Collected Short Fiction, page 36
“No, dear,” she went on. “We want to put you in on the distributing end. Someone has to get outworld property into Vanamon. We have to make sure your planet gets its share of the Galaxy’s knowledge and goods.”
“Even so,” he said stolidly, “it’s stolen goods.”
She shook her head. “Not most of it. There are a good many planets we don’t have to steal from. They are perfectly willing to pay for what they get. They give freely of what they know and receive goods and information back in kind. You won’t be handling anything that could be called dishonestly obtained. It has all been paid for, in one way or another. All we want to do is pay Vanamon in the same way. All we’re really doing is forcing trade—do you see that?”
“Does the same thing apply to the inhuman cultures?”
“Certainly,” she said. “Rroo and the others act as contacts for other races which inhabit hotter planets than those we consider normal. The Peldians have a body temperature of around forty degrees Fahrenheit, so they are contacts for the colder planets. Every intelligent race in the Galaxy is in on this. We all need each other if any of us are to really progress.”
“Distribution only. All right; I think we can swing that,” he said softly, thinking how amazed Danrik was going to be one day. “Meanwhile—what are you going to do, Alaina? Back to Vanamon for more—more—”
“More thievery? No,” she said. “I’m going to help you on the distribution end.”
“You’ve really given me a problem. How the devil can I get you back to Vanamon now, after I’ve gone to all this trouble to prove you’re a thief?”
She matched his smile. “I’m not worried, Kemar. You will figure it out somehow. It’s your turn to do something clever.” THE END
The Lonely One
Why couldn’t these final men depart from a dying Earth?
JANNES VERY carefully guided the two-man cruiser out through the Haughtsmith’s lock, while Norb Kendon paced no and down in the tiny confines of the little ship, watching the red dot of light that was Sol.
“I feel kind of funny about this, Harl.” Norb seated at the small hard point of red light.
“I feel like a kid going where the grownups belong.”
Jannes said nothing till the cruiser was in free fall; then he wheeled around to face the other. “So what if it’s Earth? Those wild men down there can’t be anything to get sentimental about. That’s your trouble, Norb—sentiment.
“You haven’t learned, have you?”
Norb repressed a tiny beat of anger that rose suddenly within him. “You know I’m not being sentimental. It’s just that—just that here’s the planet that gave birth to life, the source of all mankind; and here it is dead or almost dead.”
“And that’s not being sentimental, eh? What do you call it, then?”
Norb frowned. “You win you long-nosed devil. I’m being sentimental. So what? Is it a crime? I just can’t help feeling reverential right now.”
“I’ll lay off,” Jannes said. A smile creased his face, and pulled his long, twisting snake of a nose into an even more grotesque shape.
THE CRUISER began to spiral down into its landing orbit. Jannes skilfully cut the orbit to minimum and sat the ship gently on its tail. He deactivated the pile, while Norb tested the atmosphere. “How is it, Norb?”
“What do you expect? Cold as hell, but breathable.”
“How cold?”
“Plenty; five below, I hope the natives have some warm igloos for us.”
“If we find natives, that is,” Jannes rejoined. “We haven’t heard a peep out of Earth for twenty years, and there were only a few hundred left then.”
“We’ll find them,” Norb said. “Life doesn’t give up so easily on this planet, me-thinks. Man’ll stick pretty closely to his home world.”
“Sentiment again,” Jannes snorted, as they snapped open the lock and headed out.
THE SNOW was soft and unbroken, and the two spacemen sank into their hips. They floundered around in the drifts for a few moments.
“Hey,” Jannes called shouting to make himself heard over the whistling wind. “We’d better clear a path in front of us, or we’ll never get anywhere.”
They fumbled out their blasters and began to melt a path through the snow. The warmth fanned out around them.
“Which way is that colony?” Norb asked.
“Mukennik said due east which is thataway. If it’s a colony, that is; how anything could survive in this kind of territory is beyond me.”
