The Silkie Page 7

  SHE PHONED Baxter and passed the conversation on to Cemp in thought form.

  Baxter was enormously excited by the information that Cemp had obtained about the alien Silkies. He regarded the gravity field as a new energy application, but he was reluctant to send in another Silkie.

  'Let's face it, Joanne,' he said. 'Your husband learned some thing last year which, if other Silkies understood it, might wreck the delicate balance by which we are maintaining our present Silkie-human civilisation. Nat understands our concern about that. So tell him I'll send a machine in there to act as a barrier for him while he makes his changeover into Silkie.

  It occured to Cemp that the appearance of new, hitherto unknown Silkies would alter the Silkie-human relationship even more. But he did not permit that thought to go out to Joanne.

  Baxter's conversation concluded with the statement that it would probably take a while before the machine could be got to him. 'So tell him to hold on.'

  After Baxter had hung up, Joanne thought at Cemp, 'I should tell you that I am relieved about one thing.'

  'What's that?'

  'If the Silkie women are all as plain in human form as B-Roth, then I'm not going to worry.'

  An hour went by. Two ... ten.

  In the world outside, the skies would be dark, the sun long gone, the stars signaling in their tiny brilliant fashion.

  Charley Baxter's machine had come and gone, and Cemp, safe in the Silkie form, remained close to the most remarkable energy field that had ever been seen in the solar system. What was astounding was that it showed no diminution of its colossal gravity effect. His hope had been that with his supersensitive Silkie perception he would be able to perceive any feeder lines that might be flowing power to it from an outside source. But there was nothing like that; nothing to trace. The power came from the single small group of molecules. It had no other origin.

  The minutes and the hours lengthened. The watch became long, and. he had time to feel the emotional impact of the problem that now confronted every Silkie on Earth — the need to make a decision about the Space Silkies.

  Morning.

  Shortly after the sun came up outside, the field manifested an independent quality. It began to move along the corridor, heading deeper into the cave. Cemp floated along after it, letting a portion of its gravitational pull draw him. He was wary but curious hopeful that now he would find out more.

  The cave ended abruptly in a deep sewer, which had the look of long abandonment. The concrete was cracked, and there were innumerable deep fissures in the walls. But to the group of molecules and their field, it seemed to be a familiar area, for they went forward more rapidly. Suddenly, there was water below them. It was not stagnant, but rippled and swirled. A tidal pool, Cemp analysed.

  The water grew deeper, and presently they were in it, traveling at undiminished speed. Ahead, the murky depths grew less murky. They emerged into sunlit waters in a canyon about a hundred feet below the surface of the ocean.

  As they broke surface a moment later, the strange energy complex accelerated. Cemp, suspecting that it would now try to get away from him, made a final effort to perceive its characteristics. But nothing came back to him. No message, no sign of energy flow. For a split second, he did have the impression that the atoms making up the molecule group were somehow not right. But when he switched his attention to the band involved, either the molecules became aware of his momentary awareness and closed themselves off or he imagined it.

  Even as he made the analysis, his feeling that he was about to be discarded was borne out. The particle's speed increased rapidly. In seconds, its velocity approached the limits of what he could permit himself to endure inside an atmosphere. The outer chitin of his Silkie body grew hot, then hotter.

  Reluctantly, Camp adjusted his own atomic structure, so that the gravity of the alien field no longer affected rim. As he fell away, it continued to pursue a course that took an easterly direction, where the sun was now about an hour above the horizon. Within mere seconds of his separation from it, it left the atmosphere and, traveling at many miles a second, headed seemingly straight for the sun.

  Cemp came to the atmosphere's edge. 'Gazing' by means of his Silkie perceptors out upon the vast, dark ocean of space beyond, he contacted the nearest Telstar unit. To the scientists aboard, he gave a fix on the speeding molecule group. Then he waited hopefully while they tried to put a tracer on it.

