Bryllw waited for it to speak. The Cat inspected him with an insolent stare, then yawned and looked away with an affectation of indifference, inspecting the viewscreen. The screen showed the control room and his men.
Bryllw realized he was called upon to speak the first word. This creature’s manners were no better than those of the High Servants of Erdig. In fact, they were extremely similar... well, he had had some experience in dealing with aristocrats, although he looked back on the experience with relief that he had survived. Now he’d have some use for it.
“Excellency and Most Powerful,” he began. The Cat’s eyes returned to his with some small interest. Encouraged, he continued. “My government when they hear of vast area controlled by your people would like to send a ship with presents, and things for trade, so both our rulers will profit. You ask your slaves tell me where send ship so best trade with your people? This please to you, Wisest Excellency?”
The Cat stretched and yawned delicately, then returned its large luminous eyes to Bryllw. He found their gaze disturbing. The expression was calm, almost fond, filled with confidence too wise to be mere arrogance.
“Qrrrrlw? Prrrup?”
“The Wise One asks if it would please you if he and this ship escorted your ship back to your own home, for he would appreciate meeting more of your admirable species.”
The Cat stood up restlessly and looked at the interpreter more anxiously. “Meeerowwrr, meerowee.” After the previous insouciance, the change to concern and pleading aroused Bryllw’s cynicism. He watched the Cat suspiciously.
“The Cat wishes to inform you that you need have no fear. No race has lost anything of value by their associations with Cats. Cats are most humble and easy to please. They do not take advantage of their superiority, and they are not offended if an individual does not accept their advice. Cats are extremely rational.”
The Cat rubbed himself against the cushion with an affectionate, almost feminine gesture, looking at Bryllw with large round luminous eyes full of tender concern. It was a wonderful gesture, though perhaps a little bit overdone to be convincing. Bryllw stepped back uneasily, finding an unexpected desire in himself to have some wise and tender creature such as this to give him advice and protect him from the schemes of young and ruthless officers around him.
How could this alien creature of four legs so easily charm him? True, it was a graceful animal, with silky fur that even the most beautiful female of his young adventures would have envied and desired for her own cheeks and shoulders. And of course all aristocrats are trained in tact, having little else to do but converse. It was only typical of aristocrats that this animal had tact. But with a few gestures to give to Bryllw the idea that he would like to be ruled by this creature! It must be a lie. Under the velvet paw lay the steel claws—the creature’s wisdom and skill were weapons to fear. Bryllw took another step backward and suddenly saw the luminous eyes catch a reflection and flare into lambent wells of green flame. With eyes that radiated light the creature no longer looked like anything real. Fear of hypnosis struck him like a blow, and he looked away from the strange blazing eyes, barely keeping himself from striking out at them or running.
“Qrrmll. Mrrll meerrowwl.” The Cat’s voice was close and intimate. The translator’s voice seemed far away.
“He says those under his guidance aboard this small ship are very happy due to his wise advice. You can ask any one of them.”
This accounted for the smallness of the ship. It was merely a personal pleasure boat for the Cat, manned by his servants. The Terrans were deceiving themselves with their talk of equality and their “Federation”. It was no doubt a device of the Cat, trickery to keep them contented.
Suddenly he understood. The Cats were spreading in a great and growing empire of power more absolute than any Bryllw had ever seen using other species as slaves and keeping them in such hypnotic control that they thought they were free. What need to fear revolt, when the slaves think they are free and are sure they are in charge of their own destiny, merely requesting advice from you?
Bryllw shuddered violently. Thank the Elders he had not sent the regular Captain on this mission. The Idiot would have come back bearing the Cat on his shoulder for a “Visit” and they would all have been lost.
“Mrrrr,” the Cat said in a low confiding tone, settling down to a couchant position and fixing Bryllw steadily with his large affectionate eyes.
“He wished to know if he may visit your ship.”
Bryllw shuddered in spite of his control. “I will try arrange it,” he said, fearful that the Cat would see that he was lying.
The Cat suddenly leaned over and lay on its side looking at the ceiling languidly and said something in a gentle soothing sound like an affectionate growl. The sound evoked youthful memories in the aging Bryllw. He found himself charmed by the tone. Oh, but these aristocrats were charmers always, and masters of tact! But they would kill you without even bothering to get angry.
“He says that his little ship is not fast enough to keep up with yours, and so it would be a favor if you would return home slowly enough to allow him to follow you.” The pleasant affectionate growl continued. “He says he admires your fighting spirit and intelligence in understanding his meaning. He has personally taken a fondness to you, and would put you under his protection and do you any favors in his power when his people come into positions of influence in your empire. He is aware by your manner that you are not a trader, but a fighting man of much experience and little scruple, and he might even add you to his personal council.”
The Cat still lolled back, staring at the ceiling with a remote and affectionate gaze.
