The Tar-aiym Krang

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Our informant had lived in a small town near the planet’s equator. He had once been a ship’s engineer and had bought a small, obsolete lifeboat which he enjoyed tinkering with in his spare time. Again, it took a madman to suppose that that wreck could ever make it to the nearest moon. Before the enemy troops had reached his area he had managed to provision the tiny ship and perform a successful liftoff. Obviously the orbiting warships were no longer expecting a vessel from the planet’s surface. All spaceports had been destroyed, and all the commercial doublekay drive ships in, parking orbit had been vaporized while trying to escape or taken over by Pitarian prize crews. No one thought of an attempt to escape simply to space. The moons are uninhabitable and there are no other planets in the system capable of supporting human life. Or possibly they weren’t geared to the detection of a propulsive system as tiny and outmoded as his. Anyway, he made it safely through their outward-turned screens and into a closed orbit around the first moon. He never really expected to be picked up. All his addled mind could think of was getting away from the abomination below. It was pure chance that he was rescued.

  “That was the gist of his story. Among the nauseating details the probes pumped out of him was what the Pitar did with the bodies of all those missing women. That was so disgusting the authorities tried to keep it from the general public, but as usually happens in such cases, the word got out. The resultant uproar was violent and widespread. War was never even formally declared because most of the members of the Terran Congress held reserve commissions and rushed to get aboard their ships.

  “The gigantic armada that was assembled hurled itself into the Pitarian system. Much to everyone’s surprise, the Pitarians held their own from their planetary and satellite bases. In space their ships were no match for the human fleet, in addition to being heavily outnumbered, but the possibility of such an eventuality had been considered by the Pitarians and their scientists had put up an offensive-defensive network which the starship weaponry was unable to batter through. It settled down to a war of attrition which the Pitarians hoped to win by making it too expensive to bear. As a result they were effectively blockaded from the rest of the universe, or, as the more polite were wont to put it, were placed in a state of ‘enforced quarantine.’

  “It appeared as though the situation might stay that way indefinitely. That is, until the thranx stepped in. Like most of the rest of the intelligent races the thranx had heard the details of the Argus V massacre. Unlike most of them, however, they were determined to do something more effective than blockading. As far as the thranx were concerned the final straw was the use to which the Pitar had put human females. The female is considered even more an object of veneration and helplessness on thranx worlds than on the most gallant of humanoid ones. This is a legacy from their early ancestors, when there was one egg-laying queen to protect and nurture. When this hereditary attitude was translated into manners, it was one reason why Terran and other humanoid females who had had contact with the thranx were among the first vociferous boosters of the idea of amalgamation.

  “So the thranx added their fleets to the human. At first this had no effect other than to intensify an already near-perfect blockade. Then the human-thranx teams made their first big breakthroughs on the doublekay drive systems, the SCCAM weapons complex, and more. A device had finally been found which could successfully penetrate the Pitarian battle network. It was used. There was at this time some desire among humanx scientists to make an attempt to preserve at least a portion of Pitarian civilization intact, for study. They hoped to find an explanation for their extreme racial paranoia. Sentiment being what it was on the human planets, however, this proved impossible. There is also some reason to believe that the Pitarians themselves would not have permitted this. Their affliction was that strong. Anyway, they fought to the last city.

  “The three planets remain, blasted and empty. One human, two Pitarian. They are not often visited, except by the curious and the morbid.

  “The scientific teams that worked on the ruins of the Pitarian civilization came to the conclusion that the race was totally unable to accept or understand terms like mercy, compassion, openness, and equality, and similar abstract concepts. They believed themselves to be the only race worthy of existence in the universe. Once they had managed to steal all the knowledge they would stoop to borrow from the barbaric humans, they set out to destroy them. The other intelligent races of the galaxy would have been next on their program of extermination, including the thranx. Compared to them our erstwhile modern competitors, the AAnn, are positively pacific.

