The Test Colony

by Winston K. Marks

aren't armed. The men can stand them off."

  "Then what are you worrying about?" I demanded. "Relax for a minute andsee what happens."

  Benson simmered and reluctantly accepted my logic. Meanwhile, the lineof natives became mobile again. They closed in at a casual saunter,rolling off the balls of their long feet with a peculiar, slow, bouncingmotion.

  A ripple of subdued exclamations ran through our people, and in turn thelittle natives moved their lips, turned their heads to one another andseemed to be commenting among themselves.

  Benson began hissing futile commands for the women to start boarding theship. No one paid any attention. I could sense no great danger in thesituation. In fact I felt more attracted than repelled by the littlegolden-haired creatures.

  Bailey, who was still on the ramp, took a different view. He called out,"They don't look dangerous, but keep away from them. Lord knows whatkind of bugs they may have in them."

  It was a sobering thought. Their most insignificant disease germ mighteasily wipe out our colony if it proved contagious.

  Yet, how could we stop these natives without inflicting bloodshed? Onthey came in their shambling, loose-gaited walk. Benson was unsnappinghis holster flap, and even the highly curious women were beginning toshrink back toward the gangplank, when a light breeze swept through usfrom behind. It rustled the grass softly and moved into the natives,only 20 yards away.

  The wavering line stopped again. Segments began to retreat, firstsingly, then in pairs and groups. All but a handful of the most curioussuddenly bounded for the forest and disappeared.

  The others came forward again, but with increasing bewilderment.Repeatedly, they raised their noses and sniffed the air.

  Bailey said from behind us, "They catch our scent and don't know what tomake of it. Thank heavens most of them took off. We can handle a dozenof them easily enough."

  Our people opened ranks and let the little creatures infiltrate. Suesqueezed my arm. "Why, they're beautiful little things! They make mefeel self-conscious with my bleached-out skin. They certainly lookintelligent, those eyes--no fear in them at all--look, they're evensmiling!"

  Indeed, several of the creatures were grinning broadly at the malemembers of our party. They found our clothing amusing.

  Now we could hear their soft voices conversing in a language that wasliquid with a great many compound vowel sounds, not unlike Earth'sFinnish tongue. Their quick, dark eyes seemed to take in everything.They seemed torn between a consuming curiosity and a strong aversion toour scent. One by one they satisfied the former and yielded to thelatter, dropping back and racing for the forest in great, joyous boundspunctuated with happy little whoops of undefinable emotion.

  At last only one, chesty little male was left. Benson exhaled heavilybeside me. "It's the little fellow we saw on the beach, Sam. Look, he'scoming through."

  A tawny stripe of brown, furry hair ran from his high forehead, over thecrown of his proud skull and down his neck to fade into the typical,deep, golden fuzz of his body. As he approached the ramp I saw that hisface was smooth, entirely free of hair as though clean-shaven.

  By now Benson was as fascinated as the rest of us. I stepped down infront of him to confront our visitor. I placed a hand on my chest andsaid, "Sam Rogers!"

  The dark eyes swept from my feet to my head and fastened upon my face.He pointed four long fingers at me and repeated distinctly, "Samrogers."

  My name is easy to pronounce, but it was a shock to hear it from thelips of an extra-terrestrial being.

  Then he placed the same hand on his own chest and said, "Joe!" Actually,it came out with a rapid widening and narrowing of his lips that soundedlike a quick version of, "Jo-ah-o-ah-oh," but the vowel echoes were sorapid that for practical purposes it read, "Joe," to me.

  I pointed my hand at him and repeated, "Joe!" He looked vaguelydisappointed at my crude aspiratory control, but then a bright smilecreased his cocky little face. His hand flicked out and back.

  "Samrogers--Joe."

  Involuntarily I nodded my head. He nodded back and smiled again. BeforeI could think of what comes after, "Dr. Livingstone, I presume," hewrinkled his nose, squinted his eyes, whirled and darted off for thetimber.

  We stood rooted for a minute, then Bailey said, "We must really stink.Plucky little fellow took it as long as he could."

