by Unknown
The captain also was unhappy about having to transport Miss Yoshi Penn and Arla Koy. Samul could appreciate that. While he couldn’t deny his pleasure at the presence of Yoshi aboard, he’d fought the idea on the basis of the possible danger. He’d had to take Arla, of course, to communicate with the Tommies. But an orphan couldn’t travel without the permission of a parent-surrogate; SW1804M was quite explicit on that point, as Miss Penn had proved. And she wouldn’t allow Arla to travel alone.
Sighing, Samul headed toward the lounge. He’d be glad when he could take the Tommies down, pick up Danny, and start home. If the octopus wanted this world, it could have it. Not that it was really that simple, he reflected. Not when the whatever-it-was came from a race that spanned the stars and seemingly was bent on a course of conquest. Not when that race had destroyed four survey cruisers, including one of the might of the Nomad. He only hoped Danny had some answers.
He found Yoshi alone in the lounge. Her quick smile brought a palpitation to his heart. “Where’s Arla?” he asked.
“Resting.” She moved unobtrusively to provide room on the lounge beside her. “She’s worried.”
“Over her inability to contact Danny?” He hesitated, then sat across from her. “Perhaps the system doesn’t work in space.”
“Telepathy?”
“Yes and no. The Tommies are androids, so essentially we’re talking about a physical system.”
“Only in a sense,” she suggested. She smiled brightly at him. “I don’t understand such things, of course, but they do receive and transmit telepathically. That doesn’t sound like a total machine.”
“Well, no.” He had to concede that.
“Of course, they might work differently in hyperspace, even though the telepathic mind can bridge it.”
“Isn’t that extremely rare?”
“A mind that can bridge hyperspace? How do we know? It has seldom been put to test, at least as far as we’re concerned. Aside from Arla’s link with Danny, I’ve never heard of a telepath bridging even interplanetary space. Have you? But perhaps the aliens do it all the time.”
“It’s possible.” Samul marveled at her astuteness. Despite her denial of any special insight, her perception continued to amaze him. Beauty, it was said, seldom walked with wisdom; but that certainly didn’t apply in her case. She had both. Odd, when she looked at him as she was doing now, he came all apart inside. If he ever got married…
He stifled the thought with a start. That, he reflected grimly, was the way bachelors were caught. He forced his mind back to the problem and said stiffly, “But we’re not in hyperspace.”
“That’s what worries her,” Yoshi confided. “She should be able to contact him by now.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” he counseled.
“When are we going to land?”
“The captain didn’t say, or wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t?”
“He’s worried.”
“That’s understandable.”
He said impulsively, “I worry about you…and Arla.”
“The danger? Poof!” She regarded him from under lowered lashes. “But it’s good to know that you worry, Mr. Smith.”
“Samul,” he urged.
“Samul. It’s an attractive name.”
“Well, Smith is sort of common.”
“I think it’s a fascinating name.”
“You do?” He gazed in awe at her.
“Historically,” she corrected. “Did you ever read about Elias Smith? But, of course, you’re a student of the Middle Empire. I think his exploration of the planet Kren was absolutely captivating. And there was George Smith, the general who won the Battle of Napatal. And Lewis Smith, one of the signers of the Declaration of Intent, which led to the formation of the Third Terran Empire.”
Samul glowed happily. She certainly knew her history.
She caught his eyes and held them. “The Smiths are men who get things done.”
Samul rose, feeling flustered. The hazel eyes — yes, there was a touch of yellow in the irises-did strange things to him. “I’d better check with the captain,” he muttered.
“I believe you should, Samul.” She watched him demurely. He turned hastily, bumping into a chair, and awkwardly skirted around it. Hastening into the corridor, he fancied he heard a low giggle behind him.
The captain was waiting. Rubbing his hands briskly, he stated without preamble, “I’ve decided to send you down in a lifeboat, Mr. Smith.”
“Lifeboat?” he blurted.
“I can’t risk landing the Pioneer on an unknown planetary surface. You can understand that.”
