P.S. There is a problem with the staff. They are supposed to be
saviors, but without exception they all loathe the Disans. I'm
afraid I do, too.
Brion ticked off the relevant points in the letter. He had to find some
way of discovering what Pareto Extrapolations were--without uncovering
his own lack of knowledge. The staff would vanish in five minutes if
they knew how green he was at the job. Poisson Distribution made more
sense. It was used in physics as the unchanging probability of an event
that would be true at all times. Such as the number of particles that
would be given off by a lump radioactive matter during a short period.
From the way Mervv used it in his letter it looked as if the Societics
people had found measurable applications in societies and groups--at
least on other planets. None of the rules seemed to be working on Dis.
Ihjel had admitted that, and Mervv's death had proven it. Brion
wondered who this Lig-magte was who appeared to have killed Mervv.
* * * * *
A forged cough broke through Brion's concentration, and he realized that
Faussel had been standing in front of his desk for some minutes. When
Brion looked up at the man he was mopping perspiration from his face.
"Your air conditioner seems to be out of order," he said. "Should I have
the mechanic look at it?"
"There's nothing wrong with the machine, I'm just adapting to Dis
climate. Anything else, Faussel?"
The assistant had a doubting look that he didn't succeed in hiding. He
also had trouble believing the literal truth. He placed the small stack
of file folders on the desk.
"These are the reports to date, everything we have uncovered about the
Disans. It's not very much; however, considering the antisocial
attitudes on this lousy world, it is the best we could do." A sudden
thought hit him, and his eyes narrowed slyly. "It can't be helped, but
some of the staff have been wondering out loud about that native that
contacted us. How did you get him to help you? We've never gotten to
first base with these people and as soon as you land you have one
working for you. You can't stop people from thinking about it, you being
a newcomer and a stranger. After all, it looks a little odd...." He
broke off in mid-sentence as Brion looked up in a cold fury.
"I can't stop people from thinking about it--but I can stop them from
talking. Our job is to contact the Disans and end this suicidal war. I
have done more in one day than all of you have done since you arrived. I
have accomplished this because I am better at my work than the rest of
you. That is all the information any of you are going to receive. You
are dismissed."
White with anger, Faussel turned on his heel and stamped out. Out to
spread the word about what a slave-driver the new director was. They
would then all hate him passionately which was just the way he wanted
it. He couldn't risk exposure as the tyro he was. And perhaps a new
emotion, other than disgust and defeat, might jar them into a little
action. They certainly couldn't do any worse than they had been doing.
It was a frightening amount of responsibility. For the first time since
setting foot on this barbaric planet Brion had time to stop and think.
He was taking an awful lot upon himself. He knew nothing about this
world, nor about the powers involved in the conflict. Here he sat
pretending to be in charge of an organization he had first heard about
only a few weeks earlier. It was a frightening situation. Should he
slide out from under?
There was just one possible answer, and that was _no_. Until he found
someone else who could do better, he seemed to be the one best suited
for the job. And Ihjel's opinion had to count for something. Brion had
felt the surety of the man's convictions that Brion was the only one
who might possibly succeed in this difficult spot.
Let it go at that. If he had any qualms, it would be best to put them
behind him. Aside from everything else there was a primary bit of
loyalty involved. Ihjel had been an Anvharian and a Winner. Maybe it was
a provincial attitude to hold in this great big universe--Anvhar was
certainly far enough away from here--but honor is very important to a
man who must stand alone. He had a debt to Ihjel and he was going to pay
it off.
Once the decision had been made he felt easier. There was an intercom on
the desk in front of him and he leaned with a heavy thumb on the button
labeled _Faussel_.
"Yes?" Even through the speaker the man's voice was cold and efficient
with ill-concealed hatred.
"Who is Lig-magte? And did the former director ever return from seeing
him?"
