The Ninth Science Fiction Megapack

by Arthur C. Clarke

I stood for a moment trying to orient myself, then pointed. “Somewhere around here. I’m pretty sure that’s where I heard it.” We separated.

  Something that big should have left visible evidence of its passing. The popcorn tree was my first break. Something had eaten all the lower leaves from it and done some desultory gnawing at its bark into the bargain. That was several days earlier, from the look of the wood, so I didn’t find any tracks to go with it.

  Now, the popcorn tree’s native to Mirabile, so we were dealing with a creature that either didn’t have long to live or was a Dragon’s Tooth suited to the EC. Still, it was an herbivore, unless it was one of those exceptions that nibbled trees for some reason other than nourishment.

  But it was big! I might have discounted the height it could reach as something that stood on its hind feet and stretched, but this matched the glimpse I’d gotten by novalight.

  Leo called and I went to see what he’d found. When I caught up with him, he was staring at the ground. “Annie, this thing weighs a ton!” He pointed.

  Hoofprints sunk deep into the damp ground. He meant “ton” in the literal sense. I stooped for a closer look, then unshipped my backpack, and got out my gear. “Get me a little water, will you, Leo?” I handed him a folded container. “I want to make a plaster cast. Hey!” I added as an afterthought, “Keep your eyes open!”

  He grinned. “Hard to miss something that size.”

  “You have up to now,” I pointed out. I wasn’t being snide, just realistic. I’m happy to say he understood me.

  I went back to examining the print. It was definitely not deer, though it looked related. The red deer survived by sticking to a strict diet of Earth authentic, which meant I couldn’t draw any real conclusions from the similarities. I was still betting herbivore, though maybe it was just because I was hoping.

  I was purely tired of things that bit or mangled or otherwise made my life miserable. Seemed to me it was about time the Dragon’s Teeth started to balance out and produce something useful.

  By the time we mixed the plaster and slopped it into the print, I’d decided that I should be grateful for Susan’s clogweed-eaters and Leo’s pansies and not expect too much of our huge surprise package.

  “Leo, I think it’s an herbivore. That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous—you know what a bull can do—but it means I don’t want it shot on sight.”

  “You wouldn’t want it shot on sight if it were a carnivore,” he said. “If I didn’t shoot the first beastly on sight, I’m not likely to shoot this without good reason.”

  I fixed him with a look of pure disgust. The disgust was aimed at me, though. I knew the name Leonov Denness should have rung bells but I’d gotten distracted by the nickname.

  Back when he was Leonov Opener Denness, he’d been the scout that opened and mapped all the new territory from Ranomafana to Goddamn! He brought back cell samples of everything he found, that being part of the job; but he’d also brought back a live specimen of the beastly, which was at least as nasty as the average kangaroo rex and could fly to boot. When Grandaddy Jason asked him why he’d gone to the trouble, he’d only shrugged and said, “Best you observe its habits as well as its genes.”

  The decision on the beastly had been to push it back from the inhabited areas rather than to shoot on sight. Nasty as it was, it could be driven off by loud sounds (bronze bells, now that I thought of it!) and it made a specialty of hunting what passed for rats on Mirabile. Those rats were considerably worse than having to yell yourself hoarse when you traveled through the plains farmlands.

  “If you’d jogged my memory earlier,” I said, “I wouldn’t have bothered to check your credentials with Elly.”

  “Annie, I didn’t think bragging was in order.”

  “Facts are a little different than brags. Now I can stop worrying about your health and get down to serious business.”

  Leaving the plaster to harden, I headed him down to the boats. “Two boats today, Leonov Opener Denness. You stake out that side of the loch, I’ll stake out this. Much as I’d enjoy your company, this gives us two chances to spot something and the sooner we get this sorted out, the better it’ll be for Elly. Whistle if you spot anything. Otherwise, I’ll meet you back here an hour after dusk.”

  We’d probably have to do a nighttime wait too, but I was hoping the thing wasn’t strictly nocturnal. If it was, I’d need more equipment, which meant calling Mike, which meant making it formal and public.

