The planet--as yet unnamed--had been surveyed by the spotting cruiser
and pronounced suitable for colonization to nine-point-oh on a scale of
ten. Of course, the nine-point figure was really only a pro tem rating.
The cruiser hadn't been able to conduct a personal survey. That more
difficult undertaking would fall to the lot of the pre-col crew.
By the time the balance of the colonists arrived, in forty-five days,
the survey party would have to have the initial focal point ready for
occupancy, and be in a position to supply all the data the colony would
need for survival.
It was the biological team's specific job not only to classify the flora
and fauna of the planet, but to determine the adaptability of the
colonists to all existing conditions. Bradshaw might have encountered
something which would have helped tremendously with the latter category.
But it was obvious he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about it.
However, an isolated tragic incident which held no bearing on the
success or failure of the colony could not be allowed to interrupt the
survey. Gallifa impatiently dismissed the gentle nagging at the back of
his mind and returned to the compound. By 1300, Solar Time, the camp was
considered to be on a standard operating basis.
Gallifa pressed young Samuels into service and finished loading the
halftrack. While they were waiting for MacFarland, senior geologist and
acting executive of the camp, the natives of the planet appeared.
Gallifa saw them first, and more from surprise than fear hopped to the
platform beside the truck seat and swiveled the automatic pellet rifle
until the muzzle covered the visitors.
"Samuels," he called softly. "Hey, Samuels, we have a welcoming
committee."
Samuels stopped his work and peered over the back of the truck. He was
well trained. He didn't move an inch.
"Are they intelligent?" he asked. His view was curtailed slightly by a
tool box.
"I can't tell," Gallifa said quietly. "They're clannish, though. There
must be fifteen, maybe twenty, in the group. Climb over the back of the
truck and take a look," he suggested.
Samuels vaulted lightly into the truck.
Gallifa looked quizzically at his aide. "Well, what do you make of
them?" he asked. "Do you think they could have anything to do with
Bradshaw's sudden crackup?"
Samuels removed his hat and ran stubby fingers through his blond,
short-cropped hair. "It's hard to tell," he answered. "But they sure
look harmless to me. In fact, they look somewhat like a bunch of Celtic
little people."
Gallifa frowned. He didn't understand.
"You know," Samuels grinned. "Gnomes or elves with big ears. Large dwarf
model."
Gallifa turned his attention back to the visitors and laughed. "I see
what you mean," he agreed. "Ears and all. They do seem harmless. But
it's strange they aren't upset by us. They could be semi-intelligent."
Gallifa stepped gingerly from the truck. He really didn't expect to find
a modicum of intelligence. The spotting cruiser had orbited around the
planet for more than seventy-two hours before the crew had been
deposited, and had almost definitely established the contrary.
On every Earth-type planet that had ever been discovered, if there were
intelligent life it had developed according to water-oxygen evolution;
and the culture invariably parallelled _homo sapiens_. It was as if a
busy and preoccupied nature had hit upon a pattern which worked and
never bothered to change the mold. There were minor deviations, of
course, biologically and structurally, but never culture-wise.
The swift, but amazingly discerning survey, had revealed absolutely no
evidence of any intelligence on the planet. There were no artifacts,
dwellings, roads, dams, bridges--primitive or otherwise. Any stage of
culture would have been observed by the cruiser immediately. The planet
seemed ideally suited to colonization.
Gallifa, the trained biologist, carefully studied the creatures. The
dwarf-like gnomes, as Samuels had dubbed them, might be considered
caricatures of humanity.
They were about four feet high--bipeds, and covered with a soft, pinkish
fur. They walked erect; normally so, Gallifa could tell, because their
upper limbs were too short for knuckling and were not jointed correctly
for moving on all fours. They had five digited limbs, both upper and
lower, just as did all higher life forms ever discovered on any planet.
Their features were without hair and of a fairy story-humanoid type.
With their large, floppy ears, and round-solemn eyes they were very
unusual gnomes indeed.
Gallifa spoke to them quietly, trying a few standard low-order
communication and classification tricks. The visitors--somehow he
couldn't think of them as base animals--made no response. They didn't
quite seem to fit any classification niche. The creatures faintly
puzzled Gallifa. The best he could do was: Low order intelligence and
probably harmless. Cultural development, nil.
As if to prove his rationalizations, the creatures suddenly seemed to
ignore the humans. They walked unconcernedly past the truck and attacked
the vegetation on the edge of the clearing. Every so often one would
overturn a small rock and grub for the exposed insects.
Gallifa observed their broad, dull teeth. They weren't, he decided,
omnivorous.
Samuels interrupted his train of thought. "Do you think they will give
us any trouble?" he asked.
"No," Gallifa affirmed slowly. "Not materially, anyway. But it's going
to be interesting, and a little difficult, to study this species. They
don't seem to be ecologically feasible. Look at them. They are small and
weak. They don't have claws, not even sheathed--and they are definitely
too low in the evolutionary scale to know anything of weapons. Their
feet obviously aren't constructed for climbing, and their limbs are too
short and aren't planned right for running."
He removed his hat and scratched his head. "In short," he finished,
"they are an unprotected species, obviously _unable_ to protect
themselves."
"That's odd enough," Samuels agreed. "But maybe they don't need
protection. Maybe they don't have any natural enemies."
"On a raw planet?" Gallifa retorted. "That's not very likely."
"Perhaps I can catch a few for the lab," Samuels suggested. "I'll work
up a behavior pattern analysis."
"That shouldn't be too hard," Gallifa said. "They certainly aren't
afraid of us. You do that," he added suddenly. "I'm going to pick up Mac
and be on my way. Otherwise, we'll never get out of here."
"Good hunting," Samuels said. "I'll have a couple of these fat little
specimens neatly catalogued for you when you get back."
Gallifa laughed and headed the truck across the compound.