Doona Trilogy Omnibus Page 5

  A discreet tap on the door was instantly followed by a muffled oath as the door swung open abruptly, framing an apologetic aide trying to restrain the Third Speaker from forcibly obtaining entrance.

  “First Speaker, I demand—“ the Third Speaker began over the aide’s protestations.

  The First Speaker raised a reassuring hand to his aide before beckoning the Third in. The moment the door closed behind the aide, the angry intruder erupted into accusations, barely able to enunciate in his rage. The Chief wondered who was the spy in his office. Or had the Third, in his zeal to end the whole project, managed to place an adherent in the colony?

  “Aliens on that pet planet of yours. I told you that worthless place would be more bother than use. Pastoral, indeed! With who knows what else running around loose. Call ‘em back. Call ‘em back before another moments loss of time. Before irrevocable damage is done. Never should have permitted this ridiculous experiment, First. Never. Doomed from the beginning.”

  “On the contrary, Third,” the older man replied calmly, indicating a chair for his unexpected visitor.

  “What do you mean? On the contrary, First? Clear case of Prime Rule. Clear case. No discussion necessary. Call ‘em back.”

  “It is not that simple, Third, nor can we call them back.”

  “Why not?”

  “I believe that you have scarcely had the chance to see the film

  tapes that were taken of the first encounter,” the First Speaker remarked suavely and firmly pressed the Third Speaker into a chair. “If you would be kind enough to start the film, Chief . . .”

  A flash of repulsion mixed with curiosity crossed the Third’s face and he subsided with a show of reluctance.

  During the replay, the Chief kept surreptitious watch on the Third’s reactions and tried not to be pessimistic as he realized that the film clearly did not reassure the conservative.

  “If you think First, that I will let any member of our species stand in danger from those—those . . .”

  “We stand in considerably more danger from our own species,” the First Speaker interrupted with such fervor that Third stared at him in stunned silence. “Another race, as intelligent as we ourselves, co-inhabits this galaxy. Prime Rule notwithstanding, contact has been made on a neutral world. It is my intention to make the most of this fortuitous confrontation to pave the way to a peaceful alliance.”

  “Peaceful alliance? With creatures like that?” Third was apoplectic with indignation. “You overstep your authority, First Speaker. I am calling an emergency meeting of all Speakers. We shall determine if you have not also overstepped the borders of sanity.’

  Before the First Speaker could reply to the insult, the other man had swept from the room.

  “Sir, what will happen now?” The Chief was aware of the cold slowing of his heart.

  “Why, the Third Speaker will convene a meeting, just as he declared. And then we shall indeed see—what we shall see. However,” and First’s smile was characteristically benign, “since it will take a few days to drag the Speakers back from their various retreats, let us make a few plans of our own. Let us determine what sort of people our new acquaintances are, and what they have in mind for that lovely world.”

  Chapter VII

  BRIDGE

  FOR THE HUNDREDTH time, Ken wondered just how it had come about that they were learning the Hrruban language instead of the other way round.

  “It must have been my fault,” he said out loud. “I made the initial contact. How did I goof? Or did I? Hell, all I did was learn some plant and tree names,” he defended himself. “And I did get a language tape. Somehow we’ve lost the first round. Or maybe—maybe we’ve won it.”

  It was now four days since he had trod into the Hrruban village. No homing capsule had arrived from Amalgamated Worlds with instructions. Nor had the colony ship arrived with their families. This caused a good deal of unrest among the men. Ken forced his mind away from that insidious thought.

  He wondered what kind of a flap their report of natives on Doona had created in the ultra-conservative Executive Block. It would be like them to reply that indeed there had been a mistake; there couldn’t be natives on Doona. None had been reported by Spacedep, Alreldep or Codep. He thought of the films and tapes which closely followed the first message: films made by concealed camera of every step of the second day, starting from the instant Hrrula rose, and indicated that he wished to return to his village, and that he wanted Ken and Hu Shih to accompany him. Ken had pointed to Vic Solinari and Hrrula had not hesitated a moment to include the storemaster.

