The good new stuff, p.36
The Good New Stuff, page 36
Headquarters said that Mary Pierce would be waiting for him at the marina landing past the watchtower at the base of the main channel bar, wherever that was … there! He caught the echo and eased himself to the right and into the deep cool channel. The harbor bottom was a backwater fairyland of human bubbles and Earth-life reefs, and the channel led through that like a wide black road. At its end, the cigar shapes of human submarines lay in a neat row, safe on the bottom from the winter ice. He put his legs down, released a bubble to settle himself firmly on the concrete, and with even measured strides hoisted his body into the warm air of the eastern continent.
A tiny tailless being, much smaller than the arrogant, hairy-faced barbarian that had cursed him earlier, waited for him at the end of the ramp, covered with a form-hugging cloth that Drinnil’ib knew was an even better insulator than his doci-thick blubber.
“Afternoon, Drin?” it called, the high pitch indicating it was a human female.
“Greetings,” he rumbled and reached forward with one of the branches of his tongue to shake her hand. The familiar taste of the air around her put him at ease. “Mary? I’m sorry but it must be eight years since we last met. It’s really good to see you again.”
Now that he knew it was her, it was easy to pick out the subtle individual characteristics of her almost naked simian face and match them to his memory; the slight bend in the cartilaginous growth that housed her nostrils, the upturned angle of the hair on the upper ridge of her eye sockets, and its yellow-white color framing her face. It was a clean face, unmarred by any unnatural growth or scar, and he knew other humans considered her beautiful. He would agree, judging from the esthetics of functionality, and also from the esthetics of the curve.
“You look pretty magnificent yourself, chum,” she responded, but then shook her head. “I only wish the occasion was a happier one.”
He bobbed his massive head in the planetary convention of assent. “Five more dead, four Do’utian and one human.”
“Butchered?”
“Neatly, intelligently, as last time, except the human. The sea left too little of him to tell. But this,” he held up the barbed projectile, “may be at the bottom of it.”
“Primitivist hunters?”
Drinnil’ib hooted. “Not primitive enough, it seems. This was propelled by chemical explosives.”
There were always some from every species, from every generation, romantics who wanted to live in the reserved areas by their instincts without having to learn the science and culture that got their ancestors to Trimus. A disease of the character, he thought, which could not be eliminated without eliminating character itself.
“I am sorry, Drin,” Mary said, “for what our children have done. They form communities, the communities evolve, get recruits, and no one seems to care. Some of those places haven’t been visited in a century.”
Drin gave a sigh of toleration. “It is in your nature to hunt and in ours to endure the hazards of the sea. But without a trained intellect to guide, any race …”
She shook her tiny head in negation. “Some things are wrong, and always have been. Everywhere for everyone. Killing is one. They know the Compact, that’s a minimum for letting them go out there. So it’s up to us to find which ‘they’ are responsible and take corrective action.” She shrugged her shoulders and spread her arms. “A policeman’s lot is not a happy one.”
A quote he didn’t recognize, but one that fit. Lieutenant Drin bobbed his head again.
“Oh, the duty can be interesting.”
“Ha! Well, my sub’s ready to go; we can leave any time,” she said. “But I thought you might like to try Cragun’s sushi before we head out.” She bared the exquisite miniature ivory chisels of her teeth to him in a human gesture of good feeling. Was there, he wondered, some art in this reminder that both of them were occasional carnivores? He would have to ask her on the journey. Meanwhile, the sushi sounded most pleasant. He hoped they could find a cubic doci of their rice wine to go with it. About one of their traditional “gallons,” if he recalled: “And a, um, gallon or two of, um, sake? To go with it?”
She laughed. “Just what I was thinking, Drin. Let’s go.”
The “Charter unit” is identical to the Kleth “glide,” precisely eight to the eighth times the wavelength of the strongest line of neutral sodium (also approximately the peak wavelength of Aurum’s spectrum). This is about a traditional Do’utian “tail,” once related to the length of the average Do’utian, or almost ten human “meters,” once defined as 1/23,420 (1/10,000, base 10) the distance from the equator of Earth to its north pole. The common “doci” (from duo-octi) is 1/100 of this, about the size of the adult hand of any of the three races.
—Planet Monitor’s Handbook, Appendix C
Glensville, on the northing Graham River, was easily cool enough in winter to be a congenial tropical vacation spot. He just had to remember to move slowly to avoid building up too much body heat. Great banks of melting snow lined the road, and ice covered the dozen park lakes scattered among the stone and wood human hives. Cheerful humans sliding on long flat boards attached to their feet waved to him as he ambled down the main road with Mary.
Cragun’s was one of the few above-water taverns on the eastern continent that was set up to serve Do‘utians. There were two there when he arrived with Mary: the poet Shari’inadel and a large Do’utian man with fresh white scars on his flukes and a deep, raw crescent behind his blowhole. Those were unusual wounds for this area—the sort of wound that one got in a beak fight with another Do’utian. So, Drin thought, this Do’utian must be a primitivist of sorts—the kind that got his jollies on the southern beaches and came back every now and then to partake of the benefits of civilization.
