Tellenberg had to admit that their thranx colleague was doing an admirable job of dealing with a state of affairs that would have reduced the less stoic and resolved among his kind to shrinking piles of quivering chitin. Not only did Valnadireb stand upright (albeit on all sixes) with his eyes surveying the opposing shores, he even managed to make his share of field observations, taking notes on his recorder while deliberately ignoring the occasional splash that came over the bow.
The only time he evinced any visible fear was on the occasions when one of his counterparts hit a control that turned the sides and bottom of the boat from opaque to transparent, allowing for the study of the riverine flora and fauna directly beneath them. In the absence of visible ribs or a keel, the transformation made it appear as if they were standing or sitting on a particular stiff piece of water. Conscious of their companion’s discomfort at such moments, Tellenberg and the others minimized their use of the pertinent option.
There was an abundance of biota to study anyway, without gazing down into the watery depths. Just as it did in the vicinity of the camp, the alien forest grew down to the water’s edge. Seasonal flow must stay relatively steady, Tellenberg decided, since the opposing banks showed little evidence of periodic flooding. Much of the flora lining the shore was large and sturdy, evidence that it had been growing in place for a long time.
If the vegetation was a riot of conflicting patterns, plans, and configurations, the fauna they observed as the craft plowed smoothly upstream verged on the chaotic. As overwhelmed as his colleagues, Tellenberg tried to get a scientific rope around one small part of the local animal life by concentrating his attention on the Quofumian inhabitants of the rose-hued sky.
There were what appeared to be many birdlike creatures, though even with his magnifying lenses flipped down it was difficult to distinguish details among the profusion of fast-moving fliers. Some sported beaks and feathers. But even among these almost-familiar shapes there were discrepancies that spoke of biological bedlam. What did a seemingly skillful flier need with a leathery tail that was twice its own length? Why did some fliers soar on two wings while others boasted four, or six? While many had developed bisymmetrically, others were trisymmetrical, or quadri, or worse. Some displayed limbs and appendages and appurtenances that appeared to have sprouted according to no discernible pattern whatsoever, as if their maturation had been guided by cancer rather than genes.
There were wings with feathers, wings with hair, wings made of leathery membrane, and wings of diaphanous transparency. Propulsion was provided not only by flapping wings and gliding on wings but by spiral lifters and jetlike nozzles, by altering internal temperatures between body parts, and by inflation of others. The more he saw of the native fauna the more Tellenberg found himself thinking of it not as an ecosystem but as a circus.
A logical corollary would be to look for an external influence as the source of rampant mutation. The only problem was that preliminary observations had revealed none. Quofum’s star was comfortingly Sol-like. It rained no surfeit of damaging radiation onto the planet’s surface. Nor had instruments located any identifiable internal source. What then, he found himself wondering, was the cause of what they were seeing? Could they simply put Quofum down as one of the most biologically diverse worlds yet visited by humanxkind and leave it at that?
They could not, he knew, because it was not the planet’s diversity that kept nagging at him. It was the seeming lack of organic relationship between so many of the life-forms, both plant and animal, that they continued to encounter. For example, it was not unreasonable to record several dozen different species of reedlike growths colonizing the river’s watery shallows. What was unsettling was to discover that some of them were built up of cellulose, others of silicon, still others of biosulfates. And this developmental disparity among the flora was nothing compared to what he had seen occupying the sky and the land.
Dazzled by the unending parade of exotic life-forms, they passed the rest of the day wholly occupied in making individual and collective observations. Having failed by sundown to resight the group of fuzzies first encountered by Haviti and N’kosi, they settled down to spend the night cruising the middle of the river. While Tellenberg reported back to Boylan, N’kosi turned the craft’s controls over to its unpretentious AI. The automatics would keep the boat properly positioned, keeping it away from shore against any shift in current or sudden rise in water level. They would thus be able to sleep secure in the knowledge that they would not drift ashore and expose themselves to any marauding terrestrial carnivores. As for anything that might rise out of the deep or come swimming toward them, the boat’s integrated security systems would either deal with any such threat on its own or wake them with ample time to confront and analyze it themselves.
Inflatable sleepers (flat and rectangular for the humans, narrow and slightly rounded for Valnadireb) provided comfortable platforms for a night’s rest. Despite these beckoning temptations, everyone was reluctant to turn in for the night. With the disappearance of the sun and in the absence of a moon, a vast and varied multitude of night-dwellers soon took wing in the star-filled alien sky. They constituted, Tellenberg immediately determined, an entirely new and astounding biota that was if anything even more exceptional and perplexing than the fauna he and his colleagues had studied during the day. As he busied himself with his recorder, which automatically adjusted for the greatly reduced light, his fascination and unease continued to expand in equal measure.
While his eyes were drawn to the fluorescent and phosphorescent creatures that darted along the shoreline, or winked in and out among the trees, his mind was fascinated by the glowing growths themselves. Within the boundaries of the Commonwealth, plant life that fluoresced was hardly unknown, but it usually restricted itself to one class of flora. Fungi, for example, or the siliceous crystalline sprays of Prism.
