Stephen Goldin - Herds

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2024-12-20 0 0 777.61KB 171 页 5.9玖币
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Herds by Stephen
Goldin
PROLOG
The planet Zarti was peaceful at one time. The most advanced
race was a species of gentle, long-necked herbivores who had no
greater ambitions than full bellies. These Zarticku banded
together in herds for protection from predators and eventually
devised simple methods of communication to exchange basic
ideas among themselves.
Without warning, the Offasü came. This space-faring race
arrived en masse at Zarti, hundreds of millions of
them—conceivably the entire Offasü population—in ships that
were each several miles in diameter. They swarmed down like
locusts upon this idyllic planet and irrevocably changed the
course of life there.
First they formed zoos, gathering up specimens of each major
species of animal they could find. These specimens were tested,
probed and prodded in every conceivable manner for reasons too
subtle to comprehend. The Zarticku passed the test, and were
kept, while the others were returned to their natural
environments.
There was a planet-wide round-up. All the Zarticku that could
be captured were placed in special pens; the ones who couldn't
be captured were killed outright. Then the tortures began. Many
Zarticku were killed and dissected. Some others were not so
lucky—they were cut open alive so that their systems could be
observed in action. The screams of those poor creatures were
allowed to filter down into the penned herds, panicking other
animals and causing still more deaths.
No Zarticku were allowed to breed normally. Specially
selected sperm and ova were matched by artificial
in-semination, while the Offasü calmly recorded the results of
these breedings for three generations. When their computers
had enough data, they began altering the DNA structure of the
Zartic gametes. Genes they disliked were removed. New ones
were substituted to see what effects they would have on the new
generation. Some of these new genes also proved to be
undesirable. They were eliminated in subsequent generations.
After twenty Zartic lifetimes, a generation was born that
matched the Offasü ideal. When this generation had been raised
to maturity all remaining members of preceding generations
were put to death, leaving none but this new breed of Zarticku to
inherit the world.
These new creatures were substantially different from their
ancestors who had roamed free in ths forests of Zarti. They were
bigger, stronger and healthier. Their eyesight was keener. The
tough, matted hair that had been on their backs had become
thin armor plating. The little appendages at the shoulders that
had originally served to steady tree branches while eating had
been developed into full-grown arms, ending in six-fingered
hands with two opposable thumbs that could grasp and
manipulate objects. Their average lifespan had been doubled.
And, most importantly, they were far smarter than their
ancestors had been. Their intelligence level had been quadrupled
at the very least.
They also possessed a legacy from their predecessors. Stories
of the Offasü tortures had been passed down over the years by
word of mouth, with each generation adding its new tales of
horror. Stories grew in the retelling, and the mythos of Offasü
cruelty increased.
Now that they had apparently gotten what they wanted, the
Offasü proceeded to use—and abuse—their subjects. The
Zarticku became slaves to the older race, used in the most
menial and routine of tasks. They were chained to watch
machines that required no supervision, forced to take part in
rituals that served no purpose, made to disassemble machines
only so that other Zarticku could put them together again. They
could be hunted and killed for sport by the Offasü. Sometimes
they were pitted in arenas against wild animals or even others of
their own species. Although copulation was permitted, the
choice of mates was made by the Offasü, and followed no pattern
that was discernible to the Zarticku.
The period of slavery lasted for about a century. During this
time, the face of the planet changed. Every square inch of arable
land was turned to good use by the brutally efficient Offasü.
Cities arose, planned and engineered to perfection. Systems of
transportation and communication were universal.
Then one day the Offasü left. It was an orderly and
well-planned exodus, without a word spoken to the startled
Zarticku. One moment the Offasü had been running the world in
their usual brisk fashion, the next they calmly walked into their
enormous spaceships—which had sat dormant since the day of
their landing—and took off into space. They left behind them all
their works, their cities, their farms, their machines. Also
abandoned was a race of very stunned, very perplexed former
slaves.
The Zarticku could not at first believe that their masters had
really departed. They huddled in fear that this might be some
new and devious torture. But weeks passed, and there was no
sign anywhere of the Offasü. Meanwhile, there were crops and
machines that required tending. Almost by reflex, they went
back to their accustomed tasks.