  “Fortunately, in most respects the Pitarians were nowhere near as sharp as the AAnn. Their weapons development far exceeded their racial maturity, and their conceit their cleverness. I’ve often wondered whether the Pitar-humanx war was a single boost to amalgamation or a multiple one. There was mutual hatred of the Pitarians, the gratitude mankind felt for the thranx aid, and the fear that somewhere out among the stars there might exist another bunch of psychopathic killers like the Pitar.”

  It was very quiet in the elegant room when Tse-Mallory had finished.

  “Well,” said Atha finally, breaking the thought-heavy silence, “it’s my turn up front. I’d better go and relieve Wolf.” She uncurled herself from the lounge and departed forward.

  “Ndiye, ndiye.” The merchant leaned over and leered at Sissiph. “Come, my pakadoge, little pussy. We are only halfway through that delightful book of yours, and I can’t wait to see how it turns out. Even if it is mostly pictures. You’ll excuse us, gentlesirs?”

  Giggling, the girl led him out of the salon.

  Tse-Mallory began setting up the levels for the personality-chess board, while Truzenzuzex began shuffling the cards and lining up the blue and red and black pieces.

  Flinx looked up at the sociologist. “Sir, you didn’t participate in the Pitar-humanx war, did you?”

  “Pure Flux, youth, no! I’ll admit to being aged, and rarely even to old, but archaic—never! I did have a grandfather who participated, though. As I suppose all of our ancestors of that time did, one way or another. Didn’t yours?”

  Flinx rose and idly brushed off his pants. The fur from the carpet had a tendency to cling. “Excuse me, please, sirs. I recall that I haven’t fed Pip his evening meal, and I wouldn’t want him to get irritated and start nibbling on my arm.”

  He turned and headed for the passageway. Tse-Mallory looked after him curiously, then shrugged and turned back to the game. It was his move.

  Chapter Ten

  Thus far there had been no trouble. The first sign of it came three ship-days later.

  Malaika was in Control, checking out coordinates with Wolf. In his cabin Truzenzuzex was rigid in a meditation trance. He utilized that technique whenever he wished to consider a problem involving extreme concentration. And sometimes just to relax. In that state he required less body energy. In the salon, Tse-Mallory was trying to explain the workings of a semantic puzzle to Flinx. Atha was nearby, attempting somewhat boredly to beat herself at the ancient and timeworn game of Mono-Poly. She moved the obscure little idols and symbols in ways that Flinx had always found dully repetitive. Everything continued normally until Sissiph, bored and ejected from Control by the busy Malaika, stomped crankily into the room, a trail of translucent pseudolace flowing behind her.

  “This is a dull place! Dull, dull, dull! Like—like living in a coffin!” She fumed quietly for a few minutes. As no one deigned to notice her, she moved to a more central location. “What a collection! Two pilots, two braincases, and a kid with a poisonous worm for a pet!”

  Pip’s head lifted abruptly and the minidrag made an unfriendly motion in the girl’s direction. Flinx stroked the back of its head until it had relaxed sufficiently for some of the tightness to leave the long muscles. His own response was mild as he considered the self-uncertainty/anger/confusion in the girl’s mind.

  “It is a reptile, and bears no relation to. . . .”

  “Rept
ile! Worm! What difference does it make?” She pouted. “And Maxy won’t even let me watch while he plays with all those darling coordinates and standards and things! He says I ‘distract’ him.’ Can you imagine? Distract him?”

  “I can’t imagine why it should either, my dear,” murmured Atha without looking up from her game.

  Ordinarily Sissiph probably wouldn’t have made anything of it. Back in Drallar she’d had more than ample opportunity to inure herself to Atha’s sarcasm. But the combination of the long flight and her frustrations of the moment combined to make her turn. Her voice was tight.

  “Is that supposed to be some kind of crack?”

  Still Atha did not look up from her game. No doubt she expected Sissiph to brush off the remark as she usually did and go flouncing from the room in a dignified huff. She returned with a slang phrase.

  “’Tis truth, forsooth.”

