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PASTORAL AFFAIR
By CHARLES A. STEARNS
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionFebruary 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: No wonder Stefanik meant to fight to the last--he wasn'tgoing to turn his kids over to an old goat like Glinka!]
The seaplane cast its silhouette from aloft upon the blue Arabian Sea,left its white wake across the shallows, and taxied alongside theancient stone jetty, clawing into the sandy bottom with its small foreand after anchors.
Colonel Glinka stepped out upon the wing, carefully measured thedistance to the jetty, and sprang for it, wetting himself up to the seatof his voluminous khaki shorts.
This lonely sandspit, these barren slopes and frowning, ocher cliffs,the oceanic silence around him, broken by the plaintive cries ofwheeling Caspian terns that were badly in need of laundering, were not,he thought as he clambered ashore, exactly as one pictures a tropicalparadise.
And it helped the desolation of his mood not at all that upon these samearid ridges scores of silent, burnoosed figures watched him as he stoodthere, allowing the water to drain from his perforated white oxfords andall unaware that his vast pith helmet, curiously heavy malacca cane andformidable fundament cast a centaur's shadow upon the rocks in the laterafternoon sun.
Colonel Glinka took a pair of green sun goggles from his pocket and putthem on, resolutely hitched up his shorts, assumed the stern yetconciliatory expression of a hedgehog in mating season, and set off upthe rocky path.
Ahead of him, the burnoosed ones scrambled nimbly up the slope, lookingover their shoulders, intent upon not missing a thing, yet endeavoringto keep their distance. But two there had been who either had not seenhim arrive, or did not give a damn, for they suddenly appeared upon therise before him, racing down toward the sea with very little regard forlife or limb.
* * * * *
In the lead, a brown young man in flying green turban and white ducktrousers appeared to be losing steadily to his pursuer, who, thoughswathed from head to food in that featureless native garb of the others,might yet be identified by subtle conformations as a female.
Both of them stopped at once upon sighting Colonel Glinka in thepathway, the female hurriedly retreating to what might be deemed a saferdistance, the young man standing as if petrified, with one foot upraisedand a sun-snarl upon his mottled face, quivering at point.
"Oh, Effendi," he cried at last, "if you are looking for Aden, then youare lost, for Aden is five hundred miles that way. And if you arelooking for Cairo--"
"I am hardly ever lost," Colonel Glinka said, and, eying the youngfemale, added, "Tell me, what is the name of that rather tasteless gamethat you are playing?"
"No game, Effendi," the brown young man said. "That one chases me everytime I go outside. They are worse than Tuaregs, these people."
"Are you not a native, then?"
"I?" The young man placed a hand of scorn upon his breast. "Hadji AbdulHakkim ben Salazar? I am Saudi, and a Hadj besides. Say, Joe, have yougot an American cigarette?"
"A great deal better than that," Colonel Glinka said, proffering anornate golden cigarette case. "Try one of these, my boy."
Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar took two, sniffing them suspiciously. "They arevery brown," he said.
Less critically, Colonel Glinka lighted one for himself. "You know," hesaid, "I was rather hoping that you might direct me to the house of avery old friend of mine."
"What handle?"
"I cannot tell you what name he is presently affecting, but he is asmall, crooked man with a heavy black beard--or, at any rate, he oncehad such a beard. I know that he is somewhere on this island; thereforeit will be useless for you to lie to me."
"Ah, that is the Sidi Doctor Stephens," Abdul said, puffing not toohappily upon his cigarette. "His is the only house upon this island;also, I am his flunky and so I ought to know."
"'Stephens' will do," said Colonel Glinka, thwacking him smartly withthe Malacca cane. "Lead on. And you may dispense with the gutterAmerican dialect. I am not American, and besides I speak Arabicfluently."
"But I not so well," Abdul said, "for I was raised in the Kuwaitoil-fields."
"By whom? A camel breeder?"
"Socony Vacuum," Abdul said.
They toiled up the face of the cliff. At once, half a dozen of thewhite-robed gallery fell in behind them. When Colonel Glinka stopped andlooked back, they stopped. When he continued upon his way, theycontinued.
"Have they no homes to which to go?" he complained. "Have they nothingto do?"
"They are a very backward people, who live in the open," Abdul said."They do not work."
"How, then, do the wretches live? Wall Street charity, I presume."
"Oh, no, when they are not able to forage, the Sidi Doctor Stephensfeeds them."
"The reactionary old fool! But you may be sure that they knew how towork in the old days, before he came."
"I do not think so."
"And why, in your ageless wisdom, not?"
"Because the Sidi Doctor made them," Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar said.
* * * * *
Colonel Glinka did not reply, for they had reached the summit of thepath by this time and were looking down upon a small, white villa thatnestled in a green microcosm between the naked chines of the dark,interior hills. A miniature Eden indeed, thought Colonel Glinka, of figsand cinnamons, of date palms and patchouli, all enclosed within a highwire fence.
They descended, and Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar, with a flourish, produceda great bronze key and unlocked the iron gate. "The Sidi Doctor," hesaid, "will doubtless be in his conservatory, making flowers."
