Classic Fiction

by Hal Clement

  Radiation exerts pressure; at the temperature found in the cores of stars, that pressure must be measured in thousands of tons per square inch. It was this thrust, rather than the by no means negligible gas pressure of the boiling lava, which wrought most of the destruction.

  Aller saw little of what occurred. When the lava was hurled upward, he had flung an arm across his face to protect his eyes from the glare. That act unquestionably saved his eyesight, as the real flash followed; as it was, his body was seared and blistered through his clothing. The second, heavier shock knocked his feet from under him, and he half crawled, half rolled down to the comparative shelter of the little hill. Even here, gusts of hot air almost cooked him; only the speed with which the phenomenon ended saved his life.

  Within minutes, both the temblors and the hot winds had ceased; and he crawled painfully to the hilltop again to gaze wonderingly at the five-mile-wide crater, ringed by a pile of tumbled, still-glowing rock fragments.

  Far beneath that pit, shards of neutronium, no more able to remain near the surface than the steel pieces of a wrecked ocean vessel can float on water, were sinking through rock and metal to a final resting place at Earth’s heart.

  “The glow spread as we watched, still giving no clue to the nature of the substance radiating it,” continued Kron. “Most of it seemed to originate between us and Akro’s ship; Akro himself said that but little energy was being lost on the far side. His messages, during that last brief period as we swept by our point of closest approach, were clear—so clear that we could almost see as he did the tenuous light beyond the ever-thinning walls of his ship; the light that represented but a tiny percentage of the energy being sucked from the hull surface.

  “We saw, as though with his own senses, the tiny perforation appear near one end of the ship; saw it extend, with the speed of thought, from one end of the hull to the other, permitting the free escape of all the energy in a single instant; and, from our point of vantage, saw the glowing area where the ship had been suddenly brightened, blazing for a moment almost as brightly as a piece of Sun matter.

  “In that moment, every one of us saw the identifying frequencies as the heat from Akro’s disrupted ship raised the substance which had trapped him to an energy level which permitted atomic radiation. Every one of us recognized the spectra of iron, of calcium, of carbon and silicon and a score of the other elements—Sirian, I tell you that that ‘trapping field’ was matter—matter in such a state that it could not radiate, and could offer resistance to other bodies in exactly the fashion of a solid. I thought, and have always thought, that some strange field of force held the atoms in their ‘solid’ positions; you have convinced me that I was wrong. The ‘field’ was the sum of the interacting atomic forces which you are trying to detect. The energy level of that material body was so low that those forces were able to act without interference. The condition you could not conceive of reaching artificially actually exists in Nature!”

  “You go too fast, Kron,” responded the Sirian. “Your first idea is far more likely to be the true one. The idea of unknown radiant or static force fields is easy to grasp; the one you propose in its place defies common sense. My theories called for some such conditions as you described, granted the one premise of a sufficiently low energy level; but a place in the real universe so devoid of energy as to absorb that of a well-insulated interstellar flier is utterly inconceivable. I have assumed your tale to be true as to details, though you offer neither witnesses nor records to support it; but I seem to have heard that you have somewhat of a reputation as an entertainer, and you seem quick-witted enough to have woven such a tale on the spot, purely from the ideas I suggested. I compliment you on the tale, Kron; it was entrancing; but I seriously advise you not to make anything more out of it. Shall we leave it at that, my friend?”

  “As you will,” replied Kron.

  THE END.

  IMPEDIMENT

  Given telepathy, there would be no great problem in communication between alien peoples. Even so strange a pair as an insectile race and a human could understand each other. So some say—but it might work out like this!

  Boss ducked back from the outer lock as a whir of wings became audible outside. The warning came barely in time; a five-foot silvery body shot through the opening, checked its speed instantly, and settled to the floor of the lock chamber. It was one of the crew, evidently badly winded. His four legs seemed to sag under the weight of the compact body, and his wings drooped almost to the floor. Flight, or any other severe exertion, was a serious undertaking in the gravity of this world; even accelerine, which speeded up normal metabolism to compensate for the increased demand, was not perfect.

  Boss was not accustomed to getting out of anyone’s way, least of all in the case of his own underlings. His temper, normally short enough, came dangerously near the boiling point; the wave of thought that poured from his mind to that of the weary flier was vitriolic.

  “All right, make it good. Why do I have to dodge out of the path of every idiotic spacehand who comes tearing back here as though the planet was full of devils? Why? What’s the rush, anyway? This is the first time 1 ever saw you in a hurry, except when I told you to hop!”

  “But you told me this time, Boss,” was the plaintive answer. “You said that the moment that creature you were after turned into the path leading here, I was to get word to you. It’s on the way now.”

  “That’s different. Get out of sight. Tell Second to make sure everybody’s in his quarters, and that all the doors along the central hall are locked. Turn out all lights, except for one at each end of the hall. No one is to be visible from that hallway, and no other part of the ship is to be accessible from it. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  “Clear out, then. That’s the way you wanted things, isn’t it, Talker?”