Not here. So much light emanated from the forest fringe that Tellenberg guessed it would be possible to wander those alien woods without any artificial light at all. The biological quandary he found himself confronting did not involve a lack of naturally generated light but rather a surfeit of it.
A thicket of ten-meter-high bamboolike shoots alternately flashed a deep red, then purple. Nearby, a cluster of flowers with weirdly twisted petals flared bright yellow, their internal luminescence flashing in sequence from petal to petal as if their internal lights were chasing each other around the outside of the flower. Gnarled scrub that during the day would have defined inconspicuousness pulsed with soft pink, then green light. The tips of grasslike ground cover twinkled like a billion blue stars. Some otherwise florid florals remained perfectly dark, choosing to bask in the radiance of their neighbors.
Or perhaps to hide among it, he thought as he let his recorder run. Flashier plant life might draw the attention of nocturnal herbivores away from tastier growths that did not phosphoresce at all. Maybe the fluorescence was the luciferaselike equivalent of the bright colors worn by certain toxic Terran fauna, warning prospective predators that their potential prey was poisonous, treacherous, or both. For a xenologist, to see what amounted to the blanket application of luminous protective coloration was startling. Or possibly he was ruminating in the wrong direction. Perhaps all the rampant floral luminosity had another purpose entirely, one that could only be properly divined by patient research in the lab. For example, carnivorous plant life might use such internal lights to attract prey.
Whatever the function, the shimmering forest certainly made for a spectacular journey upriver. Reflected lights danced off the water as the boat cleaved a steady path to the northeast.
Flecks of deep crimson like windblown bloodstains swooped and darted through the night air just aft of the stern, surfing the disturbed air that trailed in the boat’s wake as they sought even smaller arboreal prey. One time something like a blue blanket soared past, blocking out the stars as it glided silently downriver. An increasingly drowsy Tellenberg estimated that its wingspan was at least tw
ice that of the shuttle’s length. On shore, unseen animal life squealed and meeped, whistled and sang and hooted, the startling multiplicity of voices forming a perfect choral counterpoint to the sea of dancing floral colors.
One by one even the most dedicated among them retired to their respective sleeping platforms. When N’kosi had finally had enough, he too retired, after checking to make sure that the craft’s internal AI understood its instructions. It would wake them if the boat was threatened or if anything of exceptional merit manifested itself. Defining the latter meant radically expanding the AI’s definition of “exceptional.” Though they revised the definition several times during the night, the AI still woke them on two different occasions.
Tellenberg had always been able to sleep soundly. In this he was luckier than any of his colleagues. Much to the simultaneous admiration and consternation of his companions he even managed to sleep through the boat AI’s two uncertain and unnecessary alarms.
So it was not surprising that he should finally be awakened by half a cup of purified river water that N’kosi, with great precision and considerable satisfaction, trickled onto his face. He sat up sputtering.
“Hey, what’s the…?”
Valnadireb cut him off with a suitable four-armed gesture. “I have seen dead people more easily stirred. We are all jealous. How do you do it?”
Sitting up on his sleeping platform, Tellenberg wiped water from his face and muttered, “Do what?”
“Sleep through anything. Sleep through forest screams, sleep through lights that burn with the brilliance of unwanted urban advertisements, sleep through alerts sounded by the boat.”
Tellenberg looked around uneasily. “I slept through an alarm?”
“Two.” N’kosi was now preparing a hot drink in the same cup that had been used to douse his colleague. “Remarkable.”
Tellenberg was apologetic. “I’ve always been able to sleep anywhere, even out in the field.” He grinned shyly. “I have a clean conscience, I guess.”
“Or none.” Valnadireb turned away, pivoting on all four trulegs and both foothands. While Tellenberg noted that the thranx’s supporting limbs did not dig quite so deeply into the deck as when they had first boarded the craft, neither were they completely relaxed. Not even the redoubtable Valnadireb could completely ignore the fact that he still had water underfoot, even if he was separated from it by the bottom of the boat.
It was less than an hour later that Haviti, perched attractively if professionally in the observation seat in the bow, called back to N’kosi to reduce speed. Relaxing casually in the command chair behind the weatherproof console, her fellow xenologist moved to comply as Tellenberg and Valnadireb rushed to the bow.
“Take it slow,” she called back. Obedient to N’kosi’s touch, the craft decelerated until it was barely making headway against the current.
It took only a moment to share Haviti’s vision and to see what had impelled her to direct N’kosi to reduce their speed. Actually, Tellenberg heard it before he saw it. Valnadireb was standing so close to him that the thranx’s natural perfume was nearly overwhelming. Instead of being held vertically, both of the insectoid xenologist’s antennae were inclined forward, in the direction of the nearest bank.
Off to starboard, the forest was thinning rapidly. As the boat came around a bend in the river, the level of the noise they had been hearing suddenly rose tenfold in both volume and complexity. The sound was terrible. It was as if some maniacal music maker had decided that instead of mixing rhythms and melodies he would attempt to merge recordings of riots from half a dozen worlds—none of them populated by humans. The shrill, frantic cacophony threatened to give everyone on board including Valnadireb a severe headache. That concern was forgotten as soon as they got their first look at the source of the uproar.
There was a war in progress.