Bryllw, feeling himself to be in the most dangerous crisis of his life, was fascinated. How pleasantly this aristocrat had offered his bribe, how affectionately he had applied the oil and how obliquely shown the dagger!
It would not be safe to say either yes or no. With barely controlled haste he made apologies about diminishing air supply and hurried to the control room. “Come,” he growled to the men there, “We’re leaving.”
“But...”
“Shut up and move while you can move! Let’s get out of here and never mind asking questions!”
The Terran ship was slower. It would be safer to run than to fight.
Back on board the Wllyll’n, Bryllw stalled the Terran over the viewscreen while the ship made ready for maximum acceleration. Then everything was ready and the Wllyll’n suddenly accelerated under full power and departed.
As Bryllw’s thoughts blacked out under the bone-crushing acceleration, he was counting himself lucky to have escaped.
Chang sprawled on a lounging pad, wiping his face limply. “I never thought we’d work it. You guys could read his reactions but I had to guess. Diu! I’m beat.”
“We all are—never played bluff before. We didn’t do it too well. The only one with a good pokerface was Shadow.”
“THE CAT!” shouted Hahn. They all leapt to their feet, then relaxed.
“Ahh, cut it out, Hahn.”
“Give Shadow his bowl of milk or something.”
“How come the Nifni don’t keep pets?”
“I dunno—how come we do?”
<
* * * *
A TOUCH OF GRAPEFRUIT
by Richard Matheson
Richard Matheson burst like a bright exhalation on the evening with his first published story—a lovely, chilly midget of a yarn called Born of Man and Woman.Since then the books have poured out, The Incredible Shrinking Man made motion-picture history, the magazines have been studded with his work. Here is his latest— presenting another facet of Richard Matheson’s work, and one you will enjoy.
Selections from a
Thesis Submitted as Partial Requirement
For Master of Arts Degree
June, 2068
The phenomenon known in scientific circles as The Los Angeles Movement came to light in the year 1962 when Doctor Albert Grimsby, A.B., B.S.
, A.M., Ph.D., professor of physics at the California Institute of Technology made an unusual discovery. It went like this:
“I have made an unusual discovery,” said Doctor Grimsby.
“What is that?” asked Doctor Maxwell.
“Los Angeles is alive.”
Doctor Maxwell blinked.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
“I can understand your incredulity,” said Doctor Grimbsy, “Nevertheless ...”
He drew Doctor Maxwell to the laboratory bench.
“Look into this microscope,” he said, “under which I have isolated a piece of Los Angeles.”
Doctor Maxwell looked. He raised his head, a look of astonishment on his face.
“It moves,” he said.
Having made this strange discovery, Doctor Grimsby— oddly enough—saw fit to promulgate it only in the smallest degree. It appeared as a one-paragraph item in the Science News Letter of June 2, 1962 under the heading:
Caltech Physicist Finds
Signs of Life in L.A.
Perhaps due to unfortunate phrasing, perhaps to normal lack of interest, the item aroused neither attention nor comment. This unfortunate negligence proved ever after a plague to the man originally responsible for it. In later years it became known as “Grimsby’s Blunder”.
Thus was introduced to a then unresponsive nation a phenomenon which was to become, in the following year, a most shocking threat to that nation’s very existence.
* * * *
Of late, researchers have discovered that knowledge concerning The Los Angeles Movement predates Doctor Grimsby’s find by years. Indeed, hints of this frightening crisis are to be found in works published as much as fifteen years prior to the ill-fated “Caltech Disclosure”.
Concerning Los Angeles, the distinguished journalist, John Gunther, wrote: “What distinguishes it is . . . it’s octopus-like growth.” [John Gunther, Inside U.S.A., p. 44]
Yet another reference to Los Angeles mentions that: “In its amoeba-like growth it has spread in all directions...” [Henry G. Alsberg (ed.)The American Guide,p. 1200]
Thus can be seen primitive approaches to the phenomenon which are as perceptive as they are unaware. Although there is no present evidence to indicate that any person during that early period actually knew of the fantastic process, there can hardly be any doubt that many sensed it, if only imperfectly.
Active speculation regarding freakish nature behavior began in July and August of 1962. During a period of approximately forty-seven days the states of Arizona and Utah, in their entirety, along with great portions of New Mexico and lower Colorado, were inundated by rains that frequently bettered the five-inch mark.
Such waterfall in previously arid sections aroused great agitation and discussion. First theories placed responsibility for this uncommon rainfall on previous southwestern atomic tests. [Symmes Chadwick, “Will We Drown The World?” Southwestern Review IV (Summer 1962) 698 ff.] Government disclaiming of this possibility seemed to increase rather than eliminate mass credulity to this later disproved supposition.
