by James White
"Our primary interest is in areas where there is little or no weapons technology," Prilicla continued, "and subsistence-level conditions with, if possible, a higher than average infant population. We are assuming that Wem parents resemble other civilized beings in that they would be willing to subordinate their racial pride and anger at outside interference if by so doing they could alleviate the hunger of their children. And if the proper approach can be made and the parents can be influenced into accepting our help, it would be advisable to minimize their embarrassment by not being too obvious regarding the food supply operation."
For a moment Williamson turned its head to give a quiet instruction to someone off-screen, then it returned its attention to Prilicla and said, "We both know that once you land in the disaster area, and in this case that means anywhere on this whole damn planet, you have the rank. Very well, your immediate requirement is for continuous intelligence updating, protective surveillance from orbit, and covert supply drops at night if or when necessary. You've got it. Anything else?"
"Thank you no, friend Williamson," said Prilicla.
The other began shaking its head slowly from side to side, then it said, "I was told that trying to make you change your mind would be like fighting cobwebs—a maximum expenditure of energy with minimum results. I have said all that I can to dissuade you. It was good advice, Senior Physician, even though I cannot force you to take it, but...be very careful down there, friend."
Before Prilicla could reply, Williamson's face disappeared to be replaced by that of Captain Fletcher, who said briskly, "Tremaar is already sending the update you requested. Their communications officer tells me that it includes some nice close-ups of adult and young Wem, the disposition of their defenses and some ideas about their social structure and behavior, which are mostly guesswork, but that last bit is unofficial. I'll run the new material on your repeater screen as soon as we have it all. Meanwhile, Rhabwar is closing Wemar under cruising thrust and we are estimating low-orbit insertion in thirty-two hours and two minutes."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," the empath replied. "That will give us plenty of time to review the new information before landing."
"Or time to change our minds about landing," said Naydrad.
Murchison laughed quietly and said, "I don't think so, that would be too sensible."
A few minutes later the main screen began displaying the new material and, during the discussion that followed, Gurronsevas quickly discovered what it was like to be an unseen observer.
Surprisingly it was the non-medic Fletcher who began by saying that, with all due respect, his opposite number on Tremaar had been deliberately exaggerating the threat posed by the Wem heavy weaponry which, they had seen for themselves, was very old, badly corroded, and showed no signs of recent use, while the emplacements and connecting system of defensive pits were overgrown or reduced by natural erosion. The long-range weapons were of the chemically-powered type firing solid or exploding projectiles, but in Fletcher's opinion they would be a greater danger to the users than their targets. Because the vision pickups sent down could not be directed inside a Wem dwelling or sub-surface arsenal without them being immediately seen and destroyed, it was possible that the Wem had concealed stocks of portable weapons but this, too, was unlikely.
"My reason for believing this," Fletcher went on, "is based on our covert observations of the young Wem. Like most youngsters, they play at being hunters or warriors, using the toy spears or bows and arrows that are the harmless, scaled-down weapons of the adults. But not one of them has been seen pointing a pretend weapon and shouting 'Bang!' which, incidentally, seems to be the same word-sound in every species' language, so it is unlikely that chemically powered weapons are used widely by their parents. As well, the population of the Wem fortified villages we've seen have shrunk so much that their defenses can no longer be fully manned. My feeling is that the early fortifications were built to repel raiders in search of meat. But now the surviving Wem are so widely scattered, and their numbers and those of their food animals so reduced, they are no longer capable of mounting a long-range raid because they would probably starve before reaching the target village.
"I think Captain Williamson was trying to scare us off before we could take a close look at the situation," Fletcher ended. "It is my feeling that the Wem do not pose a physical threat. What I don't understand is why, even though these people are facing imminent starvation, they are so choosy about their food."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Your words leave us feeling greatly reassured. And we are asking ourselves the same question. Friend Danalta, I feel you wanting to speak."
The green, organic mound that was currently the shape-changer quivered, added a loose, shapeless mouth to its single eye and ear, and said, "I have observed that hunger can make a civilized people behave in a most uncivilized fashion, especially when their dietary spectrum is limited. Fortunately, my own species was able to survive and evolve intelligence by eating anything and everything that wasn't trying to eat us. But can we decide whether this is a matter of tradition, some form of early religious conditioning? Or is it due to a basic physiological need?"
"No Wem burial places have been discovered," said Fletcher. "The outward sign of remembering or honoring the dead can indicate a belief in the afterlife. We can't be certain, naturally, but our present information suggests that the Wem are not religious."
"Thank you, Doctor," said Murchison. It moved to the console, tapped for rECALL and hOLD when the screen displayed the first of many close-up pictures of the natives, and went on, "The Wem life-form belongs to physiological classification DHCG. For the non-medics among us, that is a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species with an adult body mass just under three times that of an Earth-human and, since Wemar's surface gravity is one point three eight standard Gs, a healthy specimen is proportionately well-muscled..."
