Galactic empires 2, p.27
Galactic Empires 2, page 27
It was like a deliverance from hell, and still it was but the inevitable logic of events, as Laird’s own self reunited. Half of him still shaking with defeat, half realizing its own victory, he thought savagely:
None of them noticed me do that. They were paying too much attention to my face. Or if they did, we’ve proved to them before that it’s only a harmless regulating switch. And—the lethal radiations are already flooding us! If you don’t cooperate now, Daryesh, I’ll hold us here till we’re both dead!
So simple, so simple. Because, sharing Daryesh’s memory, Laird had shared his knowledge of self-deception techniques. He had anticipated, with the buried half of his mind, that the Vwyrddan might pull some such trick, and had installed a post-hypnotic command of his own. In a situation like this, when everything looked hopeless, his conscious mind was to surrender, and then his subconscious would order that the switch be thrown.
Cooperate, Daryesh! You’re as fond of living as I. Cooperate, and let’s get the hell out of here! Grudgingly, wryly: You win, Laird. The body rose again, and leaned on Joana’s arm, and made its slow way toward the boat blisters. The undetectable rays of death poured through them, piling up their cumulative effects. In three minutes, a nervous system would be ruined.
‘Too slow, too slow. Come on, Joana. Run!’
Why—’ She stopped, and a hard suspicion came into the faces of the two men behind her. ‘Daryesh—what do you mean? What’s come over you?’
‘Ma’m…’ One of the crewmen stepped forward. ‘Ma’m, I wonder… I saw him pull down the main switch. And now he’s in a hurry to leave the ship. And none of us really know how all that machinery ticks.’
Laird pulled the gun out of Joana’s holster and shot him. The other gasped, reaching for his own side arm, and Laird’s weapon blazed again.
His fist leaped out, striking Joana on the angle of the jaw, and she sagged. He caught her up and started to run.
A pair of crewmen stood in the corridor leading to the boats. ‘What’s the matter, sir?’ one asked.
‘Collapsed—radiation from the machines—got to get her to a hospital ship,’ gasped Daryesh.
They stood aside, wonderingly, and he spun the dogs of the blister valve and stepped into the gig. ‘Shall we come, sir?’ asked one of the men.
‘No!’ Laird felt a little dizzy. The radiation was streaming through him, and death was coming with giant strides. ‘No—’ He smashed a fist into the insistent face, slammed the valve back, and vaulted to the pilot’s chair.
The engines hummed, warming up. Fists and feet battered on the valve. The sickness made him retch.
O Joana, if this kills you—
He threw the main-drive switch. Acceleration jammed him back as the gig leaped free.
Staring out the ports, he saw fire blossom in space as the great guns of Vwyrdda opened up.
My glass was empty. I signalled for a refill and sat wondering just how much of the yarn one could believe.
‘I’ve read the histories,’ I said slowly. ‘I do know that some mysterious catastrophe annihilated the massed fleet of Janya and turned the balance of the war. Sol speared in and won inside of a year. And you mean that you did it?’
In a way. Or Daryesh did. We were acting as one personality, you know. He was a thoroughgoing realist, and the moment he saw his defeat he switched wholeheartedly to the other side.’
‘But—Lord, man! Why’ve we never heard anything about this? You mean you never told anyone, never rebuilt any of those machines, never did anything?’
Laird’s dark, worn face twisted in a bleak smile. ‘Certainly. This civilization isn’t ready for such things. Even Vwyrdda wasn’t, and it’ll take us millions of years to reach their stage. Besides, it was part of the bargain.’
‘Bargain?’
‘Just as certainly. Daryesh and I still had to live together, you know. Life under suspicion of mutual trickery, never trusting your own brain, would have been intolerable. We reached an agreement during that long voyage back to Sol, and used Vwyrddan methods of auto-hypnosis to assure that it could not be broken.’
