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YOUTH by Isaac Asimov
Red and Slim found the two strange little animals the morning after they heard the thunder
sounds. They knew that they could never show their new pets to their parents.
Chapter One
There was a spatter of pebbles against the window and the youngster stirred in his sleep.
Another, and he was awake. He sat up stiffly in bed. Seconds passed while
he interpreted his strange surroundings. He wasn't in his own home, of course. This was
out in the country. It was colder than it should be and there was green at the window.
"Slim!" The call was a hoarse, urgent whisper, and
the youngster bounded to the open window. Slim wasn't his real name, but the new friend
he had met the day before had needed only one look at his slight figure to say, "You're
Slim." He added, "I'm Red." Red wasn't his real name, either, but its
appropriateness was obvious. They were friends instantly with the quick unquestioning friendship
of young ones not yet quite in adolescence, before even the first stains of adulthood
began to make their appearance. Slim cried, "Hi, Red!" and waved cheerfully,
still blinking the sleep out of himself. Red kept to his croaking whisper, "Quiet!
You want to wake somebody?" Slim noticed all at once that the sun scarcely
topped the low hills in the east, that the shadows were long and soft, and that the grass
was wet. Slim said, more softly, "What's the matter?"
Red only waved for him to come out. Slim dressed quickly, gladly confining his
morning wash to the momentary sprinkle of a little lukewarm water. He let the air dry
the exposed portions of his body as he ran out, while bare skin grew wet against the
dewy grass. Red said, "You've got to be quiet. If Mom
wakes up or Dad or your Dad or even any of the hands then it'll be 'Come on in or you'll
catch your death of cold.'" He mimicked voice and tone faithfully, so
that Slim laughed and thought that there had never been so funny a fellow as Red.
Slim said, eagerly, "Do you come out here every day like this, Red? Real early? It's
like the whole world is just yours, isn't it, Red? No one else around and all like that."
He felt proud at being allowed entrance into this private world.
Red stared at him sidelong. He said carelessly, "I've been up for hours. Didn't you hear it
last night?" "Hear what?"
"Thunder." "Was there a thunderstorm?" Slim never slept
through a thunderstorm. "I guess not. But there was thunder. I heard
it, and then I went to the window and it wasn't raining. It was all stars and the sky was
just getting sort of almost gray. You know what I mean?"
Slim had never seen it so, but he nodded. "So I just thought I'd go out," said Red.
They walked along the grassy side of the concrete road that split the panorama right down the
middle all the way down to where it vanished among the hills. It was so old that Red's
father couldn't tell Red when it had been built. It didn't have a crack or a rough spot
in it. Red said, "Can you keep a secret?"
"Sure, Red. What kind of a secret?" "Just a secret. Maybe I'll tell you and maybe
I won't. I don't know yet." Red broke a long, supple stem from a fern they passed, methodically
stripped it of its leaflets and swung what was left whip-fashion. For a moment, he was
on a wild charger, which reared and champed under his iron control. Then he got tired,
tossed the whip aside and stowed the charger away in a corner of his imagination for future
use. He said, "There'll be a circus around."
Slim said, "That's no secret. I knew that. My Dad told me even before we came here—"
"That's not the secret. Fine secret! Ever see a circus?"
"Oh, sure. You bet." "Like it?"
"Say, there isn't anything I like better." Red was watching out of the corner of his
eyes again. "Ever think you would like to be with a circus? I mean, for good?"
Slim considered, "I guess not. I think I'll be an astronomer like my Dad. I think he wants
me to be." "Huh! Astronomer!" said Red.
Slim felt the doors of the new, private world closing on him and astronomy became a thing
of dead stars and black, empty space. He said, placatingly, "A circus would be more
fun." "You're just saying that."
"No, I'm not. I mean it." Red grew argumentative. "Suppose you had a
chance to join the circus right now. What would you do?"
"I—I—" "See!" Red affected scornful laughter.
Slim was stung. "I'd join up." "Go on."
"Try me." Red whirled at him, strange and intense. "You
meant that? You want to go in with me?"
"What do you mean?" Slim stepped back a bit, surprised by the unexpected challenge.
"I got something that can get us into the circus. Maybe someday we can even have a circus
of our own. We could be the biggest circus-fellows in the world. That's if you want to go in
with me. Otherwise—Well, I guess I can do it on my own. I just thought: Let's give good
old Slim a chance." The world was strange and glamorous, and Slim
said, "Sure thing, Red. I'm in! What is it, huh, Red? Tell me what it is."
"Figure it out. What's the most important thing in circuses?"
Slim thought desperately. He wanted to give the right answer. Finally, he said, "Acrobats?"
"Holy Smokes! I wouldn't go five steps to look at acrobats."
"I don't know then." "Animals, that's what! What's the best side-show?
Where are the biggest crowds? Even in the main rings the best acts are animal acts."
There was no doubt in Red's voice. "Do you think so?"
"Everyone thinks so. You ask anyone. Anyway, I found animals this morning. Two of them."
"And you've got them?" "Sure. That's the secret. Are you telling?"
"Of course not." "Okay. I've got them in the barn. Do you want
to see them?" They were almost at the barn; its huge open
door black. Too black. They had been heading there all the time. Slim stopped in his tracks.
He tried to make his words casual. "Are they big?"
"Would I fool with them if they were big? They can't hurt you. They're only about so
long. I've got them in a cage." They were in the barn now and Slim saw the
large cage suspended from a hook in the roof. It was covered with stiff canvas.
Red said, "We used to have some bird there or something. Anyway, they can't get away
from there. Come on, let's go up to the loft." They clambered up the wooden stairs and Red
hooked the cage toward them. Slim pointed and said, "There's sort of a
hole in the canvas." Red frowned. "How'd that get there?" He lifted
the canvas, looked in, and said, with relief, "They're still there."
"The canvas appeared to be burned," worried Slim.
"You want to look, or don't you?" Slim nodded slowly. He wasn't sure he wanted
to, after all. They might be— But the canvas had been *** off and there
they were. Two of them, the way Red said. They were small, and sort of disgusting-looking.
