XVII.
Every square inch of his body ached where the doubled gravity hadpressed his flesh to the unyielding wood of the floor. His eyes weregummy and his mouth was filled with an indescribable taste that came offin chunks. Sitting up was an effort and he had to stifle a groan as hisjoints cracked.
"Good day, Jason," Rhes called from the bed. "If I didn't believe inmedicine so strongly, I would be tempted to say there is a miracle inyour machine that has cured me overnight."
There was no doubt that he was on the mend. The inflamed patches hadvanished and the burning light was gone from his eyes. He sat, proppedup on the bed, watching the morning sun melt the night's hailstorm intothe fields.
"There's meat in the cabinet there," he said, "and either water or viskto drink."
The visk proved to be a distilled beverage of extraordinary potency thatinstantly cleared the fog from Jason's brain, though it did leave aslight ringing in his ears. And the meat was a tenderly smoked joint,the best food he had tasted since leaving Darkhan. Taken together theyrestored his faith in life and the future. He lowered his glass with arelaxed sigh and looked around.
With the pressures of immediate survival and exhaustion removed, histhoughts returned automatically to his problem. What were these peoplereally like--and how had they managed to survive in the deadlywilderness? In the city he had been told they were savages. Yet therewas a carefully tended and repaired communicator on the wall. And by thedoor a crossbow--that fired machined metal bolts, he could see the toolmarks still visible on their shanks. The one thing he needed was moreinformation. He could start by getting rid of some of hismisinformation.
"Rhes, you laughed when I told you what the city people said, abouttrading you trinkets for food. What do they really trade you?"
"Anything within certain limits," Rhes said. "Small manufactured items,such as electronic components for our communicators. Rustless alloys wecan't make in our forges, cutting tools, atomic electric converters thatproduce power from any radioactive element. Things like that. Withinreason they'll trade anything we ask that isn't on the forbidden list.They need the food badly."
"And the items on the forbidden list--?"
"Weapons, of course, or anything that might be made into a powerfulweapon. They know we make gunpowder so we can't get anything like largecastings or seamless tubing we could make into heavy gun barrels. Wedrill our own rifle barrels by hand, though the crossbow is quiet andfaster in the jungle. Then they don't like us to know very much, so theonly reading matter that gets to us are tech maintenance manuals, emptyof basic theory.
"The last banned category you know about--medicine. This is the onething I cannot understand, that makes me burn with hatred with everydeath they might have prevented."
"I know their reasons," Jason said.
"Then tell me, because I can think of none."
"Survival--it's just that simple. I doubt if you realize it, but theyhave a decreasing population. It is just a matter of years before theywill be gone. Whereas your people at least must have a stable--if notslightly growing population--to have existed without their mechanicalprotections. So in the city they hate you and are jealous of you at thesame time. If they gave you medicine and you prospered, you would bewinning the battle they have lost. I imagine they tolerate you as anecessary evil, to supply them with food, otherwise they wish you wereall dead."
"It makes sense," Rhes growled, slamming his fist against the bed. "Thekind of twisted logic you expect from junkmen. They use us to feed them,give us the absolute minimum in return, and at the same time cut us offfrom the knowledge that will get us out of this hand to mouth existence.Worse, far worse, they cut us off from the stars and the rest ofmankind." The hatred on his face was so strong that Jason unconsciouslydrew back.
"Do you think we are savages here, Jason? We act and look like animalsbecause we have to fight for existence on an animal level. Yet we knowabout the stars. In that chest over there, sealed in metal, are overthirty books, all we have. Fiction most of them, with some history andgeneral science thrown in. Enough to keep alive the stories of thesettlement here and the rest of the universe outside. We see the shipsland in the city and we know that up there are worlds we can only dreamabout and never see. Do you wonder that we hate these beasts that callthemselves men, and would destroy them in an instant if we could? Theyare right to keep weapons from us--for sure as the sun rises in themorning we would kill them to a man if we were able, and take over thethings they have withheld from us."
* * * * *
It was a harsh condemnation, but essentially a truthful one. At leastfrom the point of view of the outsiders. Jason didn't try to explain tothe angry man that the city Pyrrans looked on their attitude as beingthe only possible and logical one. "How did this battle between your twogroups ever come about?" he asked.
"I don't know," Rhes said, "I've thought about it many times, but thereare no records of that period. We do know that we are all descended fromcolonists who arrived at the same time. Somewhere, at some time, the twogroups separated. Perhaps it was a war, I've read about them in thebooks. I have a partial theory, though I can't prove it, that it was thelocation of the city."