He looked somberly out at the lunar night. ‘That’s why I said the genie in the bottle killed me. Inevitably, the two personalities merged, became one. And that one was, of course, mostly Daryesh, with overtones of Laird.
‘Oh, it isn’t so horrible. We retain the memories of our separate existences, and the continuity which is the most basic attribute of the ego. In fact, Laird’s life was so limited, so blind to all the possibilities and wonder of the universe, that I don’t regret him very often. Once in a while I still get nostalgic moments and have to talk to a human. But I always pick one who won’t know whether or not to believe me, and won’t be able to do much of anything about it if he should.’
‘And why did you go into Survey?’ I asked, very softly.
‘I want to get a good look at the universe before the change. Daryesh wants to orient himself, gather enough data for a sound basis of decision. When we—I—switch over to the new immortal body, there’ll be work to do, a galaxy to remake in a newer and better pattern by Vwyrddan standards! It’ll take millennia, but we’ve got all time before us. Or I do—what do I mean, anyway?’ He ran a hand through his gray-streaked hair.
‘But Laird’s part of the bargain was that there should be as nearly normal a human life as possible until this body gets inconveniently old. So—’ He shrugged. ‘So that’s how it worked out’
We sat for a while longer, saying little, and then he got up. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘There’s my wife. Thanks for the talk.’
I saw him walk over to greet a tall, handsome red-haired woman. His voice drifted back: ‘Hello, Joana—’
They walked out of the room together in perfectly ordinary and human fashion.
I wonder what history has in store for us.
Mart’s family tree was awesome enough to give every galactic race an inferiority complex—but then he tried to climb it!
BIG ANCESTOR
By F L Wallace
In repose, Taphetta the Ribboneer resembled a fancy giant bow on a package. His four flat legs looped out and in, the ends tucked under his wide, thin body, which constituted the knot at the middle. His neck was flat, too, arching out in another loop. Of all his features, only his head had appreciable thickness and it was crowned with a dozen long though narrower ribbons.
Taphetta rattled the head fronds together in a surprisingly good imitation of speech. ‘Yes, I’ve heard the legend.’
It’s more than a legend,’ said Sam Halden, biologist. The reaction was not unexpected—non-humans tended to dismiss the data as convenient speculation and nothing more. ‘There are at least a hundred kinds of humans, each supposedly originating in strict seclusion on as many widely scattered planets. Obviously there was no contact throughout the ages before space travel—and yet each planetary race can interbreed with a minimum of ten others! That’s more than a legend—one hell of a lot more!’
It is impressive,’ admitted Taphetta. “But I find it mildly distasteful to consider mating with someone who does not belong to my species.’
That’s because you’re unique,’ said Halden. ‘Outside of your own world, there’s nothing like your species, except superficially, and that’s true of all other creatures, intelligent or not, with the sole exception of mankind. Actually, the four of us here, though it’s accidental, very nearly represent the biological spectrum of human development.
“Emmer, a Neanderthal type and our archaeologist, is around the beginning of the scale. I’m from Earth, near the middle, though on Emmer’s side. Meredith, linguist, is on the other side of the middle. And beyond her, toward the far end, is Kelburn, mathematician. There’s a corresponding span of fertility. Emmer just misses being able to breed with my kind, but there’s a fair chance that I’d be fertile with Meredith and a similar though lesser chance that her fertility may extend to Kelburn.’
Taphetta rustled his speech ribbons quizzically. ‘But I thought it was proved that some humans did originate on one planet, that there was an unbroken line of evolution that could be traced back a billion years.’
‘You’re thinking of Earth,’ said Halden. Humans require a certain kind of planet. It’s reasonable to assume that, if men were set down on a hundred such worlds, they’d seem to fit in with native life-forms on a few of them. That’s what happened on Earth; when Man arrived, there was actually a manlike creature there. Naturally our early evolutionists stretched their theories to cover the facts they had.
‘But there are other worlds in which humans who were there before the Stone Age aren’t related to anything else there. We have to conclude that Man didn’t originate on any of the planets on which he is now found. Instead, he evolved elsewhere and later was scattered throughout this section of the Milky Way.’