  But the word finally came, 'Sorry, we get no reaction.'

  Baffled, Cemp let himself be drawn by Earth's gravity. Then, by a series of controlled adjustments to the magnetic and gravity fields of the planet, he guided himself to the Silkie Authority.

  * * *

  XIII

  THREE HOURS of talk...

  Cemp, who, as the only Silkie present, occupied a seat near the foot of the long table, found the discussion boring.

  It had early seemed to him that he or some other Silkie ought to be sent to the Silkie planetoid to learn the facts, handle the matter in a strictly logical but humanitarian fashion, and report back to the Authority.

  If, for some reason, the so-called Silkie nation proved unamenable to reason, then a further discussion would be in order.

  As he waited for the three dozen human conferees to reach the same decision, he couldn't help but notice the order of importance at the table.

  The Special People, including Charley Baxter, were at the head of the long table. Next, ranging down on either side, were the ordinary human beings. Then, on one side, himself, and below him, three minor aides and the official secretary of the three-man Silkie Authority.

  It was not a new observation for him. He had discussed it with other Silkies, and it had been pointed out to him that here was a reversal of the power rôle that was new in history. The strongest individuals in the solar system the Silkies — were still relegated to secondary status.

  He emerged from his reverie to realise that silence had fallen. Charley Baxter, slim, gray-eyed, intense, was coming around the long table. He stopped across from Cemp.

  'Well, Nat,' said Baxter, 'there's the picture as we see it.' He seemed embarrassed.

  Cemp did a lightning mental backtrack on the discussion and realised that they had indeed arrived at the inevitable conclusion. But he noted also that they considered it a weighty decision. It was a lot to ask of any person, that was the attitude. The result could he personal disaster. They wouldn't be critical if he refused.

  'I feel ashamed to ask it,' said Baxter, 'but this is almost a war situation.'

  Cemp could see that they were not sure of themselves. There had been no war on Earth for a hundred and fifty years. No one was an expert in it any more.

  He climbed to his feet as these awarenesses touched him. Now he looked around at the faces turned to him and said, 'Calm yourselves, gentlemen. Naturally I'll do it.'

  They all looked relieved. The discussion turned quickly to details — the difficulty of locating a single meteorite in space, particularly one that had such a long sidereal period.

  It was well-known that there were about fifteen hundred large meteorites and planetoids and tens of thousands of smaller objects orbiting the sun. All these had orbits or motions that, though subject to the laws of celestial mechanics, were often very eccentric. A few of them, like comets, periodically came close to the sun, then shot off into space again, returning for another hectic go-round fifty to a hundred years later. There were so many of these intermediate-sized rocks that they were identified and their courses plotted only for special reasons. There had simply never been any point in tracking them all.

  Cemp had matched course with and landed on scores of lone meteorites. His recollections of those experiences were among the bleaker memories of his numerous space flights — the darkness, the sense of utterly barren rock, the profound lack of sensory stimulation. Oddly, the larger they were, the worse the feeling was.

  He had discovered that he could have a kind of intellectual affinity with a rock less t
han a thousand feet in diameter. This was particularly true when he encountered an inarticulate mass that had finally been precipitated into a hyperbolic orbit. when he computed that it was thus destined to leave the solar system forever, he would find himself imagining how long it had been in space, how far it had gone, and how it would now hurtle away from the solar system and spend eons between the stars, he could not help feeling a sense of loss.

  A government representative — a human being named John Mathews — interrupted his thought. 'Mr Cemp; I'd like to ask you a very personal question.'

  Cemp looked at him and nodded.

  The man went on, 'According to reports, several hundred Earth Silkies have already defected to these native Silkies. Evidently, you don't feel as they do, that the Silkie planetoid is home. Why not?'

  Cemp smiled. 'Well, first of all,' he said, 'I would never buy a pig in a poke the way they have done.'

