—
At the same moment, hundreds of kilometers from the mangors and observing everything from the heights of the cosmos, human reason, reinforced by the whole might of various machines, was trying to solve the same problem.
Electronic and laser signals, acting with a speed incomprehensible not only to the mangors but to man himself, searched the whole polar region, studying the arcs of the multiple storms, the chaos of vortices, the blows delivered by furious currents of air, the whole brainteaser of atmospheric conditions that were scarcely calculable by terrestrial mathematical models, and all with the single aim of finding a spot on the surface of the planet where the landing party could come down without coming into danger from the rapid fury of extraterrestrial elements.
Insofar as truth is an objective quantity, there is nothing surprising in the fact that different, almost incompatible methods should give one and the same result: the earthlings’ landing craft hurried to the same place where the mangors had themselves hurried earlier.
The mangors had stopped moving as soon as they had reached the hollow where they could safely graze. Their “sails” were furled, they lay flat against the ground collecting the miserly light from its distant source, and their tentacles dug into the earth so as to find nutritive salts for the bodies that lay spread over several hectares.
No one would say that the mangors were nomadic now; they looked as if they had always grown and would always grow on this hillside. All the other living things that accompanied the mangors and could not live without them (just as the mangors in their turn could not live without these other creatures) settled down and got to work.
A roar from the sky, a crescendo of noise, a strong wind hit the mangors without warning and forced them to hold tighter to the soil. Carried on a fiery pillar, a lens-shaped object came from the clouds and slowly settled on the ground.
The mangors’ organs registered almost every detail of mankind’s arrival on their planet, apart from the final moment: the craft’s descent onto the top of the hill.
The wind died down, and they calmed too. Whatever had happened was not a sudden typhoon that could damage them, but even if it had been, then the typhoon had moved off somewhere to the side. The range of responses to outside stimuli—never particularly broad—worked as expected and the mangors carried on grazing peacefully, enjoying the cool rays of their sun, enjoying their food and their current security. Everything to do with the arrival of man laid a long way beyond the boundaries of their dim consciousness, and although their path in life had already crossed that of man, for them everything remained the same as it had been before.
And mankind was also unaware that these two paths had crossed, although it was aware of the existence of the mangors and was interested in them. Strangely enough, both sides had roughly the same relation to the other: for the mangors mankind did not exist, and man thought of the mangors only as a puzzle—what details of the life of a planet can be determined from outer space? All that they had established was that some patches of what was obviously vegetation either changed color (this was the traditional hypothesis, and therefore the one that was considered to be the most accurate) or else dug holes for themselves in periods of bad weather, or else moved around in some incomprehensible fashion. In the face of the alien and violent atmosphere there was no more that could be said, not even by the automatic probes, which were blown around like autumn leaves.
And so, what did the mangors actually mean? They were tiny pebbles, dust on mankind’s great journey to the stars. Dust which should be examined in passing, no more than that.
—
When the ship had finally landed, the bottom of the landing craft moved aside, releasing anchor legs that immediately screwed themselves into the soil in case of unexpected hurricanes. What the hurricanes were like here was as well-known by the people who had never experienced them as it was by the mangors themselves. But they were unable to rely on their calculations—when and where the hurricanes would appear—as firmly as the mangors could rely on their instincts.
An hour after the dust had settled a ramp came down from an open hatch and an all-terrain vehicle came down. Mankind had stepped onto yet another planet.
—
The all-terrain vehicle forced itself over the crest of a hill, and humans saw mangors up close for the first time. Or rather, they did not see mangors but rather something that was familiar and understandable to them: a clump of bushes. Not entirely normal, but a clump just the same, a low canopy of thick and naked branches, many of which ended in a fan of dark oblong leaves. Their surface was exactly perpendicular to the rays of the sun. There was no possibility for doubt about what this was, and the driver took the all-terrain vehicle through the clump.
The caterpillar tracks crushed the thick “mattress” of branches, without even registering any resistance. The first leaves were ground into the dust; the all-terrain vehicle moved onward, leaving mulch behind it.
“The scheduled rest point is in the middle of the vegetation,” the biologist said without taking his eyes off the visicam. “We need to take some scans and study the bushes up close.”
But they would stop a little earlier than predicted. And not of their own volition.
—
The edge of the mangors’ flesh felt pain that spread as the vehicle cut through the living body. But the mangors did not react too quickly: their life was a continuous battle for existence and they knew what to do and when to do it. They noticed the monster as soon as it arrived. Identification was a matter of a few moments. The mangors did not discover anything new: they considered this just a standard attack by their primordial enemy, the ourbans. Countless generations of ourbans had fed on mangors, engaging them in a cruel battle, and countless generations of mangors had either been victorious or else died in these struggles. The less capable were the ones who died, while the clever and cunning survived and killed the less successful ourbans themselves. And so they mutually removed their weakest elements: this unending battle between deadly enemies was the guarantee of progress for them both, and the increasing perfection of the ourbans led to the increasing perfection of the mangors.
