Throughout this night of festival, our techs were singing and dancing and feasting, too. Well mingled with the others, so that they were always individuals who had been accepted by a family or a group, and never even in pairs, let alone groups, that could seem a challenge, these little yellow people, hairless though they were, did not seem so very different from that company of short, squat, brown, very strong apelike creatures bounding and prancing and wailing under the full moon. I myself saw them from the “shining machine” that had picked me up from our headquarters, and was taking me back to our Home Planet where it would drop me off for a spell of leave.
I looked down on thousands of faces lifted in supplication to the skies, on thousands of raised arms, palms held outwards in a manner I had observed on so many planets! I was looking at a manifestation of the need for “higher things”—and thought that we had not foreseen how this innate and unconquerable need would develop in this way, with these creatures, safely channelled into nostalgia for “home,” for “visitors from the skies,” and so on.
They were singing about the shining machines as these descended. Drugged and entranced by a night of mass dancing and singing, they trooped willingly on to the spacecraft and were lifted off to C.P. 25. Their future development does not concern this history; but I shall describe later visit I paid them.
Not all of them were there at that feasting place that night.
About 10,000 had been set down on Isolated S. C. II. And about 10,000 were taken off again. Yet their numbers had slightly increased, in spite of the inevitable deaths due to adaptation to the unfamiliar, if so beautiful, terrain. The technicians had of known that the spaceships were to arrive and when. Some of the more disaffected had enticed away a few Lombis before the feast, telling them the shining ones were certainly coming, but they would be evil and would take them to a bad place. We lost 9 technicians, and about 500 Lombis. We did not mind this. What we had wished to forestall was that any of them should stay in that area, which we wanted to use for other controlled experiments—as far as such experiments can be controlled. We had therefore informed the technicians that all that terrain was to be used in a trial of certain diseases, so that they would move well away with the Lombis. We done something else, too. Having carefully observed the more rebellious of the technicians, we had chosen two of them, told them we knew they intended to stay behind when the spaceships came, said we did not mind this, nor intended to stop them. But we would like them to undertake a task for us, for Sirius, who was after all—and would remain—their master, their friend, Sirius who had raised them from an animal status not in any way higher or better than the Lombis. We did not want promises from them; we were not promising them anything; we were not threatening them—but if it became possible for them to accomplish a certain task, then we be grateful, they be playing a great part in our plans.
The names of these technicians were Navah and Hoppe.
THE SITUATION IN THE CANOPEAN AREAS. OTHER SIRIAN EXPERIMENTS
When the planet was shared out between us, any things were left unsaid, implicit. One was that we would inform each other of what we did. This had been done—within limits on our side, due to suspicion; and within limits on theirs because we could not understand Canopus. Another was that we would not interfere with each other. Canopus has not interfered with us. This I aver, from my position as one who can state this categorically. They have behaved throughout honourably. I use this word advisedly, in this place.
When Canopus “gives her word,” she keeps it. This concept, which is foreign to us—again I must insist on this, as part of this history, which is being written as factually as I can make it—is one of several similar concepts, part of a general way of looking at things. If something is said by them, then it is the truth. If Canopus “gives its word,” then this is kept, regardless of the inconvenience (and sometimes worse ) to themselves. If Canopus “promises,” then this is done. If Canopus offers aid, then this is the very best that can be given at that time in those circumstances. Canopus is always and absolutely to be relied on. I state this because it is the truth, and knowing full well the sort of reaction I may expect from certain of our historians.
We do not, many of us, understand this now; and we certainly had no idea of it then.
In short, we all believed that Canopus would to trick us, as intended to trick them. Not in any very important ways, or ones that be damaging to them. It all more in the spirit of youngsters who still find it amusing and clever to outwit each other.
I wanted to know what was going on in the Canopean part of Rohanda. That is what I had asked Hoppe and Navah to find out. It would be dangerous for them. They were very small people. The colonists Canopus had introduced from their Colony 10 were three times their size. Hoppe and Navah were yellow. The Canopus colonists were black or brown. There was no way the two spies could conceal themselves among these colonists. And we knew the ape species of the northern areas were again, large, hairy, and organised in tribes that almost certainly be hostile to hairless little yellow men. But it was my belief that Navah and Hoppe would enjoy the challenge; and in any case, they were not compelled in any way.
Now to anticipate. Twenty R-years later Hoppe returned, alone. Navah had settled in the southern part of Isolated Northern Continent, with a few of the Lombis. But Hoppe had travelled steadily north, a journey that took five years, while Lombis left the travelling party, in pairs and groups, and made settlements in favoured places.
They did not find any Canopean settlements. Later found out there weren’t any then. That continent was not the paradise S.C. II was at that time, but very hot, and in parts still swampy. Hoppe went to the north, and on the east coast found that the indigenous ape-people were travelling back and forth from the main landmass, by various types of boat, passing from one island to another: at that time the ocean was full of islands of all sizes.