‘And so, to account for the unique race that can interbreed across thousands of light-years, you’ve brought in the big ancestor,’ commented Taphetta dryly. It seems an unnecessary simplification.’
‘Can you think of a better explanation?’ asked Kelburn, ‘Something had to distribute one species so widely and it’s not the result of parallel evolution—not when a hundred human races are involved, and only the human race.’
‘I can’t think of a better explanation.’ Taphetta rearranged his ribbons. ‘Frankly, no one else is much interested in Man’s theories about himself.’
It was easy to understand the attitude. Man was the most numerous though not always the most advanced—Ribboneers had a civilization as high as anything in the known section of the Milky Way, and there were others—and humans were more than a little feared. If they ever got together—but they hadn’t except in agreement as to their common origin.
Still, Taphetta the Ribboneer was an experienced pilot and could be very useful. A clear statement of their position was essential in helping him make up his mind. ‘You’ve heard of the adjacency mating principle?’ asked Sam Halden.
‘Vaguely. Most people have if they’ve been around men.’
‘We’ve got new data and are able to interpret it better. The theory is that humans who can mate with each other were once physically close. We’ve got a list of all our races arranged in sequence. If planetary race F can mate with race E back to A and forward to M, and race G is fertile only back to B, but forward to O, then we assume that whatever their positions are now, at one time G was actually adjacent to F, but was a little further along. When we project back into time those star systems on which humans existed prior to space travel, we get a certain pattern’ Kelburn can explain it to you.’
The normally pink body of the Ribboneer flushed slightly. The colour change was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to indicate that he was interested.
Kelburn went to the projector. It would be easier if we knew all the stars in the Milky Way, but though we’ve explored only a small portion of it, we can reconstruct a fairly accurate representation of the past.’
He pressed the controls and stars twinkled on the screen. We’re looking down on the plane of the Galaxy. This is one arm of it as it is today and here are the human systems.’ He pressed another control and, for purposes of identification, certain stars became more brilliant. There was no pattern, merely a scattering of stars. ‘The whole Milky Way is rotating. And while stars in a given region tend to remain together, there’s also a random motion. Here’s what happens when we calculate the positions of stars in the past’
Flecks of light shifted and flowed across the screen. Kelburn stopped the motion.
Two hundred thousand years ago,’ he said.
There was a pattern of the identified stars. They were spaced at fairly equal intervals along a regular curve, a horseshoe loop that didn’t close, though if the ends were extended, the lines would have crossed.
Taphetta rustled. ‘The math is accurate?’
‘As accurate as it can be with a million-plus body problem.’
‘And that’s the hypothetical route of the unknown ancestor?’
To the best of our knowledge,’ said Kelburn. ‘And whereas there are humans who are relatively near and not fertile, they can always mate with those they were adjacent to two hundred thousand years ago!’
‘The adjacency mating principle. I’ve never seen it demonstrated,’ murmured Taphetta, flexing his ribbons. ‘Is that the only era that satisfies the calculations?’
‘Plus or minus a hundred thousand years, we can still get something that might be the path of a spaceship attempting to cover a representative section of territory,’ said Kelburn. ‘However, we have other ways of dating it. On some worlds on which there are no other mammals, we’re able to place the first human fossils chronologically. The evidence is sometimes contradictory, but we believe we’ve got the time right.’
Taphetta waved a ribbon at the chart ‘And you think that where the two ends of the curve cross is your original home?’
‘We think so,’ said Kelburn. ‘We’ve narrowed it down to several cubic light years—then. Now if so far more. And, of course, if it were a fast-moving star, it might be completely out of the field of our exploration. But we’re certain we’ve got a good chance of finding it this trip.’
It seems I must decide quickly.’ The Ribboneer glanced out the visionport, where another ship hung motionless in space beside them. ‘Do you mind if I ask other questions?’
