The Sirian Experiments (12 page)

‘Why not? Why not, Klorathy
?'

‘It's like this, Ambien II: cities, buildings – the situations of cities and buildings on any planet – are designed according to need.'

Well, obviously –
was what I was thinking.

I was disappointed, and felt cheated. I felt worse than that. I had not really, before actually meeting Klorathy, stopped to consider the effect it would have on our being together, that I could not say anything about what was so strongly in my mind then – the horrible new race, or stock, of beast-men on
Isolated S.C. II. We had not told Canopus that we had had visits from Shammat, or that we had stolen without telling them some of ‘their' Natives, or that C.P. 22 technicians had escaped with some Lombis and had settled not far from here, or that we had so often and so thoroughly conducted espionage in their territories, or that Shammat had done the same … it seemed to me, sitting there in that delightful picnic spot, as if instead of being open and generously available to this new friend, as one has to be in friendship, my mind had bars around it: keep off, keep off … and there were moments when I could hardly bear to look into that open and unsuspicious countenance. And yet I have to record that I was also feeling something like: You think you are so clever, you Canopeans, but you have no idea what's in my mind, for all that!

No, there was not going to be any easy companionship between us, not really. Or not yet.

Soon we found out why Sirius had been invited to send representatives … when we heard, we could hardly believe it, yet what we had expected was not easy to say.

The remnant of the degenerating Giant race had proliferated and spread everywhere – over this continent as well. They were now half the size they had been, about our size – eight to nine R-feet tall, and were not as long-lived. They had retained little memory of their great past – not much beyond knowledge of the uses of fire for cooking and warmth and some elementary craftwork. They did not grow plants for food, but gathered them wild; and they hunted. From north to south of the Isolated Northern Continent they lived in large, closely organized tribes who did not war with each other, since there was plenty of territory and apparently infinite stocks of animals. The two tribes near here, near this spot, were called Hoppe and Navahi, and it was Klorathy's mission to visit them and … I missed some of what he was saying, at this point. For I could not tell him the origin of these two names, and I was afraid even of looking at Ambien I. When I was able to hear again, he was talking about some
dwarves that lived in these mountains, and in other mountain chains, too, over the continent, and he was to visit these, for Canopus would like to know more about them. And assumed that Sirius would as well. I can only say that I recognized in this a sort of shorthand for much more … for how much more I will not say at this point: certainly it turned out very differently from what I then imagined.

Klorathy was wanting us to go with him into the mountain habitations of the dwarves. This would involve danger, since they had been hounded by the Hoppes and Navahis, and while he was known by them we would have to win their trust. He was taking it absolutely for granted that we would be ready for this: and Ambien I most certainly was, for he liked challenge. As for me, I did not want any association with what were bound to be no more than squalid little half-animals – but I assented.

We concealed the two machines as well as we could in a canyon, and walked forth boldly towards the mountains. These had not been devastated by the quake, though some rock falls had taken place, giving the mountainsides a raw disturbed look. Standing close against a precipitous surface we could hear all kinds of murmurings and knockings and runnings-about, and I was reminded of the termite dwellings on Isolated S.C. II – putting one's ear to the walls of one of these, having knocked on its surface or even broken a part off, one heard just such a scurrying, rustling murmur. Coming round the edge of this precipice, there was a low dark cave entrance, and Klorathy walked at once towards it, lifting up both his hands and calling out words I did not know. We, too, lifted our hands in what was obviously a gesture of peace. There was a sudden total silence, from which we were able to gauge the degree of the background of noise to which we had
adjusted ourselves approaching the mountain. Silence – the sun blazing down uncomfortably from the warm Rohanda skies – heat striking out from the raw and unhealed rocks – heat dizzying up from the soil. Suddenly there was a rush of movement from the cave, so swift it was impossible to distinguish details, and we three were enclosed in a swarm of squat little people who were hustling us inside the cave, which we tall ones – they came up to our knee level – had to go on all fours to enter. We were in a vast cavern, lit everywhere by small flames, which we later found were outlets of natural gas, controlled and kept perpetually burning. Yet they were not enough to create more than a soft twilight. The cavern was floored with white sand that glimmered, and crystals in the rock walls twinkled, and a river that rushed along the cavern's edge flung up sparkling showers of spray. I had not expected to find this soft exuberance of light inside the dark mountain, and my spirits rose, and as I was rushed along by the pressure of the little people I was able to examine them. They were certainly less animal than the horrid new beast-men of the Southern Continent, but quite seemly and decent creatures, wearing trousers and jackets of dressed skins. Very broad they were, almost as broad as tall: and I was easily able to recognize in the stock the powerful arms and shoulders of the Lombis, and the yellow skins of the Colony 22 technicians. Their faces were bare of hair, under close caps of tight rough dark curls, and were keen and sharp and intelligent.

We were taken swiftly through several of such caverns, always with the river rushing along beside us, until we were deep inside the mountain – yet it did not feel oppressive, for the air was sweet and fresh. We were in a cave so enormous the roof went up above us into impenetrable black, and the illuminations around the rocky verges were only pinpoints of innumerable light. There was a cleared space in the centre, quite large enough to take a horde of these little people and ourselves, but small in proportion to the enormousness of the place. We were sat down on piles of skins, and given some food – hardly to the palates of such as we, though it was not
without interest to be reminded of what was – what had to be – the food of all the lowly evolved planets of our Galaxy. Meat. A sort of cheese. A kind of beer. All this time Klorathy was keeping up talk with them: he seemed to know their language at least adequately. It was Ambien I and myself who puzzled them, though they were civil enough – for we were both obviously of different kinds from Klorathy. They eyed us, yet not unpleasantly, and one of the females, a quite attractive little thing in her robust heavy way, begged to touch my hair, and in a moment several females had crowded up, smiling and apologetic, but unable to resist handling my blonde locks. Yet I, for my part, was looking around into the faces packed and massed all around, and remembering the Lombis – who had never set eyes on me or anything like me – and the Colony 22 techs, who had … a long, long time ago, far out of personal memory, in their time reckoning, but such a short time ago in ours. Did they have any sort of race or gene memory? We examined each other, in a scene of which I have been a part so very often in my long service: members of differing races meeting, not in enmity but in genial curiosity.