The other turned its head, saw him, and hissed. Most impolite, and for what reason? Drin’s lack of scars? His civilized bearing? His human companion? But this was a human town!
“I do not know you,” Drin stated formally. “I am Monitor Lieutenant Drinnil’ib and I ask respect.”
“Gota’lannshk. The sea has been generous with you, pretty monitor. But don’t press your luck, beachmeat.” The voice was a slurring, lowpitched rumble.
Drunk. Spoiling for a fight. Drin gave the other a sharp warning hiss, then turned away to ignore the reaction and cool his own rising irritation. He heard no response.
“You don’t like him, do you?” Mary whispered.
“I’ve never met the man,” Drin replied, beak shut, letting the words escape softly through the fleshy corner of his mouth. “But what he is does not swim well in my thoughts. His companion is a poet, named Shari. I know the family—she’s their first egg in two centuries, and quite indulged. She could be just the sort of dissatisfied romantic that runs off for glandular adventures in the south, and then lives to regret it. I think she is being ‘offered’ a place in that ogre’s harem.”
“Her choice, isn’t it?” Mary asked.
“Choice implies an intellectual process, but he’s playing on her instincts. Look at that one, and do not judge human rustics so harshly. He appears to have engaged in mortal combat for the fun of it.”
Mary coughed. “Drin, Cragen’s has some giant squid fresh from the farm. I’ll split it with you, 999 parts to you, 1 to me.”
“Can you eat that much?” Drin rumbled. After his journey, a meal ashore would be welcome.
“Try me!”
“You’re on.” Drin made the order. “Someday I’d like to try this squid in its native ocean, though.” A fantasy of his; when would he ever find time in his life for a round trip of ninety years?
“That’s where you’d have to eat it. You’re too fat to walk around on Earth.” She had a point. Twice the gravity of Trimus would have disadvantages, and he had been gaining a bit lately. Well, he’d swim that off on this trip.
“Maybe you underestimate me,” he rumbled. Cragen’s did not, however. The squid arrived—more than enough for even his appetite.
They talked strategy. The nearest concentration of humans who might know something lived on the islands near the warm inner pole. Whether or not these folk pinpointed the murderers, Drin made clear that he would need to talk to the Do’utian exiles near the south pole; to placate, to gather evidence, or both. Then would come the older human communities on the southern edge of the undeveloped West Continent.
“Cities of stone, ships of wood. Reports of warfare and slavery.” Mary shook her head. “At the very least, they need to be reminded of the Compact.”
“That was certainly my experience,” Drin agreed.
A common civilization requires a common language, common measurements, and places where all three species can meet comfortably. Human English shall be the common language because it is the only language all three races can pronounce acceptably. Numbers and measurements shall be in the Kleth octal system, which is easiest to learn, is compatible with cybernetic binary systems, and is more widespread than human base ten or Do’utian base twelve. Common architecture will follow Do’utian proportions, so that Do’utians will not be excluded from the social interaction needed for a common civilization.
—The Compact and Charter of Planet Trimus, Article 6
The journey to the inner pole archipelago left Drin fit and trim, and he enjoyed the taste of the exotic tropical fish. But to reach the island, they left the cold south-flowing bottom current and he felt like he was gliding through a hot bath. He looked forward to the south polar waters, and sent an almost joyful greeting to Mary when he caught the wake-sound of her submarine returning from her inquiries.
Nominally, the archipelago would have been reserved for Kleth primitivists, but they were very few and needed little land, so warm-loving human refugees from technological civilization had gradually spread among the islands. Here, near the inner pole, the infrared radiation from Ember came in almost directly overhead, almost doubling the distant orange sun’s modest daily contribution. The more or less permanent high-pressure system kept skies clear unless the night fog rolled in. But it was clear tonight, and the gibbous, pink-belted almost-star dominated the zenith.
“Were there any witnesses?” Drin asked as Mary came alongside. She was lounging on the deck behind the submarine’s pilot house, and the last rays of setting Aurum painted her a rich gold. She had no need for her insulating garment, and he watched muscles play under her thin epidermis as she got up to greet him. A strange shape, yet one that fit its owner as well as any in nature.
“No witnesses—not really that many people around. I found one man who heard about some whalers and got him to tell me he’s seen them even in tropical waters. Says they’re operating out of a city on a half-flooded volcanic island off the southern edge of the West Continent reserve. I checked the recon and there is some sort of primitive city there. Hasn’t been visited by monitors for years.”
“Were the people forthcoming?”
She shook her head. “There aren’t many people here, and those who are here act frightened. I had to offer, well, an incentive to the only person who admitted knowing anything.”
“I’m surprised the area isn’t more heavily populated. This must be close to the original human climate, you don’t seem to need artificial insulation here.”
“No, we don’t. And it does feel good!” She shook herself and her flesh rippled in a way that reminded him of a jellyfish, but much faster. “But it’s enervating. Most people’s minds need more stimulation from their environment. The people who live here don’t even ask to replace the occasional death—children are too much work. They just live for pleasure.”