Hoppe allowed himself to be made a prisoner by them. He not ill-treated, but regarded as a curiosity and even as a pet. On the western part of the main landmass he found the following facts.
One was that the Colony 10 colonists and the natives had started to increase in height. This I found easy to believe because the Lombis’ height had increased by an R-span during their thousand years.
Another was that both colonists and natives were living longer, after an initial period when the colonists had a dramatically reduced life-span. This I believed, too, for the Lombis had shown signs of a longer life-span.
But the next fact was not believed by us, although Hoppe insisted on it.
It that the colonists were living in settlements quite apart from the natives. These settlements were not makeshift, or arbitrary and casual, but were carefully constructed. Yet they were on a lower level than the cities of Colony 10. The natives, who had been at that stage so often found by us and Canopus on many planets—just beyond the animal level, beginning to use fire, sheltering in caves and structures of branch and grass, sometimes covering themselves with leaves or pelts—were now in proper settlements, which were well made and sited, and they were being taught all kinds of crafts by the colonists. The colonists did not stay near the natives, but visited them for short spells while they imparted their information; then retreated to their own places, and only returned after an interval to see how their instruction had taken. No attempt was being made them to use the natives as servants. So said Hoppe. So he swore.
Having found out all that he could, he begged the natives to let him travel back, island to island, to the Isolated Northern Continent, and they did. They were a good-natured species, and never harmed or threatened. Once there, he did not wait to argue with them, for he knew they would not want to lose him permanently, and he slipped away one night and travelled by himself southwards, where he was able to visit the colonies established by the Lombis, and he was much welcomed. I was relieved that Canopus had not set up colonies of their own on that northern continent, which was definitely part of their assigned territory; though, of cou
rse I had planned to plead, if challenged by them, that the Lombis had escaped from one of our experiments—which was true after all.
As for what Hoppe had said of the relations between the colonists and the natives, I did not believe him, not being able to match with my own experience what Canopus had told us of their plans for careful, controlled, and scientific development—for the “symbiosis."
Hoppe felt that he had fulfilled his undertaking to me; and indeed he had. He went back north where he found a place in one of the settlements. I heard no more of him. The Colony 22 people are not long-lived and he could not be expected to come back within his lifetime.
But I was intrigued and curious about what went on up north. During all this time there were conferences between us and Canopus on various planets, and more than once on Colony 10 itself, but I did not find the information we were given adequate. For one thing, it reported such rapid progress of the Canopean plan that I did not believe it. We were in the habit of exaggerating successes and concealing failures, and so we assumed that this is what Canopus also did.
But I couldn’t leave it at that either. The next time one of our supply craft came from Southern Continent I, I asked its head operator to a consultation. I wanted a smaller craft, of the kind that kept liaison between the different agricultural stations on S.C. I, to visit enough of the central landmass to make sure of one fact: that the Canopean colonists and the natives lived in settlements at a good distance from each other. This was risky. Not because there was any need to expect more than reproaches from Canopus—certainly not reprisals—but because it would be a definite breach of our agreement. I reasoned, however, that it was unlikely settlements on the fringes of the landmass would ever have seen any type of aircraft, for we knew it was Canopean policy to visit their Rohandan settlements as seldom as possible. Besides, it was only a practised or expectant eye that was likely to see our modern craft, they were so fast, and because of the materials they were made of, almost invisible in certain lights.
The investigation was made, and the craft did more than actually fly over settlements to survey them; it landed, and several groups of both natives and colonists were watched from a distance. There was no doubt about it: Hoppe’s report was true. Colonists were not employing the natives. I was ready to believe that this was because the natives had proved too backward to be employable, but this was not what our spy craft had found. On the contrary, even in the hundred years since Hoppe’s visit, it seemed that the natives had advanced and were already using the skills they had been taught.
I gave the whole question a great deal of thought. Looking back I have to credit myself with this, at least. But I concluded that the reason for the rapid evolution of the natives was something in the atmosphere of Rohanda. And that we had been unfortunate in our choice of both our Colony 22 and the Lombis. In this respect, not in any other: these two races may have been impervious to these peculiar and specialised Rohandan influences. When supply craft came from various agricultural stations on the other southern continent, I questioned the crew carefully about the personnel on these stations, who came from several of our Colonised Planets. But none had shown any marked evolutionary changes, whether for better or for worse.
I then concluded that it was the northern areas that must hold the beneficial influences, and I was bitter, believing that Canopus had withheld from us information about them so we would not resent their claiming them.
It this anger that was responsible for my next decision.