  He hesitated. Then, in a serious tone, he continued, 'Entirely apart from my feelings of loyalty to Earth, I do not believe the future of life forms will be helped or advanced by any rigid adherence to the idea that I am a lion, or I am a bear. Intelligent life is, or should be, moving toward a common civilisation. Maybe I'm like the farm boy who went to the city — Earth. Now my folks want me to come back to the farm. They'll never understand why I can't, so I don't even try to explain it to them.'

  'Maybe,' said Mathews, 'the planetoid is actually the big city and Earth the farm. What then?'

  Cemp smiled politely but merely shook his head.

  Mathews persisted, 'One more question. How should Silkies be treated?'

  Cemp spread his hands. 'I can't think of a single change that would be of value.'

  He meant it. He had never been able to get excited about the pecking order. Yet he had known for a long time that some Silkies felt strongly about their inferior — as it seemed to them — rôle. Others, like himself, did their duty, were faithful too their human wives, and tried to enjoy the somewhat limited possibilities of human civilisation — limited for Silkies who had so many additional senses for which there was no real creative stimulation.

  Presumably, things could be better. But meanwhile, they were what they were. Cemp recognised that any attempt to alter them would cause fear and disturbance among human beings. And why do that merely to satisfy the egos of somewhat fewer than two thousand Silkies?

  At least, that had been the problem until now. The coming of the space Silkies would add an indefinite number of new egos to the scene, yet, Cemp reasoned, not enough to change the statistics meaningfully.

  Aloud, he said, 'As far as I can see, under all conceivable circumstances, there is no better solution to the Silkie problem than that which exists right now.'

  Charley Baxter chose that moment to end the discussion, saying, 'Nat, you have our best, our very best, wishes. And our complete confidence. A spaceship will rush you to Mercury's orbit and give you a head start. Good luck.'

  * * *

  XIV

  THE SCENE ahead was absolutely fantastic.

  The Silkie planetoid would make its circuit of the sun far inside Mercury's eccentric orbit, and the appearance was that it might brush the edges of the great clouds of hot gas that seemed to poke out like streamers or shapeless arms from the sun's hot surface.

  Cemp doubted if such a calamity would actually occur, but as he periodically subjected his steel-hard chitinous Silkie body to the sun's gravity, he sensed the enormous pull of it at this near distance. The circle of white fire filled almost the entire sky ahead. The light was so intense and came in on him on so many bands that it overwhelmed his receptor system whenever he let it in. And he had to open up at intervals in order to make readjustments in his course.

  The two hurtling bodies — his own and that of the planetoid — were presently on a collision course. The actual moment of 'collision' was still hours away. So Cemp shut off his entire perception system. Thus, instantly, he sank into the deep sleep that Silkies so rarely allowed themselves.

  He awoke in stages and saw that his timing had been exact. The planetoid was now 'visible' on one of the tiny neural screens inside the forward part of his body. It showed as a radar-type image, and at the beginning it was the size of a pea.

  In less than thirty minutes it grew to an apparent size of five miles, which was half its diameter, he estimated.

  At this point, Cemp performed his only dangerous maneuver. He allowed the sun's gravity to draw him between the sun and the planetoid. Then he cut off the sun's gravity and, using a few bursts of energy manufactured at the edge of a field be hind his body, darted toward the planetoid's surface.

  What was dangerous about this action was that it brought him in on the dayside. With the superbrilliant sunlight behind him, he was clearly visible to anyone in or on or around the planetoid. But his theory was that no Silkie would normally be exposing himself to the sun, that in fact, every sensible Silkie would he inside the big stone ball or on its night side.

  At close range in that ultrabright light, the planetoid looked like the wrinkled head and face of a bald old Amerind. It was reddish-gray and pock marked and lined and not quite round. The pock marks turned out to be actual caves. Into one of these, Cemp floated. He went down into what to human eyes would have been pitch darkness, but the interior was visible to him as a Silkie on many bands.