  The being addressed, who had heard the preceding dialogue with more amusement than respect, was watching from the inner door of the air lock. Like the blustering commander and the obsequious crew member, he supported his body almost horizontally on four slender legs. Another pair of appendages terminated in prehensile organs as efficient as human hands, and a double pair of silvery-gray, membranous wings were folded along the sides of his streamlined, insectile body.

  He could best be described to an Earthman as a giant hawk moth, the resemblance being heightened by the broad, feathery antennae projecting some eighteen inches from a point above his eyes. Those appendages alone differentiated him from the others of his kind; those of the captain and crew were a bare eight inches in length, narrower, and less mobile.

  His eyes were the most human characteristics—more accurately, the only ones—that he possessed. Two disks of topaz, more than three inches across, they lent a strangely sagacious expression to the grotesque countenance.

  “You have understood well, commander,” radiated Talker, “even though you seem unable to realize the necessity for this action. The creature must see enough of the ship to arouse his curiosity; at the same time he must gain no inkling of our presence.”

  “Why not?” asked Boss. “It seems to me that we could learn to communicate much more quickly if we capture him. You say he must be allowed to come and go as he pleases for many days, and must remain under the impression that this ship is deserted. I know you’ve been trained to communication all your life, but—”

  “But nothing! That one fact should make it evident that I know more than you can hope to understand about the problem we’re facing. Come up to the control room—that native will arrive shortly, and that’s the only place from which we can watch him without being seen ourselves.”

  Talker led the way forward along the dimly lit main corridor, into which the inner door of the air lock opened directly. At its end, a low doorway opened, and a spiral ramp led to the control deck, half a level higher. Here the two paused. Metal grillework, its interstices filled with glass, formed the rear wall of the room and afforded a view the whole length of the
corridor. Talker extinguished the control-room lights, and settled himself at this vantage point.

  His name was no indication of his temperament. The narrator, in fact, must accept full blame for the former. Had it been merely a question of translating from one vocal language to another, it would have been possible to set down a jumble of vowels and consonants, the more unpronounceable the better, and claim that the English alphabet provided no means of coming closer to the true pronunciation. Unfortunately, these beings were able to sense directly the minute electrical disturbances that accompany nerve currents; they conversed by broadcasting reproductions of the appropriate sensory impressions. The “language,” if it could be so called, might be thought of as possessing the elements of a vocal tongue—nouns, verbs, and modifiers; interjections were replaced by the appropriate emotions, but most of the conversation was reproduced visual imagery.

  Obviously, personal names were nonexistent; but the knowledge of identity was in no way impaired. An individual was thought of with respect to his position; temporary or permanent, in the group, or by his personal characteristics. The names used are attempts to show this fact.

  No name would suit the arrogant, peppery commander of the vessel, other than the one we have used; but the cognomen “Talker” merits further explanation.

  The rulers of his home planet had many of Boss’ characteristics. They were the outcome of ages of government similar to the feudal systems of Earth’s Middle Ages. Ranks corresponding to kings, lords, and dukes existed; warfare was almost continuous. Talker belonged to a class having almost exactly the same duties as medieval heralds; he had been trained from infancy in the traditions, obligations, and special abilities of that class. He was one of a clique which, within itself, formed an international fraternity almost as powerful as any of the governments. Their indispensability protected them; they formed, in addition, probably the most intelligent group in the world. The rulers, and through them, the other inhabitants, looked up to them, and perhaps even feared them a little. The enormously developed faculty of communication implied an unparalleled ability to catch and decipher the mental radiations of others; the development of that power was the “herald’s” chief exercise. These last facts should suffice to explain the power of the group, as well as the origin of Talker’s name.

  Once comfortably settled, Talker again addressed the captain.

  “I can’t blame you too much for failure to understand the need for this procedure. You lack the training, as you have said; and in addition, there is a condition present whose very possibility never before occurred to me. Tell me, Boss, could you imagine someone—one of your engineers, let us say—acting quite normally, and yet radiating impulses that meant absolutely nothing to you?”

  “None of them knows enough to think anything I couldn’t understand,” was the incredulous answer. “If one of them did, I’d lock him up for examination.”

  “Exactly. You can’t imagine a perfectly sane mind giving off anything but clear thoughts. But what are the thoughts, the waves, that you hear?”

  “I hear what he’s thinking.”

  “You don’t. Your antennae pick up waves which are generated by the chemical processes going on in his brain. Through long practice, you have learned to interpret those waves in terms of the original thoughts; but what thought actually is, neither you nor I nor anyone else knows. We have `thought’ in the same fashion all our lives; one brain radiates just like another. But this creature, with whom we have to communicate, is a member of another race; the same thoughts in his mind produce different radiations—the very structure of his brain is, quite likely, different from ours. That was why I was so long finding him; I could not disentangle his radiations from the nerve waves of the other relatively unintelligent life forms around here, until I actually saw him performing actions that proved unquestionably that he does possess a reasoning brain. Even then, it was some time before I realized just what was wrong—it was so new and different.”

