehension. But,” and he paused to sigh deeply, “they are there. And we are here! And we have broken the Principle of Non-Cohabitation, by existing here with another and obviously sentient species.”

  “And when our families land, what do we tell them?” Ken demanded softly. “Do we say, Hello, honey, how are you? Have a good trip? Well, that’s nice because we’re going to turn around and go right back home.” Home!” And into that last word Ken crammed all the bitterness, frustration, disappointment and black anger that boiled inside him.

  Home! A planet so overpopulated you married at sixteen to get on the list to have one of the two children allowed you before you were thirty -- that is, if you could prove that you had no hereditary genetic faults or handicapping recessive traits. A planet so crowded for space there were only twelve Square Miles of international backyard remaining. He’d been eighteen before he had touched dirt, seen grass or smelled a pine tree. A trip to the local Square Mile had been his cherished award for being top man in Section Academy. The poignant memory of the experience had motivated and sustained him during the frustrating years of intensive study necessary to qualify for immigration under Colonial Department jurisdiction.

  Once a man met the basic requirements of Codep, he was put on another list which permitted him to study specialties, one of which might get him a place on a Colony list. That is, if he had been lucky enough to choose a specialty needed on the very few planets turned over by the Spacedep and the Alien Relations Department to the Colonial Department.

  In order for a planet to be relinquished to Codep control, it must meet two simple requirements: 1) Humans must be able to support themselves on it without atmospheric or gravitic adjustment. 2) It must be devoid of any dominant intelligent species.

  In a hundred years, only nineteen of the two-thousand-odd worlds examined had been cleared by both Spacedep and Alreldep to Codep. Small wonder that this pastoral planet, with its earthlike atmosphere, its slightly-less-than-Earth gravity presented such a desirable Eden. Even the fact that its sidereal year was twice that of Earth, with winters and summers lasting ten months, did not form an insurmountable obstacle to its settlement. True, Doona was light on metals, but it was larger than Earth by some two thousand miles in diameter. Doona’s two satellites might possibly have some mineral or light metal deposits that could be developed later on. The first job of the Initial colony was to farm the land, experimenting with both Terran and indigenous grains, adapting Terran livestock to Doona and, if possible, domesticating the herd, animals which roamed Doona’s pasturelands. When the colony had proved itself self-supporting, it would be augmented from Earth’s teeming millions. Considering the relatively few transport ships in Codep service, this would take decades.

  A constant source of bitterness between the three departments were the miserly appropriations allowed them by the Amalgamation Congress. With government funds constantly drained for new ways to ease housing and food shortages, to provide entertainment for the restriction-ridden masses, Spacedep, Alreldep and Codep got short shrift despite their logical pleas that, if more money were allocated for shipbuilding, for explorations, for immigration, the strain on Terran resources would naturally be eased.

  True, not a large percentage of the population desired to move from the tri-D tube and the work-saving mechanisms which provided the bread, beer and tranquilizers that made their convention-rimmed life supportable.

  There were still enough Ken Reeves, Sam Gaynors, Hu Shihs to fill Codep rosters; men and woman eager and willing to accept hazard and struggle rather than a life of restriction and boredom. However, pastoral planets were not high on the preferred list. Worlds with quantities of ore or rare minerals had preference. Man could always live on hydroponics and synthetics while he mined rocky planets like NC-A-43 or water worlds like SE-B-95. Fortunately, the zoological lobby had helped put Doona on the preference list. Livestock such as horses, cows, buffalo, deer, chickens, dogs, cats and other once common animals and fowls were dwindling to extinction, despite Preservation’s techniques, so that a pastoral planet would have to be opened to perpetuate the useful animal species once common on Earth.

  A subtle campaign had been waged on Earth through Tri-D, brain-washing a generation of children with ancient movies of animal heroes, by blackmail, by subliminal posters. When the bill to colonize pastoral Doona came up before the voters, it was passed by a landslide.

  As Ken Reeve’s bitter words echoed through the mess hall, Hu Shih thought rapidly.

  The arrival of their families would only underscore the enormity of this catastrophe. There is always a solution to any problem, the colony leader told himself, firmly turning his mind from a static round of recriminations, but it may be difficult to accept the necessary solution.

  This incident was the first infringement of Codep’s guiding rule, the Principle of Non-Cohabitation. He forced himself to review the terrible Siwannah tragedy which had resulted in that very same Principle. And never, since the mass suicide of the gentle Siwannese, had a colony been set up where another intelligent species had been discovered by Spacedep. He shuddered, strengthening his flagging resolve that another such infamous incident must not be recorded about Doona. But any moment the transport ship, and their families, would arrive, compounding the original error. He took what comfort there was in the knowledge that his Phyllis would hav
e a few days on Doona, walking in its lovely forests, smelling the cinnamony bark of the—Hu Shih’s thoughts halted. He rose.

  “Home? Yes, Ken, home. We will have to go home. Because, gentlemen, we can argue until the cows land,” and he smiled, surprised at his inadvertent humor, “and still not change the fact that we are bound by the rules of our home planet. We cannot—cannot—remain on a planet already inhabited by an intelligent species.

  “Not only have we unwittingly fractured that rule, but our very proximity to the natives places us in a still more delicate situation. We cannot simply ignore them as we might have been able to do if they were on the other side of the planet. Then we could simply pack up our equipment and leave when the Phase IV ship comes.

  “At any moment, one of them may discover us.”

  “So, we must first apprise Codep of the existence of these natives

  by homing capsule. Even at faster-than-light speeds, it will take four and a half days to reach Earth . . .”

  “And probably four and a half weeks while Codep fumbles to any decision,” Lee interjected.

  “And another four to five days before we receive an answer. In the meantime, the Phase IV ship will have arrived with our families.” Hu Shih paused, exhaled deeply. “It is impossible to leave this site until they do arrive, otherwise we could simply pack up right now and eliminate the danger of contaminating this species with a premature contact with us. No, we are constrained to stay. We must also prevail upon the captain of the Phase IV ship to remain, pending subsequent removal orders.”

  “Shih,” Gaynor interrupted, “those transport ships are so tightly scheduled, they can’t lay over any longer than it takes to unload.”

  “In an emergency of this nature, I’m certain discretion will override commercial interest,” the colony leader replied. “The captain will certainly understand the delicate situation at a glance and adjust to necessity.”