  Benson looked back at Bailey and me. "Well, what do you think?"

  I looked at Bailey, and he looked at Dr. Sorenson. "Lord, I don't know.Except for the possibility of microbe infection, they appear perfectlyharmless to me," Sorenson said.

  I said, "Since they don't like our scent there doesn't seem to be muchdanger of contact. Phil, why don't we call off the yellow alert with theexception of a rule or two about fraternization in closed spaces?"

  Benson looked over his people. All were paired off now, husband withwife. And to a man their arms were wrapped protectively around theirrespective spouses, watching for the decision. Their faces read, "Isthis innocuous little race of people the cause of all the trouble?"

  Benson rubbed the gray of his temple with a knuckle. He mounted the rampand announced, "The emergency is reduced to a blue alert. Women willhave the freedom of the clearing and the visible beach, but onlyauthorized working parties will enter the forest. Men will continue towear sidearms. When outside shelters are complete we will sleep in them,but until then, or until we are better informed about the natives, weshall continue sleeping in the ship."

  * * * * *

  The new order of the day did nothing to mitigate the resentment andtension, but it did accelerate assembly of the lumber mill and houseconstruction. The little Sirians seemed to have satisfied theircuriosity, for they left us to our labors for a whole week.

  The first building of our projected village was completed on the seventhday. It was little more than a two-room shanty, but it represented themost sought after prize of the moment, _privacy_!

  We drew lots for it, and, with the uncommon justice, one of the hardestworking amateur carpenters won. The women brought in armloads of grassfor a couch and decorated it with wild-flowers. When evening fell itseemed like an occasion for a celebration, and Benson relented on theevening curfew.

  We gathered scraps from the lumber mill, carefully cleared a sandy stripon the beach of all inflammable matter and built a huge bonfire. In therich atmosphere even the green wood burned merrily, spitting green sapand sending up clouds of pungent, aromatic smoke.

  Sue had just curled up in the crook of my arm, and we were working on acase of Earth-nostalgia, when we noticed our visitors again. They camebounding, up to the wide rim of the firelight. They jabbered in excited,ecstatic voices but stopped short of our human assembly. Only one, Irecognized him as Joe, picked his way through us and came close toinspect the crackling blaze.

  Fascinated, Sue and I watched his profile contort with an expression ofimmense admiration. It was not the awe of a savage, but the heartfeltappreciation of a human for a rare and beautiful spectacle.

  "Fire must be unknown to them," Sue whispered.

  "At least mighty rare," I said. "The handbook says no volcanoes and nothunderstorms."

  Joe turned at the sound of our low voices. With eyes half-blinded by theglare he searched for me. "Samrogers!" he called clearly. "Samrogers!"

  I rose to my feet and answered, "Joe! Right here, Joe."

  He picked his way over to me, smiling broadly and glancing back at thefire every step or two. A pace away he stopped, pointed at me, said,"Samrogers," pointed at himself, said, "Joe!" _then pointed at the fireand waited_.

  It was a clearly indicated question. I answered it respectfully, "Fire!"

  He repeated, "Fire," and his eyes glowed like sparks. Then he madegestures of picking up some of the fire and taking it away, turning tome to pose the question.

  Sorenson, propped up on an elbow, said, "I'll be damned. He's asking youto give him some of the fire."

  "No," Benson said. "He knows fire, knows you can't
take the flames. He'sasking for _the means to build a fire_."

  I faced Joe, shook my head solemnly and said, "No!" To give meaning tothe word I sat down and turned my head away for a moment. When I lookedback Joe was looking very disappointed. It made Sue so sad that she heldout a wedge of sweet melon to him. Joe accepted the gift easily,gracefully and with a small smile of "thank you". He turned back,squatted as near the blaze as comfort would permit and chewed absentlyat the melon.

  Thereafter he ignored the animated conversation that sprang up among us.Jane wanted to know why we didn't give him one of our lighters. "He'sjust as intelligent as we are," she insisted. She got no argument onthat score, but her husband pointed out that the golden people wereunaccustomed to