Youth - (2)

It would have been wiser to install a more high-powered model, but that would have meant a trip to some outpost of civilization; lost time; perhaps a lost secret. The Merchant demanded an immediate landing.
    The Merchant felt it necessary to defend his position now. He said angrily to the Explorer, "Don't you think the Pilot knows his job? He landed you safely twice before."
    Yes, thought the Explorer, in a scout-ship, not in this unmaneuverable freighter. Aloud, he said nothing.
    He kept his eye on the visi-plate. They were descending too quickly. There was no room for doubt. Much too quickly.
    The Merchant said, peevishly, "Why do you keep silence?"
    "Well, then, if you wish me to speak, I would suggest that you strap on your Floater and help me prepare the Ejector."
    The Pilot fought a noble fight. He was no beginner. The atmosphere, abnormally high and thick in the gravitational potential of this world whipped and burned about the ship, but to the very last it looked as though he might bring it under control despite that.
    He even maintained course, following the extrapolated line to the point on the northern continent toward which they were headed. Under other circumstances, with a shade more luck, the story would eventually have been told and retold as a heroic and masterly reversal of a lost situation. But within sight of victory, tired body and tired nerves clamped a control bar with a shade too much pressure. The ship, which had almost levelled off, dipped down again.
    There was no room to retrieve the final error. There was only a mile left to fall. The Pilot remained at his post to the actual landing, his only thought that of breaking the force of the crash, of maintaining the spaceworthiness of the vessel. He did not survive. With the ship bucking madly in a soupy atmosphere, few Ejectors could be mobilized and only one of them in time.
    When afterwards, the Explorer lifted out of unconsciousness and rose to his feet, he had the definite feeling that but for himself and the Merchant, there were no survivors. And perhaps that was an over-calculation. His Floater had burnt out while still sufficiently distant from surface to have the fall stun him. The Merchant might have had less luck, even, than that.
    He was surrounded by a world of thick, ropy stalks of grass, and in the distance were trees that reminded him vaguely of similar structures on his native Arcturian world except that their lowest branches were high above what he would consider normal tree-tops.
    He called, his voice sounding basso in the thick air and the Merchant answered. The Explorer made his way toward him, thrusting violently at the coarse stalks that barred his path.
    "Are you hurt?" he asked.
    The Merchant grimaced. "I've sprained something. It hurts to walk."
    The Explorer probed gently. "I don't think anything is broken. You'll have to walk despite the pain."
    "Can't we rest first?"
    "It's important to try to find the ship. If it is spaceworthy or if it can be repaired, we may live. Otherwise, we won't."
    "Just a few minutes. Let me catch my breath."
    The Explorer was glad enough for those few minutes. The Merchant's eyes were already closed. He allowed his to do the same.
    He heard the trampling and his eyes snapped open. Never sleep on a strange planet, he told himself futilely.
    The Merchant was awake too and his steady screaming was a rumble of terror.
    The Explorer called, "It's only a native of this planet. It won't harm you."
    But even as he spoke, the giant had swooped down and in a moment they were in its grasp being lifted closer to its monstrous ugliness.
    The Merchant struggled violently and, of course, quite futilely. "Can't you talk to it?" he yelled.
    The Explorer could only shake his head. "I can't reach it with the Projector. It won't be listening."
    "Then blast it. Blast it down."
    "We can't do that." The phrase "you fool" had almost been added. The Explorer struggled to keep his self-control. They were swallowing space as the monster moved purposefully away.
    "Why not?" cried the Merchant. "You can reach your blaster. I see it in plain sight. Don't be afraid of falling."
    "It's simpler than that. If this monster is killed, you'll never trade with this planet. You'll never even leave it. You probably won't live the day out."
    "Why? Why?"
    "Because this is one of the young of the species. You should know what happens when a trader kills a native young, even accidentally. What's more, if this is the target-point, then we are on the estate of a powerful native. This might be one of his brood."
    That was how they entered their present prison. They had carefully burnt away a portion of the thick, stiff covering and it was obvious that the height from which they were suspended was a killing one.