If anything, Gurronsevas thought as the succession of still and moving images continued, it resembled a picture he had once seen of a rare Earth beast called a kangaroo. The differences were that the head was larger and fitted with a really ferocious set of teeth; each of the two short forelimbs terminated in six-fingered hands possessing two opposable thumbs, and the tail was more massive and tapered to a wide, flat, triangular tip which was composed of immobile osseous material enclosed by a thick, muscular sheath. The flattening at the end of the tail, Murchison explained, served a threefold purpose: as its principal natural weapon, as an emergency method of fast locomotion while hunting or being hunted, and as a means of transporting infant Wem who were too small to walk.
There was one charming picture of a pair of adults—Gurronsevas was still not sure which sex was which—dragging their tails and two of their happily squeaking offspring behind them, and a less charming sequence of them hunting. For this they began by adopting an awkward, almost ridiculous stance with their forelimbs tightly folded, their chins touching the ground, and their long legs spread so as to allow the tail to curve sharply downward and forward between the limbs so that the flat tip was at their center of balance. When the tail was straightened suddenly to full extension, it acted as a powerful third leg capable of hurling the Wem forward for a distance of five or six body lengths.
If the hunter did not land on top of its prey, kicking the creature senseless with the feet before disabling it with a deep bite through the cervical vertebrae and underlying nerve trunks, it pivoted rapidly on one leg so that the flattened edge of the tail struck its victim like a blunt, organic axe.
"...While the tail is highly flexible where downward and forward movement is concerned," Murchison said, "it cannot be elevated above the horizontal line of the spinal column. The fine details will have to wait until we are able to make an internal scan, but you can see from the visible external structure of the dorsal and tail vertebrae and associated musculature that it's impossible for the tail to be brought close to the back without major spinal di
slocation. The back and upper flanks are, therefore, the Wem's only body areas that are vulnerable to attack by natural enemies, who must also possess the element of surprise if they are not to become the victim."
There was a brief sequence showing a quadruped, with fur so black that few physical details could be seen other than its long, sharp teeth and even longer claws, leaping onto the Wem from an overhanging branch. It dug its claws deeply into the victim's cloaked back and tore at the side of its neck while the Wem used its tail to jump frantically about in an attempt to dislodge the creature so that its spear could be brought to bear. Either by accident or design, one of its near vertical jumps sent it crashing against the underside of another overhanging branch, crushing the predator's body and causing a large quantity of its own blood and internal organs to be expelled through its mouth. Both bodies dropped to the ground where, Murchison said, they terminated a few minutes later.
Gurronsevas turned his eyes towards the direct vision port before the sight made him nauseated.
Murchison went on, "The black furry creature is one of, and probably the most dangerous of, the animals hunted for food, and plainly there is room for argument regarding who are the eaters and who the eaten. But enough of the bloody melodrama. It is shown to make us more aware and cautious of the creatures, both intelligent and non-intelligent, we will be meeting down there, and to make an important anatomical point. Confirmation will have to wait on an internal scan of the Wem stomach and digestive system but, based on our external visuals we can say..."
For a few minutes the pathologist's language became so densely specialized that Gurronsevas could understand only the odd word. But its concluding summation, perhaps for his benefit, was clear and unambiguous.
"...So there can be no doubt that the Wem life-form evolved as, and still remains, an omnivore," Murchison said. "There is no external evidence of it ever possessing the multiple stomach system characteristic of a ruminant herbivore, and I would say that its digestive system is unspecialized and not unlike our own. With the exception of Danalta's, that is. Add the fact that the very young Wem have been seen to eat a combination of animal and vegetable matter, the proportion of animal tissue increasing with the approach of puberty. In a sapient species this means that the carnivorous eating habit is a matter of choice rather than physiological necessity. In their past there may have been environmental or sociological factors influencing them to make this choice but, whatever the reason, in the present situation it is the wrong one. Unless the Wem can be made to change their present eating habits, their food animals will be hunted to extinction while they themselves die of starvation because they insist on being hunters. As farmers they just might survive."
Murchison paused, its features still and serious as it looked around at all of them, then it said grimly, "Somehow we must convince a planet full of meat-eaters to become vegetarians."
A long silence followed its words. The pathologist did not move and neither did Danalta, but Prilicla was being shaken by the intensity of the others' emotional radiation, and Naydrad's silvery, expressive pelt was being stirred by sudden waves and eddies as if it, too, were being blown by an unfelt wind.
Loudly, it said, "Is that why Gurronsevas is here?"
Chapter 19
Rhabwar went sub-orbital and subsonic on its approach to the north temperate zone site where, according to Williamson, there was a Wem settlement that might not be as proud and hostile as the others. Gurronsevas was being given the opportunity to view directly a large tract of Wem landscape, not because Captain Fletcher thought that they would enjoy a slow, low-level pass over a planetary surface that was new to them, but because it was considered bad practice to drag a sonic shockwave over an area where one hoped to make a good impression on the natives.
