Jo Clayton - Fire in the Sky

The wall screen came alive. It was divided into four cells. In three of them skeletal figures are lying on wall cots like corpses laid out for burying. The cell door slides open, a pole pushes a bowl of smoldering husk into the room. Before the door closes, all three have rolled off the cots and are hunched over the bowls, faces stupid with a combination of ecstasy and need as they suck the smoke into mouths and nostrils. The fourth cell is the patio, empty now, the only movement the flutter of leaves and the dancing of the column of water.

“You will observe how quickly function is restored once sufficient smoke is ingested. The need is different for each of the three as evidenced by the duration of their intake. It is interesting also that the first thing each of them does is move into the open, into the semblance of a garden we provided them with.”

Hunnar listened to Teдrall’s speech, held up his hand.

The tech stopped the movement. “Yes, O Ykkuval?”

“Was there any discussion in the hearing of the subjects as to why this is being done to them?”

“None, O Ykkuval. We were careful only to give the necessary orders. Not a word beyond that was spoken at any time. Not even in Chava.”

“And they’re peasants. Drudges. How does she know?”

“Ah mmm. O Ykkuval, we know almost nothing about local culture or how developed it might be. There are reports that there was a primitive kind of electrical system in the village we took over. It is quite possible that certain types among them have developed a certain philosophical sophistication somewhat beyond their technical capacity.”

“Ump.”

“Our mmm miscalculation of their potential arose from their passivity. Only the one showed any resistance at all, that was, of course, the woman shot by your guard when he gathered these for us. She should have been factored into our expectations, but that was not done.”

The image on the wall flickered and shifted to a single screen showing a corridor and three people shuffling along it, meager, almost skeletal figures, shoulders rounded, heads down.

“As you can see, passive, low energy, wasted bodies. However, watch what happens next.”

Another jump, from the corridor to the testing facility. Lab techs herded the three subjects into cubicles, ordered them to undress and lie down.

There was no signal given, no word spoken, but in the same second all three jumped their techs. They did no damage, but the sudden attack provoked the Chav defensive reaction and they ended as ragged fragments splattered against the wall.

“The techs have been disciplined. Level one only because of the provocation and the previous passivity which made the attack such a surprise that they acted automatically and killed rather than restrained the subjects.” He touched the sensor and the screen went blank. “If you wish, O Ykkuval, I can take you through the autopsies and the examination of brain cell development, or I can give you a summary of what we think as of now.”

“Leave the flake with the details, I’ll examine it later. Summarize now.” He glanced at a wall chron. “You have three minutes.”

“Ah mmm every cell we examined departed widely from the Cousin norm, insofar as there is a norm and considering the limited resources of our filing system. Some were wasted until they were hardly recognizable as cells, some hyperdeveloped, all of them, even the atrophied, had a patch of odd-shaped receptors which we believe is the site where one component or other the smoke attaches. That is not necessarily true. Ah mmmm we would appreciate your including a nonaddicted young form of the species in the next collection. We need a base form to validate our conclusions. At the moment these are that prolonged exposure to the husk smoke induces physical changes in the brain and body structure. The functioning of the body and thus life itself becomes completely dependent on the continued use of the smoke, but what those changes do to thought patterns, indeed, the ability to think and reason, we don’t at present know.” He rose to his feet, placed hand over hand and bowed. “Within my three minutes, I believe. If you have further questions, I will be happy to return.”

When the bell sounded, Hunnar clicked on the speaker, snapped, “Quiet.”

Ilaцrn took his hands from the strings, and sat silent and disregarded in his corner.

A small voice said, “Kurz.”

Ilaцrn recognized both name and voice and set himself to listen carefully and remember what he heard. He’d gotten word out about the spy, but in the past tenday the harpist who usually answered him had been silent, so he had no way of knowing if he’d played to empty air or listening ears.

Hunnar hunched forward, the inner lids drooping down so his eyes glistened to show the intensity of his attention. “Listening. Speak.”

“Have visited the four Marishes and some fifteen bands of choreks. The cutters have been distributed. The information about the bounties on the heads of the University team is passing quickly from mouth to mouth and I have already seen several bands making their way toward the village where the team is now. Unless they are warned by a bungled attempt and take precautions, they should soon cease to exist. Also there will soon be severe disturbances in the lives of the villagers and the local farmers as the chorek use their new firepower to enrich themselves, which further dampen the efforts of the Yaraka to ingratiate themselves with the locals.”

“You want more cutters?”

“Yes. At the drop as arranged. Plus a new unit for the miniskip. The damp and local fauna have damaged the old one to the point that my freedom of movement has been severely curtailed. This is the more frustrating since I’ve heard of forest chorek and meant to cross to the mountains and begin enlisting them. I have achieved a tentative connection with one of the political choreks with ties in that direction.”

“You are well?”

“Yes. Though rather bored. This business has proceeded with an almost ludicrous ease.”

“May your boredom continue. Good work, Kurz. But take care. I’ve just been reminded that the locals have teeth and can use them.”

“Pitiful teeth, O Ykkuval, along with an ignorance so vast it is astonishing. How soon can the drop be made? I am lying concealed near the area.”

Hunnar glanced at the wall chron. “Three hours till dark here. I’ll have Asgel load the flik and start across an hour from now. He should reach the drop a little after sundown. Congratulations again, Kurz. You have exceeded expectation, as usual.”

Ilaцrn sat in the Dushanne Garden listening to a distant harp with a relief that he carefully concealed although he was alone for the moment. In the rhythms was an acknowledgement of his message and a warning to be listening for news later in the tenday. He sighed and brushed at his eyes as he saw the airwagon rise above the Kushayt and go darting westward. Somewhere out there an Eolt would be riding the wind currents in the same direction, making xe’s relatively slow and labored way to Chuta Meredel. Time. The mesuchs ate time the way crogalls ate meat, swallowing in chunks what other beings nibbled at.

They were going to, eat this world like that. Hunnar and his lot. We’re to be fodder for their appetites, especially the Keteng. Kept in herds like caцrags, raised for the husk from the Sleepers, the hatchling Eolt for the pleasure of the hunt. I will die before I see that I hope I will die. The thought twisted his stomach in knots. He groaned aloud. How can I with this…, this burr in my head that won’t even let me think the thought without…

The distant harp had settled to an old song, one of those from the flight time, from so long ago and so far away that even dreams couldn’t reach there.