Several more centuries passed and the Zarticku turned their
specially-bred intelligence to their own use. They examined the
machines that the Offasü had left behind and discovered the
principles of science; from there, they improved and adapted the
machines to their own purposes. They developed a culture of
their own. They used their intellect to build philosophies and
abstract thought. They devised their own recreations and
enjoyments. They began to live the comfortable life of an
intelligent species that has mastered its own planet.
But beneath the veneer of success was always fear— the fear of
the Offasü. Centuries of cruel oppression had left their mark on
the Zartic psyche. What if the Offasü should someday return?
They would not take kindly to this usurpation of their equipment
by upstart slaves. They would devise new and more horrible
tortures and the Zarticku, as always, would suffer.
It was this atmosphere of fear and curiosity that nurtured the
boldest step the Zartic race had ever taken—¦ the Space
Exploration Project.
CHAPTER I
A two-lane stretch of California 1 ran along the coastline. To
the west, sometimes only a couple of hundred feet from the road,
was the Pacific Ocean, quietly lapping its waves over the sand
and stone of San Marcos State Beach. To the east, a cliff of white,
naked rock sprang upwards to a height of over two hundred feet.
Beyond the cliff lay a string of mountains. They weren't very tall,
the highest barely a thousand feet above sea level, but they were
sufficient for the local residents. The mountains were covered
with sparse forests of cypress trees and tangled underbrush, with
a few other types of vegetation daring to make their presence
known at scattered intervals.
At the top of the cliff, overlooking the highway and the ocean,
was a small wooden cabin. It stood in the center of a cleared
area, a simple understatement of human presence in the midst
of nature. A car was parked beside the cabin on the gravel that
had been spread around the structure's perimeter. The gravel
extended for about ten yards, then gave way to loose dry dirt
atop hard rock until it entered the trees another six yards further
on.
There was a narrow dirt road that led up from the highway to
the cabin. It did not come straight up, but wound snake-like
among the trees until it reached the clearing. A pair of
headlights could currently be seen weaving along that road,
alternately vanishing and reappearing as the car rounded
various curves or passed behind groups of cypress trees.
Stella Stoneham stood in the darkness, watching those •
headlights approach. Her internal organs were trying valiantly
to tie themselves into knots as the lights came nearer. She took a
final long drag on her cigarette and ground it out nervously
beneath her foot in the gravel. If there were any person she didn't
want to see right now it was her husband, but it looked as
though the choice was not hers to make. She frowned and looked
up into the sky. The night was fairly clear, with only a few small
patches of cloud obscuring the stars. She looked back down at
the headlights. He would be here in a minute. Sighing, she went
back inside the cabin.
The interior normally cheered her with its brightness and
warmth, but tonight there was an ironic quality about it that
only deepened her depression. The room was large and
uncrowded, giving the illusion of space and freedom that Stella
had wanted. There was a long brown sofa along one wall, with a
small reading table and lamp beside it. In the next corner, going
clockwise, there was a sink and a small stove; a supply cupboard
hung on the wall near them, elaborately carved out of hardwood,
with scrollwork and little red gn6mes in the corner holding it up.
Also on the wall was a rack of assorted kitchen utensils, still
shiny from lack of use. Continuing around the room there was a
small white dinette set standing neatly in the third corner. The
door to the back bedroom and bathroom stood half ajar, with
light from the main room penetrating only slightly into the
darkness beyond the threshold. Finally there was a writing desk
with a typewriter and telephone and an old folding chair beside
if in the corner nearest the door. The center of the room was
bare except for a frayed brown carpet that covered the wooden
floor. The place was not much to cling to,
Stella knew, but if a fight were going to take place at all—as it
now appeared it would—it would be better to handle it on her
own territory.
She sat down on the sofa and stood up again immediately.
She paced the length of the room, wondering what she would do
with her hands while she was talking or listening. Men at least
were lucky enough to have pockets. Outside she could hear the
car crunch its way up the gravel to the very door of the cabin and
stop. A car door opened and slammed shut. A man's footsteps
clomped up the three front stairs. The door flew open and her
husband walked in.