They pushed on through the snow, leaving a little river of warmth behind them. The day was dark with the perpetual gloom of a dying world, and the dwarfed sun afforded little illumination and less heat. For as far as they could see, there was nothing but the shiny glint of the snow, broken occasionally by the few twisted, leafless trees which pierced the white blanket and stood out sharp against the grey skies. “Are we headed east, Harl?”
“Don’t you trust the compass?” Jannes asked. “It says we’re going east. Not that it matters much.”
“It’s just that I don’t see any sign of that colony. If Mukennik could see signs of life from the Haughtsmith we ought to be able to find them from down here. And there’s nothing in sight in any direction.”
Jannes stared hard at the compass. “It says east is out that way; and we’ll go that way. If we don’t find anything, we’ll turn back. Let Mukennik come down here and freeze for a while; I don’t see why that greenfaced clown couldn’t come looking for his own colonies, instead of sending us.”
Norb looked quizzically at his companion. “Quit it, Harl. You know a Sirian couldn’t stand this kind of climate, or else Mukennik would be down here without any coaxing. Besides, we volunteered.”
“Yeah. I almost forgot that, didn’t I?” Jannes wiped a speck of snow from the end of his nose. “Let’s look real hard, yes? Maybe bring back a live Earthman or two for Mukennik’s collection.”
NORB SAID nothing. He squinted out toward the horizon, hoping to catch the slow rising of smoke or some other token of life. Suddenly he stretched up on tiptoe. “You see that out there Harl? That look like a living thing to you?”
“Where? You mean that tree all the way out there?” Jannes pointed.
“Right direction, but it’s not a tree; looks like a moving figure to me.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Say, is Mukennik serious about that offer?”
“I’m sure he is,” said Norb straining hard to see the distant figure.
“He’ll feel pretty foolish if we do find them. He’ll have one hell of a time trying to fit them all aboard the Haughtsmith.” Mentioning the ship reminded Jannes that he had descended from space in a ship, and he hastily turned to look for the cruiser. He was somewhat surprised to see that the trail they had blazed extended only a few hundred meters back to the ship.
“Look at that, Kendon; I was sure we’d gone farther than that.”
“Must be your mind snapping,” Norb retorted. “Say, that is a figure out there!”
Jannes stared and agreed. They began to shout and run as fast as they could—which was not—very fast—through the snow toward the far-off shape.
THE OLD man had caught sight of them as they ran, and was standing in the snow, arms akimbo, waiting for them to approach. He was waiting by one of the gnarled trees, and, Norb observed, he was as gnarled himself as the twisted tree he leaned against. He was very old and terribly dried-out looking; Norb hoped he wasn’t deaf.
“Greetings, Earthman,” Norb said slowly and carefully once they were within speaking range. “We have come from skies in silver bird.” Norb illustrated this with his hands, and Jannes followed Norb’s lead.
“Do you understand us, Old one?” Jannes asked, rolling each syllable out with care.
The wrinkled oldster smiled. “Of course I do, son. Why do you star-people insist on treating us like savages, anyway?” The old man’s voice was husky and impossibly deep. “I’ve been speaking this language for as long as the both of you’ve been alive.”
The two spacemen looked at each other in surprise. “Sorry,” Norb said, smiling. “It’s just that Earth’s been out of touch with the System for so many years that we didn’t know exactly what to expect.”
“Quite all right, believe me. Welcome to Earth. Where’d you say you were from, anyway?”
“Starship Haughtsmith, out of Vega II.”
“Is Vega II a beautiful planet, young man?”
“That it is,” Norb said. “Our winters are only a few degrees cooler than our summers, and the Climate Constant is one of the-best in the galaxy.”
“Interesting,” the old man said.
“We’ll be glad to get back there,” Jannes replied. “No snow.”
NORB HEARD a low rumbling coming from the Earth. It grew steadily in intensity. “What’s that?”
“Earthquake,” the old man said. “Means Earth’s annoyed at what you said about going back. She likes to keep her visitors around for a while.”