    Now, once again, the prison-cage shuddered and lifted in an upward arc. The Merchant rolled to the lower rim and startled awake. The cover lifted and light flooded in. As was the case the time before, there were two specimens of the young. They were not very different in appearance from adults of the species, reflected the Explorer, though, of course, they were considerably smaller.
    A handful of reedy green stalks was stuffed between the bars. Its odor was not unpleasant but it carried clods of soil at its ends.
    The Merchant drew away and said, huskily, "What are they doing?"
    The Explorer said, "Trying to feed us, I should judge. At least this seems to be the native equivalent of grass."
    The cover was replaced and they were set swinging again, alone with their fodder.
    IV
    Slim started at the sound of footsteps and brightened when it turned out to be only Red.
    He said, "No one's around. I had my eye peeled, you bet."
    Red said, "Ssh. Look. You take this stuff and stick it in the cage. I've got to scoot back to the house."
    "What is it?" Slim reached reluctantly.
    "Ground meat. Holy Smokes, haven't you ever seen ground meat? That's what you should've got when I sent you to the house instead of coming back with that stupid grass."
    Slim was hurt. "How'd I know they don't eat grass. Besides, ground meat doesn't come loose like that. It comes in cellophane and it isn't that color."
    "Sure--in the city. Out here we grind our own and it's always this color till it's cooked."
    "You mean it isn't cooked?" Slim drew away quickly.
    Red looked disgusted. "Do you think animals eat cooked food. Come on, take it. It won't hurt you. I tell you there isn't much time."
    "Why? What's doing back at the house?"
    "I don't know. Dad and your father are walking around. I think maybe they're looking for me. Maybe the cook told them I took the meat. Anyway, we don't want them coming here after me."
    "Didn't you ask the cook before you took this stuff?"
    "Who? That crab? Shouldn't wonder if she only let me have a drink of water because Dad makes her. Come on. Take it."
    Slim took the large glob of meat though his skin crawled at the touch. He turned toward the barn and Red sped away in the direction from which he had come.
    He slowed when he approached the two adults, took a few deep breaths to bring himself back to normal, and then carefully and nonchalantly sauntered past. (They were walking in the general direction of the barn, he noticed, but not dead on.)
    He said, "Hi, Dad. Hello, sir."
    The Industrialist said, "Just a moment, Red. I have a question to ask you?"
    Red turned a carefully blank face to his father. "Yes, Dad?"
    "Mother tells me you were out early this morning."
    "Not real early, Dad. Just a little before breakfast."
    "She said you told her it was because you had been awakened during the night and didn't go back to sleep."
    Red waited before answering. Should he have told Mom that?
    Then he said, "Yes, sir."
    "What was it that awakened you?"
    Red saw no harm in it. He said, "I don't know, Dad. It sounded like thunder, sort of, and like a collision, sort of."
    "Could you tell where it came from?"
    "It sounded like it was out by the hill." That was truthful, and useful as well, since the direction was almost opposite that in which the barn lay.
    The Industrialist looked at his guest. "I suppose it would do no harm to walk toward the hill."
    The Astronomer said, "I am ready."
    Red watched them walk away and when he turned he saw Slim peering cautiously out from among the briars of a hedge.
    Red waved at him. "Come on."
    Slim stepped out and approached. "Did they say anything about the meat?"
    "No. I guess they don't know about that. They went down to the hill."
    "What for?"
    "Search me. They kept asking about the noise I heard. Listen, did the animals eat the meat?"
    "Well," said Slim, cautiously, "they were sort of looking at it and smelling it or something."
    "Okay," Red said, "I guess they'll eat it. Holy Smokes, they've got to eat something. Let's walk along toward the hill and see what Dad and your father are going to do."
    "What about the animals?"
    "They'll be all right. A fellow can't spend all his time on them. Did you give them water?"
    "Sure. They drank that."
    "See. Come on. We'll look at them after lunch. I tell you what. We'll bring them fruit. Anything'll eat fruit."
    Together they trotted up the rise, Red, as usual, in the lead.
    V
    The Astronomer said, "You think the noise was their ship landing?"