"Location--I don't understand."
"Well, you know the junkmen, and you've seen where their city is. Theymanaged to put it right in the middle of the most savage spot on thisplanet. You know they don't care about any living thing exceptthemselves, shoot and kill is their only logic. So they wouldn'tconsider where to build their city, and managed to build it in thestupidest spot imaginable. I'm sure my ancestors saw how foolish thiswas and tried to tell them so. That would be reason enough for a war,wouldn't it?"
"It might have been--if that's really what happened," Jason said. "But Ithink you have the problem turned backwards. It's a war between nativePyrran life and humans, each fighting to destroy the other. The lifeforms change continually, seeking that final destruction of theinvader."
"Your theory is even wilder than mine," Rhes said. "That's not true atall. I admit that life isn't too easy on this planet ... if what I haveread in the books about other planets is true ... but it doesn't change.You have to be fast on your feet and keep your eyes open for anythingbigger than you, but you can survive. Anyway, it doesn't really matterwhy. The junkmen always look for trouble and I'm happy to see that theyhave enough."
Jason didn't try to press the point. The effort of forcing Rhes tochange his basic attitudes wasn't worth it--even if possible. He hadn'tsucceeded in convincing anyone in the city of the lethal mutations evenwhen they could observe all the facts. Rhes could still supplyinformation though.
"I suppose it's not important who started the battle," Jason said forthe other man's benefit, not meaning a word of it, "but you'll have toagree that the city people are permanently at war with all the locallife. Your people, though, have managed to befriend at least two speciesthat I have seen. Do you have any idea how this was done?"
"Naxa will be here in a minute," Rhes said, pointing to the door, "assoon as he's taken care of the animals. Ask him. He's the best talker wehave."
"Talker?" Jason asked. "I had the opposite idea about him. He didn'ttalk much, and what he did say was, well ... a little hard to understandat times."
"Not that kind of talking." Rhes broke in impatiently. "The talkers lookafter the animals. They train the dogs and doryms, and the better oneslike Naxa are always trying to work with other beasts. They dresscrudely, but they have to. I've heard them say that the animals don'tlike chemicals, metal or tanned leather, so they wear untanned furs forthe most part. But don't let the dirt fool you, it has nothing to dowith his intelligence."
"Doryms? Are those your carrying beasts--the kind we rode coming here?"
Rhes nodded. "Doryms are more than pack animals, they're really a littlebit of everything. The large males pull the ploughs and other machines,while the younger animals are used for meat. If you want to know more,ask Naxa, you'll find him in the barn."
r /> "I'd like to do that," Jason said, standing up. "Only I feel undressedwithout my gun--"
"Take it, by all means, it's in that chest by the door. Only watch outwhat you shoot around here."
* * * * *
Naxa was in the rear of the barn, filing down one of the spadeliketoenails of a dorym. It was a strange scene. The fur-dressed man withthe great beast--and the contrast of a beryllium-copper file andelectroluminescent plates lighting the work.
The dorym opened its nostrils and pulled away when Jason entered; Naxapatted its neck and talked softly until it quieted and stood still,shivering slightly.
Something stirred in Jason's mind, with the feeling of a long unusedmuscle being stressed. A hauntingly familiar sensation.
"Good morning," Jason said. Naxa grunted something and went back to hisfiling. Watching him for a few minutes, Jason tried to analyze this newfeeling. It itched and slipped aside when he reached for it, escapinghim. Whatever it was, it had started when Naxa had talked to the dorym.
"Could you call one of the dogs in here, Naxa? I'd like to see onecloser up."
Without raising his head from his work, Naxa gave a low whistle. Jasonwas sure it couldn't have been heard outside of the barn. Yet within aminute one of the Pyrran dogs slipped quietly in. The talker rubbed thebeast's head, mumbling to it, while the animal looked intently into hiseyes.
The dog became restless when Naxa turned back to work on the dorym. Itprowled around the barn, sniffing, then moved quickly towards the opendoor. Jason called it back.
At least he meant to call it. At the last moment he said nothing.Nothing aloud. On sudden impulse he kept his mouth closed--only hecalled the dog with his mind. Thinking the words _come here_, directingthe impulse at the animal with all the force and direction he had everused to manipulate dice. As he did it he realized it had been a longtime since he had even considered using his psi powers.
The dog stopped and turned back towards him.
It hesitated, looking at Naxa, then walked over to Jason.