The animals moved quickly as the canvas lifted and were on the side toward the youngsters.
Red poked a cautious finger at them. "Watch out," said Slim, in agony.
"They don't hurt you," said Red. "Ever see anything like them?"
"No." "Can't you see how a circus would jump at
a chance to have these?" "Maybe they're too small for a circus."
Red looked annoyed. He let go the cage which swung back and forth pendulum-fashion. "You're
just trying to back out, aren't you?" "No, I'm not. It's just—"
"They're not too small, don't worry. Right now, I've only got one worry."
"What's that?" "Well, I've got to keep them till the circus
comes, don't I? I've got to figure out what to feed them meanwhile."
The cage swung and the little trapped creatures clung to its bars, gesturing at the youngsters
with ***, quick motions—almost as though they were intelligent.
Chapter Two
The Astronomer entered the dining room with decorum. He felt very much the guest.
He said, "Where are the youngsters? My son isn't in his room."
The Industrialist smiled. "They've been out for hours. However, breakfast was forced into
them among the women some time ago, so there is nothing to worry about. Youth, Doctor,
youth!" "Youth!" The word seemed to depress the Astronomer.
They ate breakfast in silence. The Industrialist said once, "You really think they'll come.
The day looks so—normal." The Astronomer said, "They'll come."
That was all. Afterward the Industrialist said, "You'll
pardon me. I can't conceive your playing so elaborate a hoax. You really spoke to them?"
"As I speak to you. At least, in a sense. They can project thoughts."
"I gathered that must be so from your letter. How, I wonder."
"I could not say. I asked them and, of course, they were vague. Or perhaps it was just that
I could not understand. It involves a projector for the focussing of thought and, even more
than that, conscious attention on the part of both projector and receptor. It was quite
a while before I realized they were trying to think at me. Such thought-projectors may
be part of the science they will give us." "Perhaps," said the Industrialist. "Yet think
of the changes it would bring to society. A thought-projector!"
"Why not? Change would be good for us." "I don't think so."
"It is only in old age that change is unwelcome," said the Astronomer, "and races can be old
as well as individuals." The Industrialist pointed out the window.
"You see that road. It was built Beforethewars. I don't know exactly when. It is as good now
as the day it was built. We couldn't possibly duplicate it now. The race was young when
that was built, eh?" "Then? Yes! At least they weren't afraid of
new things." "No. I wish they had been. Where is the society
of Beforethewars? Destroyed, Doctor! What good were youth and new things? We are better
off now. The world is peaceful and jogs along. The race goes nowhere but after all, there
is nowhere to go. They proved that. The men who built the road. I will speak with your
visitors as I agreed, if they come. But I think I will only ask them to go."
"The race is not going nowhere," said the Astronomer, earnestly. "It is going toward
final destruction. My university has a smaller student body each year. Fewer books are written.
Less work is done. An old man sleeps in the sun and his days are peaceful and unchanging,
but each day finds him nearer death all the same."
"Well, well," said the Industrialist. "No, don't dismiss it. Listen. Before I wrote
you, I investigated your position in the planetary economy."
"And you found me solvent?" interrupted the Industrialist, smiling.
"Why, yes. Oh, I see, you are joking. And yet—perhaps the joke is not far off. You
are less solvent than your father and he was less solvent than his father. Perhaps your
son will no longer be solvent. It becomes too troublesome for the planet to support
even the industries that still exist, though they are toothpicks to the oak trees of Beforethewars.
We will be back to village economy and then to what? The caves?"
"And the infusion of fresh technological knowledge will be the changing of all that?"
"Not just the new knowledge. Rather the whole effect of change, of a broadening of horizons.
Look, sir, I chose you to approach in this matter not only because you were rich and
influential with government officials, but because you had an unusual reputation, for
these days, of daring to break with tradition. Our people will resist change and you would
know how to handle them, how to see to it that—that—"
"That the youth of the race is revived?" "Yes."
"With its atomic bombs?" "The atomic bombs," returned the Astronomer,
"need not be the end of civilization. These visitors of mine had their atomic bomb, or
whatever their equivalent was on their own worlds, and survived it, because they didn't
give up. Don't you see? It wasn't the bomb that defeated us, but our own shell shock.
This may be the last chance to reverse the process."
"Tell me," said the Industrialist, "what do these friends from space want in return?"
The Astronomer hesitated. He said, "I will be truthful with you. They come from a denser
planet. Ours is richer in the lighter atoms." "They want magnesium? Aluminum?"
"No, sir. Carbon and hydrogen. They want coal and oil."
"Really?" The Astronomer said, quickly, "You are going
to ask why creatures who have mastered space travel, and therefore atomic power, would
want coal and oil. I can't answer that." The Industrialist smiled. "But I can. This
is the best evidence yet of the truth of your story. Superficially, atomic power would seem
to preclude the use of coal and oil. However, quite apart from the energy gained by their
combustion they remain, and always will remain, the basic raw material for all organic chemistry.
Plastics, dyes, pharmaceuticals, solvents. Industry could not exist without them, even
in an atomic age. Still, if coal and oil are the low price for which they would sell us
the troubles and tortures of racial youth, my answer is that the commodity would be dear
if offered gratis." The Astronomer sighed and said, "There are
the boys!" They were visible through the open window,
standing together in the grassy field and lost in animated conversation. The Industrialist's
son pointed imperiously and the Astronomer's son nodded and made off at a run toward the
house. The Industrialist said, "There is the Youth
you speak of. Our race has as much of it as it ever had."
"Yes, but we age them quickly and pour them into the mold."
Slim scuttled into the room, the door banging behind him.
The Astronomer said, in mild disapproval, "What's this?"
Slim looked up in surprise and came to a halt. "I beg your pardon. I didn't know anyone was
here. I am sorry to have interrupted." His enunciation was almost painfully precise.
The Industrialist said, "It's all right, youngster." But the Astronomer said, "Even if you had
been entering an empty room, son, there would be no cause for slamming a door."
"Nonsense," insisted the Industrialist. "The youngster has done no harm. You simply scold
him for being young. You, with your views!" He said to Slim, "Come here, lad."