    "Don't you think it could be?"
    "If it were, they may all be dead."
    "Perhaps not." The Industrialist frowned.
    "If they have landed, and are still alive, where are they?"
    "Think about that for a while." He was still frowning.
    The Astronomer said, "I don't understand you."
    "They may not be friendly."
    "Oh, no. I've spoken with them. They've--"
    "You've spoken with them. Call that reconnaissance. What would their next step be? Invasion?"
    "But they only have one ship, sir."
    "You know that only because they say so. They might have a fleet."
    "I've told you about their size. They--"
    "Their size would not matter, if they have handweapons that may well be superior to our artillery."
    "That is not what I meant."
    "I had this partly in mind from the first." The Industrialist went on. "It is for that reason I agreed to see them after I received your letter. Not to agree to an unsettling and impossible trade, but to judge their real purposes. I did not count on their evading the meeting."
    He sighed. "I suppose it isn't our fault. You are right in one thing, at any rate. The world has been at peace too long. We are losing a healthy sense of suspicion."
    The Astronomer's mild voice rose to an unusual pitch and he said, "I will speak. I tell you that there is no reason to suppose they can possibly be hostile. They are small, yes, but that is only important because it is a reflection of the fact that their native worlds are small. Our world has what is for them a normal gravity, but because of our much higher gravitational potential, our atmosphere is too dense to support them comfortably over sustained periods. For a similar reason the use of the world as a base for interstellar travel, except for trade in certain items, is uneconomical. And there are important differences in chemistry of life due to the basic differences in soils. They couldn't eat our food or we theirs."
    "Surely all this can be overcome. They can bring their own food, build domed stations of lowered air pressure, devise specially designed ships."
    "They can. And how glibly you can describe feats that are easy to a race in its youth. It is simply that they don't have to do any of that. There are millions of worlds suitable for them in the Galaxy. They don't need this one which isn't."
    "How do you know? All this is their information again."
    "This I was able to check independently. I am an astronomer, after all."
    "That is true. Let me hear what you have to say then, while we walk."
    "Then, sir, consider that for a long time our astronomers have believed that two general classes of planetary bodies existed. First, the planets which formed at distances far enough from their stellar nucleus to become cool enough to capture hydrogen. These would be large planets rich in hydrogen, ammonia and methane. We have examples of these in the giant outer planets. The second class would include those planets formed so near the stellar center that the high temperature would make it impossible to capture much hydrogen. These would be smaller planets, comparatively poorer in hydrogen and richer in oxygen. We know that type very well since we live on one. Ours is the only solar system we know in detail, however, and it has been reasonable for us to assume that these were the only two planetary classes."
    "I take it then that there is another."
    "Yes. There is a super-dense class, still smaller, poorer in hydrogen, than the inner planets of the solar system. The ratio of occurrence of hydrogen-ammonia planets and these super-dense water-oxygen worlds of theirs over the entire Galaxy--and remember that they have actually conducted a survey of significant sample volumes of the Galaxy which we, without interstellar travel, cannot do--is about 3 to 1. This leaves them seven million super-dense worlds for exploration and colonization."
    The Industrialist looked at the blue sky and the green-covered trees among which they were making their way. He said, "And worlds like ours?"
    The Astronomer said, softly, "Ours is the first solar system they have found which contains them. Apparently the development of our solar system was unique and did not follow the ordinary rules."
    The Industrialist considered that. "What it amounts to is that these creatures from space are asteroid-dwellers."
    "No, no. The asteroids are something else again. They occur, I was told, in one out of eight stellar systems, but they're completely different from what we've been discussing."
    "And how does your being an astronomer change the fact that you are still only quoting their unsupported statements?"
    "But they did not restrict themselves to bald items of information. They presented me with a theory of stellar evolution which I had to accept and which is more nearly valid than anything our own astronomy has ever been able to devise, if we except possible lost theories dating from Beforethewars. Mind you, their theory had a rigidly mathematical development and it predicted just such a Galaxy as they describe. So you see, they have all the worlds they wish. They are not land-hungry. Certainly not for our land."