The minor scars and blemishes concealed by orbital distance and overlying clouds, showed as major lesions at Rhabwar's present altitude of five thousand feet. A procession of low, wooded mountains unrolled below them, their slopes and peaks softened by greenery streaked with yellow and brown, and great, flat tracts of mottled green and brown grasslands. On another world the color variation might have been due to seasonal changes, Gurronsevas thought, but Wemar had no axial tilt.
Once they overflew a long, narrow, blackened area that paralelled the line of the prevailing winds, where a lightning strike or a careless native had started a fire that had quickly become uncontrollable in the near-desiccated vegetation. Often they passed close to the ruins of Wem cities that rose into the sky like great, grey, dried-up sores. Their streets and buildings were overgrown by sickly yellow weeds, untended, undamaged, and populated only by ghosts. He was glad when the Captain's voice interrupted his morbid imaginings.
"Control. We are estimating the Wem settlement in fifteen minutes, Doctor."
"Thank you, friend Fletcher," said Prilicla. "Please maintain the present altitude and circle the site so as to accustom them to the sight of the ship. While you are doing that, drop a two-way communicator and translator unit beside the one they destroyed. Hopefully they will consider us forgiving and persistent rather than stupid and wasteful. Land while we still have full daylight, as close as you can without inconveniencing them."
"Security, Doctor?"
"Deploy the meteorite shield to minimum distance," Prilicla replied. "Set for repulsion only—no shocks—with a visible perimeter so that they won't collide with it by accident. We will discuss individual security requirements before leaving the ship."
The Wem settlement comprised a few wooden outbuildings and a cliff-face mine of unknown depth above the floor of a deep valley that ran north to south. So steep were the valley sides that the sun shone into it for only a few hours every day, but the vegetation growing on the lower slopes and bottomland looked as healthy as any they had seen at the equator. Several small areas, which looked like gardens rather than fields, were under cultivation. There was one large ground-level entrance to the mine and three smaller openings on the cliff face, but without information on the extent of the hidden tunnel network and chambers it was impossible to estimate the number of inhabitants.
Rhabwar was incapable of making a quiet approach and, even though the upper slopes of the valley were still in sunlight, it further advertised its presence by switching on all of its external lighting so that the entire hull and wide, delta wings illuminated the mine entrance like a dazzling white triangular sun. As yet the line of emblems decorating its wings—the Red Cross of Earth, Illensa's occluded sun, the yellow leaf of Traltha, and the many other symbols representing the concept of assistance freely given throughout the Federation—meant nothing to the Wem; but hopefully that situation would soon change.
The flood of highly-amplified reassuring words pouring from the two-way communicators soft-landed before Rhabwar's arrival, Gurronsevas thought, were not having any immediate effect.
"Do not feel disappointed, friend Gurronsevas," said Prilicla. "I sense feelings of curiosity from many beings, and of caution from a few, but their emotional radiation is tenuous and close to the limits of my—"
"Control," said Captain Fletcher, breaking in. "You are right, Doctor. Our sensors show a large number of Wem pushing into the mouth of the entrance tunnel. They are crowded together too tightly for an accurate estimate of sizes or numbers but we think there are at least one hundred of them. There are no indications of metal, so none of them are carrying tools, implements or weapons. Three of them, who must be the cautious ones you mentioned, are positioned just inside the tunnel mouth and appear to be restraining the others. Orders?"
"None, friend Fletcher," said the empath. "For the present you may join us in waiting and listening."
They stood or sat or in one case hovered around the direct-vision panel facing the mine entrance, which to their unaided eyes looked empty, and listened to the prerecorded message that was going out to the Wem. The words were simple, spoken slowly and clearly so that the echoes bouncing back from t
he cliff-face did not distort their meaning. They were also, Gurronsevas thought after the first interminable half-hour of listening to them, unutterably boring.
"...We are friends and will not harm you," the communicator-translator was blaring. "Our vessel may seem strange and perhaps frightening to you, but our intentions are peaceful. We are here to help you, and especially to help your children, if we are able and if you allow it. We are not like the others who spoke to you. Ours is a small vessel which contains only enough food for its crew with a small reserve, so we will not risk offending you by offering food unless it is with your permission. We do not know if we can help you. But we would like to speak with you, and learn from you, so that we will know whether or not we can help.
"We are friends and will not harm you..."
"Senior Physician, while we are waiting I have a question," said Gurronsevas suddenly, in an attempt to relieve both his boredom and his intense curiosity since the original remark had been made. "Earlier it was suggested that I had been appointed to the medical team as a nutritional advisor of some kind. If so, it was without my knowledge or consent. But if I am not a mere stowaway, hiding from the hospital authorities, and your earlier words to the Captain a lie aimed at concealing that fact, can you please tell me why O'Mara sent me here?"
Prilicla did not speak for a moment. Its fragile limbs and body were trembling, but Gurronsevas did not think that his own feelings of curiosity and irritation were strong or unpleasant enough to cause it. Perhaps the emotional radiation was coming from someone else or, as sometimes happened when the empath wished to avoid an emotional unpleasantness, it was preparing to tell a lie.