Slim advanced slowly. "How do you like the country, eh?"
"Very much, sir, thank you." "My son has been showing you about the place,
has he?" "Yes, sir. Red—I mean—"
"No, no. Call him Red. I call him that myself. Now tell me, what are you two up to, eh?"
Slim looked away. "Why—just exploring, sir." The Industrialist turned to the Astronomer.
"There you are, youthful curiosity and adventure-***. The race has not yet lost it."
Slim said, "Sir?" "Yes, lad."
The youngster took a long time in getting on with it. He said, "Red sent me in for something
good to eat, but I don't exactly know what he meant. I didn't like to say so."
"Why, just ask cook. She'll have something good for young'uns to eat."
"Oh, no, sir. I mean for animals." "For animals?"
"Yes, sir. What do animals eat?" The Astronomer said, "I am afraid my son is
city-bred." "Well," said the Industrialist, "there's no
harm in that. What kind of an animal, lad?" "A small one, sir."
"Then try grass or leaves, and if they don't want that, nuts or berries would probably
do the trick." "Thank you, sir." Slim ran out again, closing
the door gently behind him. The Astronomer said, "Do you suppose they've
trapped an animal alive?" He was obviously perturbed.
"That's common enough. There's no shooting on my estate and it's tame country, full of
rodents and small creatures. Red is always coming home with pets of one sort or another.
They rarely maintain his interest for long." He looked at the wall clock. "Your friends
should have been here by now, shouldn't they?"
Chapter Three
The swaying had come to a halt and it was dark. The Explorer was not comfortable in
the alien air. It felt as thick as soup and he had to breathe shallowly. Even so—
He reached out in a sudden need for company. The Merchant was warm to the touch. His breathing
was rough, he moved in an occasional spasm, and was obviously asleep. The Explorer hesitated
and decided not to wake him. It would serve no real purpose.
There would be no rescue, of course. That was the penalty paid for the high profits
which unrestrained competition could lead to. The Merchant who opened a new planet could
have a ten year monopoly of its trade, which he might hug to himself or, more likely, rent
out to all comers at a stiff price. It followed that planets were searched for in secrecy
and, preferably, away from the usual trade routes. In a case such as theirs, then, there
was little or no chance that another ship would come within range of their subetherics
except for the most improbable of coincidences. Even if they were in their ship, that is,
rather than in this—this—cage. The Explorer grasped the thick bars. Even
if they blasted those away, as they could, they would be stuck too high in open air for
leaping. It was too bad. They had landed twice before
in the scout-ship. They had established contact with the natives who were grotesquely huge,
but mild and unaggressive. It was obvious that they had once owned a flourishing technology,
but hadn't faced up to the consequences of such a technology. It would have been a wonderful
market. And it was a tremendous world. The Merchant,
especially, had been taken aback. He had known the figures that expressed the planet's diameter,
but from a distance of two light-seconds, he had stood at the visi-plate and muttered,
"Unbelievable!" "Oh, there are larger worlds," the Explorer
said. It wouldn't do for an Explorer to be too easily impressed.
"Inhabited?" "Well, no."
"Why, you could drop your planet into that large ocean and drown it."
The Explorer smiled. It was a gentle dig at his Arcturian homeland, which was smaller
than most planets. He said, "Not quite." The Merchant followed along the line of his
thoughts. "And the inhabitants are large in proportion to their world?" He sounded as
though the news struck him less favorably now.
"Nearly ten times our height." "Are you sure they are friendly?"
"That is hard to say. Friendship between alien intelligences is an imponderable. They are
not dangerous, I think. We've come across other groups that could not maintain equilibrium
after the atomic war stage and you know the results. Introversion. Retreat. Gradual decadence
and increasing gentleness." "Even if they are such monsters?"
"The principle remains." It was about then that the Explorer felt the
heavy throbbing of the engines. He frowned and said, "We are descending a
bit too quickly." There had been some speculation on the dangers
of landing some hours before. The planetary target was a huge one for an oxygen-water
world. Though it lacked the size of the uninhabitable hydrogen-ammonia planets and its low density
made its surface gravity fairly normal, its gravitational forces fell off but slowly with
distance. In short, its gravitational potential was high and the ship's Calculator was a run-of-the-mill
model not designed to plot landing trajectories at that potential range. That meant the Pilot
would have to use manual controls. It would have been wiser to install a more
high-powered model, but that would have meant a trip to some outpost of civilization; lost
time; perhaps a lost secret. The Merchant demanded an immediate landing.
The Merchant felt it necessary to defend his position now. He said angrily to the Explorer,
"Don't you think the Pilot knows his job? He landed you safely twice before."
Yes, thought the Explorer, in a scout-ship, not in this unmaneuverable freighter. Aloud,
he said nothing. He kept his eye on the visi-plate. They were
descending too quickly. There was no room for doubt. Much too quickly.
The Merchant said, peevishly, "Why do you keep silence?"
"Well, then, if you wish me to speak, I would suggest that you strap on your Floater and
help me prepare the Ejector." The Pilot fought a noble fight. He was no
beginner. The atmosphere, abnormally high and thick in the gravitational potential of
this world whipped and burned about the ship, but to the very last it looked as though he
might bring it under control despite that. He even maintained course, following the extrapolated
line to the point on the northern continent toward which they were headed. Under other
circumstances, with a shade more luck, the story would eventually have been told and
retold as a heroic and masterly reversal of a lost situation. But within sight of victory,
tired body and tired nerves clamped a control bar with a shade too much pressure. The ship,
which had almost levelled off, dipped down again.
There was no room to retrieve the final error. There was only a mile left to fall. The Pilot
remained at his post to the actual landing, his only thought that of breaking the force
of the crash, of maintaining the spaceworthiness of the vessel. He did not survive. With the
ship bucking madly in a soupy atmosphere, few Ejectors could be mobilized and only one
of them in time. When afterwards, the Explorer lifted out of
unconsciousness and rose to his feet, he had the definite feeling that but for himself
and the Merchant, there were no survivors. And perhaps that was an over-calculation.
His Floater had burnt out while still sufficiently distant from surface to have the fall stun
him. The Merchant might have had less luck, even, than that.