  There had been a little pantomime on Hrrula’s part when they were preparing to embark in the little raft. Ken, thinking Hrrula was concerned over the capacity of the skiff, tried to reassure him. Hrrula watched the pantomime, lowered his jaw in what was evidently his approximation of a smile, and got in.

  No sooner had Hu Shih and Vic been presented to the village chief, Hrrestan, and four of the other older natives, than Hrrula began to speak in quick syllables. He hunkered down on the ground and with one claw delicately drew the outline of a bridge, spanning water. Grinning widely, Hrrula looked up at Reeve.

  “God, he wasn’t scared of the river or the skiff sinking,” Vic cried in astonishment. “He was planning a bridge!”

  Ken and Hu Shih immediately protested but their arguments, embellished with violent gestures and charades, had run into the language barrier. The vocabulary which Ken had struggled to learn was all too insufficient to express such intangibles as aggression or isolation, much less the fact that the colonists must leave as soon as they could obtain transport.

  The Hrrubens met every attempt to dissuade them with bland insistence on the bridge.

  “Do you realize what this means, Ken?” the slight colony leader had finally whispered to him. “They do not resent us.”

  “Now, wait a minute, sir. Don’t you realize what a bridge . . .”

  “No hostility at all. Really I am most heartened. And their grasp

  of architectural concepts is quite sophisticated. Have you noticed the dovetailed joints on the window frame of that house?”

  “Shih,” Ken gripped the man’s shoulder and gave him a little shake.

  “We mustn’t build that bridge!”

  “Why ever not?”

  “In the first place, that bridge is the first step toward possible

  aggression of our race against theirs.”

  “You refine too much . . .”

  “For another,” Ken went right on, “why waste time building a bridge

  we’ll never get to use?”

  The animation left Hu Shih’s face; his dark eyes were thoughtful.

  “You’re right, of course, but it is difficult not to take a hand

  offered in such open friendship. They do seem to want to get to know us.”

  “And how often has our race turned the hand of friendship into a martial fist?”

  Hu Shih nodded solemnly and they turned to renew their opposition to the bridge, trying to get the Hrrubans to understand that the colony would not remain long enough for the effort required.

  Hrrula, his eyes half-lidded, tapped the diagram of the bridge. He held up two fingers and spoke the Hrruban word for day.

  “Impossible,” Ken protested and stretched out his hand to erase the dusty sketch in conclusive denial.

  A furred hand, talons politely sheathed, slipped adroitly under his, preventing the erasure.

  “Yesssss,” and the Hrruban hissed the Terran word softly.

  Ken regarded Hrrula solemnly, determined to his course. Two other

  fur-backed hands joined Hrrula’s to keep Ken from reaching the drawing. Ken looked at Hrrestan who nodded slowly, to the other Hrruban who dropped his jaw and smiled.

  “If you knew how silly you looked, Ken,” Vic remarked ironically.

  “They want a bridge. Okay. We’ve tried to explain it’s a waste of effort. But what harm will a bridge do, Reeve? As you po
inted out, we know we’re not going to be here long enough to mush it. And if it means that much to them, let’s be polite. They obviously know how to build one, so we’re not giving them a premature cultural shock.”

  “Vic, don’t you see the principle that’s involved? Every single instance of territorial aggression began . . .”

  “Don’t sweat history now, Ken,” the storemaster suggested rudely. “I don’t want to think about it. I just want to take each day on Doona as it comes, enjoy the planet as much as I can . . .”

  “And find out where the Hrrubans mine those stones?” Ken asked cynically.

  “That, too,” Vic admitted. “Besides, I’d like to see what they intend to use to span that river. Can you find out?”

  “Victor’s argument is valid,” Hu Shih said.

  Thus dies noble principle, Ken thought as he glared from colony

  leader to storemaster. And yet—we won’t be here long; it does not use a cultural concept they don’t already grasp—and what the hell!

  “Hrrula,” Ken said aloud, pausing in fascination at the way the native’s ears twitched. He pointed to the suspension beams which Hrrula had scratched in the dust. “Rla?” and he enunciated carefully, wondering if he’d swallow his tongue one day getting out that rolled ‘r’.