How were we able to do this – see each other so close and well, when the twinkling walls of the cave were so far distant? It was by – electricity. Yes. Everywhere stood strong bright lights, wooden containers that housed batteries: it is never possible to foresee what part of a former technology a fallen-off race will retain.

And they were that – reduced, I mean; under pressure, beset … I was able to recognize it at once, by a hundred little signs that perhaps I wouldn't have been able to consciously describe. These were a people in danger, endangered –
desperate.
It showed in the sombre consciousness of their eyes, fastening on Klorathy, who for his part was leaning forward, urgent, concentrated on this task of his …

Later we were led off, I by the women, the men separately, and we slept in small but airy rock chambers. And next day the discussions with Klorathy went on, while I and Ambien I
were taken, on our request, to see this underground kingdom. Which I shall now briefly describe.

First of all, it was not the only one: Klorathy said that not only all over this continent but in most parts now of Rohanda spread these underearth races. But they had not taken to the caves and caverns by nature, only from need, as they found themselves hunted and persecuted by races so much larger than themselves. Though not more skilled.

These caverns were by no means the habitations of brutes. They had been adapted from natural holes and caves, often the old tunnels of former underground rivers and lakes. Sometimes they had been excavated. Many were carefully panelled with well-tailored and smoothed planking. All were lit, either by natural gas or by electricity. There were meeting places and eating places, sleeping places, and storage caves and workshops. Animals had been captured from the surface world and brought down to breed and increase in this below-earth realm. There were birds, some flying freely about, as if they had been in the air. These were underground cities, underearth realms. And they were all based on the oddest and saddest contradictions or predicaments.

This race had become skilled miners and metallurgists. Beginning with iron, they had made all kinds of utensils and then – finding themselves hunted – weapons. For a time, and in some places, they had made approaches out into the world to offer trade, and trade had often been effective. They exchanged iron products for roots and fruits and fresh supplies of animals for their chthonic herds. Then they found gold. They had seen it was beautiful and did not rust and crumble as iron did, but found it too soft for tools and vessels – yet it
was
so beautiful, and everywhere they made ornaments and decorations with it. Taking it out to the tribes now forming everywhere above ground – for these were more likely to be their neighbours than the people of the advanced cities, at first gold was a curiosity, and then, suddenly, was something for which murder could be committed, and slaves captured – the dwarves were chased into the mountains and
whole communities wiped out. They fled deeper into the mountains, or went into further ranges, always going further, retreating, becoming invisible except for rare careful excursions to see if trade was possible again. Sometimes it was. Often, coming out with their heavy dark vessels and spears and arrowheads, their glistening gleaming ornaments, they would be ambushed and all killed.

Yet they always mined, since it was now in their blood, the skill of it in their hands and minds.

Yet, and this was the sad paradox that they did not fully see until Klorathy pointed it out to them: suppose they had never mined at all, would they have missed so much: Did their food depend on it? Their clothing? Even their electricity? Their clay vessels were beautiful and strong and in every way as good as their iron ones.

Suppose they had never learned how to melt iron from rocks, and gold from rocks – what then?

But it was too late for thinking in this way.

Finding themselves harried and hunted, these poor creatures had sent Klorathy a message. Had sent a message ‘all the way to the stars'.

How?

Coming together in a great conclave, from every part of this continent, creeping along a thousand underground channels and roads, they had cried out that ‘Canopus would help them'.

Two of them had made a dangerous journey to the middle seas. There, so the news was, were great cities. This journey had taken many R-years. The two, a male and a female, having crept and crawled and lurked and sneaked their way across a continent and then from island to island across the great sea, and then across land again, had found that upheavals and earthquakes had vanished the great cities which were now only a memory among half-savages. The two had gone northwards, hearing of ‘a place where kindness and women rule'. There they were directed to Adalantaland, where there was kindness and a wise female ruler, who had said
that ‘Canopus had not visited for a long time, not in her memory or in that of her Mother's. The two had left their messages, obstinately believing that what Canopus had promised – for promises were in their memories – Canopus would perform. And though they had died as soon as they had delivered their reports of that epic and terrible journey, soon Canopus
did
perform, for Klorathy came to them.

Had come first on an investigational trip from one end of this continent to the other. Had heard, then, of the ‘little people' in the other continents, for oddly – or perhaps not oddly at all – emissaries from the ‘little people', hunted and persecuted everywhere, had made their brave and faithful journeys to places where they believed ‘Canopus' might have ears to hear their cries for help.

Klorathy had then summed up all this information he had garnered, and pondered over it and concluded that there was another factor here, there was an element of savagery, of beastliness, more and above what could be naturally expected. It was the work of Shammat, of course, Shammat who Canopus had believed to be still far away half across the globe – not that its influence wasn't everywhere … but on the subject of that ‘influence' Klorathy was either not able or not willing to enlarge.

‘What do you mean, Klorathy? – when you talk of
Shammat-nature
?
' –
and as I asked the question I thought of those avid greedy faces, those glittering avaricious eyes. ‘A savage is a savage. A civilized race behaves like one.' At which he smiled, sadly, and in a way that did not encourage me to press him.