He was surrounded by a world of thick, ropy stalks of grass, and in the distance were
trees that reminded him vaguely of similar structures on his native Arcturian world except
that their lowest branches were high above what he would consider normal tree-tops.
He called, his voice sounding basso in the thick air and the Merchant answered. The Explorer
made his way toward him, thrusting violently at the coarse stalks that barred his path.
"Are you hurt?" he asked. The Merchant grimaced. "I've sprained something.
It hurts to walk." The Explorer probed gently. "I don't think
anything is broken. You'll have to walk despite the pain."
"Can't we rest first?" "It's important to try to find the ship. If
it is spaceworthy or if it can be repaired, we may live. Otherwise, we won't."
"Just a few minutes. Let me catch my breath." The Explorer was glad enough for those few
minutes. The Merchant's eyes were already closed. He allowed his to do the same.
He heard the trampling and his eyes snapped open. Never sleep on a strange planet, he
told himself futilely. The Merchant was awake too and his steady
screaming was a rumble of terror. The Explorer called, "It's only a native of
this planet. It won't harm you." But even as he spoke, the giant had swooped
down and in a moment they were in its grasp being lifted closer to its monstrous ugliness.
The Merchant struggled violently and, of course, quite futilely. "Can't you talk to it?" he
yelled. The Explorer could only shake his head. "I
can't reach it with the Projector. It won't be listening."
"Then blast it. Blast it down." "We can't do that." The phrase "you fool"
had almost been added. The Explorer struggled to keep his self-control. They were swallowing
space as the monster moved purposefully away. "Why not?" cried the Merchant. "You can reach
your blaster. I see it in plain sight. Don't be afraid of falling."
"It's simpler than that. If this monster is killed, you'll never trade with this planet.
You'll never even leave it. You probably won't live the day out."
"Why? Why?" "Because this is one of the young of the species.
You should know what happens when a trader kills a native young, even accidentally. What's
more, if this is the target-point, then we are on the estate of a powerful native. This
might be one of his brood." That was how they entered their present prison.
They had carefully burnt away a portion of the thick, stiff covering and it was obvious
that the height from which they were suspended was a killing one.
Now, once again, the prison-cage shuddered and lifted in an upward arc. The Merchant
rolled to the lower rim and startled awake. The cover lifted and light flooded in. As
was the case the time before, there were two specimens of the young. They were not very
different in appearance from adults of the species, reflected the Explorer, though, of
course, they were considerably smaller. A handful of reedy green stalks was stuffed
between the bars. Its odor was not unpleasant but it carried clods of soil at its ends.
The Merchant drew away and said, huskily, "What are they doing?"
The Explorer said, "Trying to feed us, I should judge. At least this seems to be the native
equivalent of grass." The cover was replaced and they were set swinging
again, alone with their fodder.
Chapter Four
Slim started at the sound of footsteps and brightened when it turned out to be only Red.
He said, "No one's around. I had my eye peeled, you bet."
Red said, "Ssh. Look. You take this stuff and stick it in the cage. I've got to scoot
back to the house." "What is it?" Slim reached reluctantly.
"Ground meat. Holy Smokes, haven't you ever seen ground meat? That's what you should've
got when I sent you to the house instead of coming back with that stupid grass."
Slim was hurt. "How'd I know they don't eat grass. Besides, ground meat doesn't come loose
like that. It comes in cellophane and it isn't that color."
"Sure—in the city. Out here we grind our own and it's always this color till it's cooked."
"You mean it isn't cooked?" Slim drew away quickly.
Red looked disgusted. "Do you think animals eat cooked food. Come on, take it. It won't
hurt you. I tell you there isn't much time." "Why? What's doing back at the house?"
"I don't know. Dad and your father are walking around. I think maybe they're looking for
me. Maybe the cook told them I took the meat. Anyway, we don't want them coming here after
me." "Didn't you ask the cook before you took this
stuff?" "Who? That crab? Shouldn't wonder if she only
let me have a drink of water because Dad makes her. Come on. Take it."
Slim took the large glob of meat though his skin crawled at the touch. He turned toward
the barn and Red sped away in the direction from which he had come.
He slowed when he approached the two adults, took a few deep breaths to bring himself back
to normal, and then carefully and nonchalantly sauntered past. (They were walking in the
general direction of the barn, he noticed, but not dead on.)
He said, "Hi, Dad. Hello, sir." The Industrialist said, "Just a moment, Red.
I have a question to ask you?" Red turned a carefully blank face to his father.
"Yes, Dad?" "Mother tells me you were out early this morning."
"Not real early, Dad. Just a little before breakfast."
"She said you told her it was because you had been awakened during the night and didn't
go back to sleep." Red waited before answering. Should he have
told Mom that? Then he said, "Yes, sir."
"What was it that awakened you?" Red saw no harm in it. He said, "I don't know,
Dad. It sounded like thunder, sort of, and like a collision, sort of."
"Could you tell where it came from?" "It sounded like it was out by the hill."
That was truthful, and useful as well, since the direction was almost opposite that in
which the barn lay. The Industrialist looked at his guest. "I
suppose it would do no harm to walk toward the hill."
The Astronomer said, "I am ready." Red watched them walk away and when he turned
he saw Slim peering cautiously out from among the briars of a hedge.
Red waved at him. "Come on." Slim stepped out and approached. "Did they
say anything about the meat?" "No. I guess they don't know about that. They
went down to the hill." "What for?"
"Search me. They kept asking about the noise I heard. Listen, did the animals eat the meat?"
"Well," said Slim, cautiously, "they were sort of looking at it and smelling it or something."
"Okay," Red said, "I guess they'll eat it. Holy Smokes, they've got to eat something.
Let's walk along toward the hill and see what Dad and your father are going to do."
"What about the animals?" "They'll be all right. A fellow can't spend
all his time on them. Did you give them water?" "Sure. They drank that."
"See. Come on. We'll look at them after lunch. I tell you what. We'll bring them fruit. Anything'll
eat fruit." Together they trotted up the rise, Red, as
usual, in the lead.