  “Then what can you do? What good will those observations do us!” asked Boss, almost tremulously. “I don’t get it entirely, but you seem to. If you can’t talk to him, how can we get the stuff we need? And if we don’t get it, please tell me how we dare show our faces again within five light-years of home!”

  “I am far from sure of just how much can be done,” replied the other. “It will be necessary to determine, if possible, the relation between what this creature thinks and what he radiates; I don’t think it will be easy. These observations are for the purpose of getting a start in that direction.

  “As to the other questions, they are entirely your business. You command this ship; and this is the first time I ever saw you want to talk to someone before you helped yourself to his belongings. If you find yourself unable to do so, we can go back, anyway—if labor is scarce, we might get off with a life sentence in the King’s mines on the big moon.”

  “If they still belong to the King by then. I think I’d rather die here, or in space.”

  “At least, there would be no trouble in getting hold of arsenic,” said Talker dryly. “Those mines produce more of that stuff than anything else. If there is any at all on this planet, we have no time to waste on a probably fruitless search, we must get it from the natives, if they know what it is and have any.”

  “And to find out if they have any, we must talk to them,” answered Boss. “I wish us luck, Talker. Go to it.”

  The astroplane rested in a small arroyo not much wider than its own hull. The banks of this gully rose nearly to the control-room ports, and from where he lay, Talker could see the gap which marked the point where the trail across the main valley emerged from among the trees. Down that trail the native must come; he had been seen coming through the gap in the hills that bounded the valley on the south side, and no other trail led to the pass in the northern boundary, which was marked by even higher and far steeper cliffs. There seemed little in the valley itself to attract an intelligent being, except animals of various species; and the Talker knew that the camp on the other side of the southern hills was well supplied with food, so that the native would probably not be hunting.

  Would he be superstitiously afraid of the ship, or intelligently curious enough to examine it more closely?

  The question was not long in being answered. Talker sensed the nearness of the creature some time before it became visible; the herald judged, correctly, that it had seen the vessel first and was approaching cautiously, under cover. For several minutes, nothing happened; then the man walked boldly to the edge of the bank and stood there, carefully examining the long metal hull.

  Both aliens had seen him before, but only at a considerable distance. Talker’s chief surprise at the human form was that a being should support a mass about four times his own, against the relatively enormous gravity of Earth, on but two legs—though the legs, it is true, resembled tree trunks when compared to the stalk-like limbs of the visitors.

  The man held a rifle in one hand. The watchers recognized it as a weapon of some sort, but were unable to make out its details even in the midmorning sunlight which shone upon the native. They waited, even Boss maintained an unaccustomed silence, while the new-comer took in the details of the forty-meter, cigar-shaped spaceship. He noticed that there were ports—round windows along the sides; these were covered, except for some near the bow, with metal shutters. The exposed windows contained round panes of glass or quartz; the room or rooms within were dark, however, and he could see nothing through them.

  A little more than a quarter of the vessel’s length back from the nose, was a larger port, evidently an entrance. It was elliptical, and about five feet high and twice as wide. It was half open, giving a curiously deserted appearance to the ship.

  Talker and Boss could see the indecision in the man’s attitude, although his thought waves, which the former could perceive clearly, were completely indecipherable.

  The doubt manifested itself in restless motion; the man paced toward the stern of the
ship, passing out of the watchers’ sight, and reappeared a few minutes later on the opposite bank of the gully. He crossed once more, under the curve of the ship’s nose, but this time did not climb the bank. Instead, he disappeared sternward again, evidently having made up his mind.

  Talker was sure he knew the decision that had been reached; for a moment he was jubilant, but an instant later he came as close to cursing himself as anyone can without benefit of language. The being quite evidently could not fly; the port was ten feet above its head and fifteen feet from the bank. Even if the man wished to, how could he enter?

  Climbing, for obvious reasons, did not occur to Talker; he had never in his life had to climb, except in buildings too cramped for flying. He caught a glimpse of the man disappearing among the trees, and toyed with the idea of moving to some other part of the planet and trying again.

  He did not crystallize this thought sufficiently to mention it to Boss; before he could do so, his attention was caught by something in motion. The man slowly reappeared, dragging a hardwood sapling pole nearly twenty feet in length. He tossed this down the bank, and scrambled after it; then he picked up one end and dragged the pole out of sight along the hull.

  Talker realized the plan, and gained new respect for the strength, to him almost inconceivable, that lay in those blocky arms and legs. He heard and correctly interpreted the scraping sound as the pole was laid against the lower sill of the air lock; and moments later, an indicator on the control panel showed that the outer door had been swung a little wider; to admit a pair of human shoulders.

  Both aliens glued their eyes to the grillework, looking down the dimly lighted length of corridor to the place where the inner lock door swung wide open, partly blocking further vision. The hinge was to the rear, fortunately; the man would not be hidden from them by the door, if and when he stepped into the hallway.