  There’s nothing more irritating than waiting for a Dragon’s Tooth to rear its ugly head, even if you’re sure the head’s herbivorous. After all these years, I’m pretty good at it. Besides, there were otters and odders to watch and it was one of those perfect days on Loch Moose. I’d have been out contemplative fishing anyhow. This just took its toll of watching and waiting, which is not nearly as restful. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the plesiosaur still swam sinisterly in Loch Ness.

  Susan’s odders, as ugly as they were, proved in action almost as much fun as the otters, though considerably sillier-looking. And observation proved her right—several times I saw them dive down and come up with a mouthful of lilies or clogweed.

  A breeze came up—one of those lovely ones that Loch Moose is justly famous for—soft and sweet and smelling of lilies and pine and popcorn tree.

  The pines began to smoke. I found myself grateful to the Dragon’s Tooth for putting me on the loch at the right time to see it.

  The whole loch misted over with drifting golden clouds of pollen. I could scarcely see my hand in front of my face. That, of course, was when I heard it. First a soft thud of hooves, then something easing into the water. Something big. I strained to see, but the golden mist made it impossible.

  I was damned glad Leo had told me his past history, otherwise I’d have worried. I knew he was doing exactly what I was doing at that moment—keeping dead silent and listening. I brought up my flare gun in one hand and my snagger in the other. Even if it was a plesiosaur, a flare right in the face should drive it off. I couldn’t bring myself to raise the rifle. Must be I’m mellowing in my old age.

  I could still hear the splash and play of the otters and the odders on either side of me. That was a good sign as well. They’d decided it wasn’t a hazard to them.

  My nerves were singing, though, as I heard the soft splashing coming toward me. I turned toward the sound, but still couldn’t see a thing. There was a gurgle, like water being sucked down a drain, and suddenly I couldn’t locate it by ear anymore. I guessed it had submerged, but that didn’t do a thing for my nerves.…

  The best I could do was keep an eye on the surface of the water where it should have been heading if it had followed a straight line—and that was directly under my boat. Looking straight down, I could barely make out a dark bulk. I could believe the ton estimate.

  It reached the other side. I lost sight of it momentarily. Then, with a surge that brought up an entire float of lilies and splattered water all over me, it surfaced not ten feet from my boat, to eye me with a glare.

  I’d thought Susan’s odders were as ugly as things came, but this topped them without even trying. Even through the mist, I could see it now.

  Like Susan’s Monster, it had that same old-boot-shaped head, the same flopping mule ears, streaming water now. What I’d taken for its head in the glimpse I’d gotten the previous night was actually the most unbelievable set of antlers I’d ever seen in my life, like huge gnarled up-raised palms. What Stirzaker had taken for grasping hands, I realized—only at the moment they were filled to the brim with a tangle of scarlet waterlilies. From its throat, a flap of flesh dangled dripping like a wet beard. It stared at me with solemn black eyes and munched thoughtfully on the nearest of the dangling lilies. The drifting pollen was slowly turning it to gold.

  I swear I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

  For a moment, I just stared, and it stared back, looking away only long enough to tilt another lily into its mouth. Then I remembered what I
was there for and raised the snagger. I got it first try, snapped the snagger to retrieve.

  The thing jerked back, glared, then let out a bellow that Mike must have heard back in the lab. It started to swim closer.

  “BACK OFF!” I bellowed. Truthfully, I didn’t think it was angered, just nosy, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way. I raised the flare gun.

  From the distance came the sound of splashing oars. “Annie!” Leo yelled, “I’m coming. Hang on!”

  The creature backpeddled in the water and cocked its head, lilies and all, toward the sound of Leo’s boat. Interested all over again, it started that way at a very efficient paddle. I got a glimpse of a hump just at the shoulders, followed by the curve of a rump, followed by a tiny flop of tail like a deer’s. The same view Pastides had gotten, no doubt.

  Suddenly, from the direction of Leo’s boat there came the clamor of a bell. The creature back-peddled again, ears twitching.

  With a splash of utter panic, the creature turned around in the water, dived for cover, and swam for shore. I could hear it crash into the undergrowth even over the clanging of the bell.

