Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by James H. Schmitz

  The undershell tilted and swayed beneath Ilf now as the mossback started forward. He squirmed around and looked out through the opening between the shells. They moved out of the grove, headed towards the road at Sam’s steady walking pace. Ilf couldn’t see the aircar and wondered why Auris didn’t want the man in the car to see them. He wriggled uncomfortably. It was a strange, uneasy-making morning in every way.

  They crossed the road, went swishing through high grass with Sam’s ponderous side-to-side sway like a big ship sailing over dry land, and came to the Queen Grove. Sam moved on into the green-tinted shade under the Queen Trees. The air grew cooler. Presently he turned to the right, and Ilf saw a flash of blue ahead. That was the great thicket of flower bushes, in the center of which was Sam’s sleeping pit.

  Sam pushed through the thicket, stopped when he reached the open space in the center to let Ilf and Auris climb out of the shell-cave. Sam then lowered his forelegs, one after the other, into the pit, which was lined so solidly with tree roots that almost no earth showed between them, shaped like a mold to fit the lower half of his body, tilted forward, drawing neck and head back under his shell, slid slowly into the pit, straightened out and settled down. The edge of his upper shell was now level with the edge of the pit, and what still could be seen of him looked simply like a big, moss-grown boulder. If nobody came to disturb him, he might stay there unmoving the rest of the year. There were mossbacks in other groves of the farm which had never come out of their sleeping pits or given any indication of being awake since Ilf could remember. They lived an enormous length of time and a nap of half a dozen years apparently meant nothing to them.

  Ilf looked questioningly at Auris. She said, “We’ll go up to the house and listen to what Uncle Kugus is talking about.”

  They turned into a path which led from Sam’s place to the house. It had been made by six generations of human children, all of whom had used Sam for transportation about the diamondwood farm. He was half again as big as any other mossback around and the only one whose sleeping pit was in the Queen Grove. Everything about the Queen Grove was special, from the trees themselves, which were never cut and twice as thick and almost twice as tall as the trees of other groves, to Sam and his blue flower thicket, the huge stump of the Grandfather Slurp not far away, and the giant greenweb at the other end of the grove. It was quieter here; there were fewer of the other animals. The Queen Grove, from what Riquol Cholm had told Ilf, was the point from which the whole diamondwood forest had started a long time ago.

  Auris said, “We’ll go around and come in from the back. They don’t have to know right away that we’re here . . .”

  “Mr. Terokaw,” said Riquol Cholm, “I’m sorry Kugus Ovin persuaded you and Mr. Bliman to accompany him to Wrake on this business. You’ve simply wasted your time. Kugus should have known better. I’ve discussed the situation quite thoroughly with him on other occasions.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. Cholm,” Mr. Terokaw said stiffly. “I’m making you a businesslike proposition in regard to this farm of diamondwood trees—a proposition which will be very much to your advantage as well as to that of the children whose property the Diamondwood is. Certainly you should at least be willing to listen to my terms!”

  Riquol shook his head. It was clear that he was angry with Kugus but attempting to control his anger.

  “Your terms, whatever they may be, are not a factor in this,” he said. “The maintenance of a diamondwood forest is not entirely a business proposition. Let me explain that to you—as Kugus should have done.

  “No doubt you’re aware that there are less than forty such forests on the world of Wrake and that attempts to grow the trees elsewhere have been uniformly unsuccessful. That and the unique beauty of diamondwood products, which has never been duplicated by artificial means, is, of course, the reason that such products command a price which compares with that of precious stones and similar items.”

  Mr. Terokaw regarded Riquol with a bleak blue eye, nodded briefly. “Please continue, Mr. Cholm.”

  “A diamondwood forest,” said Riquol, “is a great deal more than an assemblage of trees. The trees are a basic factor, but still only a factor, of a closely integrated, balanced natural ecology. The manner of independence of the plants and animals that make up a diamondwood forest is not clear in all details, but the interdependence is a very pronounced one. None of the involved species seem able to survive in any other environment. On the other hand, plants and animals not naturally a part of this ecology will not thrive if brought into it. They move out or vanish quickly. Human beings appear to be the only exception to that rule.”