Chapter Five
The Astronomer said, "You think the noise was their ship landing?"
"Don't you think it could be?" "If it were, they may all be dead."
"Perhaps not." The Industrialist frowned. "If they have landed, and are still alive,
where are they?" "Think about that for a while." He was still
frowning. The Astronomer said, "I don't understand you."
"They may not be friendly." "Oh, no. I've spoken with them. They've—"
"You've spoken with them. Call that reconnaissance. What would their next step be? Invasion?"
"But they only have one ship, sir." "You know that only because they say so. They
might have a fleet." "I've told you about their size. They—"
"Their size would not matter, if they have handweapons that may well be superior to our
artillery." "That is not what I meant."
"I had this partly in mind from the first." The Industrialist went on. "It is for that
reason I agreed to see them after I received your letter. Not to agree to an unsettling
and impossible trade, but to judge their real purposes. I did not count on their evading
the meeting." He sighed. "I suppose it isn't our fault.
You are right in one thing, at any rate. The world has been at peace too long. We are losing
a healthy sense of suspicion." The Astronomer's mild voice rose to an unusual
pitch and he said, "I will speak. I tell you that there is no reason to suppose they can
possibly be hostile. They are small, yes, but that is only important because it is a
reflection of the fact that their native worlds are small. Our world has what is for them
a normal gravity, but because of our much higher gravitational potential, our atmosphere
is too dense to support them comfortably over sustained periods. For a similar reason the
use of the world as a base for interstellar travel, except for trade in certain items,
is uneconomical. And there are important differences in chemistry of life due to the basic differences
in soils. They couldn't eat our food or we theirs."
"Surely all this can be overcome. They can bring their own food, build domed stations
of lowered air pressure, devise specially designed ships."
"They can. And how glibly you can describe feats that are easy to a race in its youth.
It is simply that they don't have to do any of that. There are millions of worlds suitable
for them in the Galaxy. They don't need this one which isn't."
"How do you know? All this is their information again."
"This I was able to check independently. I am an astronomer, after all."
"That is true. Let me hear what you have to say then, while we walk."
"Then, sir, consider that for a long time our astronomers have believed that two general
classes of planetary bodies existed. First, the planets which formed at distances far
enough from their stellar nucleus to become cool enough to capture hydrogen. These would
be large planets rich in hydrogen, ammonia and methane. We have examples of these in
the giant outer planets. The second class would include those planets formed so near
the stellar center that the high temperature would make it impossible to capture much hydrogen.
These would be smaller planets, comparatively poorer in hydrogen and richer in oxygen. We
know that type very well since we live on one. Ours is the only solar system we know
in detail, however, and it has been reasonable for us to assume that these were the only
two planetary classes." "I take it then that there is another."
"Yes. There is a super-dense class, still smaller, poorer in hydrogen, than the inner
planets of the solar system. The ratio of occurrence of hydrogen-ammonia planets and
these super-dense water-oxygen worlds of theirs over the entire Galaxy—and remember that
they have actually conducted a survey of significant sample volumes of the Galaxy which we, without
interstellar travel, cannot do—is about 3 to 1. This leaves them seven million super-dense
worlds for exploration and colonization." The Industrialist looked at the blue sky and
the green-covered trees among which they were making their way. He said, "And worlds like
ours?" The Astronomer said, softly, "Ours is the
first solar system they have found which contains them. Apparently the development of our solar
system was unique and did not follow the ordinary rules."
The Industrialist considered that. "What it amounts to is that these creatures from space
are asteroid-dwellers." "No, no. The asteroids are something else
again. They occur, I was told, in one out of eight stellar systems, but they're completely
different from what we've been discussing." "And how does your being an astronomer change
the fact that you are still only quoting their unsupported statements?"
"But they did not restrict themselves to bald items of information. They presented me with
a theory of stellar evolution which I had to accept and which is more nearly valid than
anything our own astronomy has ever been able to devise, if we except possible lost theories
dating from Beforethewars. Mind you, their theory had a rigidly mathematical development
and it predicted just such a Galaxy as they describe. So you see, they have all the worlds
they wish. They are not land-hungry. Certainly not for our land."
"Reason would say so, if what you say is true. But creatures may be intelligent and not reasonable.
Our forefathers were presumably intelligent, yet they were certainly not reasonable. Was
it reasonable to destroy almost all their tremendous civilization in atomic warfare
over causes our historians can no longer accurately determine?" The Industrialist brooded over
it. "From the dropping of the first atom bomb over those islands—I forget the ancient
name—there was only one end in sight, and in plain sight. Yet events were allowed to
proceed to that end." He looked up, said briskly, "Well, where are
we? I wonder if we are not on a fool's errand after all."
But the Astronomer was a little in advance and his voice came thickly. "No fool's errand,
sir. Look there."
Chapter Six
Red and Slim had trailed their elders with the experience of youth, aided by the absorption
and anxiety of their fathers. Their view of the final object of the search was somewhat
obscured by the underbrush behind which they remained.
Red said, "Holy Smokes. Look at that. It's all shiny silver or something."
But it was Slim who was really excited. He caught at the other. "I know what this is.
It's a space-ship. That must be why my father came here. He's one of the biggest astronomers
in the world and your father would have to call him if a space-ship landed on his estate."
"What are you talking about? Dad didn't even know that thing was there. He only came here
because I told him I heard the thunder from here. Besides, there isn't any such thing
as a space-ship." "Sure, there is. Look at it. See those round
things. They are ports. And you can see the rocket tubes."
"How do you know so much?" Slim was flushed. He said, "I read about them.
My father has books about them. Old books. From Beforethewars."
"Huh. Now I know you're making it up. Books from Beforethewars!"
"My father has to have them. He teaches at the University. It's his job."
His voice had risen and Red had to pull at him. "You want them to hear us?" he whispered
indignantly. "Well, it is, too, a space-ship."
"Look here, Slim, you mean that's a ship from another world."
"It's got to be. Look at my father going round and round it. He wouldn't be so interested
if it was anything else." "Other worlds! Where are there other worlds?"
