by Anthology
"Reason would say so, if what you say is true. But creatures may be intelligent and not reasonable. Our forefathers were presumably intelligent, yet they were certainly not reasonable. Was it reasonable to destroy almost all their tremendous civilization in atomic warfare over causes our historians can no longer accurately determine?" The Industrialist brooded over it. "From the dropping of the first atom bomb over those islands--I forget the ancient name--there was only one end in sight, and in plain sight. Yet events were allowed to proceed to that end."
He looked up, said briskly, "Well, where are we? I wonder if we are not on a fool's errand after all."
But the Astronomer was a little in advance and his voice came thickly. "No fool's errand, sir. Look there."
VI
Red and Slim had trailed their elders with the experience of youth, aided by the absorption and anxiety of their fathers. Their view of the final object of the search was somewhat obscured by the underbrush behind which they remained.
Red said, "Holy Smokes. Look at that. It's all shiny silver or something."
But it was Slim who was really excited. He caught at the other. "I know what this is. It's a space-ship. That must be why my father came here. He's one of the biggest astronomers in the world and your father would have to call him if a space-ship landed on his estate."
"What are you talking about? Dad didn't even know that thing was there. He only came here because I told him I heard the thunder from here. Besides, there isn't any such thing as a space-ship."
"Sure, there is. Look at it. See those round things. They are ports. And you can see the rocket tubes."
"How do you know so much?"
Slim was flushed. He said, "I read about them. My father has books about them. Old books. From Beforethewars."
"Huh. Now I know you're making it up. Books from Beforethewars!"
"My father has to have them. He teaches at the University. It's his job."
His voice had risen and Red had to pull at him. "You want them to hear us?" he whispered indignantly.
"Well, it is, too, a space-ship."
"Look here, Slim, you mean that's a ship from another world."
"It's got to be. Look at my father going round and round it. He wouldn't be so interested if it was anything else."
"Other worlds! Where are there other worlds?"
"Everywhere. How about the planets? They're worlds just like ours, some of them. And other stars probably have planets. There's probably zillions of planets."
Red felt outweighed and outnumbered. He muttered, "You're crazy!"
"All right, then. I'll show you."
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"Down there. I'm going to ask my father. I suppose you'll believe it if he tells you. I suppose you'll believe a Professor of Astronomy knows what--"
He had scrambled upright.
Red said, "Hey. You don't want them to see us. We're not supposed to be here. Do you want them to start asking questions and find out about our animals?"
"I don't care. You said I was crazy."
"Snitcher! You promised you wouldn't tell."
"I'm not going to tell. But if they find out themselves, it's your fault, for starting an argument and saying I was crazy."
"I take it back, then," grumbled Red.
"Well, all right. You better."
In a way, Slim was disappointed. He wanted to see the space-ship at closer quarters. Still, he could not break his vow of secrecy even in spirit without at least the excuse of personal insult.
Red said, "It's awfully small for a space-ship."
"Sure, because it's probably a scout-ship."
"I'll bet Dad couldn't even get into the old thing."
So much Slim realized to be true. It was a weak point in his argument and he made no answer. His interest was absorbed by the adults.
Red rose to his feet; an elaborate attitude of boredom all about him. "Well, I guess we better be going. There's business to do and I can't spend all day here looking at some old space-ship or whatever it is. We've got to take care of the animals if we're going to be circus-folks. That's the first rule with circus-folks. They've got to take care of the animals. And," he finished virtuously, "that's what I aim to do, anyway."
Slim said, "What for, Red? They've got plenty of meat. Let's watch."
"There's no fun in watching. Besides Dad and your father are going away and I guess it's about lunch time."
Red became argumentative. "Look, Slim, we can't start acting suspicious or they're going to start investigating. Holy Smokes, don't you ever read any detective stories? When you're trying to work a big deal without being caught, it's practically the main thing to keep on acting just like always. Then they don't suspect anything. That's the first law--"
"Oh, all right."
Slim rose resentfully. At the moment, the circus appeared to him a rather tawdry and shoddy substitute for the glories of astronomy, and he wondered how he had come to fall in with Red's silly scheme.
Down the slope they went, Slim, as usual, in the rear.
VII
The Industrialist said, "It's the workmanship that gets me. I never saw such construction."
"What good is it now?" said the Astronomer, bitterly. "There's nothing left. There'll be no second landing. This ship detected life on our planet through accident. Other exploring parties would come no closer than necessary to establish the fact that there were no super-dense worlds existing in our solar system."
"Well, there's no quarreling with a crash landing."
"The ship hardly seems damaged. If only some had survived, the ship might have been repaired."
"If they had survived, there would be no trade in any case. They're too different. Too disturbing. In any case--it's over."
They entered the house and the Industrialist greeted his wife calmly. "Lunch about ready, dear."
"I'm afraid not. You see--" She looked hesitantly at the Astronomer.
"Is anything wrong?" asked the Industrialist. "Why not tell me? I'm sure our guest won't mind a little family discussion."
"Pray don't pay any attention whatever to me," muttered the Astronomer. He moved miserably to the other end of the living room.