  “Enough, Leo, enough! It’s gone!” He shut up with the bell and we called to each other until he found me through the mist. I’m sorry to say, by the time he pulled alongside, I was laughing so hard there were tears streaming down my cheeks.

  Leo’s face—what I could see of it—went through about three changes of expression in as many seconds. He laid aside his bell—it was a big bronze beastly-scarebell—and sighed with relief. He too was gold from all the pollen.

  I wiped my eyes and grinned at him. “I wish I could say, ‘Saved by the bell,’ but the thing wasn’t really a danger. Clumsy maybe. Possibly aggressive if annoyed, but—” I burst into laughter again.

  Leo said amiably, “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it when you get your breath back.”

  I nodded. Pulling in the sample the snagger had caught, I waved him toward the shore. When we were halfway up the hill to the lodge, I said, “Please, Leo, don’t ask until I can check my sample.”

  He spread his hands. “At least I know it’s not a plesiosaur.”

  I had the urge again—and found the laughter had worn down to hiccupping giggles.

  When we got to the lodge, I didn’t have to yell for them—we got surrounded the moment we hit the porch. Elly did a full-body check on both of us, which meant she wound up as pollen-covered as we were.

  “Susan,” I said through the chaos of a dozen questions at once, “run that for me. Let’s see what we’ve got.” I held out the sample.

  “Me?” Susan squeaked.

  “You,” I said. I took Leo’s arm, well above the rifle, and said, “We want some eats, and then I want to see Susan’s results from this morning.”

  I cued the computer over a bowl of steaming chowder, calling up the odder sample Susan had been working on. She’d found some stuff in the twists all right.

  All the possibilities were herbivorous though—and I was betting that one of them would match my silly-looking friend in the loch. I giggled again, I’m afraid. I had a pretty good idea what we were dealing with, but I had to be sure before I let those kids back out on the loch.

  * * * *

  By the time we’d finished our chowder, Susan had come charging down the stairs. She punched up the results on my monitor—she was not just fast, she was good.

  I called up ship’s records and went straight to my best guess. At a glance, we had a match but I went through gene by gene and found the one drift.

  “It’s a match!” Ilanith crowed from behind me. “First try, too, Mama Jason!”

  Everybody focused on the monitor. “Look again, kiddo. Only ninety-nine percent match.” I pointed out the drifted genes. “Those mean it can eat your popcorn trees without so much as a stomach upset.”

  Ilanith said, “That’s okay with me. Elly? Do you mind?”

  “I don’t know,” Elly said. “What is it, Annie? Can we live with it?”

  I called up ship’s records on the behavior patterns of the authentic creature and moved aside to let Elly have a look. “I suspect you’ll all have to carry Leo’s secret weapon when you go down to the loch to fish or swim but other than that I don’t see much of a problem.”

  Leo thumped me on the back. “Damn you, woman, what is it?”

  Elly’d gotten a film that might have been my creature’s twin. She looked taken aback at first, then she too giggled. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve seen in years! Come on, Annie, what is it?”

  “Honey, Loch Moose has got its first moose.”

  “No!” Leo shouted—but he followed it with a laugh as he crowded in with the rest to look at the screen.

  Only Susan wasn’t laughing. She caught my hand and pulled me down to whisper, “Will they let us keep it if it’s only ninety-nine percent? It’s not good for anything, like the odders are.”

  I patted her hand. “It’s good for a laugh. I say it’s a keeper.” I was not about to let this go the way of the kangaroo rex.

  “Now I understand why I found her in that state,” Leo was saying. He pointed accusingly at me. “This woman was laughing so hard she could scarcely catch her breath.”

  “You didn’t see the damn thing crowned with waterlilies and chewing on them while it contemplated the oddity in the boat. You’d have been as helpless as I was.”

  “Unbelievable,” he said.

  “Worse,” I told him, “in this case, seeing isn’t believing. I still can’t believe in something like that. The mind won’t encompass it.”

  He laughed at the screen, then again at me. “Maybe that accounts for your granddaddy’s monster. It was so silly-looking anybody who saw it wouldn’t believe his own eyes.”