"Everywhere. How about the planets? They're worlds just like ours, some of them. And other
stars probably have planets. There's probably zillions of planets."
Red felt outweighed and outnumbered. He muttered, "You're crazy!"
"All right, then. I'll show you." "Hey! Where are you going?"
"Down there. I'm going to ask my father. I suppose you'll believe it if he tells you.
I suppose you'll believe a Professor of Astronomy knows what—"
He had scrambled upright. Red said, "Hey. You don't want them to see
us. We're not supposed to be here. Do you want them to start asking questions and find
out about our animals?" "I don't care. You said I was crazy."
"Snitcher! You promised you wouldn't tell." "I'm not going to tell. But if they find out
themselves, it's your fault, for starting an argument and saying I was crazy."
"I take it back, then," grumbled Red. "Well, all right. You better."
In a way, Slim was disappointed. He wanted to see the space-ship at closer quarters.
Still, he could not break his vow of secrecy even in spirit without at least the excuse
of personal insult. Red said, "It's awfully small for a space-ship."
"Sure, because it's probably a scout-ship." "I'll bet Dad couldn't even get into the old
thing." So much Slim realized to be true. It was a
weak point in his argument and he made no answer. His interest was absorbed by the adults.
Red rose to his feet; an elaborate attitude of boredom all about him. "Well, I guess we
better be going. There's business to do and I can't spend all day here looking at some
old space-ship or whatever it is. We've got to take care of the animals if we're going
to be circus-folks. That's the first rule with circus-folks. They've got to take care
of the animals. And," he finished virtuously, "that's what I aim to do, anyway."
Slim said, "What for, Red? They've got plenty of meat. Let's watch."
"There's no fun in watching. Besides Dad and your father are going away and I guess it's
about lunch time." Red became argumentative. "Look, Slim, we
can't start acting suspicious or they're going to start investigating. Holy Smokes, don't
you ever read any detective stories? When you're trying to work a big deal without being
caught, it's practically the main thing to keep on acting just like always. Then they
don't suspect anything. That's the first law—" "Oh, all right."
Slim rose resentfully. At the moment, the circus appeared to him a rather *** and
shoddy substitute for the glories of astronomy, and he wondered how he had come to fall in
with Red's silly scheme. Down the slope they went, Slim, as usual,
in the rear.
Chapter Seven
The Industrialist said, "It's the workmanship that gets me. I never saw such construction."
"What good is it now?" said the Astronomer, bitterly. "There's nothing left. There'll
be no second landing. This ship detected life on our planet through accident. Other exploring
parties would come no closer than necessary to establish the fact that there were no super-dense
worlds existing in our solar system." "Well, there's no quarreling with a crash
landing." "The ship hardly seems damaged. If only some
had survived, the ship might have been repaired." "If they had survived, there would be no trade
in any case. They're too different. Too disturbing. In any case—it's over."
They entered the house and the Industrialist greeted his wife calmly. "Lunch about ready,
dear." "I'm afraid not. You see—" She looked hesitantly
at the Astronomer. "Is anything wrong?" asked the Industrialist.
"Why not tell me? I'm sure our guest won't mind a little family discussion."
"Pray don't pay any attention whatever to me," muttered the Astronomer. He moved miserably
to the other end of the living room. The woman said, in low, hurried tones, "Really,
dear, cook's that upset. I've been soothing her for hours and honestly, I don't know why
Red should have done it." "Done what?" The Industrialist was more amused
than otherwise. It had taken the united efforts of himself and his son months to argue his
wife into using the name "Red" rather than the perfectly ridiculous (viewed youngster
fashion) name which was his real one. She said, "He's taken most of the chopped
meat." "He's eaten it?"
"Well, I hope not. It was raw." "Then what would he want it for?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. I haven't seen him since breakfast. Meanwhile cook's just
furious. She caught him vanishing out the kitchen door and there was the bowl of chopped
meat just about empty and she was going to use it for lunch. Well, you know cook. She
had to change the lunch menu and that means she won't be worth living with for a week.
You'll just have to speak to Red, dear, and make him promise not to do things in the kitchen
any more. And it wouldn't hurt to have him apologize to cook."
"Oh, come. She works for us. If we don't complain about a change in lunch menu, why should she?"
"Because she's the one who has double-work made for her, and she's talking about quitting.
Good cooks aren't easy to get. Do you remember the one before her?"
It was a strong argument. The Industrialist looked about vaguely. He
said, "I suppose you're right. He isn't here, I suppose. When he comes in, I'll talk to
him." "You'd better start. Here he comes."
Red walked into the house and said cheerfully, "Time for lunch, I guess." He looked from
one parent to the other in quick speculation at their fixed stares and said, "Got to clean
up first, though," and made for the other door.
The Industrialist said, "One moment, son." "Sir?"
"Where's your little friend?" Red said, carelessly, "He's around somewhere.
We were just sort of walking and I looked around and he wasn't there." This was perfectly
true, and Red felt on safe ground. "I told him it was lunch time. I said, 'I suppose
it's about lunch time.' I said, 'We got to be getting back to the house.' And he said,
'Yes.' And I just went on and then when I was about at the creek I looked around and—"
The Astronomer interrupted the voluble story, looking up from a magazine he had been sightlessly
rummaging through. "I wouldn't worry about my youngster. He is quite self-reliant. Don't
wait lunch for him." "Lunch isn't ready in any case, Doctor." The
Industrialist turned once more to his son. "And talking about that, son, the reason for
it is that something happened to the ingredients. Do you have anything to say?"
"Sir?" "I hate to feel that I have to explain myself
more fully. Why did you take the chopped meat?" "The chopped meat?"
"The chopped meat." He waited patiently. Red said, "Well, I was sort of—"
"Hungry?" prompted his father. "For raw meat?" "No, sir. I just sort of needed it."
"For what exactly?" Red looked miserable and remained silent.
The Astronomer broke in again. "If you don't mind my putting in a few words—You'll remember
that just after breakfast my son came in to ask what animals ate."
