_Royal babies were pretty important on Dynak,
even if they did hatch out of eggs. So when
Boccaccio di Vino mated with the Shannil,
everyone held their breath. Especially di
Vino. He might not have much more of it._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Science Fiction Stories December 1959.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"You'll find things a lot different out here, Lieutenant," said Colonel
Hastings as he eyed the newly-arrived officer in a manner which was
intended to be detached, and which failed by a narrow margin to do
quite that. He levelled his gaze.
Lieutenant Donald John Newhouse nodded his head just the slightest and
said, "Yes, sir."
"I appreciate the fact that you have been specially trained for this
work," the colonel went on, "and I appreciate that Sector Headquarters
must think very highly of you to send you out on something like this.
But it is my own personal opinion that it takes more than theoretical
work to understand the situation on an alien planet that one has never
visited. You've got to live with it."
"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Newhouse again. There was little else he
could say; there was no point in arguing with the colonel. He was well
aware that Colonel Hastings was angry because he had been unable to
solve the problem that was facing him here on Dynak, and because Sector
Headquarters had sent in a new man to do it--and a fresh-faced junior
officer, at that. Logically, the colonel should have been angry with
himself, not with Newhouse, but man does not function by logic alone.
Colonel Hastings toyed with a pink paperweight with one hand and
scratched his button nose with the other, while his eyes remained
steadily on Newhouse. "I also appreciate the fact that you...."
Newhouse listened respectfully to what the colonel had to say, mentally
making a note to the effect that Colonel Hastings, on his own word, was
a very appreciative man. He seemed to appreciate everything.
"... And I assure you that you will have every bit of data which we
have so far obtained at your disposal."
He paused, and Newhouse, sensing that he should make some reply, said:
"Thank you, sir; that will be very helpful."
The colonel sighed. "Very well. Don't hesitate to call on me for
anything, Lieutenant. And--uh--" He paused suddenly looking wistful,
like a kicked collie.
"Yes, sir?" said Newhouse respectfully.
"--uh--I trust you will keep me informed--ah--for my own information."
"As much as possible, sir," said Newhouse, trying hard not to feel
sorry for the colonel.
"Very well," Colonel Hastings said morosely. "Unless there are any
questions, you may go."
Newhouse detected the hopeful note in the other man's voice and
responded. "I really don't think I can ask any intelligent questions
until I've studied the problem thoroughly, sir."
The colonel looked gratified. "Very well. I appreciate your concern,
Lieutenant. Thank you."
"Thank _you_, sir," Lieutenant Newhouse said saluting. Then he turned
on his heel and left the office.
* * * * *
He moseyed over to the broad swath of green park that had been left
as a relaxation spot when the base had been built. It wasn't crowded;
there were only two or three men sitting on the benches, smoking and
talking quietly. Newhouse found a bench to himself and sat down to mull
things over.
There was nothing totally new in the situation here on Dynak. Newhouse,
as a trouble-shooter, knew that, even if Colonel Hastings didn't. Dynak
was one of the many worlds which Man had decided not to colonize in
spite of its inviting appearance. The biochemistry of the plants and
animals was just a little too different to be compatible with Man,
which meant that the planet would have to be wiped clean and started
over in order to provide a suitable environment for human beings. And,
aside from the fact that such a step would mean destroying millions
of species that would better be preserved for study, it would mean the
death of the several million humanoid natives of the planet--something
that Man had no desire to be responsible for.
Dynak Base was not a military establishment; the Space Force as a whole
used only a minor part of its energies for military purposes. Most of
its activities were scientific in nature. Nonetheless, any base such
as this had to be fortified to a certain extent. There were tribes of
humanoids in the immediate vicinity which were, like all such cultural
units at that stage of development, intensely hostile to anything
strange. Right now, the majority of them were warily friendly with the
Earthmen, but there was no way of knowing how long that uneasy peace
might last. Meanwhile, they were doing useful work--bringing in samples
of various types of fauna and flora for the labs to work on.
It all sounded fine so far, Newhouse thought grumpily. But the catch
lay in the word "humanoid." Any reasonably intelligent race was
classified as "humanoid" if they were erect, bifurcate animals--a
definition which covered a multitude of variations. Most of them
you wouldn't want to meet alone in a dark alley, and if you did, it
would be a toss-up as to which of you would be the most frightened.
Oddly-colored skins, three-eyed faces, and other _outré_ features were
not at all uncommon among them.
Dynak was different. The humanoids were near human. The brown-yellow
pigment in their skins wasn't melanin, and it was another pigment that
gave them the intensely blue-violet eye coloring; they had different
kinds of glands inside, arranged differently; they were almost entirely
hairless, except for soft patches of down on the top of the head;
and they averaged about four feet seven in height. Not human, no.
Definitely not _homo sapiens_.
But they certainly _looked_ human. And, to top the whole thing off, the
females were, to an Earthman's eyes, as pretty as little dolls. Except
that dolls are normally not built so enticingly.
They weren't _all_ beautiful, true, but there were enough beauties to
tempt the weary Earthman. And those who weren't weary were even more
tempted.
Their body chemistries were incompatible, of course; off-spring from
such a union were impossible. But the union itself was certainly
possible.
Even so, there hadn't been too much trouble. For one thing, there were
plenty of human women on Dynak Base; for another, the semi-savage
tribes which occupied the territory around Dynak Base had a rather
_laissez faire_ attitude, and a female's over-friendliness, even with
alien giants from the sky, wasn't frowned upon. And, for a third, the
savage women usually didn't come up to the standards of a fastidious
Earthman, as far as general cleanliness was concerned.
But the women of the semi-barbaric city-state of Oassi, a hundred miles
to the north, were a different matter entirely. Newhouse had never
actually seen any of the native females, but the trimensional, full
color, motion recordings had been graphic enough.
Newhouse could understand perfectly well why Boccaccio di Vino had
managed to get himself into the jam he was in.
* * * * *
A man in civilian clothing had been approaching the bench Newhouse was
seated on, but the lieutenant didn't pay much attention until the man
stopped by the bench and said: "Lieutenant Newhouse?"