* * *
This was to be the eleventh solar system he had personally
explored, which meant that, to Garnna iff-Almanic, the task of
finding and examining planets had gotten as routine as a job
that exotic could become. The Zartic had trained for years before
even being allowed on the Project. There was, first of all, the
rigorous mental training that would allow the combination of
machines and drugs to project his mind away from his body and
far out into the depths of space. But an Explorer had to have
more training than just that. He would have to chart his course
in the void, both hi attempting to locate a new planet and in
finding his way home again afterwards; that required an
extensive knowledge of celestial navigation. He had to classify in
an instant the general type of planet he was Investigating, which
called for up-to-the-minute expertise in the growing science of
planetology. He would be called on to make a report on the life
forms, if any, that the planet held; that necessitated a knowledge
of biology. And, in the event that the planet harbored intelligent
life, he had to be able to describe the level of their civilization
from little more than a glance—and that required that he be
made as free of personal prejudices and fears as possible, for
alien societies had different ways of doing things that could send
a normal Zartic into hysterical fits.
But most of all, he had had to overcome the instinctive Zartic
fear of the Offasü, and that required the hardest training of the
lot.
His mind hovered above this new solar system, inspecting it
for possibilities. It was the farthest Exploration made to date,
well over a hundred parsecs from Zarti. The star was average, a
yellow dwarf—the type frequently associated with having
planetary systems. But as to whether this system had planets…
Garnna made a mental grimace. This was always the part he
hated most.
He began to disperse himself through the space immediately
surrounding the star. His mental fibers spread like a net,
becoming thinner and thinner as he pushed his fragments of
mind outward in all three dimensions in his quest for planets.
There! He touched one almost immediately, and discarded it
just as quickly. It was nothing but an airless ball of rock, and not
even within the star's zone of habitability for protoplasmic life.
Although it was faintly conceivable that some sort of life might
exist there, it did not bother him. He continued to spread his net
outward.
Another planet. He was glad to find a second, because the
three points that he now had—sun and two planets —would
determine for him the ecliptic plane of the system. It had long
since been discovered that planetary systems formed generally
within a single plane, with only minor individual deviations from
it. Now that he knew its orientation, he could stop his
three-dimensional expansion and concentrate, instead, on
exploring all the area within the ecliptic plane.
The second planet was also a disappointment. It was within
the zone of habitability, but that was the only thing that could be
said in its favor. The atmosphere was covered with clouds and
filled with carbon dioxide, while the surface was so incredibly
hot that oceans of aluminum and rivers of tin were
commonplace. No protoplasmic life could exist here, either.
Garnna continued on in his Exploration.
The next thing he encountered was a bit of a surprise—a
double planet. Two large, planet-sized objects circled the star in
a common orbit. Upon closer inspection, one of the planets
appeared far more massive than the other; Garnna began to
think of that one as the primary and the other as a satellite.
He tried to focus as much attention as he could on this system
while still maintaining the net he had spread through space. The
satellite was another airless gray ball, smaller even than the first
planet outward, and appeared quite lifeless, but the primary
looked promising. From space it had a mottled blue and white
appearance. The white was clouds and the blue, apparently, was
liquid water. Large quantities of liquid water. That boded well
for the existence of protoplasmic life there. He checked the
atmosphere and was even more pleasantly surprised. There were
large quantities of oxygen freely available for breathing. He
made himself a mental note to investigate it more closely if
nothing even better should turn up, and continued expanding
outwards in his search for planets.
The next one he discovered was small and red. What little
atmosphere there was seemed to consist mainly of carbon
dioxide, with almost no detectable free oxygen. The surface
temperature was acceptable to protoplasmic life, but there
seemed to be little, if any, water available —a very dismal sign.
Though this place had possibilities, the primary of the double
planet had more. Garnna continued his expansion.
The net was becoming very thin, now, as the Zartic stretched
himself farther and farther. Images were becoming blurry and
his mind seemed to hold only a tenuous grip on its own identity.