"Oh, you're right. How stupid of me to forget. Look here, Red, did you take it for an animal
pet you've got?" Red recovered indignant breath. He said, "You
mean Slim came in here and said I had an animal? He came in here and said that? He said I had
an animal?" "No, he didn't. He simply asked what animals
ate. That's all. Now if he promised he wouldn't tell on you, he didn't. It's your own foolishness
in trying to take something without permission that gave you away. That happened to be stealing.
Now have you an animal? I ask you a direct question."
"Yes, sir." It was a whisper so low as hardly to be heard.
"All right, you'll have to get rid of it. Do you understand?"
Red's mother intervened. "Do you mean to say you're keeping a meat-eating animal, Red?
It might bite you and give you blood-poison." "They're only small ones," quavered Red. "They
hardly budge if you touch them." "They? How many do you have?"
"Two." "Where are they?"
The Industrialist touched her arm. "Don't chivvy the child any further," he said, in
a low voice. "If he says he'll get rid of them, he will, and that's punishment enough."
He dismissed the matter from his mind.
Chapter Eight
Lunch was half over when Slim dashed into the dining room. For a moment, he stood abashed,
and then he said in what was almost hysteria, "I've got to speak to Red. I've got to say
something." Red looked up in fright, but the Astronomer
said, "I don't think, son, you're being very polite. You've kept lunch waiting."
"I'm sorry, Father." "Oh, don't rate the lad," said the Industrialist's
wife. "He can speak to Red if he wants to, and there was no damage done to the lunch."
"I've got to speak to Red alone," Slim insisted. "Now that's enough," said the Astronomer with
a kind of gentleness that was obviously manufactured for the benefit of strangers and which had
beneath it an easily-recognized edge. "Take your seat."
Slim did so, but he ate only when someone looked directly upon him. Even then he was
not very successful. Red caught his eyes. He made soundless words,
"Did the animals get loose?" Slim shook his head slightly. He whispered,
"No, it's—" The Astronomer looked at him hard and Slim
faltered to a stop. With lunch over, Red slipped out of the room,
with a microscopic motion at Slim to follow. They walked in silence to the creek.
Then Red turned fiercely upon his companion. "Look here, what's the idea of telling my
Dad we were feeding animals?" Slim said, "I didn't. I asked what you feed
animals. That's not the same as saying we were doing it. Besides, it's something else,
Red." But Red had not used up his grievances. "And
where did you go anyway? I thought you were coming to the house. They acted like it was
my fault you weren't there." "But I'm trying to tell you about that, if
you'd only shut up a second and let me talk. You don't give a fellow a chance."
"Well, go on and tell me if you've got so much to say."
"I'm trying to. I went back to the space-ship. The folks weren't there anymore and I wanted
to see what it was like." "It isn't a space-ship," said Red, sullenly.
He had nothing to lose. "It is, too. I looked inside. You could look
through the ports and I looked inside and they were dead." He looked sick. "They were
dead." "Who were dead."
Slim screeched, "Animals! like our animals! Only they aren't animals. They're people-things
from other planets." For a moment Red might have been turned to
stone. It didn't occur to him to disbelieve Slim at this point. Slim looked too genuinely
the bearer of just such tidings. He said, finally, "Oh, my."
"Well, what are we going to do? Golly, will we get a whopping if they find out?" He was
shivering. "We better turn them loose," said Red.
"They'll tell on us." "They can't talk our language. Not if they're
from another planet." "Yes, they can. Because I remember my father
talking about some stuff like that to my mother when he didn't know I was in the room. He
was talking about visitors who could talk with the mind. Telepathery or something. I
thought he was making it up." "Well, Holy Smokes. I mean—Holy Smokes."
Red looked up. "I tell you. My Dad said to get rid of them. Let's sort of bury them somewhere
or throw them in the creek." "He told you to do that."
"He made me say I had animals and then he said, 'Get rid of them.' I got to do what
he says. Holy Smokes, he's my Dad." Some of the panic left Slim's heart. It was
a thoroughly legalistic way out. "Well, let's do it right now, then, before they find out.
Oh, golly, if they find out, will we be in trouble!"
They broke into a run toward the barn, unspeakable visions in their minds.
Chapter Nine
It was different, looking at them as though they were "people." As animals, they had been
interesting; as "people," horrible. Their eyes, which were neutral little objects before,
now seemed to watch them with active malevolence. "They're making noises," said Slim, in a whisper
which was barely audible. "I guess they're talking or something," said
Red. Funny that those noises which they had heard before had not had significance earlier.
He was making no move toward them. Neither was Slim.
The canvas was off but they were just watching. The ground meat, Slim noticed, hadn't been
touched. Slim said, "Aren't you going to do something?"
"Aren't you?" "You found them."
"It's your turn, now." "No, it isn't. You found them. It's your fault,
the whole thing. I was watching." "You joined in, Slim. You know you did."
"I don't care. You found them and that's what I'll say when they come here looking for us."
Red said, "All right for you." But the thought of the consequences inspired him anyway, and
he reached for the cage door. Slim said, "Wait!"
Red was glad to. He said, "Now what's biting you?"
"One of them's got something on him that looks like it might be iron or something."
"Where?" "Right there. I saw it before but I thought
it was just part of him. But if he's 'people,' maybe it's a disintegrator gun."
"What's that?" "I read about it in the books from Beforethewars.
Mostly people with space-ships have disintegrator guns. They point them at you and you get disintegratored."
"They didn't point it at us till now," pointed out Red with his heart not quite in it.
"I don't care. I'm not hanging around here and getting disintegratored. I'm getting my
father." "Cowardy-cat. Yellow cowardy-cat."
"I don't care. You can call all the names you want, but if you bother them now you'll
get disintegratored. You wait and see, and it'll be all your fault."
He made for the narrow spiral stairs that led to the main floor of the barn, stopped
at its head, then backed away. Red's mother was moving up, panting a little
with the exertion and smiling a tight smile for the benefit of Slim in his capacity as
guest. "Red! You, Red! Are you up there? Now don't
try to hide. I know this is where you're keeping them. Cook saw where you ran with the meat."
Red quavered, "Hello, ma!" "Now show me those nasty animals? I'm going
to see to it that you get rid of them right away."
