"Well, there's no sense speculating about it; maybe we'll know if we
wait and see," Allardyce summed up.
I set sentries, three hours on and nine off, to keep Dan informed of
our situation, and since rank has its privileges, I took the first
watch. We were all tired from our walk through the woods; the others
turned in readily enough. I was sufficiently worried about the hints
and implications in the native culture to keep alert--but nothing
happened. I checked in with Dan back at the ship and went to awaken
Alex, who had drawn the second watch, and turned in to the bedroom
allotted to me. Normally I can sleep anywhere, but I kept thinking
about houses grown from trees and upholstery grown from fungus, about
spear-carrying savages who understood the working principle of a
menticom.
It was all wrong and my facile explanation of a regressed culture
didn't satisfy me. Superior technology and savagery simply didn't
go together. Even in our Interregnum Period, islands of culture and
technology had remained, and men hadn't reverted to complete savagery.
But there were no such islands on this world--or none that were
apparent.
Such enclaves couldn't have escaped our search mechanisms, which are
designed precisely to locate such things. And besides, an advanced
biological technology would have no need for hunting or spears. They
could grow all the food they needed. Any damn fool knew that. Then why
the noble savage act? For if our analysis was right, it must be an act.
Why were they trying to hoodwink us? The only answer was that there was
a high civilization here that was being deliberately hidden from us.
The only mistake they had made was in underestimating us--the old story
of civilized men sneering at savages, but in reverse.
The trees, therefore, must be such old and primitive techniques that
they thought nothing of them, deeming them so inconsequential that even
savages like us would know of them and not be suspicious. At that, they
probably didn't have too much time after they detected us orbiting and
intending to land. And if that were true, there could be only one place
where their civilization was hidden.
* * * * *
I tried to get to my feet, to warn the others--but I couldn't move and
no sound came from my flaccid vocal cords. I was paralyzed, helpless,
and K'wan's amused thought floated gently into my brain. "I told the
others that you humans were an advanced race, but they couldn't believe
an obviously warlike species that depended upon _machinery_ could be
anything but savages. And your man Alex confirmed their beliefs. So we
tried to meet you on your own ground--savage to savage, as it were. It
seems as though we weren't as good at being savages as we thought." And
K'wan stepped through an apparently solid section of tree trunk that
parted to let him pass!
This tree was nothing but a mousetrap, and we were the mice! Why hadn't
one of us carried the discussion a bit further? Any idiot should know
that biological agents were fully as deadly as physical ones. And these
people were self-admittedly predatory. Contempt at my stupidity was the
only emotion that filled my mind--that we would be trapped like a flock
of brainless sheep and led bleating happily to slaughter. Raw anger
surged through me, smothering my fear in a red blanket of rage.
K'wan shook his head. "Your reaction works against you. It's
primitive--and, I think, dangerous. We cannot risk associating with a
race that cannot control themselves. You have developed too fast--too
soon. We are an old race and a slow race, and our warlike days are far
behind us. The council was right. Something must be done about you or
there will be more of your kind on Lyrane--hard, driving, uncontrolled,
violent." He sighed--a very human sigh--half regret, half resignation.
"And you promised no harm would come to us if we came with you," I
thought bitterly.
"I said you would come to no harm, nor will you. You'll just be changed
a little."
"Like Alex?"
"Yes."
"What did you do to him?"
He grinned, exposing his long tusks. "You'll find out," he said. He
sounded just like a villain in a cheap melodrama.
He took the menticom circlet off my head and all communication stopped.
Two other Lyranians stepped through the wall, lifted me and carried me
out like a shanghaied drunk from a spaceport bar. I wasn't particularly
surprised at the laboratory that lay behind the wall. After all, an
observation cage had to have its laboratory facilities.
These were good--very good indeed. Even though I knew hardly anything
about biological laboratories, there was no doubt that here were the
products of an advanced technology. I hated to admit it, but it looked
as though we had run into what we had always feared but had never
found--a civilization superior to ours. From the windowless appearance
of the place, it was probably underground, and K'wan's look and nod
seemed to confirm my guess.
They laid me out on a table, took blood and tissue samples and
proceeded to forget me while they ran tests and analyses. I kept
trying to move, but it wasn't any use.
A group of about a dozen oldsters came in, looked at me and went away.
The council, I guessed.
In a surprisingly short time K'wan came back, distinguishable by the
menticom circlet. He was holding something that looked like a jet hypo
in his hand. The barrel was full of a cloudy red liquid that swirled
sluggishly behind the confining glass.
"This won't hurt," he said, his thoughts amplified by the circlet.
He lifted my arm, examined it and nodded. There was a high-pitched,
sibilant hiss as he touched the trigger of the syringe and I felt a
brief sting near my elbow.
"There--that's that!" he said. "Now we'll take you back and get the
others."