The woman said, in low, hurried tones, "Really, dear, cook's that upset. I've been soothing her for hours and honestly, I don't know why Red should have done it."
"Done what?" The Industrialist was more amused than otherwise. It had taken the united efforts of himself and his son months to argue his wife into using the name "Red" rather than the perfectly ridiculous (viewed youngster fashion) name which was his real one.
She said, "He's taken most of the chopped meat."
"He's eaten it?"
"Well, I hope not. It was raw."
"Then what would he want it for?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. I haven't seen him since breakfast. Meanwhile cook's just furious. She caught him vanishing out the kitchen door and there was the bowl of chopped meat just about empty and she was going to use it for lunch. Well, you know cook. She had to change the lunch menu and that means she won't be worth living with for a week. You'll just have to speak to Red, dear, and make him promise not to do things in the kitchen any more. And it wouldn't hurt to have him apologize to cook."
"Oh, come. She works for us. If we don't complain about a change in lunch menu, why should she?"
"Because she's the one who has double-work made for her, and she's talking about quitting. Good cooks aren't easy to get. Do you remember the one before her?"
It was a strong argument.
The Industrialist looked about vaguely. He said, "I suppose you're right. He isn't here, I suppose. When he comes in, I'll talk to him."
"You'd better start. Here he comes."
Red walked into the house and said cheerfully, "Time for lunch, I guess." He looked from one parent to the other in quick speculation at their fixed stares and said, "Got to clean up first, though," and made for the other door.
The Ind
ustrialist said, "One moment, son."
"Sir?"
"Where's your little friend?"
Red said, carelessly, "He's around somewhere. We were just sort of walking and I looked around and he wasn't there." This was perfectly true, and Red felt on safe ground. "I told him it was lunch time. I said, 'I suppose it's about lunch time.' I said, 'We got to be getting back to the house.' And he said, 'Yes.' And I just went on and then when I was about at the creek I looked around and--"
The Astronomer interrupted the voluble story, looking up from a magazine he had been sightlessly rummaging through. "I wouldn't worry about my youngster. He is quite self-reliant. Don't wait lunch for him."
"Lunch isn't ready in any case, Doctor." The Industrialist turned once more to his son. "And talking about that, son, the reason for it is that something happened to the ingredients. Do you have anything to say?"
"Sir?"
"I hate to feel that I have to explain myself more fully. Why did you take the chopped meat?"
"The chopped meat?"
"The chopped meat." He waited patiently.
Red said, "Well, I was sort of--"
"Hungry?" prompted his father. "For raw meat?"
"No, sir. I just sort of needed it."
"For what exactly?"
Red looked miserable and remained silent.
The Astronomer broke in again. "If you don't mind my putting in a few words--You'll remember that just after breakfast my son came in to ask what animals ate."
"Oh, you're right. How stupid of me to forget. Look here, Red, did you take it for an animal pet you've got?"
Red recovered indignant breath. He said, "You mean Slim came in here and said I had an animal? He came in here and said that? He said I had an animal?"
"No, he didn't. He simply asked what animals ate. That's all. Now if he promised he wouldn't tell on you, he didn't. It's your own foolishness in trying to take something without permission that gave you away. That happened to be stealing. Now have you an animal? I ask you a direct question."
"Yes, sir." It was a whisper so low as hardly to be heard.
"All right, you'll have to get rid of it. Do you understand?"
Red's mother intervened. "Do you mean to say you're keeping a meat-eating animal, Red? It might bite you and give you blood-poison."
"They're only small ones," quavered Red. "They hardly budge if you touch them."
"They? How many do you have?"
"Two."
"Where are they?"
The Industrialist touched her arm. "Don't chivvy the child any further," he said, in a low voice. "If he says he'll get rid of them, he will, and that's punishment enough."
He dismissed the matter from his mind.
VIII
Lunch was half over when Slim dashed into the dining room. For a moment, he stood abashed, and then he said in what was almost hysteria, "I've got to speak to Red. I've got to say something."
Red looked up in fright, but the Astronomer said, "I don't think, son, you're being very polite. You've kept lunch waiting."
"I'm sorry, Father."
"Oh, don't rate the lad," said the Industrialist's wife. "He can speak to Red if he wants to, and there was no damage done to the lunch."
"I've got to speak to Red alone," Slim insisted.
"Now that's enough," said the Astronomer with a kind of gentleness that was obviously manufactured for the benefit of strangers and which had beneath it an easily-recognized edge. "Take your seat."
Slim did so, but he ate only when someone looked directly upon him. Even then he was not very successful.
Red caught his eyes. He made soundless words, "Did the animals get loose?"
Slim shook his head slightly. He whispered, "No, it's--"
The Astronomer looked at him hard and Slim faltered to a stop.
With lunch over, Red slipped out of the room, with a microscopic motion at Slim to follow.
They walked in silence to the creek.
Then Red turned fiercely upon his companion. "Look here, what's the idea of telling my Dad we were feeding animals?"
Slim said, "I didn't. I asked what you feed animals. That's not the same as saying we were doing it. Besides, it's something else, Red."