“We’ll be here a while,” Jannes said; “arid then we’ll clear out as fast as we can—if we’re not frozen solid first.”
The ground began to quiver and the two Vegans fell forward in the snow. The old Earthman remained upright calmly ripping up the bark of the tree with horny fingers and stuffing the pieces of bark into a sack as they came off.
“Guess you got her angry, all right. Come; I’ve got all the bark I need now, so let me take you to see the king before you get into some real trouble. My name’s Kalvin, by the way; I’m just about the oldest man on Earth, I guess. McNeil’s been expecting you for years—ever since the transmitter broke down.” Kalvin gestured and led them off in a path through the snow.
SUDDENLY, the old man disappeared from sight. His voice boomed up from the ground below. “Keep moving; the entrance is right in front of you.”
The two spacemen moved cautiously forward, Norb in the lead, and felt the ground beginning to slope. Abruptly, the snow fell away and Norb saw there was a slanting hole in the ground. He entered.
Kalvin was standing there, with a knot of people around him. Most of them were old, Norb noted, all thin and knotty-looking. There were a few children, not many.
“Welcome to the capital city of Earth,” Kalvin said, “the last survivors of the glory that was Terra salute you.”
“Do you all live here?” Jannes asked.
“All hundred and two of us,” replied Kalvin, waving “You see before you the guardians of man’s immortal heritage. That’s what they told us when they left us behind.” He laughed raucously.
A tall man appeared from somewhere in the back of the cavern. Like the others, he was warmly dressed in animal furs, and in his flowing white hair was a crown made of shining metal. As he approached the spacemen saw that he was very tall indeed.
“I’m McNeil,” the tall man said. Norb looked him up and down and decided he was almost three meters tall from shining crown to fur-swathed feet—the tallest man he had ever seen. “Welcome to Earth,” McNeil said. “I’m the king.”
JANNES and Norb exchanged uncertain glances. The space-manual didn’t say anything about proper behavior in front of kings. “We’re honored, Your Majesty,” Norb began uncertainly. “We represent the Starship Haughtsmith out of Vega II.”
“Just call me McNeil,” the big man said. “Pleasure is all mine; I’ve been expecting visitors from space for twenty years—ever since our transmitter went off. Sorry we had to hide from you, but when I saw your ship up there I figured the best thing to do was to cover up all traces of our city till we knew whether it was safe or not. I think you saw us from up there before we had a chance to cover up, because you seemed to know where to land.” McNeil turned to Kalvin, who was standing nearby. “Hey, oldster, you’ve earned another.”
The king took a strip of fur from his collar and put it around Kalvin’s neck, where, Norb observed, there already were a number of similar strips. Kalvin smiled, bowed, and fingered the new fur strip pleasedly.
“Kalvin’s our most honored knight,” McNeil explained. “The old dog’s lived so long he’s been knighted ten times over. I was hoping the spacemen would eat you when you went out to get them, leather-face.” He gave the old man a playful shove and Kalvin backed slowly away.
“He said there were just a hundred and two of you,” Norb said.
“That’s right. There used to be more, but we’re slowly dying out. This life isn’t an easy one, and Earth seems to get colder every year. I won’t give us more than another century, and then this’ll be a dead planet. Come on, I’ll show you a room you can have while you’re here.”
NORB AND Jannes followed the tall king down a winding corridor. Jannes was still too amazed to say very much, and followed along in silence.
“That’s why we came,” Norb said; “we weren’t sure anyone was left on Earth or not. But now you won’t have to fight the cold any more; we’re going to take you back to Vega with us—all of you—and you can spend the rest of your lives in warmth.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” said McNeil; better forget the idea. Here’s your room. The people will be nutting on a dance for you tonight, and we’ll come get you when it’s time.” The king showed them a small room carved out of the side of the cavern, bowed, and vanished into the corridor.
“I guess you were right,” Jannes said, as soon as they were alone.