  I couldn’t help it—I kissed him on the cheek. “Leo, you’re a genius!”

  He squeaked like Susan. “Me? What did I do?”

  “Elly,” I said, “Congratulations! You now have the only lodge on Mirabile with an Earth authentic Loch Ness monster.” I grinned at Susan, who caught on immediately. I swear her smile started at the mouth and ran all the way down to her toes.

  Feeling rather smug, I went on, “Leo will make bells so your lodgers can scare it away if it gets too close to them, won’t you, Leo?”

  “Oh!” said Leo. He considered the idea. “You know, Annie, it might just work. If everybody went to Loch Ness to try to get a glimpse of the monster, maybe they’ll come here too. Scary but safe.”

  “Exactly.” I fixed him with a look. “Now how do we go about it?”

  He grinned. “We follow our family traditions: we tell stories.”

  “You think if I hang around for a week or so that’ll make it a safe monster?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good,” I said. “Susan? What’s the verdict? Are you going off to the lab? If I’m going to stay here, somebody’ll have to help Mike coddle those red daffodils.”

  No squeak this time. Her mouth dropped open but what came out was, “Uh, yes. Uh, Elly?”

  Elly nodded with a smile, sad but proud all in one.

  So while they bustled about packing, I had a chance to read through all the material in ship’s records on both moose and Nessie. By the time they were ready to leave for town, I had a pretty good idea of our game plan. I sent Susan off with instructions to run a full gene-read on both creatures. Brute force on the moose, to make sure it wouldn’t chain up to something bigger and nastier.

  Then we co-opted the rest of Elly’s kids. Leo gave each of them a different version of our monster tale to tell.

  Jen, I thought, did it best. She got so excited when she told it that her eyes popped and she got incoherent, greatly enhancing the tale of how Leonov Opener Denness had saved Annie Jason Masmajean from the monster in Loch Moose.

  Leo brought bells from his workshop. They’d been intended to keep beastlies away in the northern territory, but there was no reason they wouldn’t do just as good a job against a monster tha
t was Earth authentic.

  * * * *

  Two days later, the inn was full of over-nighters—much to Elly’s surprise and delight—all hoping for a glimpse of the Loch Moose monster.

  In my room, late night and by nova-light, Leo got his first peek at the creature. Once again it was swimming in the loch. He stared long and hard out the window. After a long moment, he remembered the task we’d set ourselves. “Should I wake the rest of the lodgers, do you think?”

  “No,” I said, “you just tell them about it at breakfast. Anybody who doesn’t see it tonight will stay another night, hoping.”

  “You’re a wicked old lady.”

  I raised Ilanith’s camera to the window. “Yup,” I said, and, twisting the lens deliberately out of focus, I snapped a picture.

  “Hope that didn’t come out well,” I said.

  MY FAIR PLANET, by Evelyn E. Smith

  As Paul Lambrequin was clambering up the stairs of his rooming house, he met a man whose face was all wrong. “Good evening,” Paul said politely and was about to continue on his way when the man stopped him.

  “You are the first person I have encountered in this place who has not shuttered at the sight of me,” he said in a toneless voice with an accent that was outside the standard repertoire.

  “Am I?” Paul asked, bringing himself back from one of the roseate dreams with which he kept himself insulated from a not-too-kind reality. “I daresay that’s because I’m a bit near-sighted.” He peered vaguely at the stranger. Then he recoiled.

  “What is incorrect about me, then?” the stranger demanded. “Do I not have two eyes, one nose and one mouth, the identical as other people?”

  Paul studied the other man. “Yes, but somehow they seem to be put together all wrong. Not that you can help it, of course,” he added apologetically, for, when he thought of it, he hated to hurt people’s feelings.

  “Yes, I can, for, of a truth, ’twas I who put myself together. What did I do amiss?”

  Paul looked consideringly at him. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there are certain subtle nuances you just don’t seem to have caught. If you want my professional advice, you’ll model yourself directly on some real person until you’ve got the knack of improvisation.”