  “Very interesting,” Mr. Terokaw said dryly.

  “It is,” said Riquol. “It is a very interesting natural situation and many people, including Mrs. Cholm and myself, feel it should be preserved. The studied, limited cutting practiced on the diamondwood farms at present acts towards its preservation. That degree of harvesting actually is beneficial to the forests, keeps them moving through an optimum cycle of growth and maturity. They are flourishing under the hand of man to an extent which was not usually attained in their natural, untouched state. The people who are at present responsible for them—the farm owners and their associates—have been working for some time to have all diamondwood forests turned into Federation preserves, with the right to harvest them retained by the present owners and their heirs under the same carefully supervised conditions. When Auris and Ilf come of age and can sign an agreement to that effect, the farms will in fact become Federation preserves. All other steps to that end have been taken by now.

  “That, Mr. Terokaw, is why we’re not interested in your business proposition. You’ll discover, if you wish to sound them out on it, that the other diamondwood farmers are not interested in it either. We are all of one mind in that matter. If we weren’t, we would long since have accepted propositions essentially similar to yours.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then Kugus Ovin said pleasantly, “I know you’re annoyed with me, Riquol, but I’m thinking of Auris and Ilf in this. Perhaps in your concern for the preservation of a natural phenomenon, you aren’t sufficiently considering their interests.”

  Riquol looked at him, said, “When Auris reaches maturity, she’ll be an extremely wealthy young woman, even if this farm never sells another cubic foot of diamondwood from this day on. Ilf would be sufficiently well-to-do to make it unnecessary for him ever to work a stroke in his life—though I doubt very much he would make such a choice.”

  Kugus smiled. “There are degrees even to the state of being extremely wealthy,” he remarked. “What my niece can expect to gain in her lifetime from this careful harvesting you talk about can’t begin to compare with what she would get at one stroke through Mr. Terokaw’s offer. The same, of course, holds true of Ilf.”

  “Quite right,” Mr. Terokaw said heavily. “I’m generous in my business dealings, Mr. Cholm. I have a reputation for it. And I can afford to be generous because I profit well from my investments. Let me bring another point to your attention. Interest in diamondwood products throughout the Federation waxes and wanes, as you must be aware. It rises and falls. There are fashions and fads. At present, we are approaching the crest of a new wave of interest in these products. This interest can be properly stimulated and exploited, but in any event we must expect it will have passed its peak in another few months. The next interest peak might develop six years from now, or twelve years from now. Or it might never develop since there are very few natural products which cannot eventually be duplicated and usually surpassed by artificial methods, and there is no good reason to assume that diamondwood will remain an exception indefinitely.

  “We should be prepared, therefore, to make the fullest use of this bonanza while it lasts. I am prepared to do just that, Mr. Cholm. A cargo ship full of cutting equipment is at present stationed a few hours’ flight from Wrake. This machinery can be landed and in operation here within a day after the contract I a
m offering you is signed. Within a week, the forest can be leveled. We shall make no use of your factory here, which would be entirely inadequate for my purpose. The diamondwood will be shipped at express speeds to another world where I have adequate processing facilities set up. And we can hit the Federation’s main markets with the finished products the following month.”

  Riquol Cholm said, icily polite now, “And what would be the reason for all that haste, Mr. Terokaw?”

  Mr. Terokaw looked surprised. “To insure that we have no competition, Mr. Cholm. What else? When the other diamondwood farmers here discover what has happened, they may be tempted to follow our example. But we’ll be so far ahead of them that the diamondwood boom will be almost entirely to our exclusive advantage. We have taken every precaution to see that. Mr. Bliman. Mr. Ovin and I arrived here in the utmost secrecy today. No one so much as suspects that we are on Wrake, much less what our purpose is. I make no mistakes in such matters, Mr. Cholm!”

  He broke off and looked around as Meldy Cholm said in a troubled voice, “Come in, children. Sit down over there. We’re discussing a matter which concerns you.”

  “Hello, Auris!” Kugus said heartily. “Hello, Ilf! Remember old Uncle Kugus?”