    "Reason would say so, if what you say is true. But creatures may be intelligent and not reasonable. Our forefathers were presumably intelligent, yet they were certainly not reasonable. Was it reasonable to destroy almost all their tremendous civilization in atomic warfare over causes our historians can no longer accurately determine?" The Industrialist brooded over it. "From the dropping of the first atom bomb over those islands--I forget the ancient name--there was only one end in sight, and in plain sight. Yet events were allowed to proceed to that end."
    He looked up, said briskly, "Well, where are we? I wonder if we are not on a fool's errand after all."
    But the Astronomer was a little in advance and his voice came thickly. "No fool's errand, sir. Look there."
    VI
    Red and Slim had trailed their elders with the experience of youth, aided by the absorption and anxiety of their fathers. Their view of the final object of the search was somewhat obscured by the underbrush behind which they remained.
    Red said, "Holy Smokes. Look at that. It's all shiny silver or something."
    But it was Slim who was really excited. He caught at the other. "I know what this is. It's a space-ship. That must be why my father came here. He's one of the biggest astronomers in the world and your father would have to call him if a space-ship landed on his estate."
    "What are you talking about? Dad didn't even know that thing was there. He only came here because I told him I heard the thunder from here. Besides, there isn't any such thing as a space-ship."
    "Sure, there is. Look at it. See those round things. They are ports. And you can see the rocket tubes."
    "How do you know so much?"
    Slim was flushed. He said, "I read about them. My father has books about them. Old books. From Beforethewars."
    "Huh. Now I know you're making it up. Books from Beforethewars!"
    "My father has to have them. He teaches at the University. It's his job."
    His voice had risen and Red had to pull at him. "You want them to hear us?" he whispered indignantly.
    "Well, it is, too, a space-ship."
    "Look here, Slim, you mean that's a ship from another world."
    "It's got to be. Look at my father going round and round it. He wouldn't be so interested if it was anything else."
    "Other worlds! Where are there other worlds?"
    "Everywhere. How about the planets? They're worlds just like ours, some of them. And other stars probably have planets. There's probably zillions of planets."
    Red felt outweighed and outnumbered. He muttered, "You're crazy!"
    "All right, then. I'll show you."
    "Hey! Where are you going?"
    "Down there. I'm going to ask my father. I suppose you'll believe it if he tells you. I suppose you'll believe a Professor of Astronomy knows what--"
    He had scrambled upright.
    Red said, "Hey. You don't want them to see us. We're not supposed to be here. Do you want them to start asking questions and find out about our animals?"
    "I don't care. You said I was crazy."
    "Snitcher! You promised you wouldn't tell."
    "I'm not going to tell. But if they find out themselves, it's your fault, for starting an argument and saying I was crazy."
    "I take it back, then," grumbled Red.
    "Well, all right. You better."
    In a way, Slim was disappointed. He wanted to see the space-ship at closer quarters. Still, he could not break his vow of secrecy even in spirit without at least the excuse of personal insult.
    Red said, "It's awfully small for a space-ship."
    "Sure, because it's probably a scout-ship."
    "I'll bet Dad couldn't even get into the old thing."
    So much Slim realized to be true. It was a weak point in his argument and he made no answer. His interest was absorbed by the adults.
    Red rose to his feet; an elaborate attitude of boredom all about him. "Well, I guess we better be going. There's business to do and I can't spend all day here looking at some old space-ship or whatever it is. We've got to take care of the animals if we're going to be circus-folks. That's the first rule with circus-folks. They've got to take care of the animals. And," he finished virtuously, "that's what I aim to do, anyway."
    Slim said, "What for, Red? They've got plenty of meat. Let's watch."
    "There's no fun in watching. Besides Dad and your father are going away and I guess it's about lunch time."
    Red became argumentative. "Look, Slim, we can't start acting suspicious or they're going to start investigating. Holy Smokes, don't you ever read any detective stories? When you're trying to work a big deal without being caught, it's practically the main thing to keep on acting just like always. Then they don't suspect anything. That's the first law--"