Norb smiled at the smaller man. “I guess so, Longnose. It’s wonderful to find the home of civilization again, isn’t it? When we get them back to Vega, we can give them a whole village and make it into a living museum to preserve the ways of dead Earth. Mukennik’ll really be delighted by this.”
“Somehow I don’t like it though,” said Jannes. “First. Kalvin telling us to watch out, and now McNeil saying it’s too late for them to leave.
I smell trouble cooking.”
“My father warned me to watch out for people with long noses,” Norb said. “They find trouble where there’s none to be found.”
“Have it your own way. Kendon. You’re so thrilled to be on Earth that you can’t see beyond the end of your nose—which isn’t so small itself.” Norb settled back on his bed of straw and did not answer. It had been an exhausting walk through the snow and now was the time for some sleep.
IT SEEMED to be an instant later that there was a timid rap on the wall of their room. A girl tiptoed in and stood there. She was bundled in furs except for her pretty, somewhat dirty, high-cheekboned face. About eighteen, Norb judged, as he waited for her to master her fear.
“The dance is about to start, sirs,” she whispered. “McNeil thinks you’ll be interested.” Having delivered her message, she turned quickly and dashed away into the corridor.
“We’d better go,” Jannes said: “they’re expecting us.”
“Right.” They wandered down the corridor toward where they heard the sound of drums.
All hundred and two inhabitants of Earth were gathered in the largest room of the underground village. They were massed in a compact group—except for McNeil, who stood in front, and two drummers, who sat at one side patiently pounding drums made of animal-skin.
“We’re about ready to start,” said McNeil. “We hold these dances regularly, but this is the first time we’ve had outsiders to watch. They’re all very excited about it.”
McNEIL sat down at the side of the room, beckoning to the two Vegans to follow suit. “It’s our only remaining art form to speak of. We had to discourage other forms of art because they weren’t useful; but at least the people get some exercise out of this.”
“What sort of a dance is it?”
“It’s really a historical pageant. It dramatizes the history of Earth from its time of greatest strength to its old age. Which reminds me—are you still thinking of taking the Earthfolk off to Vega with you?”
“Yes,” Norb said.
“Forget about it; we can’t come. And don’t try to get any of my younger men to come back with you You’ll be in for a surprise or two, I think.”
“But why, McNeil? Here we offer you free transportation, and all the comforts of the universe on a warm planet, and you refuse. Do you really enjoy living in this frozen hole?”
“Whisper, please,” said the king; “I don’t want to alarm my subjects. No, of course we don’t enjoy living here. But it isn’t as bad as it seems; Earth’s been freezing for thousands of years, and we’re used to cold weather and nothing else; we’ve never known any other. But that’s not the reason why we can’t leave. You’ll find out during the dance. I think they’re ready to start.”
THE DRUMMERS began to beat in a tricky syncopation, and the massed Earthmen in the center of the room slowly began to move. They were interweaving in intricate patterns, moving faster and faster, winding around one another in snakelike rhythms.
“That represents Earth as it used to be,” said McNeil; “the crowded home of mankind.”
Norb and Jannes watched as the motion became more and more rapid, the Earthmen entangling themselves in complex patterns and then patterns still more complex.
Suddenly there was a terrible pounding on the drums, and one of the dancers burst from the twisting multitude and ran toward an empty corner of the room.
“First interplanetary voyage,” McNeil whispered.
The rest of the dancers continued to move in a close-packed mass. Then, another drumroll and a second dancer detached himself and headed for another corner of the room. “The second,” McNeil said.
Now the dancers ran in more dizzy patterns than before, and a third and fourth ran off to corners. The drumbeats grew more frenzied.
“Here comes the exodus,” said McNeil. “The big push outward that left Earth almost deserted.”
The drummers practically went wild, as one after another of the dancers pranced out from the center and headed for one corner or another, until there were more dancers in the clusters in the corners of the room than in the center. Those in the center began to move more slowly now, as their numbers diminished.