Other “precipitation postulations”—as they were then known in investigative parlance can be safely relegated to the category of “crackpotia”. [Guilliame Gaulte, “Les Theories de l’Eau de Ciel Est Cuckoo”, Jaune Journale, August, 1962] These include theories that excess commercial airflights were upsetting the natural balance of the clouds, that deranged Indian rain makers had unwittingly come upon some lethal condensation factor and were applying it beyond all sanity, that strange frost from outer space was seeding Earth’s overhead and causing this inordinate precipitation.
And, as seems an inevitable comcomitant to all alien deportment in nature, hypotheses were propounded that this heavy rainfall presaged Deluge II. It is clearly recorded that several minor religious groups began hasty construction of “Salvation Arks”. One of these arks can still be seen on the outskirts of the small town of Dry Rot, New Mexico, built on a small hill, “still waiting for the flood.” [Harry L. Schuler, “Not Long for This world”, South Orange Literary Review, XL (Sept. 1962) p. 214]
Then came that memorable day when the name of farmer Cyrus Mills became a household word.
“Tarnation!” said farmer Mills.
He gaped in rustic amazement at the object he had come across in his cornfield. He approached it cautiously. He prodded it with a sausage finger.
“Nation,” he repeated, less volubly.
Jason Gullwhistle of The United States Experimented Farm Station No. 3, Nebraska, drove his station wagon out to farmer Mills’ farm in answer to an urgent phone call. Farmer Mills took Mr. Gullwhistle out to the object.
“That’s odd,” said Jason Gullwhistle. “It looks like an orange tree.”
Close investigation revealed the truth of this remark. It was, indeed, an orange tree.
“Incredible,” said Jason Gullwhistle. “An orange tree in the middle of a Nebraska cornfield. I never.”
Later they returned to the house for a lemonade and there found Mrs. Mills in halter and shorts, wearing sunglasses and an old chewed-up fur jacket she had exhumed from her crumbling hope chest.
“Think I’ll drive into Hollywood,” said Mrs. Mills, sixty-five if she was a day.
By nightfall every wire service had embraced the item, and every paper of any prominence whatever had featured it as a humorous insertion on page one.
Within a week, however, the humor had vanished.
Reports came pouring in from every corner of the state of Nebraska, as well as portions of Iowa, Kansas and Colorado—reports of citrus trees discovered in corn and wheat fields, as well as more alarming reports relative to eccentric behavior in the rural populace.
Addiction to the wearing of scanty apparel became noticeable, an inexplicable rise in the sales of frozen orange juice manifested itself and oddly similar letters were received by dozens of chambers of commerce—letters which heatedly demanded the immediate construction of motor speedways, tennis courts, drive-in theatres and drive-in restaurants. And letters which complained of smog.
But it was not until a marked increase in daily temperatures and an equally marked increase of unfathomable citrus tree growth began to imperil the corn and wheat crop that serious action was taken. Local farm groups organized spraying operations but to little or no avail. Orange, lemon and grapefruit trees continued to flourish in geometric proliferation.
And a nation, at long last, became alarmed.
* * * *
A seminar of the country’s top scientists met in Ragweed, Nebraska, the geographical center of this multiplying plague, to discuss possibilities.
“Dynamic tremors in the alluvial sub-strata,” said Doctor Kenneth Loam of the University of Denver.
“Mass chemical disorder in soil composition,” said Spencer Smith of the duPont Laboratories.
“Momentous gene mutation in the seed corn,” said Professor Jeremy Brass of Kansas College.
“Violent contraction of the atmospheric dome,” said Professor Lawson Hinkson of M.I.T.
“Displacement of orbit,” said Roger Cosmos of the Hayden Planetarium.
“I’m scared,” said a little man from Purdue.
Such positive results as may have emerged from this body of speculative genius are yet to be appraised.
History records that a closer labeling of the cause of this unusual behavior in nature and man occurred in early October of 1962, when Associate Professor David Silver, young research physicist at the University of Missouri, published in The Scientific American an article entitled, “The Collecting of Evidences.”
In this brilliant essay, Professor Silver first voiced the opinion that all the apparently disconnected occurrences were, in actuality, superficial revelations of one underlying phenomenon. To the moment of this article, scant attention had been paid to the erratic behavior of people in the affected areas. Mr. Silver attributed this behavior to the same cause which had effected the alien growth of citrus trees.
The fi
nal deductive link was forged, oddly enough, in a Sunday supplement of the now-defunct Hearst newspaper syndicate. [H. Braham, “Is Los Angeles Alive?”, Los Angeles Sunday Examiner, October 29, 1962 ] The author of this piece, a professional article writer, in doing research for an article, stumbled across the paragraph recounting Doctor Grimsby’s discovery. Seeing in this a most salable feature, he wrote an article combining the theses of Doctor Grimsby and Professor Silver and emerging with his own amateur concept which, strange to say, was absolutely correct. (This fact was later obscured in the severe litigation that arose when Professors Grimsby and Silver brought suit against the author for not consulting them before writing the article.)
Star Science Fiction 5 - [Anthology] Page 4