“But the screens are clear!”
“That’s our safety…up here. At the first blip I could accelerate for hyperspace.” He craned his neck, eying Samul severely. “But did you ever try to accelerate into hyperspace from a desert?”
“It’s more forest and meadow where Danny is,” Samul expostulated.
“Forest and meadow — it’s all the same,” the captain snapped testily. “I’m responsible for taking all measures necessary to ensure the safety of this vessel. Would you like to see the regulation that states that?” He peered caustically at Samul.
“But I’ve never operated a lifeboat,” Samul protested.
“Oh, I’ll send a crewman with you. Carney, a very capable man. He operates them all the time.” The captain rubbed his hands again.
Samul stared at him in dismay. To land in the Pioneer was one thing, but to go down in a lifeboat! The captain caught his apprehension and smirked. “Of course, if you’d prefer not to…”
“But we have to land the Tommies,” he exclaimed.
“Oh, those things. I could send Carney down with them.”
“We still have to locate the boy,” he protested. “That might take some time. If we have to communicate through the Tommies, the girl would have to go.”
“I could send her along with Carney.”
“In a lifeboat?”
“They’re quite safe, Mr. Smith. We seldom lose one.”
“I’ll go down with him,” Samul raged.
“And the girl?”
“We’ll have to take her.” He made the decision reluctantly. He hoped she wouldn’t be too afraid. “When do we, uh, embark?” he asked icily.
Captain Garron’s eyes traveled from the instrument console to the chronometer. “We’ll be at the float-off point in exactly twenty-seven minutes.”
“We’ll be ready,” he grated. He spun on his heel and strode back toward the lounge.
Leading Arla to the lifeboat, Samul gazed at it, appalled. It was even
smaller than he had supposed. Tucked into a bubble on the ship’s side, its oval shape held a fragile look, especially when measured against the immensity in which it must ride.
Arla’s eyes glistened. “It’ll be exciting, won’t it, Mr. Smith?”
“Yeah.” Gazing through the open hatch at the lighted interior, he found someone had already delivered the Tommies; they stood rigidly in a group at the end of the cabin, their eyes vacuous. Abruptly they sat on a narrow bench that extended three-quarters of the way around the inner wall.
“I told them to,” Arla whispered. “They look more comfortable.”
A slim young man with a boyish smile came in. “I’m Carney,” he announced. “I’ve been assigned to run you down.”
“You make it sound easy,” Samul remarked hopefully.
“Oh, sure, nothing to it as long as you don’t get hung up.”
“Hung up?” Samul swallowed.
“You know these old jobs. They’ve always got bugs. But don’t worry, I can always get on the communicator and have them send down another one.” He gazed interestedly at the Tommies. “They sure look alike.”
“Same manufacturer,” Samul said.
“Their eyes look kind of glassy.” He switched his gaze to Samul. “I hear there’s an octopus down there.”
“Well, sort of.”
“I u
sed to catch them in the rocks off Otrup. That’s on the Wasach coast. They’re funny critters.”
“Funny?”
“Squiggly. The crab fisheries pay a bounty on ‘em.” Carney grinned at the remembrance.
“Do you have any weapons on board?” Samul asked hopefully.
“Naw, it’s against regulations.” Carney tossed his head disdainfully. “But don’t worry about that baby. You just got to know how to grab ‘em.”
“Yeah,” Samul said dolefully.
“You trying to get it alive?”
“Not exactly,” he admitted.
“If you are, let me know. I like to tussle with ‘em.” Carney glanced at his watch. “Four minutes till float-off.”
Sensing movement at the hatch, Samul glanced around. Yoshi came in, smoothed her skirt, and sat primly on the bench.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You’re not going.”
“SW1804M,” she answered demurely.
“I don’t care about SW1804M,” he cried heatedly. “You’re not going.”
She said calmly, “I have the captain’s permission, Samul.”
“He said you could go!”
“He realizes he has to abide by the regulations, even if you don’t,” she answered archly.
