The Golden People

by Fred Saberhagen

  He was aware of not hurting anywhere—not until he tried to move. Even then, a blanket of protective numbness enfolded his body, thickly enough to constitute a vast improvement. He tried the fingers of his right hand and thought that he could feel them rub against each other. Not bad, then. It wasn't bad at all.

  Adam opened his eyes to find himself in the familiar setting of a scoutship's small control room, strapped into the right seat. Maybe the last seven years had been all a dream, and when he turned his head he would see Boris—but no, the robot was bending over him.

  "How do you feel, sir?" the robot asked.

  "The woman who was with me—"

  The robot pointed, and Adam turned his head, heavy skull swiveling on neck muscles that cried out with pain when forced to work again. There was Merit, securely tucked into a bunk.

  "She is asleep now, sir, and seems to be in no immediate danger from her injuries, though she needs further medical attention as you doubtless know. I have administered first aid treatment to both of you. Now, will you please identify yourself to me, sir?"

  "My name is Adam Mann." It sounded strange, it even tasted strange as he pronounced it. "I used to be a planeteer. Oh, one thing, very important. I'm a human being, nothing more."

  "Certainly, sir," said the robot, unperturbed. It knew a human when it saw one, or it thought it did. Probably its programming included instructions to humor crazed wanderers, or accident victims, when they said strange things.

  But the robot wasn't going to let his identification go at that. "Please answer this question," it requested, and then queried him on a technical detail of scoutship operation. Not one civilian in ten thousand would know the answer, but not one planeteer, or former planeteer, in ten thousand would have forgotten it.

  Adam consulted his memory, and gave the correct reply.

  "I accept that you have had planeteering training," said the machine. "I place myself, within limits, under your orders."

  Adam took thought. Thinking, at least, was not painful. "What were your last orders?"

  "My last orders were given me more than seven years ago, by Chief Planeteer Alexander Golden." As the robot quoted, it reproduced the tones of Golden's voice: " 'Stay with the ship and keep it in good shape until another Earth-descended human comes.' The type of order is unique in my experience, as are the conditions under which this scoutship landed here."

  "You fell, through a condition we have named the Field, which surrounds this planet almost completely."

  "I was inoperative through the fall," said the robot, "but since landing I have observed this Field, as you term it, on the radar screens."

  "What happened to Golden, after the landing?"

  "Immediately after giving me the order I have just quoted, he walked away. I have had no contact with him, or any other human, since then."

  "So." Adam drew a deep breath; his ribs hurt too. "Can we take off from here, and get back into space?"

  "Yes. I have computed that there is room enough under the Field for the necessary acceleration. The scoutship can be made to coast upward through the Field, on a ballistic path, if it is assumed that control and power can be re-established above six hundred kilometers altitude."

  "They can be." Adam let his eyes close; a robot could make the takeoff, if it could be made. "Let's go, then. You'll probably see some Space Force ships when we get above the Field. There may be fighting in progress."

  "Fighting, sir? In space?"

  "Yes. If you see any, avoid the fighting ships and drive around the planet to the antipodal point— there's a shuttle port there now."

  "First there is another matter."

  Adam opened his eyes again.

  "It requires human judgment to decide," said the machine. "Since shortly after your arrival, a creature I cannot identify has been outside the ship, moving among the large animals that pursued you. I cannot decide whether or not it is human."

  The robot switched on a viewscreen in front of Adam, showing the meadow outside the scout. Adam watched, for long, long seconds.

  "Did you say 'no'?" the robot asked.

  "Yes," said Adam. "Yes, he's human. Go out and bring him in. Lock him in the alien room. You must stun him if he resists; I order that, and take responsibility. He is mentally and physically ill."

  "I will obey. Then we must leave the surface and obtain medical help."

  "Yes." Adam let himself slump back in his seat.

  He could let go, now. Drifting toward a pleasant stupor, he watched the screen, where a somewhat smaller animal cavorted among the geryons. It had a scaly body and furred legs, like one of their young, but it lacked the true geryon shape. It lacked true shape of any kind. Suddenly the creature went down, as if hit by a stun beam; a second later the robot appeared in the viewscreen's picture, to drive off the larger beasts and lift the small one carefully. Its head swung loosely, dangling on the long geryon neck, and it had the wide powerful geryon jaws. But he nose and eyes and forehead were those of Raymond Kedro.

