Fiction Complete, page 112
He has forgotten us. We wait, and watch through the Klygha’s mind as he touches the shining things within his shell that do for him what similar shining things do for the Terrans. Thus, we know as soon as he when he makes his mistake.
The Klygha’s travelling-shell bursts through the surface he has spun above it to look like the side of a mountain; but it does not go straight and it does not go far. He has a terrible fear. We feel it with him, and try to bury ourselves in the sand.
There are noises and flares of light.
There is dizziness, the feeling of being tossed about by the currents created when the land shakes.
There is pain . . . fear of death . . . silence.
For a time, we see with the Klygha visions of the world from which he comes. It is confusing; for sometimes the Klygha is small and happy amid others of his breed, sometimes he is grown and talks to others equally, and sometimes we see him with beings and objects which are strangely wrong, though neither we nor the Klygha understand why.
Then these things fade away, and the Klygha returns to his mind—which is worse.
He frees himself of what holds him in place, scans the many shining things that tell him of his situation, and crawls outside to the ground. When he looks back, he sorrows . . . deeply . . . and we grieve with him since—though he now forgets us—he is still in our mind. We realize that he is unable to return to his world.
There is no way he can repair his travelling-shell in this place occupied only by uncivilized, brutish life-forms. He thinks of the Terrans, and knows that he must make a decision—whether to be a Klygha or a coward. . . .
There is a short doubt. Then the Klygha gropes far out above the sky for the mind of the cat. He is a coward.
“Mmar-min!” says the cat.
We see with it a chamber of the Terran travelling-shell. There is no Terran present, so the Klygha makes the cat go in search of one. We feel with the cat as it goes, for it almost swims. It pushes against a side with two of its feet and floats through the air toward the opening through which it wishes to pass. Now we understand the tail of the cat—it is for swimming in air. It whirls and twists, and the cat spins as it goes. It touches another side, plunges through the opening into a long but narrow space, twists again, and pushes itself along that space. It is very much more clever than it seemed on this world.
It is also very good with sounds, and knows where to find the Terrans by hearing them.
“Mmar-min!” it says again, as it enters another chamber.
This place in the Terran shell is much like the Klygha’s, with many shining and flashing things. There are differences, but the Klygha can understand many of the objects; therefore so can we.
“Mmar-min, we mmust go back!” says the cat.
“Back where?” says Marvin. He does not seem completely awake, for he continues to stare at the shining things and the lighted things and to listen to the tiny sounds coining from some of them.
The he suddenly unbends himself and makes large eyes at the cat.
“You can still talk!” he says. “Which one are you now?”
The Klygha hesitates. Then he makes the cat speak the truth, for he is now a coward.
“I am the one who spoke through your pet before,” the cat says for him. “Please return! I need your help.”
Through the cat’s vision, we see the Terran’s large, five-divided grippers reach out at us. The view shifts . . . he has picked up the cat and put it on a flat space before some of the shining things. We twitch about on the beach until we realize that it is the cat twitching its ears and tail. It is not happy on the flat space and it is not happy with the Klygha in its mind. We know.
The Terran called Marvin moves clicking things in front of him and speaks. With the Klygha, we understand that his sounds are carried along a string of metal to other parts of the travelling-shell. Soon, other Terrans answer, and a little later they arrive.
Then the noise increases. They all talk at once, and their opinions are much less to be understood than ours when all of us communicate at once. They do not add to each other’s strength; they lessen it. The cat is irritated—it looks away at the shining lights. The Klygha wishes the cat could see in proper colors, for then he would be able to understand more about the Terrans’ controls, but this wish is weak. He wants more that the Terrans return, and he listens anxiously to them.
“But I heard him say it!” says Marvin. “There’s another spacer there—it couldn’t be those lumpy beach-crawlers!
“That would make sense,” says Foggy. “I never believed those things looked smart enough.”
“No, and neither do you guys!” says Halloran. “Come on, Marvin—admit you dreamed it!”
“He did not dream it,” says the cat. “I desperately need your help.”
They bend and turn to look at the cat.
“Say it again, Teufel, and slower,” says Marvin. “You don’t talk too plainly, know.”
The cat says it again.
“And you are right about the beach amphibians. They have nothing to do with me. Like yourselves, I am an explorer from another planetary system.”
They watch the cat with different attitudes, Marvin twitches a little, as if excited. The front of Halloran’s head wrinkles and his teeth show threateningly. The mouths of the other two hang open.
“My ship suffered an accident as I attempted to take off,” says the cat. “It is wrecked. Unless you return to help me, I shall be marooned here forever!”
“You see?” says Marvin. “We’ll have to go back.”
“Wait a minute!” says Halloran. “First, we have to decide if any of this is real.”
“I guess it’s gotta be,” says Joe.
“Whaddya mean?”
“How could a black cat make up a story like that? He never talked before.”
“I do not understand that myself,” says Foggy. “And when I do not understand something, I think it is a good time to be careful.”
“What could happen?” says Marvin. “If there is somebody back there—and there’s no reason not to believe it—just imagine all the things we could learn from him!”