“Regulations,” he groaned.
“They’re basic to law and order,” she reprimanded.
“All right, all right.” He admitted his defeat. “But don’t blame me if you get frightened.”
“With you along?” She smiled sweetly.
“Three minutes till float-off,” Carney announced. “I’d better check the controls. I haven’t looked at them in some time.” He closed the outer hatch, secured it, and passed into a small forward compartment, shutting it behind him.
Samul sat grumpily at one of the small ports, gazing at the emerald sky. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as pinkish-gray. Several minutes later he felt a faint lurch, then immediately afterward saw the Pioneer floating off to one side. It looked old and decrepit. A door in the vessel’s side slid shut, closing off the dark interior of the lifeboat’s bubble.
“Isn’t it thrilling?” Arla exclaimed. She clapped her hands.
“Yeah,” he grunted sourly.
Samul studied the face of the planet sweeping past below him. Rolling amber hills, purplish forests, flat yellow-green plains — it looked nothing like it had from orbit. A twisting mountain range sped into view, becoming lost in a black smudge.
“The forest fire,” Carney called, over the communicator.
Samul leaned toward the speaker box. “I hope that’s not where we land.”
“Quite a ways beyond it,” he retorted cheerfully.
“How do you know where to let down?”
“I don’t really, but the flight profile’s set in the programmer,” he answered cheerfully. “The ship handles herself. Nothing for me to do unless something goes wrong.”
“Glad to have you along,” Samul replied. He fervently hoped the programmer was in good working order. Gazing at Yoshi and Arla, he wondered how they could appear so unconcerned. But of course they didn’t realize the danger, he reflected. They probably viewed the whole thing as a lark. Neither could have given much thought to the possible perils.
He watched the black smudge whirl past. Ending, it revealed an immense stone desert. The long shadows cast by the morning sun disclosed its bizarre architecture. Etchings in rock stretched away on all sides, unbroken by any sign of plant life. The desolation was appalling.
“I expected to see a sea,” Carney yelled.
“Sea?”
“The octopus.”
“Oh, it lives in a pool.”
“Must be quite a small fellow.”
“I’m not certain,” Samul said. The desert suddenly ended; an unburned forest wheeled past beneath. The changing forces on his body told him they were dropping fast. Individual trees, rocky outcrops, and winding ravines became discernible. The scene held a wildness he knew was untouched by any hand. Straining to see ahead, he glimpsed a faint, blurry yellow line rushing toward him from the horizon.
“That yellow — I think that’s it,” Carney shouted over the speaker. “It looks like a big splotch of grass.”
“I see it,” Arla shouted. She clapped her hands. “Is that where we’re going to land?”
Samul nodded, unable to speak. Didn’t anyone worry about that octopus? An octopus that spanned the stars wasn’t a laughing matter — particularly not a telepathic octopus. Of one thing he was certain: He’d warrant it wasn’t the kind the crewman used to catch in the rocks off Otrup. He felt a slight lurch and sensed the nose dipping lower.
“That’s the place, all right.” Carney’s voice held satisfaction. “Looks plenty smooth.”
“Watch out for the pool,” Samul yelled. He peered out, aghast at the speed with which the grass whirled past. It appeared close enough to touch.
“There’s a swampy area,” Carney called, “and — oh, yeah — I see a stream.”
“Stay away from that swamp!” Samul felt a quick alarm.
“Naw, we’ll land on this side of it.”
“Any sign of life?”
“The kid? Not yet.”
“Keep watching,” Samul urged. “If you spot him, land as close as you can. We want to unload, pick him up, and get out of here as soon as possible.”
“How about the octopus?”
“Forget the octopus,” he snapped. He returned his attention to the port,
aware they had slowed considerably; the ground appeared very close. A continuous retrothrust tugged at his body. He glanced at Yoshi and Arla; their eyes were riveted intently on the meadow.