  “And your mouth,” rejoined Sissiph, parodying the words terribly, “is a bit too ‘looth’!” She gave the game table a quick shove with a knee. Being portable and not bolted to the fabric of the ship, it toppled easily. Small metal objects and plastic cards sailed in all directions.

  Atha closed her eyes tightly, not moving, and then slowly opened them again. She turned easily to stare at the Lynx, her eyes even with the other girl’s knees.

  “I think, honey, that if we’re going to pursue this conversation, we’d do it better on a more equal level.”

  Her forearm shot out and caught the surprised Sissiph behind the knees. She let out a startled squeak and sat down hard.

  From there on, their bodies seemed to merge so closely that Flinx was hard put to tell them apart. Their thoughts were indecipherable. Scientific combat went out the port, so to speak. Tse-Mallory left his puzzle and made a laudable, if foolhardy, attempt to stop it. All he received for his efforts was a long scratch on one cheek. At that moment Malaika, summoned hastily by Flinx with a gentle probe, appeared in the fore doorway. He took in the whole scene at a half-glance.

  “What in the name of the obscenity seven hells is going on here?”

  Even his familiar bellow had no effect on the two combatants, who were by now too deeply engrossed in their work to notice mere mortal entreaties. The merchant moved forward and made an attempt to separate the two. Several, in fact. It was like dipping one’s hands into a whirlwind. Frustrated, he backed off.

  The longer one lived in the lower levels of Drallar, the greater one’s acquired knowledge of elementary human psychology. Flinx said loudly but evenly, putting as much disgust into his voice as he could muster, “My, if you two only knew how funny you look!” He also risked a brief mental projection of the two combatants, suitably embellished.

  There was immediate peace in the room. The cloud of hair, teeth, nails, and shredded clothing ground to an abrupt halt, resolving itself into two distinct bodies. Both stared blankly at Flinx, then uncertainly at each other.

  “Thanks, kijana. I’d thought you might help out here and there, but apparently there’s no end to your talents.” Malaika reached down end grasped each girl by the remaining material at the scruff of her neck, lifting them much as one would a pair of obstinate kittens. The two glared silently at one another and seemed more than willing to start in all over again. Perceiving this, he shook them so hard that their teeth rattled and their slippers fell off.

  “We’re on a billion-credit hunt in rarely spaced territory after something which any other company in the galaxy would gladly slit my throat for an inkling of, and you two mwanamkewivu, cretins, idiots, can’t live in peace for a month!” He shook them again, although not as furiously. Neither of them looked in the mood for fighting now. “If this happens again, and I’ll warn you only once, I will cheerfully chuck the both of you, biting and scratching if that’s the way you want it, out the nearest airlock! Is that understood?”

  The two women stared silently at the floor.

  “Au ndiyo au la! Tell me now!” The voice reverberated around the salon.

  Finally Sissiph murmured, almost inaudibly, “Yes, Maxy.” He turned to glare murderously at Atha.

  “Yes, sir,” she said meekly.

  Malaika would have continued, but Wolf chose that moment to peer into the room.

  “Captain, I think you’d better come take a look at this. There is an object or objects on the screens which I would say is a ship, or ships. I’d like your opinion.”

  “Nini?” Malaika roared, whirling. “What!” He let go of the two women. Both stood quietly, trying to create order out of the chaos of their clothing. Occasionally one would glance up at the other, but for now, at least, both were thoroughly abashed.

  “It appears to be closing on us, sir. I do wish you’d come take a look . . . now.”

  Malaika turned to face the erstwhile fighters. “Atha, you get fixed up and up front . . . upesi! Sissiph, you go back to our cabin and stay there.” Both nodded soberly and departed in different directions.

  “Sociologist, you go and get your friend out of that semi-sleep, or whatever he calls it. I want you at full consciousness in case anything untoward happens. I have a hunch both of you have had at least a modicum of experience with deep-space ship maneuvers?”

  Tse-Mallory had started off toward Truzenzuzex’s cabin. Now he paused to smile back at the big trader. “Something of the sort,” he said quietly.