The low-slung and massive all-terrain vehicle resembled an ourban only in part, of course, but the point where resemblance was the closest was the most important: it was attacking. And so the movement of the caterpillar tracks provoked the whole arsenal of offensive techniques against such crushing giants, just as the appearance of the mangors provoked in an observing human’s consciousness the idea that he was looking at a bush.
And if the mangors had been capable of reason, they would have noticed with satisfaction that the enemy attacking them was, while impudent and large, also stupid, and so victory over this ourban would necessarily be theirs.
But they were incapable of reason, and so they acted.
—
The all-terrain vehicle rocked smoothly from side to side. So smoothly, so gently, that any irregularity would have caused a more noticeable jolt. None of the people on board noticed anything.
—
The calculations that the mangors carried out unconsciously would have done an Earth computer proud. At just the right moment, using just the right amount of force, as if on command, a large number of legroots reached out. As soon as the all-terrain vehicle moved over this patch of ground, the legroots, invisible underneath the leaves, would gently latch on to the bottom of the vehicle. The ourban in question could not sense this contact, but the mangors were given invaluable information about their enemy’s weight.
—
The all-terrain vehicle rocked once again, sharply. At the same time, it slowed so abruptly that the people inside were thrown forward. The driver automatically applied the brakes. The all-terrain vehicle righted itself. As there were no obstacles in front of them and—as a swift glance at the dial of the depth locator showed—no crevasses in the neighborhood, the driver, in surprise, started the engine.
But the all-terrain vehicl
e didn’t even think about moving. They could see the caterpillar tracks turning, they could hear the motor, but that was it. Just as automatically as he had acted a moment or two before, the driver put his foot down. The all-terrain vehicle shuddered, the caterpillar tracks spun rapidly, the motor, which apparently nothing could resist, roared in fury. But the vehicle did not move an inch.
It could not move, because the mangors, grabbing hold of its underside, had lifted it up a little, and the tracks were spinning in the air.
—
The enemy’s reaction, if the mangors had possessed the capacity for surprise, would have surprised them with its slowness. Everything had worked out unusually well: their hapless enemy had been lifted from the ground, deprived of its ability to move, and its destruction was now only a matter of time.
The mangors felt satisfied: that at least was an instinctive feeling they did know.
—
“Hello, landing craft here. We’ve been attacked by…it’ll sound a bit weird…we’ve been attacked by some bushes.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“The caterpillar tracks are just spinning in the air, the ‘bushes’ have lifted them up. They’ve got flexible branches—maybe better to say tentacles—and they’ve wrapped them around the hull so we can’t open the door or use our weapons.”
“Are you in any danger?”
“No immediate danger. The ‘bushes’ aren’t trying anything else, but it’s a pretty dumb situation: we’re prisoners, and we don’t even know what’s taken us captive. We can’t see a way out at the moment.”
“Understood. In about ten minutes we’ll attack your shrubbery.”
“The biologist says that’s a problem: we don’t have another ATV and it would be risky to attack without one, as we don’t know the nature of our enemy.”
“Have you got anything useful to add?”
“You should take scans of the ‘bushes’ and find out what we’re up against.”
“We’re doing that. Can you be sure that nothing will happen in the meantime?”
“No, of course not, but I repeat that the ‘bushes’ have stopped attacking. It’s clear they don’t know what to do with us.”
“All right, then our plan’s under way. Hold tight.”
—
The people were mistaken when they thought that the mangors didn’t know what to do with a captured monster. They were also mistaken when they thought that the mangors wouldn’t try anything else. They acted as they were accustomed to act, and just as the previously mentioned conversation was taking place, they tried to make the all-terrain vehicle explode, just as they would explode an ourban that fell into their clutches.
Of course, they didn’t succeed in this, because something was not quite right: the enemy didn’t try to tear itself free from its bonds, and the branches that would usually have cut off the ourban’s dangerous claws snipped only at thin air.
This last circumstance confused not only the mangors but also the humans, who watched uncomprehendingly as to the left and the right of the hull clumps of tentacles waved in the air. What could this mean? All of the mangors’ other actions, once the first wave of astonishment had passed, were comprehensible, even if not entirely so. This assault had no obvious explanation and made them suspect the worst: a treacherous plot planned for the future.
—
Leaving one person on board, the three soldiers quickly reached the top of the hill. They were armed with plasma rifles, weapons of unimaginable power. But, as became immediately clear, even with their help it was too much to expect rapid success. An armored monster was one thing—a well-placed blast of plasma could cut one in two—but a thick clump of bushes was quite another, and it was this latter they had to pass through to reach the stranded machine.
But what could shrubbery do against the weapon that had cleared the way for mankind on all worlds without exception?