Ages ago, Drin remembered, humans had arranged their genes to be infertile without deliberate medical intervention as a population-control measure to go along with anti-aging measures. The idea of being constantly driven to act out the reproduction process horrified him, but humans apparently enjoyed it. Of course it wasn’t as messy with them.
Mary shook herself again. “Cooling off now, though. Time to kiss lotus land good-bye.”
She waved and vanished down the submarine’s hatch. They sounded together and slanted west toward the cold current and their joint adventure.
Half a day later his dorsal ganglia were running things while he was deep in thought about just how primitive things could get. He understood much of the attraction of the undeveloped areas. All space-faring people were descendants of those for whom the unbuilt beach and the untrod planet exerted an irresistible call. But his last trip had been eye-opening in other ways.
He had little basis for comparing what he’d seen to the depth of cultural degeneration Mary said she had experienced on her hothouse island, but all the same, he shuddered to think of what she would find on the shores of the south polar continent. At least humans without machines could still construct buildings. Ancient Do’utian women had mated and calved on the open beach. Without shelter, their retrogressing descendents would have no choice but to do the same. Despite himself, a shudder of prurient interest ran from his chest through his tail at the thought of beaches of nubile young mothers, blatantly receptive in the free air.
“Lieutenant Drin?” Daydreaming! How long had Mary been calling him?
With the flick of the tail, he glided over to the submarine and brought his right eye up to the center of the diamond hull. Its electric drive fields made him tingle as they pushed seawater toward its tail.
“Lost in thought, I’m afraid. What do you have?”
Mary was back in her artificial skin and all business. “Here’s the recon on that primitive city.” A relief map appeared on the holoscreen next to her. The flooded caldera surrounded a lagoon on three sides, and the forth appeared to be filled in by a simple stone dike. Large and small masonry buildings lined the shore of the lagoon.
“Mary, I think the cold current must flow by there, see the trench to the south?”
“Yes. Good eating?”
“It should be, and if so, we should find some Do’utian primitives nearby. I suggest we stay with the plan, head south first and gain what intelligence we can from the victim population before confronting this set of potential perpetrators … . Mary?”
“Yes, Drin?”
“In our early days, there were tests for reproductive rights. Death swims and beach fights. Bloodlust beyond reason. These occasional hunting deaths seem, in a way, like some of those old tests. I fear I will not be proud of how some of the Do’utian back-to-nature crowd might be living.”
“Do you fear more than embarrassment?”
Yes, he needed to say. Yes I fear my own primitive instincts. So why did he hesitate to tell her? Mary was a friend and colleague, and any infirmity on his part could affect the mission.
“Mary … we have never needed to revise our mating instincts. In our cities, with the privacy of our rooms, there is no need. In fact, we must make an effort to replace those of our colony who are lost by accident—an embarrassing and very private effort for both beings concerned. But with everything out in the open … I’m not sure how I will—”
Peals of musical laughter twinkled like bells from the hull of her ship, for so long that Drin became concerned for her health. Finally, she pressed herself to the transparent hull.
“Drin, my friend … look, don’t tell what I’m going to tell you to any other human, especially the other monitors, OK?”
“My word on it,” Drin said, curiousity clawing at him.
“Well,” she laughed, “in order to be accepted and get information I kind of went native. I allowed—hell, Drin, I enticed—my source to perform our mating act with me. I mean I was all there, and he was all there, and it just felt like the natural thing to do. In the line of duty, I told myself.”
Drin swam in silence for a while thinking that to say the wrong thing would be harmful to his friend. But he soon realized that to say nothing at all could seem even worse. He reviewed what he knew of human mating. “Was this person physically suitable?”
This occasioned more laughter. “He was. Oh, yes. Exceedingly so.”
“And you left this pleasure to return to your duty with me? I find this very admirable and hope, to the extent that we can compare our temptations, that I shall be able to exhibit similar moral strength.”
“Moral strength? Drin, you are a forked-tongued devil.”
After a moment, he realized this was a compliment. He gently pressed a shoulder to the window so that only the eighth of a doci or so of diamond hull separated their bodies. He easily felt the warmth of her flesh through this transparent, uninsulated section. This communication of friendship had no intellectual hazards.
But his mind returned to duty. “Perhaps,” he rumbled after a while, “we should ask the Kleth Monitors for backup in case we find we need eyes overheard when we visit this city. I know a certain Officer Do Tor who has a sense of humor and does not dump everything into their racial memory.”
“Perhaps,” Mary laughed again. “I think I met him when the last starship visited, six years ago. Gold wings, silver crest? Flighty little yellow thing under his claw?”
“The very one.”
“Why not? The more the merrier.”
Following planetary engineering, only the north, east, and outer poles will be intensively settled. The remainder of the planet will be reserved for biological study and kept free of large settlements or significant technological effluents. The primary objective will be to observe how the three merged ecosystems evolve from their original design point. Low-intensity visitation, consistent with these objectives, may be tolerated by those who wish to experience life in the wild.
—The Compact and Charter of Planet Trimus, Article 12