  Adam realized that he was lying in a bed. He blinked his eyes open and shut a couple of times, without really comprehending anything they saw. He rolled over, and grunted when his arm twinged fiercely.

  "The beauty sleepeth," said a familiar male voice, quite near at hand. "And where in all the realm can be found a maiden desperate enough to awakeneth him with a kiss?"

  Adam opened his eyes again. "Boris."

  Brazil sat bathrobed in a wheelchair, his left leg sealed into a cabled mold. "Howdy, bub. Anything interesting happen to you lately?"

  They were in the sick bay of some big Space Force ship, Adam realized. The place was crowded, with casualties overflowing into extra beds. The background feeling and faint sounds suggested that they were in space.

  "Yeah, she's all right," Brazil said. "No need to strain your neck looking. She's up and walking around already."

  Adam lay back. "You lanky ape," he said. "Looks like you had a fight and won."

  "You looked like you had one and lost, when that robot flew you in. In Golden's scoutship, yet… yeah, we had quite a scrap here. We took about fifty people alive out of that hundred. We might even have come out on the short end, but they started fighting among themselves. About someone being burned, whether it was right or not— maybe you can enlighten us on that."

  "Yeah—but it's a long story."

  "That fellow we took out of the alien room of that scoutship—he's Kedro?"

  "Yes."

  "Some of the other people were pretty sick, in the same way. I wonder what got into them? All we wanted to do here was hand 'em a parking ticket, so to speak. And they opened up on us with everything at once. And they kept talking about burning this fellow Ling. And a couple of my people got burned to death too, in a most peculiar way."

  Maybe this is my first official interrogation, Adam realized suddenly. Just Boris sitting there in his bathrobe, talking things over. He thought about the question.

  "It started a long time ago," Adam answered after a while. "They had a plan—Ray Kedro had a plan—that didn't work. As I say, it's a long story."

  "Yeah. Well, not all of 'em thought that way."

  Adam looked at him.

  "I mean your girl Merit, among others."

  "If you think that she—"

  "At ease! Calm down. Nobody wants to hang her. Unless some evidence comes up that I don't know about yet. It's no crime to have had your chromosomes manipulated. I merely remarked that she seems like a nice kid."

  Adam let out a long sigh. "One part of the long story I'll tell you now. Ray Kedro told me that I was one of them too. Maybe he was lying; maybe not. I don't think he was, about that."

  Brazil thought that over with raised eyebrows. Then he shrugged. "Well, I can stand it if you can. I expect it'll be a long time before Raymond Kedro can tell us a straight story now, assuming that he wants to. The medics have him in a deep freeze. Do you know what shape he was in when they took him out of that scout?"

  "I kno
w what shape he was in when we left the planet," said Adam. / can stand it if you can, Brazil had said. To hell with it. I'm a man whether or not I came out of Doc Nowell's lab. I am what I am.

  And another voice, remembered but already fading: You have a small idea of what being human means.

  "I assume I'm not under arrest for anything?" he asked. "Unauthorized exploration, maybe?"

  Boris shrugged. "We asked your help in the situation, if you remember. I assume you were doing what you could to help. We've got enough prisoners, what do we need with one more?"

  "And Merit?"

  "I told you, no. Be reasonable, what would we charge her with? Teasing the geryons? Unless something new shows up when we get your stories in detail. Hey, now, about that scoutship—"

  "Later." Adam relaxed, closing his eyes in peaceful weariness. He opened them again to see Brazil wheeling away. Adam called after him: "Hey. When we're both in one piece again, I just may be calling on you. To look for a job."

  Boris nodded, his long craggy face solemn, and turned away again. He wheeled a little distance, suddenly roared with laughter, and turned back. "I don't know—look what we started the last time we worked together."

  Adam groped with his good hand for something suitable to throw, but could find nothing. Never mind. He began to doze off, smiling. He could hear Boris's muttering, receding into the distance: "The sleeping beauty sleepeth again, and where in all the realm can be found a maiden of such courage as to—oh. Beg your pardon, ma'am."

  Then there followed a silence. It took no exercise of parapsych talent for Adam to feel her approaching his bed. The aura of her mind was subtle and sweet as fine perfume. He opened his eyes and stretched out his good left arm.

  THE END