"Magte is a title that means roughly noble or lord, Lig-magte is the
local overlord. He has an ugly stoneheap of a building just outside the
city. He seems to be the mouthpiece for the group of magter that are
pushing this idiotic war. As to your second question I have to answer
yes and no. We found Director Mervv's head outside the door next morning
with all the skin gone. We knew it was him because the doctor identified
the bridgework in his mouth. _Do you understand?_"
All pretense of control had vanished and Faussel almost shrieked the
last words. They were all close to cracking up, if he was any example.
Brion broke in quickly.
"That will be all, Faussel. Just get word to the doctor that I would
like to see him as soon as I can." He broke the connection and opened
the first of the folders. By the time the doctor called he had skimmed
the reports and was reading the relevant ones in greater detail. Putting
on his warm coat he went through the outer office. The few workers still
on duty turned their backs in frigid silence.
* * * * *
Dr. Stine had a pink and shiny bald head that rose above a thick black
beard. Brion liked him at once. Anyone with enough firmness of mind to
keep a beard in this climate was a pleasant exception after what he had
met so far.
"How's the new patient, doctor?"
Stine combed his beard with stubby fingers before answering. "Diagnosis:
heat-syncope. Prognosis: complete recovery. Condition fair, considering
the dehydration and extensive sunburn. I've treated the burns and a
saline drip is taking care of the other. She just missed going into
heat-shock. I have her under sedation now."
"I'd like to have her up and helping me tomorrow morning. Could she do
this--with stimulants or drugs?"
"She could--but I don't like it. There might be side factors, perhaps
long-standing debilitation. It's a chance."
"A chance we will have to take. In less than seventy hours this planet
is due for destruction. In attempting to avert that tragedy I'm
expendable as is everyone else here. Agreed?"
The doctor grunted deep in his beard and looked Brion's immense frame up
and down. "Agreed," he said, almost happily. "It is a distinct pleasure
to see something beside black defeat around here. I'll go along with
you."
"Well you can help me right now. I checked the personnel roster and
discovered that out of the twenty-eight people working here there isn't
a physical scientist of any kind--other than yourself."
"A scruffy bunch of button-pushers and theoreticians. Not worth a damn
for field work, the whole bunch of them!" The doctor toed the floor
switch on a waste receptacle and spat into it with feeling.
"Then I'm going to depend on you for some straight answers," Brion said.
"This is an un-standard operation and the standard techniques just don't
begin to make sense. Even Poisson Distributions and Pareto
Extrapolations don't apply here." Stine nodded agreement and Brion
relaxed a bit. He had just relieved himself of his entire knowledge of
Societics and it had sounded authentic. "The more I look at it the more
I believe that this is a physical problem; something to so with the
exotic and massive adjustments the Disans have made to this hellish
environment. Could this tie up in any way with their absolutely suicidal
attitude towards the cobalt bombs?"
"Could it? Could it?" Dr. Stine paced the floor rapidly on his stocky
legs, twining his fingers behind his back. "You are bloody well right it
could. Someone is thinking at last and not just punching bloody numbers
into a machine and sitting and scratching while waiting for the screen
to light up with the answers. Do you know how Disans exist?" Brion shook
his head no. "The fools here think it disgusting, but I call it
fascinating. The have found ways to join in a symbiotic relationship
with the life forms on this planet. Even a parasitic relationship. You
must realize, that living organisms will do anything to survive.
Castaways at sea will drink any liquid at all in their search for water.
Disgust at this is only the attitude of the over-protected who have
never experienced extreme thirst or hunger. Well, here on Dis you have a
planet of castaways."
Stine opened the door of the pharmacy. "This talk of thirst makes me
dry." With economically efficient motions he poured grain alcohol into a
beaker, thinned it with distilled water and flavored it with some flavor
crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brion one. It
didn't taste bad at all.
"How do you mean parasitic, doctor? Aren't we all parasites of the lower
life forms? Meat animals, vegetables and such?"
"No, no--you miss the point! I speak of parasitic in the exact meaning
of the word. You must realize that to a biologist there is no real
difference between a parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism, biontergasy,
commensalism--"
"Stop, stop!" Brion said. "Those are just meaningless sounds to me. If
that is what makes this planet tick, I'm beginning to see why the rest
of the staff has that lost feeling."
