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 societies, and it had sounded authentic. “The more I look at it the more I believe that this is a physical problem, something to do 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 the behind while waiting for the screen to light up with the answers. Do you know how Disans exist?” Brion shook his head. “The fools here think it disgusting but I call it fascinating. They have found ways to join 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 their own urine in their need for water. Disgust at this is only the attitude of the overprotected 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 flavoured it with some crystals from a bottle. He filled two glasses and handed Brion one. It didn’t taste bad at all.
“What do you mean by 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 be a biologist there is no real difference between parasitism, symbiosis, mutualism, com-mensalism—”
“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.”
“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 cooperating 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 travelling. It has rudimentary powers of motion from its animal part, yet uses photosynthesis and stores water like a plant. When the Disans drink from it the thing taps their blood streams 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 societies 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 set up for the 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 admitted. “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 off-worlders 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 a sense of 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. She 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.”
IX
The guard inside the front entrance of the Foundation building jumped at the thunderous noise and reached for his gun. He dropped his hand sheepishly when he realized it was only a sneeze—though a gargantuan one. Brion came up, sniffling, huddling down into his coat. “I’m going out before I catch pneumonia,” he said. The guard saluted dumbly, and after checking his proximity detector screens he slipped out and the heavy portal thudded shut behind him. The street was still warm from the heat of the day and he sighed happily and opened his coat.
This was partly a reconnaissance trip—and partly a way of getting warmed up. There was little else he could do in the building; the staff had long since retired. He had slept for a half an hour, and had waked refreshed and ready to work. All of the reports he could understand had been read and reread until they were memorized. He could use the time now, while the rest of them were asleep, to get better acquainted with the main city of Dis.
As he walked the dark streets he realized how alien the Disan way of life was to everything he knew. This city—Hovedstad—literally meant “main place” in the native language. And that’s all it was. It was only the presence of the off-worlders that made it into a city. Building after building, standing deserted, bore the names of mining companies, traders, space transporters. None of them was occupied now. Some still had lights burning, switched on by automatic apparatus, others were as dark as the Disan structures. There weren’t many of these native constructions and they seemed out of place among the rammed earth and prefab offworld buildings. Brion examined one that was dimly illuminated by the light on the comer of VEGAN SMELTERS, LTD.
It consisted of a single large room, resting right on the ground. There were no windows, and the whole thing appeared to have been constructed of some sort of woven material plastered with stone-hard mud. Nothing was blocking the door and he was thinking seriously of going in when he became aware that he was being followed.
