Isaac Asimov: The Gentle Vultures

Devi-en understood the second phrase. That was a term for the Hurrian ships that had grown common among the large-primates those first careless years.

The second remark was made when the wild creature was brought into the ship, struggling with amazing strength, but helpless in the iron grip of the unperturbed Mauvs.

Devi-en, panting, with his fleshy nose quivering slightly, advanced to receive him, and the creature (whose unpleasantly hairless face had become oily with some sort of fluid secretion) yelled, “Holy Toledo, a monkey!”

Again, Devi-en understood the second part. It was the word for little-primate in one of the chief languages of the planet.

The wild creature was almost impossible to handle. He required infinite patience before he could be spoken to reasonably. At first, there was nothing but a series of crises. The creature realized almost at once that he was being taken off Earth, and what Devi-en thought might prove an exciting experience for him, proved nothing of the sort. He talked instead of his offspring and of a large-primate female.

(They have wives and children, thought Devi-en, compassionately, and, in their way, love them, for all they are large-primate.)

Then he had to be made to understand that the Mauvs who kept him under guard and who restrained him when his violence made that necessary would not hurt him, that he was not to be damaged in any way.

(Devi-en was sickened at the thought that one intelligent being might be damaged by another. It was very difficult to discuss the subject, even if only to admit the possibility long enough to deny it. The creature from the planet treated the very hesitation with great suspicion. It was the way the large-primates were.)

On the fifth day, when out of sheer exhaustion, perhaps, the creature remained quiet over a fairly extended period, they talked in Devi-en’s private quarters, and suddenly he grew angry again when the Human first explained, matter-of-factly, that they were waiting for a nuclear war.

“Waiting!” cried the creature. “What makes you so sure there will be one?”

Devi-en wasn’t sure, of course, but he said, “There is always a nuclear war. It is our purpose to help you afterward.”

“Help us afterward.” His words grew incoherent. He waved his arms violently, and the Mauvs who flanked him had to restrain him gently once again and lead him away.

Devi-en sighed. The creature’s remarks were building in quantity and perhaps mentalics could do something with them. His own unaided mind could make nothing of them.

And meanwhile the creature was not thriving. His body was almost completely hairless, a fact that long-distance observation had not revealed owing to the artificial skins worn by them. This was either for warmth or because of an instinctive repulsion even on the part of these particular large-primates themselves for hairless skin. (It might be an interesting subject to take up. Mentalics computation could make as much out of one set of remarks as another.)

Strangely enough, the creature’s face had begun to sprout hair; more, in fact, than the Hurrian face had, and of a darker color.

But still, the central fact was that he was not thriving. He had grown thinner because he was eating poorly, and if he was kept too long, his health might suffer. Devi-en had no wish to feel responsible for that.

On the next day, the large-primate seemed quite calm. He talked almost eagerly, bringing the subject around to nuclear warfare almost at once. (It had a terrible attraction for the large-primate mind, Devi-en thought.)

The creature said, “You said nuclear wars always happen? Does that mean there are other people than yours and mine—and theirs?” He indicated the near-by Mauvs.

“There are thousands of intelligent species, living on thousands of worlds. Many thousands,” said Devi-en.

“And they all have nuclear wars?”

“All who have reached a certain stage of technology. All but us. We were different. We lacked competitiveness. We had the co-operative instinct.”

“You mean you know that nuclear wars will happen and you do nothing about it?”

“We do” said Devi-en, pained. “Of course, we do. We try to help. In the early history of my people, when we first developed space-travel, we did not understand large-primates. They repelled our attempts at friendship and we stopped trying. Then we found worlds in radioactive ruins. Finally, we found one world actually in the process of a nuclear war. We were horrified, but could do nothing. Slowly, we learned. We are ready, now, at every world we discover to be at the nuclear stage. We are ready with decontamination equipment and eugenic analyzers.”

“What are eugenic analyzers?”

Devi-en had manufactured the phrase by analogy with what he knew of the wild one’s language. Now he said carefully, “We direct matings and sterilizations to remove, as far as possible, the competitive element in the remnant of the survivors.”

For a moment, he thought the creature would grow violent again.

Instead, the other said in a monotone, “You make them docile, you mean, like these things?” Once again he indicated the Mauvs.

“No. No. These are different. We simply make it possible for the remnants to be content with a peaceful, nonexpanding, nonaggressive society under our guidance. Without this, they destroyed themselves, you see, and without it, they would destroy themselves again.”

“What do you get out of it?”

Devi-en stared at the creature dubiously. Was it really necessary to explain the basic pleasure of life? He said, “Don’t you enjoy helping someone?”

“Come on. Besides that. What’s in it for you?”

“Of course, there are contributions to Hurria.”

“Ha.”

“Payment for saving a species is only fair,” protested Devi-en, “and there are expenses to be covered. The contribution is not much and is adjusted to the nature of the world. It may be an annual supply of wood from a forested world; manganese salts from another. The world of these Mauvs is poor in physical resources and they themselves offered to supply us with a number of individuals to use as personal assistants. They are extremely powerful even for large-primates and we treat them painlessly with anticerebral drugs—”

“To make zombies out of them!”

Devi-en guessed at the meaning of the noun and said indignantly, “Not at all. Merely to make them content with their role as personal servant and forgetful of their homes. We would not want them to be unhappy. They are intelligent beings!”

“And what would you do with Earth if we had a war?”

“We have had fifteen years to decide that,” said Devi-en. “Your world is very rich in iron and has developed a fine steel technology. Steel, I think, would be your contribution.” He sighed, “But the contribution would not make up for our expense in this case, I think. We have overwaited now by ten years at least.”

The large-primate said, “How many races do you tax in this way?”

“I do not know the exact number. Certainly more than a thousand.”

“Then you’re the little landlords of the Galaxy, are you? A thousand worlds destroy themselves in order to contribute to your welfare. You’re something else, too, you know.” The wild one’s voice was rising, growing shrill. “You’re vultures.”

“Vultures?” said Devi-en, trying to place the word.

“Carrion-eaters. Birds that wait for some poor creature to die of thirst in the desert and then come down to eat the body.”

Devi-en felt himself turn faint and sick at the picture conjured up for him. He said weakly, “No, no, we help the species.”

“You wait for the war to happen like vultures. If you want to help, prevent the war. Don’t save the remnants. Save them all.”