  “Fine. Oh, kijana?” Flinx looked up. “You keep a close eye on that pet of yours. Things might get a little bouncy around here. I don’t know how excitable that little devil is, but I wouldn’t want him underfoot and nervous around busy people.”

  “Yes sir. Have you any idea what it is?”

  “Yes and no. And I’m afraid it’s liable to be the former. And that’s bad.” He paused, thoughtful. “You can come up front, if you like, so long as you watch that snake. Tell our learned passengers they can too, if they so desire. There’s enough room. I just don’t want Sissiph around. The darling pakadogo has a tendency to get hysterical when things aren’t where she can put a finger . . . and other delightful things . . . on them. But I think perhaps the others would like to be around when we find out what is what. And they might have hunches to contribute. I value hunches highly. By the way, I don’t suppose you can answer that question for me?”

  Flinx concentrated, hard. It was a long way off, but there was nothing else around for light-years, so it came in strong, strong. “It” was malignant/strange/ picture of dry air, sun, blood/taste of salt/relief/ all wrapped in cold, clear thoughts like snow-melt fitted in only one type. . . .

  He looked up, blinked. The merchant was watching him intently, with not a little hint of concern. He became aware then of the beads of sweat on his brow. He said one word, because it was sufficient.

  “AAnn.”

  The merchant nodded thoughfully and turned for the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  The dot that indicated the presence of an operating posigravity drive field was clear now and far off to their “right”—about ninety degrees or so to the present x-plane. It was moving on a definite convergence course. They still could not be sure what it was, other than that at least one mind occupied a similar area of space.

  An ancient aphorism someone had once recited to Flinx came back to him. As he recalled it, there had been two men involved, one old and one young. The younger had said, “No news is good news,” and the other, a Terran holy man, had wisely replied, “That’s not necessarily true, my young friend. A fisherman doesn’t think he’s lucky if he doesn’t get a bite.” He wasn’t positive that the story was an appropriate analogy for the moment, because he found himself disagreeing with the holy man.

  “Two of them, Captain,” said Wolf. “See. . . .”

  It was true. Even Flinx could see that as the large dot came closer it was separating into two distinct points. At the same time he sensed a multiplicity of similar minds to the one he’d first noticed although much weaker.

  “Two ships,” said Malaika. “Then my o
ne guess is in error after all. Before shadows. Now, everything in the dark. Usiku. Still, it might be. . . .”

  “What was your guess, Maxim?” asked Truzenzuzex.

  “I thought perhaps a competitor of mine—a certain competitor—had gotten drift of your discovery to a greater extent than I originally thought. Or that certain information had leaked. If the latter case, then I should suspect that someone on this ship is a spy.” There were some fast, uneasy glances around the cabin. “That is still a possibility, but I am now less inclined to suspect it. I don’t know of any combine in the Arm, neither the one I had in mind nor even General Industries, that could afford or would be inclined to put out two ships on what has a very good chance of being a profitless venture on merely spurious, secondhand information. Not even an AAnn Nest-Corporation.”

  “In which case,” said Tse-Mallory, “who are our two visitors?”

  “I don’t know, sociologist, hata kidogo. Not at all. But we will no doubt find out shortly. They should be in reception distance momentarily, if they aren’t already. If there were a relay station in this area we might have found out sooner . . . assuming of course that they wished us to know of their presence, and knew closely enough where we were. I think that I doubt that . . . .”

  Atha was efficiently manipulating dials and switches. “I’ve got everything wide open, sir, and if they’re beaming us, we’ll pick it up, all right!”

  They did.

  The face that appeared on the screen was not shocking, thanks to Flinx’s advance warning, but the garb it wore was because it was so totally unexpected.

  “Good-morning to you, Gloryhole,” said the sallow-faced AAnn officer-noble who looked out at them. “Or whatever day-period you are experiencing at the moment. The illustrious and renowned Maxim Malaika captaining, I assume?”

  “The puzzled and curious Maxim Malaika is here, if that’s what you mean.” He moved into the center of the transceiver’s pickup. “You’re one up on me.”