  “Yes,” Ilf said. He sat down on the bench by the wall beside Auris, feeling scared.

  “Auris,” Riquol Cholm said, “did you happen to overhear anything of what was being said before you came into the room?”

  Auris nodded. “Yes.” She glanced at Mr. Terokaw, looked at Riquol again. “He wants to cut down the forest.”

  “It’s your forest and Ilf’s, you know. Do you want him to do it?”

  “Mr. Cholm, please!” Mr. Terokaw protested. “We must approach this properly. Kugus, show Mr. Cholm what I’m offering.”

  Riquol took the document Kugus held out to him, looked over it. After a moment, he gave it back to Kugus. “Auris,” he said, “Mr. Terokaw, as he’s indicated, is offering you more money than you would ever be able to spend in your life for the right to cut down your share of the forest. Now . . . do you want him to do it?”

  “No.” Auris said.

  Riquol glanced at Ilf, who shook his head. Riquol turned back to Mr. Terokaw.

  “Well, Mr. Terokaw,” he said, “there’s your answer. My wife and I don’t want you to do it, and Auris and Ilf don’t want you to do it. Now . . .”

  “Oh, come now, Riquol!” Kugus said, smiling. “No one can expect either Auris or Ilf to really understand what’s involved here. When they come of age—”

  “When they come of age,” Riquol said, “they’ll again have the opportunity to decide what they wish to do.” He made a gesture of distaste. “Gentlemen, let’s conclude this discussion. Mr. Terokaw, we thank you for your offer, but it’s been rejected.”

  Mr. Terokaw frowned, pursed his lips.

  “Well, not so fast, Mr. Cholm,” he said. “As I told you, I make no mistakes in business matters. You suggested a few minutes ago that I might contact the other diamondwood farmers on the planet on the subject but predicted that I would have no better luck with them.”

  “So I did,” Riquol agreed. He looked puzzled.

  “As a matter of fact,” Mr. Terokaw went on, “I already have contacted a number of these people. Not in person, you understand, since I did not want to tip off certain possible competitors that I was interested in diamondwood at present. The offer was rejected, as you indicated it would be. In fact, I learned that the owners of the Wrake diamondwood farms are so involved in legally binding agreements with one another that it would be very difficult for them to accept such an offer even if they wished to do it.”

  Riquol nodded, smiled briefly. “We realized that the temptation to sell out to commercial interests who would not be willing to act in accordance with our accepted policies could be made very strong,” he said. “So we’ve made it as nearly impossible as we could for any of us to yield to temptation.”

  “Well,” Mr. Terokaw continued, “I am not a man who is easily put off. I ascertained that you and Mrs. Cholm are also bound by such an agreement to the other diamondwood owners of Wrake not to be the first to sell either the farm or its cutting rights to outside interests, or to exceed the established limits of cutting. But you are not the owners of this farm. These two children own it between them.”

  Riquol frowned. “What difference does that make?” he demanded. “Ilf is our grandson. Auris is related to us and our adopted daughter.”

  Mr. Terokaw rubbed his chin.

  “Mr. Bliman,” he said, “please explain to these people what the legal situation is.”

  Mr. Bliman cleared his throat. He was a tall, thin man with fierce dark eyes, like a bird of prey. “Mr. and Mrs. Cholm,” he began, “I work for the Federation Government and am a specialist in adoptive procedures. I will make this short. Some months ago, Mr. Kugus Ovin filed the necessary papers to adopt his niece, Auris Luteel, citizen of Wrake. I conducted the investigation which is standard in such cases and can assure you that no official record exists that you have at any time gone through the steps of adopting Auris.”

  “What?” Riquol came half to his feet. Then he froze in position for a moment, settled slowly back in his chair. “What is this? Just what kind of trick are you trying to play?” he said. His face had gone white.

  Ilf had lost sight of Mr. Terokaw for a few seconds, because Uncle Kugus had suddenly moved over in front of the bench on which he and Auris were sitting. But now he saw him again and he had a jolt of fright. There was a large blue and silver gun in Mr. Terokaw’s hand, and the muzzle of it was pointed very steadily at Riquol Cholm.