“But if the cat really was talkin’ for somebody,” says Joe, “he was pretty cagey about giving out information. What if it does turn out to be those squids on the beach, tryin’ to con us into coming back in range where they can get control of us all?”
“Yes. Remember—that is why we left so quick!”
The cat feels bad because the Klygha worries. We also worry, but it is hard—with another in the mind—to know if we worry that the Terrans will return for the Klygha, or that they will not and we will have him with us always.
The cat watches the big Terran, Halloran, as he lurches back and forth before the others. His face is dark, and we feel that it must be red if only the cat could see that color.
“Enough of this!” he says loudly. “Whaddya want to do? Go chasing into all sorts of wild orbits on account of a talking cat, for Chrissake? We’re well off the damn planet with our skins and our data. Let’s stay off!”
He is angry. We hate him. No . . . the Klygha hates him. He makes the cat yowl at Halloran, and Halloran catches the cat.
We bite him!
No . . . the cat bites Halloran. The Klygha makes the cat bite Halloran, but we see it. We feel it. We hear Halloran’s words, but his mouth twists and is not to understand. His mind is to understand. He will kill. . . .
It is hard to see, because everything whirls about, as when one is caught below in a strong, tumbling current. Then the other Terrans have their grippers all over Halloran and the cat is free of him.
It fears and rages mightily for so small a being. It swims under something low, where it crouches to snarl hate at the feet of the Terrans. Somehow—we wish we knew!—it has forced the Klygha out of its mind.
Then, from the Klygha, we feel true despair!
If the Klygha did not feel so bad, we could interest ourselves in the cat, for we still see and feel with it. Are we better at this than the Klygha? Did he, too, feel Halloran’s mind for an instant? It cannot be . . . yet perhaps we are better at remembering. Until the Klygha, memory was our all.
The Klygha is with us again. Desperation has made him quick, and he knows that we are with the cat. We feel him struggle . . . and all our minds struggle with him.
Slowly, the cat creeps out into the open. It raises itself and speaks.
“There is no hoax, no trap,” it says for the Klygha. “I could not control any being of advanced intelligence.”
The Terrans silence their talk to look at the cat.
“I know you have a helicopter,” says the cat. “To verify what I tell you, it is necessary only for you to send someone out in it when you return. The wreck of my ship will be easy to locate and observe.”
They make the cat repeat this twice more, because it does not talk well by their standards. Then they speak among themselves for a long time while the Klygha fears to interrupt them.
In the end, Halloran bends himself into the comfortable place where Marvin had rested and begins to make the Terran travelling-shell return to us.
The light goes and comes again before they arrive. It must be a very great distance that they travel. Finally, terrible noises tear apart the clouds and the Terrans return in a burst of flame streaking down from the sky.
The noise fades, once again, the tall thing stands upright on our beach, where now more of the sand is blackened and smoking.
The Klygha sees this through individuals whom he has forced to watch. When the flames stop, he allows the rest of us to come out of the breakers.
The sand no longer smokes and steams by the time two of the Terrans appear.
We watch for the Klygha as they lower what he called a helicopter down the side of their shell on a long strand of metal; because it is no longer easy for him to watch through the cat. The Terrans, since they started back, do not always permit the cat to see what they do or hear what they say.
Now, however, the one called Joe Ramirez takes the cat with him inside the helicopter. He makes the branches on top spin around, until the helicopter floats into the air and swims through it toward the hills.
When it approaches the place where we feel the Klygha to be, the cat sees him standing in an open space near the wreck. Joe sees him only when the Cat speaks, because he looks at the wreck. We wish the cat would also observe the wreck—for it would give us pleasure to see the Klygha’s mistake—but it is not allowed, lest it lose sight of the Klygha. For the first time, we see him through another mind than his own.
He is halfway between the size of a Terran and of one of us. Having only four limbs like them, he still looks different. His skin is loose and baggy, covered with fine, dark gray down, but most of it is hidden by a covering cleverly made to fit around the Klygha’s body and limbs. The cat sees this as light gray, but we remember that when the Klygha considered himself in his travelling-shell the covering seemed to him the color of the sky.
For the rest, he resembles the picture he had of himself—he did not trouble to deceive us. His head is flatter and longer than those of the Terrans, and grows from his body in a different way. Because he has two eyes, large and gleaming black, he reminds one of a Terran. That is, the two eyes set right in the head and the four limbs make him look more like a Terran than the small mouth like that of a sucking fish makes him look different. We wonder if all beings from the stars have this general similarity.
He is quite nimble as he runs over to meet the landing helicopter. Now we see what it is to run. At times, no part of the Klygha touches the ground, any more than we touch sand in skimming along the sea bottom. But to do this on land! It must be wonderful.
Joe does not act surprised. We have seen the Terrans walking on the beach but perhaps they can run also. Joe seems more interested in examining the Klygha carefully after he halts beside the helicopter. The Terran then raises a shining thing to his mouth and speaks.