But Red had not used up his grievances. "And where did you go anyway? I thought you were coming to the house. They acted like it was my fault you weren't there."
"But I'm trying to tell you about that, if you'd only shut up a second and let me talk. You don't give a fellow a chance."
"Well, go on and tell me if you've got so much to say."
"I'm trying to. I went back to the space-ship. The folks weren't there anymore and I wanted to see what it was like."
"It isn't a space-ship," said Red, sullenly. He had nothing to lose.
"It is, too. I looked inside. You could look through the ports and I looked inside and they were dead." He looked sick. "They were dead."
"Who were dead."
Slim screeched, "Animals! like our animals! Only they aren't animals. They're people-things from other planets."
For a moment Red might have been turned to stone. It didn't occur to him to disbelieve Slim at this point. Slim looked too genuinely the bearer of just such tidings. He said, finally, "Oh, my."
"Well, what are we going to do? Golly, will we get a whopping if they find out?" He was shivering.
"We better turn them loose," said Red.
"They'll tell on us."
"They can't talk our language. Not if they're from another planet."
"Yes, they can. Because I remember my father talking about some stuff like that to my mother when he didn't know I was in the room. He was talking about visitors who could talk with the mind. Telepathery or something. I thought he was making it up."
"Well, Holy Smokes. I mean--Holy Smokes." Red looked up. "I tell you. My Dad said to get rid of them. Let's sort of bury them somewhere or throw them in the creek."
"He told you to do that."
"He made me say I had animals and then he said, 'Get rid of them.' I got to do what he says. Holy Smokes, he's my Dad."
Some of the panic left Slim's heart. It was a thoroughly legalistic way out. "Well, let's do it right now, then, before they find out. Oh, golly, if they find out, will we be in trouble!"
They broke into a run toward the barn, unspeakable visions in their minds.
IX
It was different, looking at them as though they were "people." As animals, they had been interesting; as "people," horrible. Their eyes, which were neutral little objects before, now seemed to watch them with active malevolence.
"They're making noises," said Slim, in a whisper which was barely audible.
"I guess they're talking or something," said Red. Funny that those noises which they had heard before had not had significance earlier. He was making no move toward them. Neither was Slim.
The canvas was off but they were just watching. The ground meat, Slim noticed, hadn't been touched.
Slim said, "Aren't you going to do something?"
"Aren't you?"
"You found them."
"It's your turn, now."
"No, it isn't. You found them. It's your fault, the whole thing. I was watching."
"You joined in, Slim. You know you did."
"I don't care. You found them and that's what I'll say when they come here looking for us."
Red said, "All right for you." But the thought of the consequences inspired him anyway, and he reached for the cage door.
Slim said, "Wait!"
Red was glad to. He said, "Now what's biting you?"
"One of them's got something on him that looks like it might be iron or something."
"Where?"
"Right there. I saw it before but I thought it was just part of him. But if he's 'people,' maybe it's a disintegrator gun."
"What's that?"
"I read about it in the books from Beforethewars. Mostly people with space-ships have disintegrator guns. They point them
at you and you get disintegratored."
"They didn't point it at us till now," pointed out Red with his heart not quite in it.
"I don't care. I'm not hanging around here and getting disintegratored. I'm getting my father."
"Cowardy-cat. Yellow cowardy-cat."
"I don't care. You can call all the names you want, but if you bother them now you'll get disintegratored. You wait and see, and it'll be all your fault."
He made for the narrow spiral stairs that led to the main floor of the barn, stopped at its head, then backed away.
Red's mother was moving up, panting a little with the exertion and smiling a tight smile for the benefit of Slim in his capacity as guest.
"Red! You, Red! Are you up there? Now don't try to hide. I know this is where you're keeping them. Cook saw where you ran with the meat."
Red quavered, "Hello, ma!"
"Now show me those nasty animals? I'm going to see to it that you get rid of them right away."
It was over! And despite the imminent corporal punishment, Red felt something like a load fall from him. At least the decision was out of his hands.
"Right there, ma. I didn't do anything to them, ma. I didn't know. They just looked like little animals and I thought you'd let me keep them, ma. I wouldn't have taken the meat only they wouldn't eat grass or leaves and we couldn't find good nuts or berries and cook never lets me have anything or I would have asked her and I didn't know it was for lunch and--"
He was speaking on the sheer momentum of terror and did not realize that his mother did not hear him but, with eyes frozen and popping at the cage, was screaming in thin, piercing tones.
X
The Astronomer was saying, "A quiet burial is all we can do. There is no point in any publicity now," when they heard the screams.
She had not entirely recovered by the time she reached them, running and running. It was minutes before her husband could extract sense from her.
She was saying, finally, "I tell you they're in the barn. I don't know what they are. No, no--"
She barred the Industrialist's quick movement in that direction. She said, "Don't you go. Send one of the hands with a shotgun. I tell you I never saw anything like it. Little horrible beasts with--with--I can't describe it. To think that Red was touching them and trying to feed them. He was holding them, and feeding them meat."