  Hrrula nodded gravely, gesturing toward the rla-wood tree behind him.

  “They use that porous wood?” asked Vic eagerly.

  “Rla,” Ken corrected him.

  “Errla,” Vic growled out. Hrrula shook his head patiently and

  repeated the sound which Victor dutifully tried to mimic. “I can’t get that ‘r’ sound, Ken,” he groaned under his breath. “But that wood wouldn’t bear enough weight. It’s too damned porous.”

  Ken rubbed his temples, trying to drag appropriate words from his small Hrruban vocabulary. Shaking his head at his limitations, he knelt down again at the drawing. Carefully he drew a wide band to indicate the river. He then sketched the footings on both sides of the river, well back from the verge. He tapped the vertical elevation, showing the suspension, pantomiming the height of the trees with the length required to span the gap. Hrrula nodded solemn understanding.

  “Hrrubans,” Hrrula said softly, indicating the adults present, “hayumans,” he said carefully, tapping Ken and Vic, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the colony, “rla i zamat; rrigam.”

  “Rrigam means build?” asked Vic.

  “Guess so,” Ken answered. “Verb falls at the end of the sentence

  near as I can figure. I still don’t think we should agree,” he muttered under his breath and looked around to see Hrrestan pointing vigorously to the bridge sketch, nodding his head emphatically.

  “Um zamat rrigam. La!”

  After one last attempt to explain that the Terrans would not be

  staying, Ken gave in.

  The bridge was planned. And planned, according to Sam Gaynor’s truculent opinion, with a sound knowledge of engineering principles, until he found out that rla wood was to be used.

  “That damned porous wood . . .”

  “Rla,” Ken corrected automatically.

  “Erla, then,” snapped Gayor, “are too pulpy to hold any weight at

  all, not to mention a span. Damn fool notion.”

  “They treat the wood, Sam,” Vic Solinari explained. “Don’t know with what, although Harrula tried to explain. But he showed me the coating on the house timber and I couldn’t crack it with a ball-peen hammer.”

  “And the house’s owner politely requested him not to chisel it,” Ken added with a grin at Vic’s embarrassment.

  “I hope they know what we’re doing,” Gaynor said, for he could not remain long in Hrruban company without titanic sneezing. Moody had treated Gaynor empirically with massive antihistamines but could not isolate the specific factor without examining an Hrruban. Such an occasion had not yet presented itself.

  It worked out by the end of that day that the Terrans would cut timber for the footings on their side of the river, the Hrrubans on theirs; the Hrrubans indicated they already had sufficient timber cut for the span.

  The foundations had been dug on both sides when two Hrrubans arrived with a large wooden tub full of a hot gray viscose liquid.

  Taking paddle-like brushes, Hrrula and Hrrestan began to coat the footing logs, working quickly and taking care not to splash the hot liquid on their bodies. The logs for the footings were lifted into position by Hrrubans wearing protective hide gloves. More liquid was sloshed on the now upright pilings. After an arbitrary pause, the Hrrubans filled in the dirt around the footings and turned to the first of the span logs. Again they worked swiftly, coating the log and then easing it out across the rapid flow of the river until it was in its assigned place. It was rapidly anchored with tough vines which were also painted. The Terrans watched as, after a second pause, Hrrula tested the log with a judicious claw. Apparently satisfied with the hardening of the paint, Hrrula astonished everyone by leaping up and racing down the length of the log to prove its firmness. He then indicated that the Terrans should examine the Hrruban workmanship and duplicate it on their side of the river.

  “It’s the same transparent stuff,” Vic assured Gaynor after he had poked and scraped, and made no mark. “Tough as a plastic.”

  “Seals the wood and strengthens it, huh?” Gaynor murmured, sniffling constantly as he examined the span and the coated footings. “By God, we could use that wood for pretty nearly all our building needs and not have to wait for a plastics extruder. Find out how they make that, will you, Ken? And the rest of you guys, c’mon. Let’s build our end just the way they did.”