  He found himself in a corridor with smooth granite walls that led slantingly downward. After about twenty minutes he came to a turn in the passageway. As he rounded it, he saw a shimmering, almost opaque energy screen in front of him.

  Cemp decided at once not to regard it as a problem. He doubted if it had been put up to catch anyone. In fact, his lightning analysis of it indicated that it was a wall, with the equivalent solidity of a large spaceship's outer skin.

  As a screen it was strong enough to keep out the most massive armor-piercing shells. Going through such a screen was an exercise in Silkie energy control. First, he put up a matching field and started it oscillating. The oscillation unstabilised the opposing screen and started it in a sympathetic vibration. As the process continued, the screen and the field began to merge. But it was the screen that became part of Cemp's field, not the reverse.

  Thus, his field was within minutes a part of the barrier. Safely inside his field, he crossed the barrier space. Once past it, disengagement was a matter of slowing down the oscillation until the field and the screen abruptly became separate entities.

  The sound of the separation was like the crack of a whip, and the presence of sound indicated he had come into air space. Quickly, he discovered that it was air of an unearthly mixture — thirty per cent oxygen, twenty per cent helium, and most of the rest gaseous sulphur compounds.

  The pressure was about twice that of sea level on Earth, but it was air, and it undoubtedly had a purpose.

  From where he had floated through the energy barrier, he saw a large chamber the floor of which was about a hundred feet below him.

  Soft lights shone down. Seen in their light, the room was a jewel. The walls were inlaid with precious stones, fine metals, and van-colored rock cunningly cut into a design. The design was a continuing story picture of a race of four-legged centaur-type beings with a proud bearing and — wherever there were close-ups — sensitive though nonhuman faces.

  On the floor was a picture of a planet inset in some kind of glowing substance that showed the curving, mountainous surface, with sparkling lines where rivers flowed, likenesses of forests and other growth, glinting oceans and lakes, and thou sands of bright spots marking cities and towns.

  The sides of the planet curved away in proper proportion, and Cemp had the feeling that the globe continued on down and that the bottom was probably visible in some lower room.

  The overall effect was completely and totally beautiful.

  Cemp surmised that the life scenes and the planet picture were an accurate eidolon or a race and a place with which the Silkies had at some time in their past been associated
.

  He was mentally staggered by the artistic perfection of the room.

  He had already, as he floated down, noticed that there were large archways leading to adjoining chambers. He had glimpses of furniture, machines, objects, shining bright and new. He surmised they were artifacts of either the centaur or other civilisations. But he could not take time to explore. His attention fastened on a stairway that led down to the next level.

  He went down it and presently found himself facing another energy barrier. Penetrating it exactly as he had the other, he moved on and into a chamber filled with sea water. Inset in the floor of that huge room was a planet that glimmered with the green-blue of an undersea civilisation.

  And that was only the beginning. Cemp went down from one level to another, each time through an energy screen and through a similarly decorated chamber. Each was inlaid in the same way with precious stones and glinting metals. Each had breathtaking scenes from what he presumed were habitable planets of far stars, and each had a different atmosphere.

  After a dozen such chambers, Cemp found that the impact was cumulative. Realisation came to him that here, inside this planetoid, had been gathered such treasure as probably did not exist anywhere else. Cemp visualised the seven hundred-odd cubic miles that comprised the interior of the most fantastic asteriod in the galaxy, and he remembered what Mathews had said — that perhaps the planetoid was the 'city' and Earth was the 'farm.'

  It began to seem that the man's speculation might be truth. He had been expecting to collide momentarily with an inhabitant of the planetoid. After passing three more chambers, each with its glowing duplicate in miniature of a planet of long ago and far away, Cemp paused and reconsidered.

  He had a strong feeling that in learning of these treasures, he had gained an advantage — which he must not lose — and that the Silkies did indeed have their living quarters on the side away from the sun and that they did not expect anyone to arrive in this surprise fashion.