  “Mr. Cholm,” Mr. Terokaw said, “before Mr. Bliman concludes his explanation, allow me to caution you! I do not wish to kill you. This gun, in fact, is not designed to kill. But if I pull the trigger, you will be in excruciating pain for some minutes. You are an elderly man and it is possible that you would not survive the experience. This would not inconvenience us very seriously. Therefore, stay seated and give up any thoughts of summoning help . . . Kugus, watch the children. Mr. Bliman, let me speak to Mr. Het before you resume.”

  He put his left hand up to his face, and Ilf saw he was wearing a wrist-talker. “Het,” Mr. Terokaw said to the talker without taking his eyes off Riquol Cholm, “you are aware, I believe, that the children are with us in the house?”

  The wrist-talker made murmuring sounds for a few seconds, then stopped.

  “Yes,” Mr. Terokaw said. “There should be no problem about it. But let me know if you see somebody approaching the area . . .” He put his hand back down on the table. “Mr. Bliman, please continue.”

  Mr. Bliman cleared his throat again.

  “Mr. Kugus Ovin,” he said, “is now officially recorded as the parent by adoption of his niece, Auris Luteel. Since Auris has not yet reached the age where her formal consent to this action would be required, the matter is settled.”

  “Meaning,” Mr. Terokaw added, “that Kugus can act for Auris in such affairs as selling the cutting rights on this tree farm. Mr. Cholm, if you are thinking of taking legal action against us, forget it. You may have had certain papers purporting to show that the girl was your adopted child filed away in the deposit vault of a bank. If so, those papers have been destroyed. With enough money, many things become possible. Neither you nor Mrs. Cholm nor the two children will do or say anything that might cause trouble to me. Since you have made no rash moves, Mr. Bliman will now use an instrument to put you and Mrs. Cholm painlessly to sleep for the few hours required to get you off this planet. Later, if you should be questioned in connection with this situation, you will say about it only what certain psychological experts will have impressed on you to say, and within a few months, nobody will be taking any further interest whatever in what is happening here today.

  “Please do not think that I am a cruel man. I am not. I merely take what steps are required to carry out my purpose. Mr. Bliman, please proceed!”

  Ilf felt a quiver
of terror. Uncle Kugus was holding his wrist with one hand and Auris’ wrist with the other, smiling reassuringly down at them. Ilf darted a glance over to Amis’ face. She looked as white as his grandparents but she was making no attempt to squirm away from Kugus, so Ilf stayed quiet, too. Mr. Bliman stood up, looking more like a fierce bird of prey than ever, and stalked over to Riquol Cholm, holding something in his hand that looked unpleasantly like another gun. Ilf shut his eyes. There was a moment of silence, then Mr. Terokaw said, “Catch him before he falls out of the chair. Mrs. Cholm, if you will just settle back comfortably . . .”

  There was another moment of silence. Then, from beside him, Ilf heard Auris speak.

  It wasn’t regular speech but a quick burst of thin, rattling gabble, like human speech speeded up twenty times or so. It ended almost immediately.

  “What’s that? What’s that?” Mr. Terokaw said, surprised.

  Ilf’s eyes flew open as something came in through the window with a whistling shriek. The two humbugs were in the room, brown blurs flicking here and there, screeching like demons. Mr. Terokaw exclaimed something in a loud voice and jumped up from the chair, his gun swinging this way and that. Something scuttled up Mr. Bliman’s back like a big spider, and he yelled and spun away from Meldy Cholm lying slumped back in her chair. Something ran up Uncle Kugus’ back. He yelled, letting go of Ilf and Auris, and pulled out a gun of his own. “Wide aperture!” roared Mr. Terokaw, whose gun was making loud, thumping noises. A brown shadow swirled suddenly about his knees. Uncle Kugus cursed, took aim at the shadow and fired.

  “Stop that, you fool!” Mr. Terokaw shouted. “You nearly hit me.”

  “Come,” whispered Auris, grabbing Ilf’s arm. They sprang up from the bench and darted out the door behind Uncle Kugus’ broad back.