It was over! And despite the imminent corporal punishment, Red felt something like a load
fall from him. At least the decision was out of his hands.
"Right there, ma. I didn't do anything to them, ma. I didn't know. They just looked
like little animals and I thought you'd let me keep them, ma. I wouldn't have taken the
meat only they wouldn't eat grass or leaves and we couldn't find good nuts or berries
and cook never lets me have anything or I would have asked her and I didn't know it
was for lunch and—" He was speaking on the sheer momentum of terror
and did not realize that his mother did not hear him but, with eyes frozen and popping
at the cage, was screaming in thin, piercing tones.
Chapter Ten
The Astronomer was saying, "A quiet burial is all we can do. There is no point in any
publicity now," when they heard the screams. She had not entirely recovered by the time
she reached them, running and running. It was minutes before her husband could extract
sense from her. She was saying, finally, "I tell you they're
in the barn. I don't know what they are. No, no—"
She barred the Industrialist's quick movement in that direction. She said, "Don't you go.
Send one of the hands with a shotgun. I tell you I never saw anything like it. Little horrible
beasts with—with—I can't describe it. To think that Red was touching them and trying
to feed them. He was holding them, and feeding them meat."
Red began, "I only—" And Slim said, "It was not—"
The Industrialist said, quickly, "Now you boys have done enough harm today. March! Into
the house! And not a word; not one word! I'm not interested in anything you have to say.
After this is all over, I'll hear you out and as for you, Red, I'll see that you're
properly punished." He turned to his wife. "Now whatever the animals
are, we'll have them killed." He added quietly once the youngsters were out of hearing, "Come,
come. The children aren't hurt and, after all, they haven't done anything really terrible.
They've just found a new pet." The Astronomer spoke with difficulty. "Pardon
me, ma'am, but can you describe these animals?" She shook her head. She was quite beyond words.
"Can you just tell me if they—" "I'm sorry," said the Industrialist, apologetically,
"but I think I had better take care of her. Will you excuse me?"
"A moment. Please. One moment. She said she had never seen such animals before. Surely
it is not usual to find animals that are completely unique on an estate such as this."
"I'm sorry. Let's not discuss that now." "Except that unique animals might have landed
during the night." The Industrialist stepped away from his wife.
"What are you implying?" "I think we had better go to the barn, sir!"
The Industrialist stared a moment, turned and suddenly and quite uncharacteristically
began running. The Astronomer followed and the woman's wail rose unheeded behind them.
Chapter Eleven
The Industrialist stared, looked at the Astronomer, turned to stare again.
"Those?" "Those," said the Astronomer. "I have no doubt
we appear strange and repulsive to them." "What do they say?"
"Why, that they are uncomfortable and tired and even a little sick, but that they are
not seriously damaged, and that the youngsters treated them well."
"Treated them well! Scooping them up, keeping them in a cage, giving them grass and raw
meat to eat? Tell me how to speak to them." "It may take a little time. Think at them.
Try to listen. It will come to you, but perhaps not right away."
The Industrialist tried. He grimaced with the effort of it, thinking over and over again,
"The youngsters were ignorant of your identity." And the thought was suddenly in his mind:
"We were quite aware of it and because we knew they meant well by us according to their
own view of the matter, we did not attempt to attack them."
"Attack them?" thought the Industrialist, and said it aloud in his concentration.
"Why, yes," came the answering thought. "We are armed."
One of the revolting little creatures in the cage lifted a metal object and there was a
sudden hole in the top of the cage and another in the roof of the barn, each hole rimmed
with charred wood. "We hope," the creatures thought, "it will
not be too difficult to make repairs." The Industrialist found it impossible to organize
himself to the point of directed thought. He turned to the Astronomer. "And with that
weapon in their possession they let themselves be handled and caged? I don't understand it."
But the calm thought came, "We would not harm the young of an intelligent species."
Chapter Twelve
It was twilight. The Industrialist had entirely missed the evening meal and remained unaware
of the fact. He said, "Do you really think the ship will
fly?" "If they say so," said the Astronomer, "I'm
sure it will. They'll be back, I hope, before too long."
"And when they do," said the Industrialist, energetically, "I will keep my part of the
agreement. What is more I will move sky and earth to have the world accept them. I was
entirely wrong, Doctor. Creatures that would refuse to harm children, under such provocation
as they received, are admirable. But you know—I almost hate to say this—"
"Say what?" "The kids. Yours and mine. I'm almost proud
of them. Imagine seizing these creatures, feeding them or trying to, and keeping them
hidden. The amazing gall of it. Red told me it was his idea to get a job in a circus on
the strength of them. Imagine!" The Astronomer said, "Youth!"
Chapter Thirteen
The Merchant said, "Will we be taking off soon?"
"Half an hour," said the Explorer. It was going to be a lonely trip back. All
the remaining seventeen of the crew were dead and their ashes were to be left on a strange
planet. Back they would go with a limping ship and the burden of the controls entirely
on himself. The Merchant said, "It was a good business
stroke, not harming the young ones. We will get very good terms; very good terms."
The Explorer thought: Business! The Merchant then said, "They've lined up
to see us off. All of them. You don't think they're too close, do you? It would be bad
to burn any of them with the rocket blast at this stage of the game."
"They're safe." "Horrible-looking things, aren't they?"
"Pleasant enough, inside. Their thoughts are perfectly friendly."
"You wouldn't believe it of them. That immature one, the one that first picked us up—"
"They call him Red," provided the Explorer. "That's a *** name for a monster. Makes
me laugh. He actually feels bad that we're leaving. Only I can't make out exactly why.
The nearest I can come to it is something about a lost opportunity with some organization
or other that I can't quite interpret." "A circus," said the Explorer, briefly.
"What? Why, the impertinent monstrosity." "Why not? What would you have done if you
had found him wandering on your native world; found him sleeping on a field on Earth, red
tentacles, six legs, pseudopods and all?"
Chapter Fourteen
Red watched the ship leave. His red tentacles, which gave him his nickname, quivered their
regret at lost opportunity to the very last, and the eyes at their tips filled with drifting
yellowish crystals that were the equivalent of Earthly tears.