Seen this closely the beast was a nightmare hound. The hairlessprotective plates, tiny red-rimmed eyes, and countless, saliva-drippingteeth did little to inspire confidence. Yet Jason felt no fear. Therewas a rapport between man and animal that was understood. Withoutconscious thought he reached out and scratched the dog along the back,where he knew it itched.
"Didn't know y're a talker," Naxa said. As he watched them, there wasfriendship in his voice for the first time.
"I didn't know either--until just now," Jason said. He looked into theeyes of the animal before him, scratched the ridged and ugly back, andbegan to understand.
The talkers must have well developed psi facilities, that was obviousnow. There is no barrier of race or alien form when two creatures shareeach other's emotions. Empathy first, so there would be no hatred orfear. After that direct communication. The talkers might have been theones who first broke through the barrier of hatred on Pyrrus and learnedto live with the native life. Others could have followed theirexample--this might explain how the community of "grubbers" had beenformed.
Now that he was concentrating on it, Jason was aware of the soft flowof thoughts around him. The consciousness of the dorym was matched byother like patterns from the rear of the barn. He knew without goingoutside that more of the big beasts were in the field back there.
"This is all new to me," Jason said. "Have you ever thought about it,Naxa? What does it feel like to be a talker? I mean, do you _know_ whyit is you can get the animals to obey you while other people have noluck at all?"
Thinking of this sort troubled Naxa. He ran his fingers through histhick hair and scowled as he answered. "Nev'r thought about it. Just doit. Just get t'know the beast real good, then y'can guess what they'regoing t'do. That's all."
It was obvious that Naxa had never thought about the origin of hisability to control the animals. And if he hadn't--probably no one elsehad. They had no reason to. They simply accepted the powers of talkersas one of the facts of life.
Ideas slipped towards each other in his mind, like the pieces of apuzzle joining together. He had told Kerk that the native life of Pyrrushad joined in battle against mankind, he didn't know why. Well--he stilldidn't know why, but he was getting an idea of the "how."
"About how far are we from the city?" Jason asked. "Do you have an ideahow long it would take us to get there by dorym?"
"Half a day there--half back. Why? Y'want to go?"
"I don't want to get into the city, not yet. But I would like to getclose to it," Jason told him.
"See what Rhes say," was Naxa's answer.
* * * * *
Rhes granted instant permission without asking any questions. Theysaddled up and left at once, in order to complete the round trip beforedark.
They had been traveling less than an hour before Jason knew they weregoing in the direction of the city. With each minute the feeling grewstronger. Naxa was aware of it too, stirring in the saddle with unvoicedfeelings. They had to keep touching and reassuring their mounts whichwere growing skittish and restless.
"This is far enough," Jason said. Naxa gratefully pulled to a stop.
The wordless thought beat through Jason's mind, filling it. He couldfeel it on all sides--only much stronger ahead of them in the directionof the unseen city. Naxa and the doryms reacted in the same way,restlessly uncomfortable, not knowing the cause.
One thing was obvious now. The Pyrran animals were sensitive to psiradiation--probably the plants and lower life forms as well. Perhapsthey communicated by it, since they obeyed the men who had a strongcontrol of it. And in this area was a wash of psi radiation such as hehad never experienced before. Though his personal talents specialized inpsychokinesis--the mental control of inanimate matter--he was stillsensitive to most mental phenomena. Watching a sports event he had manytimes felt the unanimous accord of many minds expressing the samethought. What he felt now was like that.
Only terribly different. A crowd exulted at some success on the field,or groaned at a failure. The feeling fluxed and changed as the gameprogressed. Here the wash of thought was unending, strong andfrightening. It didn't translate into words very well. It was parthatred, part fear--and all destruction.
"_KILL THE ENEMY_" was as close as Jason could express it. But it wasmore than that. An unending river of mental outrage and death.
"Let's go back now," he said, suddenly battered and sickened by thefeelings he had let wash through him. As they started the return trip hebegan to understand many things.
His sudden unspeakable fear when the Pyrran animal had attacked him thatfirst day on the planet. And his recurrent nightmares that had nevercompletely ceased, even with drugs. Both of these were his reaction tothe hatred directed at the city. Though for some reason he hadn't feltit directly up to now, enough had reached through to him to get a strongemotional reaction.
Rhes was asleep when they got back and Jason couldn't talk to him untilmorning. In spite of his fatigue from the trip, he stayed awake lateinto the night, going over in his mind the discoveries of the day. Couldhe tell Rhes what he had found out? Not very well. If he did that, hewould have to explain the importance of his discovery and what he meantto use it for. Nothing that aided the city dwellers would appeal to Rhesin the slightest. Best to say nothing until the entire affair was over.