IX has a memory all its own. A memory that
contains the entire library at the University of Haribay, holding more books than you could count in a lifetime. These books have been broken down into words and the words have been broken down into bits, and the bits have been recorded on little chips of silicon inside the Mark IX’s brain. That memory part of the brain is no bigger than a man’s clenched fist a small man’s fist because there are over 545 million bits to every ten square millimeters. You don’t even have to know what a bit is to know that that is impressive. All of history, science and philosophy are in this brain. Linguistics, too. If you want to know the word for ‘cheese’ in the basic galactic languages, in the order of the number of speakers, it is this…”
As the high-speed roar of syllables poured out Jason turned to Meta and found she was gone.
“It can do other things besides translate ‘cheese,” he said, pressing the off button. “Just wait and see.”
The Pyrrans were happy enough to vegetate, to doze and yawn, like tigers with full stomachs, during the trip to Felicity. Only Jason felt the urge to use the time efficiently. He searched all the cross-references in the library for information about the planet and the solar system it belonged to, and was drawn from his studies only by Meta’s passionate, yet implacable, grasp. She felt that there were far more interesting ways to pass the long hours, and Jason, once he had been severed from his labors, enthusiastically agreed with her.
One ship-day before they were scheduled to drop from jump-space into the Felicity system. Jason called a general meeting in the dining room.
“This is where we are going,” he said, tapping a large diagram hung on the wall. There was absolute silence and ioo percent attention, for a military-style briefing was meat and drink to the Pyrrans.
“The planet is called ‘Felicity,’ the fifth planet of a nameless class-F star. This is a white star with about twice the luminosity of Pyrrus’s own Ga sun and it puts out a lot more ultraviolet. You can look forward to getting nice suntans. The planet has nine-tenths of its surface covered by water, with a few chains of volcanic islands and only one land mass big enough to be called a continent. This one. As you can see, it looks like a flattened-out dagger, point downward, divided roughly in the middle by the guard. The line here, represented by the guard, is an immense geological fault that cuts across the continent from one side to the other, an unbroken cliff that is three to ten kilometers high across the entire land mass. This cliff and the range of mountains behind it have had a drastic effect on the continental weather. The planet is far hotter than most other habitable ones, the temperature at the equator is dose to the boiling point of water, and only this continent’s location right up near the northern pole makes life bearable. Moist, warm air sweeps north and hits the escarpment and the mountains, where it condenses as rain on the southern slopes. A number of large rivers run south from the mountains and signs of agriculture and settlements were seen here, but were of no interest to the John Company men. The magnetometers and gravitometers didn’t twitch a needle. But up here” — he tapped the northern half of the continent, the “handle” of the dagger — “up here the detectors went wild. The mountain building that pushed the northern half up so high, causing this continent-splitting range in the middle, stirred up the heavy metal deposits. Here is where the mines will have to be, in the middle of the most desolate piece of landscape I have ever heard about. There is little or no water, the mountain range stops most of it, and what does get past the mountains usually falls as snow on this giant plateau. It is frigid, high, dry, and deadly, and it never changes. Felicity has almost no axial tilt to speak of, so the seasonal changes are so slight they can scarcely be noticed. The weather in any spot remains the same all of the time. To finish off this highly attractive picture of the ideal settlement site, there are men who live up here who are as deadly, or deadlier, than any life forms you ever faced on Pyrrus. Our job will be to sit right down in the middle of them, build a settlement and open a mine. Do I hear any suggestions as to how this can be done?”
“I know,” Clon said, standing slowly. He was a hulking, burly man with a thick and protruding brow ridge. The weight of this bony ledge must have been balanced by even thicker bone in the skull behind, leaving room for only the most minuscule of brain cavities. His reflexes were excellent, undoubtedly short-circuited in his spinal column like some contemporary dinosaur, but any thoughts that had to penetrate his ossified cranium emerged only with the most immense difliculty. He was the last person Jason expected to answer.
“I know,” Clon repeated. “We kill them all. Then they don’t bothei us.”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” Jason said calmly. “Your chair’s righi behind you, that’s it. Your suggestion is a sound Pyrran one, Pyrran also in the fact that you want to apply it to a second planet even thougb it failed on the first one. Attractive as it may look, we shall not indulgc in genocide. We shall use our intelligence to solve this problem, fbi our teeth. We are trying to open this world up, not close it forever What I propose is an open camp, the opposite of the armed laager th John Company men built. If we are careful, and watch the surrounding countryside carefully, we should not be taken by surprise. My hope is that we will be able to contact the locals and find out what they have against miners or off-worlders, and then try to change their minds. If anyone has a better suggestion fot a plan of action, let me know now. Otherwise, we land as close to the original site as we can and wait for contact. Our eyes are open, we know what happened to the first expedition, so we will be very careful that it doesn’t happen to us.”
Finding the original mine site was very easy. A year’s slow growth of the sparse vegetation had not been enough to obscure the burned scar on the landscape. The abandoned heavy equipment showed clearly on the magnetometer, and the Pugnacious sank to the ground close by. From above, the rolling steppe had appeared to be empty of life, and it looked even more so once they were down. Jason stood in the open airlock and shivered as the first blast of dry, frigid air hit him, the grass rustling to its passing, while grains of sand hissed against the metal of the hull. He had planned to be first out, but Rhes happened to knock against him as Kerk came up so that the gray-haired Pyrran slipped by and leaped to the ground.
“A lightweight planet,” he said as he turned slowly, his eyes never still. “Can’t be over x G. Like floating, after Pyrrus.”.
“It’s closer to i. 5G,” Jason said, following him out just as warily. “But anything is better than 2G.”
The first landing party, ten men in all, emerged from the ship and carefully surveyed the area. They stayed close enough to be able to call to one another, yet not so close that they blocked each other’s vision or field of fire. Their guns stayed in their power holsters and they walked slowly, apparently indifferent to the frigid wind and blown sand that reddened Jason’s skin and made his eyes water. In their own, strictly Pyrran way, they were enjoying themselves after the forced relaxation of the voyage.
“Something moving 200 meters to the southeast,” Meta’s voice spoke in their earphones. She was one of the observers at the viewports in the ship above.
They spun and crouched, ready for anything. The undulating plain still appeared to be empty, but there was a sudden hissing as an arrow arced toward Kerk’s chest. His gun sprang into his hand and he shot it from the air as calmly and efficiently as he would have dispatched an attacking stingwing. Another arrow flashed toward them and Rhes stepped aside so that it missed him. They all waited, alert, to see what would happen next.
An attack, Jason thought, or is it just a diversion? It can’t be possible so soon after our arrival, that any kind of concerted attack could be launched. Yet, why not?
His gun jumped into his hand and he started to wheel about just as hard pain slammed into his head. He had no awareness of falling, just a sudden and complete blackness.
4
Jason did not enjoy being unconscious. A red, cloying pain engulfed him and, barely rational, he had the feeling that, if he could only wake up all the way, he could take care of everything. For some reason he could not understand, his head was rocking back and forth, adding immeasurably to the agony, and he kept wishing it would stop, but it did not.
After what must have been a very long time, he realized that, when he was feeling the pain, he must be conscious, or very close to it, and he should use these periods most advantageously. His arms were secured in some manner, he could feel that even if he could not see them, but they still had some degree of movement. The bulk of the power holster was there, pressed between his arm and his side, but the gun would not leap into his hand. His groping fingers eventually found out why when they contacted the ragged end of the cable that connected the gun with the holster.