He encountered some tiny rocks floating in space, but declined
to even consider them. The next world out was a gas giant. It was
very difficult to make it out because his mentality was stretched
so thin at this point, but that was not necessary. The search for
planets was over in this system, he knew, for he had passed
outside the zone of habitability once more. A gas giant like this
could not exist within that zone, according to theory. There
might be other planets beyond the orbit of this one, but they
wouldn't matter, either. The Offasü would not be interested in
them, and therefore Garnna wasn't interested in them.
He returned his attention to the double planet system.
He felt enormous relief as he reeled in all the far-flung parts of
his mind that had expanded through space. It was always a good
feeling when the initial planetary survey was over, a feeling of
bringing disparate elements together to form a cohensive whole
once more. A feeling akin to making a Herd out of individuals,
only on a smaller, more personal scale.
It was bad enough to be a lone Zartic out in space, cut off
from the entire Herd not to mention the safety and security of
his own iff-group. The job was necessary, of course, for the good
of the Herd, but necessity did not make it any the more pleasant.
And when an individual Zartic had to extend parts of himself
until there was almost nothing left, that was almost unbearable.
That was why Garnna hated that part of the mission the worst.
But it was over, now, and he could concentrate on the real
business of Exploration.
* * *
Wesley Stoneham was a big man, well over six feet, with
broad, well-muscled shoulders and the face of a middled-aged
hero. He still had all his hair, a thick black mane of it, cut so that
it would even muss stylishly. The forehead beneath the hair was
comparatively narrow and sported large, bushy eyebrows. His
eyes were steel gray and determined, his nose prominent and
straight. In his hand, he carried a medium-sized suitcase.
"I got your note," was all he said as he took a folded piece of
paper from his pocket and flipped it to the ground at his wife's
feet.
Stella exhaled softly. She recognized that tone all too well, and
knew that this was going to be a long and bitter evening. "Why
the suitcase?" she asked.
"As long as I was driving up here, I thought I might as well
stay the night." His voice was even and smooth, but there was an
edge of command to it as he set the suitcase down on the floor.
"Don't you even bother asking your hostess' permission before
moving in?"
"Why should I? This is my cabin, built with my ' money." The
emphasis on the "my" in both cases was slight but unmistakable.
She turned away from him. Even with her back to him,
though, she could still feel his gaze piercing her soul. "Why not
finish the thought, Wes? 'My cabin, my money, my wife,' isn't
that it?"
"You are my wife, you know."
"Not any more." Already she could feel the inside corners of
her eyes starting to warm up, and she tried to check her
emotions. Crying now would do no good, and might defeat her
purpose. Besides, she had learned from painful experience that
Wesley Stoneham was not affected by tears.
"You are until the law says otherwise." He strode across the
room to her in two large steps, grabbed her by the shoulders and
spun her around. "And you are going to look at me when you talk
to me."
Stella tried to shake herself out of his grip, but his fingers just
tightened all the more into her skin, one of them (did he do it
intentionally?) hitting a nerve so that a streak of pain raced
across her shoulders. She stopped twisting and eventually he
took his arms away again.
"That's a little better," he said. "The least a man can expect is
a little civility from his own wife."
"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. There was a slight crack in her
voice as she tried to force some gaiety into it. "I should go over to
the stove and bake my big, strong mansy-wansy a welcome home
cake."
"Save the sarcasm for someone who likes that shit, Stella,"
Stoneham growled. "I want to know why you want a divorce."
"Why, my most precious one, it's…" she began in the same
saccharine tones. Stoneham gave her a hard slap against the
cheek. "I told you to can that," he said.
"I think my reasons should be more than apparent," Stella
said bitterly. There was a flush creeping slowly into the cheek
where she'd been hit. She raised her hand to the spot, more out
of self-consciousness than pain.
Stoneham's nostrils flared, and his stare was svipercold. Stella
averted her eyes, but stubbornly stood her ground. There was ice
on her husband's words as he asked, "Have you been having an
affair with that overaged hippie?"
It took a moment for her to realize who he meant. About a
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ScannedbyHighroller.ProofedbyMadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.HerdsbyStephenGoldinPROLOGTheplanetZartiwaspeacefulatonetime.Themostadvancedracewasaspeciesofgentle,long-neckedherbivoreswhohadnogreaterambitionsthanfullbellies.TheseZartickubandedtogetherinherdsforprotectionfrompredatorsande...

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