  “Good? Hmmm?” asked Hrrula, grinning at Reeve as the skiff took the first load of men back to their side.

  “Very good,” Ken agreed. “What is it by you called?” he asked carefully in Hrruban.

  “Rlba,” Hrrula replied and Reeve groaned.

  The ‘l’ became liquid but the ‘r’ took a savage roll and the upward

  accent fell on the final vowel.

  Hrrunka, another of the Hrrubans whom Ken could now recognize on sight, was stirring the rlba, which had been placed over a small fire to keep it at boiling point. The smell was pungent, reminiscent of the scent exuded by rla bark when sun-warmed. Hrrunka gestured Ken over, pointed to the rlabans behind him, pantomimed boring a hole, the sap running out, heating the sap to boiling point, brushing it on, waiting an arbitrary time; then, Hrrunka indicated, the sap hardened completely.

  By the end of that day, the bridge was completed, twenty-six feet long, seven feet wide, sturdy enough for the colonists’ power sled, constructed of native materials and with native ingenuity.

  Chapter VIII

  INTERFERENCE

  “IF—“ AND THE First Speaker’s voice projected sharply through the startled hubbub caused by Third’s empassioned peroration, “we abandon the planet now, with no logical explanation for the disappearance—and I see no logical explanation short of killing our people outright and leaving their bodies to be found . . .”

  “Really, sir,” and Third was on his feet with indignation, “that solution—your solution—is the most . . .”

  “Then let me continue!”

  The stern disapproval in First’s voice effectively quelled Third’s

  brashness.

  “By leaving the planet without logical explanation for such a retreat,” and he delicately emphasized that word, stirring long forgotten pride in many chests, “we invite trouble to come to us—here! At the moment, we can contain it there—“ he pointed to the star map and the red-flagged planet under discussion, it was obviously at a safe distance from the home system. “And we can probe, observe and, above all, think deeply on which course to pursue.”

  “The Prime Rule already states every single contingency . . .”

  The Third Speaker’s reliance on that Rule struck the Chief as

  totally inconsistent. For a person who constantly quoted platitud
es and proverbs, he showed a remarkably different stripe in a crisis which he couldn’t explain with a trite phrase.

  “The Prime Rule states every contingency-except this one,” the Fourth Speaker in charge of Education interrupted. “As any fool could see,” and Fourth’s nostrils twitched with disapproval “the planet had no evidence of sentient life when we established our communities. The project prints out most creditable results in the short time it has been in effect. I do wish, now, that we had not specified that these units be withdrawn during the long cold season. The youngsters could just as easily have taken instruction there as here and we might not have lost the colony.”

  “We haven’t lost it yet,” the First Speaker reminded him gently. “I believe the Eighth Speaker has a computer analysis of the situation?”

  Eighth rose and bowed with composure to the assembled before he unfolded the tapes in his hand. He scanned them quickly and, with the slightest smile on his features, placed them carefully down on the table.

  “The data is insufficient for a prognosis,” he said and sat down.

  “Insufficient?” Third protested above the polite murmurs of the

  others. “How can that be?”

  Eight rose slightly from his chair and passed the tapes across to Third. He looked at them nonplussed, his jaw dropping with astonishment.

  “Yes, the data is indeed insufficient,” First remarked.

  Privately the Chief was twitching with delight. He would never have

  guessed that the Eighth Speaker might be on their side, willingly or unwillingly guided by the infallible tapes of his computer banks.

  “Common sense,” First was saying, “deep meditation and—and these tapes—point out the inadvisability of rash moves. Therefore, let us hear from Eight what additional data must be collected before probability curves can be plotted.”

  “And you’ll abide by that?” Third leaped on the compromise.

  “Of course,” the First Speaker agreed easily and indicated that the

  floor was now Eighth’s.

  “We shall need to know, first of all, the language. I understand strides are being made in that direction already. It would be helpful to know their cultural level, scientific abilities, some indication of their moral values as regards family life, goals, customs . . .”