‘Go ahead,’ Kelburn invited sardonically. ‘But if it’s not math, you’d better ask Halden. He’s the leader of the expedition.’
Halden flushed; the sarcasm wasn’t necessary. It was true that Kelburn was the most advanced human type present, but while there were differences, biological and in the scale of intelligence, it wasn’t as great as once was thought. Anyway, non-humans weren’t trained in the fine distinctions that men made among themselves. And, higher or lower, he was as good a biologist as the other was a mathematician. And there was the matter of training; he’d been on several expeditions and this was Kelburn’s first trip. Damn it, he thought, that rated some respect.
The Ribboneer shifted his attention. ‘Aside from the sudden illness of your pilot, why did you ask for me?’
‘We didn’t. The man became sick and required treatment we can’t give him. Luckily, a ship was passing and we hailed it because it’s four months to the nearest planet. They consented to take him back and told us that there was a passenger on board who was an experienced pilot. We have men who could do the job in a makeshift fashion, but the region we’re heading for, while mapped, is largely unknown. We’d prefer to have an expert—and Ribboneers are famous for their navigational ability.’
Taphetta crinkled politely at the reference to his skill. ‘I had other plans, but I can’t evade professional obligations, and an emergency such as this should cancel out any previous agreements. Still, what are the incentives?’
Sam Halden coughed. ‘The usual, plus a little extra. We’ve copied the Ribboneer’s standard nature, simplifying it a little and adding a per cent here and there for the crew pilot and scientist’s share of the profits from any discoveries we may make.’
‘I’m complimented that you like our contract so well,’ said Taphetta, ‘but I really must have our own unsimplified version. If you want me, you’ll take my contract. I came prepared.’ He extended a tightly bound roll that he had kept somewhere on his person.
They glanced at one another as Halden took it ‘You can read it if you want,’ offered Taphetta. ‘But it will take you all day—it’s micro printing. However, you needn’t be afraid that I’m defrauding you. It’s honoured everywhere we go and we go nearly everywhere in this sector—places men have never been.’
There was no choice if they wanted him, and they did. Besides, the integrity of Ribboneers was not to be questioned. Halden signed.
‘Good,’ Taphetta crinkled. ‘Send it to the ship; they’ll forward it for me. And you can tell the ship to go on without me.’ He rubbed his ribbons together. ‘Now if you’ll get me the charts, I’ll examine the region toward which we’re heading.’
Firmon of hydroponics slouched in, a tall man with scanty hair and an equal lack of grace. He seemed to have difficulty in taking his eyes off Meredith, though, since he was a notch or so above her in the mating scale, he shouldn’t have been so interested. But his planet had been inexplicably slow in developing and he wasn’t completely aware of his place in the human hierarchy.
Disdainfully, Meredith adjusted a skirt that, a few inches shorter, wouldn’t have been a skirt at all, revealing, while doing so, just how long and beautiful a woman’s legs could be. Her people had never given much thought to physical modesty and, with legs like that, it was easy to see why.
Muttering something about primitive women, Firmon turned to the biologist. ‘The pilot doesn’t like our air.’
‘Then change it to suit him. He’s in charge of the ship and knows more about these things than I do.’
‘More than a man?’ Firmon leered at Meredith and, when she failed to smile, added plaintively, ‘I did try to change it, but he still complains.’
Halden took a deep breath. ‘Seems all right to me.’
‘To everybody else, too, but the tapeworm hasn’t got lungs. He breathes through a million tubes scattered over his body.’ It would do no good to explain that Taphetta wasn’t a worm, that his evolution had taken a different course, but that he was in no sense less complex than Man. It was a paradox that some biologically higher humans hadn’t developed as much as lower races and actually weren’t prepared for the multitude of life-forms they’d meet in space. Firmon’s reaction was quite typical.
If he asks for cleaner air, it’s because his system needs it,’ said Halden. ‘Do anything you can to give it to him.’