It must be remembered that Isolated Southern Continent II had no indigenous apes of any size; and that those on S.C. I were all small and far from even standing on two legs. Our use of the Lombis and of the people from Colony 22 had been well enough as far as it went but these were both such small races they were classified in our system as dwarves. I made a survey of all the races throughout our Empire, but at last wondered why I was taking this trouble, when what I wanted lay to hand for the taking… I instructed one of our fast liaison craft to make a reconnaissance of the Northwest fringes of the main landmass and then to direct a large cargo craft to kidnap an entire community of natives, without alerting the colonists who would then be sure to inform Canopus. After all, if our aircraft were not seen the colonists could report only that the natives had gone—had decided to escape from a tutelary supervision unwelcomed by them. All this was done, and I was delivered an entire community of seventy natives, males, females, and young. They were treated at all times with kindness.
We put them, not on the plain vacated by the Lombis, which was too large and was needed by us for other purposes, but on high wooded terrain not far from our own headquarters. There was no reason why they should not be aware of us; this experiment did not resemble that of ours with the Lombis. They at once made shelters for themselves of a quite advanced kind, using bricks of sunbaked earth, and well-dressed thatch for roofing. They showed no signs of distress at this arbitrary disruption of their lives but, on the contrary, were ready to be friendly and—because of their relationship with the Canopean colonists—to be taught. But while I forbade them to be used as servants or labourers in any way whatever—thus copying what I had understood of the Canopean experiment—I also forbade them to be made pets, or to be allowed inside our houses or to be taught any further skills, for it seemed to me that they had already been shown more than they could use. They knew, theoretically, for instance, about planting seeds and tubers for food, and about keeping animals for meat and milk, but were careless and forgetful in these, showing signs of letting aptitudes slide away from them altogether. Remembering that the settlements of colonists in the north were at a distance from their charges, and that contact was seldom, I believed I was following this example in not pressing our tutelage. At this stage the natives were slightly shorter than our own average height, at about seven or eight R-feet. They were upright, never descended to all fours, kept their dwellings clean, ate meat and vegetables and fruit, and milked a species of deer, but not with any system.
This little colony of northern animals was a most important factor of our relations with Canopus, and of subsequent developments on Rohanda. But this did not seem to us so at the time. Far from it. Yet we could hardly forget these creatures, who lived so close to us, always visible, and of much interest to us and our visitors in their comings and goings. They multiplied, but not very much; and their settlements spread, but never did more than cover the hills that were first allotted to them. Nor did we cease to monitor their development because this was where our preoccupation with Canopus and its work focussed. But while several thousand years passed, we were involved in many other experiments, all over this wonderful and rich continent, and these took up our attention.
I shall mention the one that did have an indirect effect on long-term Rohandan development.
Millions of females throughout our Empire, forbidden to produce young because of our population-reduction programmes, craved this experience while subscribing to a prohibition whose necessity they understood. We had more volunteers than we could use for our various eugenic attempts.
Prefabricated buildings of a high standard were space-lifted in from our manufacturing Planet 3, and placed on the terrain that the Lombis occupied. These were filled with females, already impregnated, from various of our planets. The fathers had also been chosen. Our need was to produce a strain that would adapt easily to widely varied conditions on different planets. While we were restricted by the nature of the conditions on our Mother Planet to planets that fell within certain atmospheric limits, these limits proved to be much broader than we had envisaged in the early days of our Empire. Species could learn to adapt: some much more others. But our experience had been that if representatives of one species had adapted to certain conditions, then these did not necessarily take to further adaptation. We wished to breed technicians who would be available for work on different planets, of differing atmospheres, sometimes with little or no time for adaptation or acclimatisation. These all-purpose,
hardy, multifunctional technicians in fact were absolutely essential in certain outlying parts of our Empire.
The females on what we now called the Lombi plain numbered fifty thousand. They were supervised as much as was necessary to prevent them from escaping, to supply them with first-class medical care, and to monitor the growth of their young, with the appropriate testing and analysis.
These females regarded themselves as favoured and privileged: indeed they were. They knew themselves to be of superb fitness and condition. They had been told by the highest among our Colonial Service, which is itself the highest function of our Empire, how much their services were valued. But in spite of all this, we knew a degree of watchfulness had to be maintained: this, the reproductive instinct, being the strongest there is, it could take—had taken, in the past—many surprising forms; and we did not want any of them escaping with their young when the time came to give them up. For they all knew that this must be when the young had attained five R-years.
This was one reason the breeding station was on Rohanda, which was a long from our Mother Planet and visited by none except our craft and those of Canopus. (Or so we believed then—but of that later.) It would not be possible for them to escape either by spacecraft or out of the Lombi plain, for there were guards stationed all around a vast periphery, well out of sight, who had been trained in every manifestation of the maternal instinct in desperation.
The Sirian Experiments Page 5