“He looks clean, for all I can see. Somehow, he seems to look worried, too.”
Noises answer him, and the cat understands them as the voice of Halloran. “Okay, then; bring him in with you. See if you can get him to understand that he’ll have to live on what we have.”
“I, too, am an oxygen-breather,” says the cat for the Klygha. “That is why I was interested in exploring this planet. As for incidental supplies, I can get what I need from my ship.”
“Good enough!” says the voice of Halloran. “Go with him, Joe!”
“How long a trip will it be?” says the cat.
There is silence among the Terrans. Through the cat sitting on his forelimb, we feel Joe tighten his muscles. Then Halloran’s voice answers through the air.
“We’ll let you know later . . . when we understand each other’s chronology better. Bring as much as you can, to be sure.”
Once again, they will not tell him anything about where their star is. Now, however, the Klygha understands that he must obey. He has a deep fear of being left on this world.
There is little cause for him to fear. We have learned that we could make for him, from the waters of the sea, all the things he needs. There is a little of everything in the sea, but he is too impatient. He considers that life does not last long enough. Is it possible that a Klygha does not live as long as we do?
Joe takes the Klygha into the helicopter, which he moves closer to the wreck. They both crawl inside to get the things the Klygha wants. He would like not to take the Terran inside but is afraid to deny him. Joe helps him carry some supplies outside. He also makes a bright light to flash many times. Through the Klygha’s mind, we understand that Joe makes what he calls “pictures” as a way to remember what he sees. We do not entirely understand—if one sees something, he remembers it always, and sometimes his offspring also. These beings from the stars are different.
We are much disturbed, and flop nervously about the beach until the helicopter returns to the Terran travelling-shell. There is always the chance that they will not take him. Perhaps Joe learned enough inside the wreck to make it needless.
It is hard, with another half in the mind and half out, to be sure whose idea that is. We feel it must be Halloran’s. We wonder if we will always have that little touch of the Terran’s mind that we learned from the cat during Halloran’s rage. The Klygha does not bother with us anymore, and the cat does not care.
There is no difficulty. The Terrans are still interested in the Klygha and the things he can teach them. They find a soft, enclosed place for him larger than the one into which they afterward put the cat. Then they prepare to go away beyond the sky again.
We hurry to get off the beach. It is hard . . . after so long with the Klygha in the mind. We must decide for ourself, and move all the herd. No one guides us now.
When it is dark, flame and noise are once again to be sensed through the shallow water. We can feel the cat and the Klygha . . . and someone else . . . moving further away. It is not the direction we remember from the Klygha’s mind. They must really be headed for the Terrans’ star. We swim deeper into the water, to await the Light.
When we emerge, it is to a good feeling. There is no other in the thoughts.
All is as it was . . . almost. Perhaps more of us now have the strength to be potential movers.
Still, at what must be a huge distance, we faintly but distinctly sense the star-minds—the Klygha, the cat, and even Halloran. It is enough to show us the direction of the Terran’s star. We feel this direction change as the Light moves across the sky, and now we realize that the world beneath us spins. We will always remember the star of the Terrans and its direction, while we collect other herds of people to help examine the wreck of the Klygha’s ship.
The star of the Klygha we will also remember . . . and its direction . . . for this was in the Klygha’s mind when he refused to tell it to the Terrans.
Other things we remember are those that were told to the Klygha, or remembered by him, or seen by the cat, or seen since then in color by the Klygha . . . and even some of the things understood by Halloran. It is enough to know how to build a ship of our own, for in the sea are all the substances needed and our bodies can filter and form deposits of any required shape.
Much time will be needed. To reach the stars, many herd minds must be joined together; but we will follow the Terrans, and the Klygha . . . and perhaps find others. And the leader, the controller of all of these, will be . . . we? . . . will be I! I shall lead my people to the stars, now that we can . . . can think!
The Klygha does not know what he has done. . . .
ROCKETS SLAMMED PAST
—just missing the tall, gaunt man who dodged down the stairs of the Earth Embassy. A figure loomed in a doorway and he snapped off a quick blaster shot at it—missed.
He’d killed one man, wounded others—and was carrying papers stolen from the secret Embassy files. They had to stop him—but they couldn’t!
—And, worlds away, the men of Department 99 watched on their galaxy-spanning viewscreen . . . knowing they were responsible for this disaster—and powerless to do anything about it!
D-99
A PYRAMID BOOK
First Printing, November 1962
This book is fiction. No resemblance is intended between any character herein
and any person, living or dead; any such resemblance is purely coincidental.
Copyright, © 1982 by Pyramid Publications, Inc. All Rights Reserved
Printed in the United States of America
PYRAMID BOOKS are published by Pyramid Publications, Inc.,
444 Madison Avenue, New York 22, New York, U.S.A.
ONE
AT THE NINETY-FIFTH FLOOR, WESTERVELT LEFT the public elevator for a private automatic one which he took four floors further. When he stepped out, the dark, lean youth faced an office entrance whose double, transparent doors bore the discreet legend. “Department 99.”