"A godlike pastime," said Colonel Glinka with heavy irony. "And wheremay this hotbed of new life be found?"
"Over there," Abdul said, pointing toward a narrow, screened,quonsetlike annex which protruded from the rear of the villa. "Come withme and I will show you."
"You will not," Colonel Glinka said, smiting him upon the thigh onceagain with the heavy cane. "You will remain here and keep silent."
"Ouchdammit!" Abdul exclaimed. "You be careful with that thing, Joe,okay?"
"_You_ be careful, my boy," Colonel Glinka said and marched swiftlyaround the corner of the house, opened the screen door of theconservatory, and entered.
Here, amid long, terraced rows of tropical plants, a bearded dwarf in agreen coat crouched before an earthen tray of lilies of the valley,tranquilly puffing up a massive, tobacco-stained meerschaum. He did notlook up at the sound of the intruder, for he was engaged in a delicatebusiness, the transfer of pollen from corolla to corolla with atoothpick.
"So you are, after all, only a minor god," Colonel Glinka said.
"I heard your plane and I watched you come up the path," the blackbearded little man said. "Glinka, is it not?"
"You remembered me!" Colonel Glinka, quite affectedly, removed hisgoggles and dabbed at his eye with a perfumed handkerchief. "A humblepoliceman, a fat little nobody, to be remembered by the great Dr.Stefanik who was once our greatest scientist--yes, our most brilliantgeneticist--do not shake your head. Let me see, was it Ankara where lastwe met? Yes, eight years ago in Ankara. You got away from me in Ankara.I was so ashamed, Comrade, that I cried."
"Nine years," the other corrected. "For one remembers a mad dog. And donot call me 'comrade,' Comrade. You know that I was never anything otherthan a simple Cossack."
"And, as such, invariably troublesome to us," Colonel Glinka said. "Yetyou were our white hope, Comrade Stefanik. We might have led the world,I am told, in organics as we now lead in physics. I have read all ofyour books upon the fascinating subject of chromosomic change and themorphology of rats. It was required reading for those of us who wereassigned to you. Most interesting, though I confess I did not understandall of it."
* * * * *
Dr. Stefanik got slowly to his feet. His back was now revealed to be socruelly deformed that his black beard curled against his smock, and hewalked with a shuffling, crablike motion as he limped over to pick up asmall rubber irrigation hose.
"Why did you leave us, Comrade Stefanik?" asked Colonel Glinka. "Whyshame us, discredit your government, by running away?"
"I did not like it there," Dr. Stefanik said.
"We knew, of course, that you were on the verge of some great discovery,some new process, perhaps, of controlling human development. A geneticalmeans, our biologists tell me, which might have made us all supermen,tall and brilliant, and immune to disease. A race of Pavlovs andStakhanovs. Do you deny this?"
Dr. Stefanik merely sucked upon his pipe calmly, twisted a valve halfhidden in the greenery. A spray of brilliant green liquid emerged fromthe nozzle of the hose, bathing the plants in a gentle emerald mist.
"It is true," he said at last, "that I had experimented in those dayswith a new process of alloploidy."
"And what is that?"
"Alloploidy is the manipulation of chromosomic patterns which allows usto superimpose the character of our most perfect specimens upon those ofless fortunate hereditary traits within the species."
"I see," said Colonel Glinka, who had not really quite seen. "Exactly. Asuper-race, to rule the world. Imagine, Comrade!"
"Only super-rats and the like," Dr. Stefanik told him calmly, "for youmay go home and tell them that I have never seen fit to experiment withhuman beings, Glinka, and I never will."
"_I_ tell them _that_?" Colonel Glinka cried. "Would I dare? Oh, no, youmust tell them yourself. That is why you will have to return with me."
"Never!"
Colonel Glinka sighed prodigiously. "I am afraid that our country isgoing to be dogs-in-the-manger in this matter," he said. "You see, weare a jealous people by nature, and if we cannot have you, no oneshall." And, deliberately, he laid the Malacca cane across his left arm,so that its tip was pointed squarely at Dr. Stefanik and the sinisterround hole there clearly revealed to him.
"How melodramatic that is," Dr. Stefanik said.
"I know it," said Colonel Glinka, "but you must remember that thecustoms officials in this part of the world are exceedingly tiresomeabout firearms. This little gem, now, is quite discreet, and veryaccurate, and it will shoot you three times before you can say 'Never.'Will you not change your mind?"
"No."
"I _did_ so want to become tall and brilliant," Colonel Glinka saidregretfully, and he started to press the handle of the cane.
"We are as tall as we stand," said Dr. Stefanik, and, swiftly focusingthe nozzle of the irrigation hose to a thin stream, squirted thestinging green fluid in Colonel Glinka's right and left eye.
* * * * *
"I know that you are in here somewhere!" Colonel Glinka yelped. "Beassured that I shall find you, Comrade, and when I do, it will not bepleasant for you! Oh, my--no, indeed!"
His eyes were red and streaming. He wiped them with the lavender-scentedhandkerchief, got down upon his hands and knees and started to crawlalong the terraced rows of tropical plants, looking under each bench ashe came to it. When he had reached the end, he turned and crawled up theother side.