It was a limited war; limited by the number of participants as well as the primitive nature of the weapons they were employing. But a war nonetheless, with potentially grave and lethal consequences for all who were involved. A village was on fire. Actually, that was too sophisticated a definition for the community under siege, Tellenberg decided. It was more a cluster of slapdash huts crudely thrown together out of fallen leaves and scavenged wood. Still, it was home to those who were presently under attack.
Even from the center of the river it was not difficult to sort out the combatants. The community was being defended by stick-jellies acting in concert with groups of fuzzies. Assailing them were lines of spikers. As if the odds did not already seem stacked against the defenders, the spikers had allies of their own. To the astonishment of the scientists, these comprised yet a fourth sentient species, as unrelated to the previously discovered three as the stick-jellies and the spikers were to humans and thranx.
Averaging about a meter in height and almost as broad, these hard-shelled newcomers advanced slowly on twin muscular pseudopods. The stone axes they wielded at the ends of their short, stubby arms had very little reach. On the other hand, their armored bodies were impervious to the spears of the stick-jellies.
The fuzzies had better luck against them. Rounded stones accelerated by throwing slings were capable of cracking the outer carapaces of the hardshells. Stone-headed clubs were able to bash in less heavily armored skulls. Meanwhile the stick-jellies showed surprising determination and agility in battling the spikers. Such confrontations looked uneven, until N’kosi pointed out that stones cast by the spikers simply slid off or lodged harmlessly in the stick-jellies’ bodies while spear thrusts had to strike a vital spot to do any damage at all. Relying on first impressions in combat, Tellenberg realized, was as dangerous and foolish as doing so in science.
So preoccupied with the intense fighting were the combatants that they failed to notice the boatload of aliens that had by now halted in the middle of the river. Meanwhile more and more of the primitive shelters were going up in flames. On board the boat each of the scientists looked on in fascination, their recorders automatically preserving multiple accounts of the native confrontation. Except for an occasional whisper, no one on board said a word. Nor did they stop to wonder why they were whispering.
It looked bad for the defenders of the village. Then, just when it seemed as if one more push by the attackers would overrun the community completely, the defenders counterattacked. From the woods to the north, a small horde of fuzzies erupted to pounce on the attackers’ flank. Taken completely by surprise and believing themselves on the verge of total victory, the spikers and hardshells suddenly found themselves assailed on two fronts. While stones rained down on the attackers, the stick-jellies rallied to hold the ground in the middle of the village, using the surviving structures to split and isolate their attackers’ lines.
For the first time since they had come upon the battle, N’kosi raised his voice above a murmur. It prompted a collective clearing of throats from all on board. “Our first evidence that at least one of the species displaying sentience is capable of concocting advanced tactics.”
“I don’t know that I would call them advanced.” Valnadireb was recording with a handheld unit in addition to the automatic that was mounted atop the right side of his b-thorax. “Although hardly my specialty, it would seem an obvious maneuver.”
“To someone developed enough to understand the concept of maneuvering, yes.” Haviti was still sitting in the bow. Her legs hung over the side of the boat. Not one to tell others how to comport themselves out in the field, Tellenberg kept his thoughts to himself while hoping that nothing lurking in the water found those dangling offworld limbs worthy of a nibble.
“Tactics and maneuvers might have nothing to do with it,” she continued. “The newly arrived combatants might be allies arriving from another village off to the north, or members of a returning hunting party. Advanced strategy and subterfuge might not enter into the present circumstances.” She gestured with her own handheld. “What appears premeditated on the battlefield might be nothing more than fortuitous
coincidence.”
Valnadireb gestured understandingly. “There’s one way to find out. Talk to some of the natives and ask them.”
“In good time,” Haviti replied. “First we have to see who survives.”
The tide of battle had definitely turned in favor of the defenders. Assailed from two sides, whether by design or accident, the spikers and the hardshells fell back. Unfortunately for them, that meant retreating to the river. Regrouping, they made a stand there, bunching together and packing themselves tight so that their organic armor presented a solid wall to any attackers. Stones fell on them like hail.
Three times the defenders of the village rushed their tormentors. Each time the assault was repelled with loss of life on both sides. On the third occasion, so ferocious and forceful was the charge of the stick-jellies and fuzzies that some of the spikers and hardshells were pushed off the sandy shore and into the water. This produced two new and interesting facts about sentient native life-forms. Hardshells could float, if not exactly swim. Spikers could do neither.
No wonder they were defending themselves so vigorously, Tellenberg realized as he continued to observe the ongoing mêlée. Preliminary cursory observation revealed that a spiker sank faster than a thranx wearing a lead-lined backpack.
Just when it seemed as if the defense of the village was going to turn into a complete slaughter of its assailants, the defenders backed off. Their number had also been considerably reduced and they continued to suffer casualties. Both sides were exhausted; physically, in numbers, and resource-wise. With their original stockpiles of throwing stones depleted, fuzzies and spikers alike were reduced to scavenging suitable rocks from where they lay on the field of battle. Even the discordant sounds and weird alien cries of battle had given way to an excess of heavy breathing interspersed with only occasional outbursts of passion or defiance.
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