“Touching down,” Carney yelled. A distinct thump followed his words. Samul sat, feeling the stillness. It was as if all of creation had come to rest. Following the forces of entry into the atmosphere and retrothrust, the sensation was that of being in a complete vacuum.
“We’re there,” Yoshi said in a practical voice.
Samul glanced at Arla. “Can you contact Danny yet?”
“No” — her voice was small and plaintive — “but he has to be here, Mr. Smith. He just has to be. They said the bioscan showed him here.”
“He’s around,” he replied, with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “We’ll find him.” He rose as Carney came from the forward compartment.
“Good air,” the crewman said cheerfully. “The barometric pressure’s fairly close to Makal’s. Shall I open her up?”
“Go right ahead.” Samul wasn’t worried about the atmosphere; Danny had been breathing it for most of his life. Carney undogged the hatch. As he started to leap out, Samul stopped him.
“Stay near the controls in case you have to take off suddenly,” he advised.
“Why? There’s nothing out there.”
“I’ll see.” Samul leaped down into the tall grass. Walking a few paces toward the stream, he stopped and peered around. The forest ended several hundred yards to one side. Tall, graceful trees, unmoving in the still air — the scene was peaceful.
He looked slowly around. Glinting in the emerald sun, the blue-green stream wandered among the grasses. Several hundred yards beyond, stunted trees and bulrushes marked one border of the swamp. It, too, appeared quiet and peaceful.
Turning back toward the lifeboat, he instructed Arla to order the Tommies outside. He watched them descend from the hatch. Stepping out one by one, they gathered in a rigid group, staring unseeingly across the meadow. The knowledge that they were completely unaware of the existence of one another, or of anyone or anything else, was perturbing.
Yoshi emerged next, followed by Arla, then the crewman leaped out to join them. For a moment they were silent, testing the new world with their senses. Quiet, unmoving, it reminded Samul of a painting.
“Mighty peaceful,” Carney finally observed.
“Beautiful,” Yoshi breathed.
The crewman looked upward. “Never saw a pale-green sky before.”
Samul turned to the girl. “Any contact yet?”
“No.” Her voice was hushed.
“Keep trying.”
“I am, Mr. Smith.”
“What’s that?” Carney asked suddenly. He jabbed a finger toward the swamp. Samul’s eyes followed the gesture. A small object was moving toward them just above the level of the bulrushes.
“It’s a bird,” he said uncertainly.
“Its wings aren’t moving,” Carney objected.
“No, they’re not.” Samul suppressed an inner tumult.
“Perhaps it’s one of the metal birds Danny mentioned,” Arla ventured. “He said their wings didn’t move.”
“It’s a bird, all right.”
“There’s another…two more,” Carney exclaimed.
Samul studied them with a dire foreboding. Approaching in a line, they paused in midair, hovering a short distance away. Their eyes were small, red, glaring, and like their wings, unmoving. “Zandro’s birds,” he murmured. He
felt a touch of wonder.
“That’s what Danny said.” Arla scarcely moved her lips as she spoke.
“They’re…telling Zandro about us?”
“I think so, Mr. Smith.”
“They must be telepathic, like the androids,” Yoshi observed quietly.
“You mean they can read our minds?” Carney asked incredulously.
“It’s unlikely.” Samul spoke without moving his gaze from them. “They probably report telepathically on what they see…like the Tommies.”
“That Zandro — that’s the octopus, isn’t it?”
Samul nodded. “If it is an octopus.”
Carney whistled softly. “Boy, is it smart.”
“What should we do?” asked Yoshi. A note of anxiety had crept into her voice.
“We have to wait, see if Arla can contact Danny,” Samul advised. He gazed at the birds, wondering at the artificers who had created them. They came from an entirely different civilization, he reflected. Not only their life forms but their societal patterns, economics, psychology, history, legal codes, and spiritual values must differ radically. How could one predict what kind of civilization might be spawned in the remoteness of the galaxy? Could two civilizations, alien to each other in all respects, ever reach any accord whatever? He doubted it.