—
Convinced that they would not now be able to make their victim explode, the mangors changed their tactic: the branches squeezed the all-terrain vehicle so hard that no ourban would have been able to survive.
However, the spectrolite shell of the vehicle did not even squeak, and the people within the vehicle did not notice these new and powerful efforts the mangors were making.
—
The shrubbery had to be burned away slowly, meter after meter, and the attackers methodically set to their task. They had no doubt as to their success.
Of course, the mangors were not aware that these little figures, hurting their body at a distance, and the captured giant were links in a single chain. They were faced by a new enemy, and that was it. They had not yet had to face an enemy who attacked at a distance, but fear of the unknown—any kind of fear if it came to that—was not something they recognized. While they had not yet suffered too much damage, they could and should fight on, or else, as their million years of experience had taught them, they would not survive.
—
With satisfaction, the people noticed that their first shots made the shrubbery retreat. The whole front retreated, but they took the all-terrain vehicle along with them.
The enemy was fleeing, and had to be pursued! This was an ancient rule of the hunt. And also there was nothing else the people could do, as their weapons were less effective at a distance. They began their pursuit.
—
The mangors were unaware of any abstract idea of “ambush.” But they set an ambush, because that was a tactic in their arsenal of combat tactics.
They did not withdraw entirely. Individual legroots sunk into the soil where they had been set and remained until they felt the feet of the enemy touch them.
—
Even a battle against bushes generates a certain amount of passion, and the people, firing their lightning into the canopy, did not pay much attention to the soil their shots had charred.
The assault was the business of an instant. The people could not understand what was happening to them as their legs were seized by tentacles that came hurtling out of the ground. A moment more and their bodies were hanging in the air, and other tentacles seized their hands.
It was so strange, this being flung up into the air, that the people missed the valuable moment when their weapons might still have freed them.
—
Of course the mangors, as might be expected, immediately started squeezing their new captives, but the strength of individual legroots, which had worked so well in capturing their enemies, was not enough to crush a thick space suit.
But this was only a temporary respite for the humans. As soon as the shooting had stopped, the whole mass of the mangors headed toward the three helpless prisoners hanging in the air.
—
They understood at once that they were under threat. Their weapons and arms were seized in such a fantastical way that two of them could only move their wrists. In such a position, moving was not at all comfortable, but a target such as the shrubbery could be hit even without aiming. And so the mangors were once again struck by lightning.
This was an act of desperation, and the people expected that the tentacles would immediately seize, and squeeze, and crush the weapons. But, to their surprise and relief, nothing of the kind happened—the tentacles didn’t move in the slightest.
—
The mangors’ front line came under fire and stopped dead. The people immediately stopped firing—in their new situation every shot was valuable.
The mangors came forward.
The people fired again and the mangors stopped.
This happened several times.
Finally the people were released from their nightmare, and the mangors no longer attempted to move forward.
—
The mangors, although primitive in structure, knew how to learn. But here their capacities were limited. The shots had activated certain reflexes, but things got complicated after that. The mangors found themselves in a bit of a hole, if one can put it like t
hat, because the battle was not being fought “according to the rules.”
And then, when their instincts had run out of options, they began to function via trial and error.
—
“Somebody do something!”
The shout came in vain through the earphones. The people remaining in the all-terrain vehicle preferred not to look at one another. Their situation was terrible, because they, protected by the ship’s hull yet powerless to act, would have to watch their friends agonize, the very friends who had wanted to save them and who had themselves been taken prisoner.
Because their friends would certainly die sooner or later. Even if everything stayed as it was and the shrubbery did nothing more, the oxygen in the space suits would run out before any spaceship could come rushing from a neighboring planet.
There was still one free human: the watchman had left his post, and his lonely figure now loomed over the brow of the hill. But he could not shoot—there was no way he could cut through a tentacle without hitting a person. Go closer and use a cutter? That was too risky.
—
Suddenly the all-terrain vehicle shook. It tilted sharply and the people on board were scarcely able to grasp the handles. No, the mangors had not forgotten their initial enemy. They turned it upside down.
Why? The humans did not know this; neither did the mangors.
—
Even with the all-terrain vehicle upside down, the mangors could not do anything with it, but they could deal with the others in at least three ways: kill them by striking them hard against the ground, twist their bodies around until they broke the space suits, or, as they had done with the all-terrain vehicle, turn them upside down.
The second option was one that the mangors retained in their hereditary memory, but, luckily for the humans, it was an option that they had already tried unsuccessfully with the all-terrain vehicle, so they did not attempt it here. More precisely, their instinct to “do what you always do” had been weakened by a second one: “do something different.” And since the people with the lightning and the all-terrain vehicle seemed to be different enemies, they tried different methods with them: all the tentacles did was release the juice they used to break down minerals in the soil. And they started to shake the people, just as they did when, the juice having been released, they wanted to break up the soil.
The Big Book of Science Fiction Page 119