"It is just a matter of degree of the same thing. Look. You have a kind
of crustacean living in the lakes here, very much like an ordinary crab.
It has large claws in which it holds anemones, tentacled sea animals
with no power of motion. The crustacean waves these around to gather
food, and eats the pieces they capture that are too big for them. This
is biontergasy, two creatures living and working together, yet each
capable of existing alone. Now, this same crustacean has a parasite
living under its shell, a degenerated form of a snail that has lost all
powers of movement. A true parasite that takes food from its host's body
and gives nothing in return. Inside this snail's gut there is a
protozoan that lives off the snail's ingested food. Yet this little
organism is not a parasite as you might think at first, but a symbiote.
It takes food from the snail, but at the same time it secretes a
chemical that aids the snail's digestion of the food. Do you get the
picture? All these life forms exist in a complicated interdependence."
* * * * *
Brion frowned in concentration, sipping at the drink. "It's making some
kind of sense now. Symbiosis, parasitism and all the rest are just ways
of describing variations of the same basic process of living together.
And there is probably a grading and shading between some of these that
make the exact relationship hard to define."
[Illustration]
"Precisely. Existence is so difficult on this world that the competing
forms have almost died out. There are still a few left, preying off the
others. It was the co-operating and interdependent life forms that
really won out in the race for survival. I say life forms with intent;
the creatures here are mostly a mixture of plant and animal, like the
lichens you have elsewhere. The Disans have a creature they call a vaede
that they use for water when traveling. It has rudimentary powers of
motion from its animal parts, yet uses photosynthesis and stores water
like a plant. When the Disans drink from it the thing taps their blood
stream for food elements."
"I know," Brion said wryly. "I drank from one. You can see my scars. I'm
beginning to comprehend how the Disans fit into the physical pattern of
their world, and I realize it must have all kinds of psychological
effects on them. Do you think this has any effect on their social
organization?"
"An important one. But maybe I'm making too many suppositions now,
perhaps your researchers upstairs can tell you better, after all this is
their field."
Brion had studied the reports on the social setup and not one word of
them made sense. They were a solid maze of unknown symbols and cryptic
charts. "Please continue, doctor," he insisted. "The Societics reports
are valueless so far. There are factors missing. You are the only one I
have talked to so far who can give me any intelligent reports or
answers."
"All right then--be it on your own head. The way I see it you've got no
society here at all, just a bunch of rugged individualists. Each one for
himself, getting nourishment from the other life forms of the planet. If
they have a society, it is orientated towards the rest of the planetary
life--instead of towards other human beings. Perhaps that's why your
figures don't make sense. They are setup for human societies. In their
relations with each other these people are completely different."
"What about the magter, the upper-class types who build castles and are
causing all this trouble?"
"I have no explanation," Dr. Stine grumbled. "My theories hold water and
seem logical enough up to this point. But the magter are the exception
and I have no idea why. They are completely different from the rest of
the Disans. Argumentative, bloodthirsty, looking for planetary conquest
instead of peace. They aren't rulers, not in the real sense. They hold
power because nobody else wants it. They grant mining concessions to
offworlders because they are the only ones with a sense of property.
Maybe I'm going out on a limb. But if you can find out _why_ they are so
different you may be onto the clue to our difficulties."
For the first time since his arrival Brion began to feel a touch of
enthusiasm. Plus the remote possibility that there might even be a
solution to the deadly problem. He drained his glass and stood up. "I
hope you'll wake your patient early, doctor. You might be as interested
in talking to her as I am. If what you told me is true, she could well
be our key to the answer. Her name is Professor Lea Morees and she is
just out from Earth with degrees in exobiology and anthropology, and has
a head stuffed with vital facts."
"Wonderful!" Stine said. "I shall take care of the head not only because
it is so pretty but because of its knowledge. Though we totter on the
edge of atomic destruction I have a strange feeling of optimism--for the
first time since I landed on this planet."