At the far end of the conservatory, he stood up with a baffled grunt. "Iknow that you are in here," he said.
Something tickled the back of his neck. He whirled like a Dervish, butfound only a drooping, blood-red plant like nothing ever created bynature confronting him.
"I am getting jumpy," Colonel Glinka growled. "A little jumpy in mybusiness is good, but too much is bad for the health." And he went,straightway, and closed the back door of the conservatory and dragged aheavy rack of trailing orchids in front of it, humming a furious littlemarch from _The Guardsman_ as he worked.
"You must know," he said loudly, "that I do not altogether believe you,Stefanik, when you imply that you have abandoned this research. Nor willthey. For who, then, are these degenerate wretches who stand upon thehills and gawk at us, and why must you feed them? I know that they werenot created by you, but it is possible that they are paid to be yourguinea pigs. Perhaps you are all in the pay of the British. Am I right?"
He listened. There was no answer.
Completing his examination of the conservatory, he entered the mainvilla and searched it thoroughly, as he had been trained to do, lookingin every cupboard and closet and under the beds.
When he had exhausted these hiding places, he left by the front door andclosed it after him, with a narrow, jamming wedge that he had made ofhalf a lead pencil.
There were many places to hide in the garden, but Colonel Glinka tookthem one by one, glancing behind him from time to time in order to makecertain that he was not being followed around and around the house in agrim sort of Maypole dance.
"I know that you are out here, Comrade," he said.
Presently he had arrived back where he had started, sweating profusely,and was about to retrace the entire circuit when he caught a glimpse ofsomething moving in the undergrowth of patchouli near the gate. He aimedthe Malacca cane and pressed a part of its handle with his thumb. Abullet whined off the steel gatepost.
"Stop there, my friend!" he commanded.
Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar slowly rose from the bushes with his hands highabove his head.
"You got me, Joe," he said.
* * * * *
The gate was wide open; Stefanik's route of escape now painfullyobvious.
Colonel Glinka stared thoughtfully up at the darkening ridges where thesun set in that sanguinary glory observable only in these latitudes, andthe dusk crept swiftly up from the seaward-reaching ravines.
"So," Colonel Glinka said. "That is where he has gone, thinking to eludeme forever. But you--" he waggled the cane at Abdul, who was alreadyshaking his head in the negative--"will lead me to him. You know hishabits, and, what is more, you are almost certainly familiar with everyhiding place on this island, since it is your whim to be chased all overit by the females."
"Too dark, Effendi," Abdul said. "If we go out now, they will not onlychase us; they will catch us, for they are able to see very well in thedark."
"_Who_ will catch us?"
"These people. They are worse than Tuaregs. For all I know, they may bedescended from the Tuaregs, and everyone knows that a Tuareg would assoon cut a man's throat as kiss the hem of his burnoose."
"So now they are Tuaregs." Colonel Glinka nodded, with a slow, ferocioussmile. "Yet you have hinted that they are the spawn of ComradeStefanik's genius, the children of genetical science, stamped with 'Madein the Seychelles' upon their bottoms. Perhaps they were grown in theconservatory, from Tuareg seed."
Abdul grimaced. "I do not remember saying that, though sometimes I saythings that I don't remember later. Perhaps they are not Tuaregs, then.To tell the truth, they were already living here when I came to work forthe Sidi Doctor Stephens, and so naturally I thought that he had madethem, for there were no people upon this island in the old days. Onlythe seabirds and a few wild goats, perhaps."
Colonel Glinka clasped his hand to his forehead. "Stop, stop, or I shallgo mad!"
Abdul Hakkim obediently sat down and crossed his legs, starting to lightthe second of the very bad cigarettes that he had cadged.
"What are you doing?" Colonel Glinka said softly.
"Nothing, Effendi."
"Get up! Get up and get moving, my boy, or make your peace with Allah!Did you suppose for one moment that I had f
orgotten what we were talkingabout?"
* * * * *
It was quite dark by the time they had reached the summit of the ridge,but Colonel Glinka still marched along behind Abdul, high good humorrestored, prodding him from time to time with the Malacca cane andlecturing him upon social equalities and other Party doctrine.
"Are we nearly there?" he would interrupt himself to ask from time totime.
"I do not know."
"Call out, then."
"I am afraid."
A savage poke with the cane, a war whoop from Abdul Hakkim ben Salazar.No answer.
"We'll get him," Colonel Glinka would say. "Oh, my, yes."
But an hour had passed and still they had encountered no living thingupon the path.
At last Abdul stopped abruptly. They were in a little, narrow ravine,high above the sea, with looming red cliffs all about them, and thebooming of the surf upon the distant, windward shore of the islandplainly audible.
"Why have we stopped here?" Colonel Glinka said, bumping into him.
"Look there, Effendi!" Abdul whispered, gesturing toward a ledge not tenyards above their heads, where a burnoosed figure stood looking downupon them.
"And there--and there--and there!" Abdul pointed at other little ledgeswhere similar ghostly sentries stood, barely visible in