Norton, Andre - Anthology (4 page)

 
          
 
Pid
began to feel a
cold panic run through him. What could have happened to the Radioman?

 
          
 
"Perhaps he decided to go through the
gate on his own," Ger suggested.

 
          
 
Pid
considered the
possibility. It seemed unlikely. Ilg had never shown much initiative. He had
always been content to follow orders.

 
          
 
They waited. But mid-day came, and there was
still no sign of Ilg.

 
          
 
"We can't wait any longer,"
Pid
said, and they started through the woods.
Pid
wondered if Ilg had tried to get through the gates on
his own. Those quiet types often concealed a foolhardy streak.

 
          
 
But there was nothing to show that Ilg had
been successful. He would have to assume that the Radioman was dead or captured
by the Men.

 
          
 
That left two of them to activate a Displacer.

 
          
 
And still he didn't know what had happened to
the other expeditions.

 
          
 
At the edge of the woods, Ger turned himself
into a facsimile of a Dog.
Pid
inspected him
carefully.

 
          
 
"A little less tail," he said.

 
          
 
Ger shortened his tail.

 
          
 
"More ears."

 
          
 
Ger lengthened his ears.

 
          
 
"Now even them up." He inspected the
finished product. As far as he could tell, Ger was perfect, from the tip of his
tail to his wet, black nose.

 
          
 
"Good luck,"
Pid
said.

 
          
 
"Thanks." Cautiously Ger moved out
of the woods, walking in the lurching style of Dogs and Men. At the gate the
guard called to him.
Pid
held his breath.

 
          
 
Ger walked past the Man, ignoring him. The Man
started to walk over, and Ger broke into a run.

 
          
 
Pid
shaped a pair of
strong legs for himself, ready to dash if Ger was caught.

 
          
 
But the guard turned back to his gate. Ger
stopped running immediately and strolled quietly toward the main gate.

           
 
Pid
dissolved his
legs with a sigh of relief.

 
          
 
But the main door was closed!
Pid
hoped the Detector wouldn't try to open it. That was not
in the nature of Dogs.

 
          
 
Another Dog came running toward Ger. Ger
backed away from him. The Dog approached and sniffed. Ger sniffed back.

 
          
 
Then both of them ran around the building.

 
          
 
That was clever,
Pid
thought. There was bound to be a door in the rear.

 
          
 
He glanced up at the afternoon sun. As soon as
the Dis-placer was activated, the Glom armies would begin to pour through. By
the time the Men recovered from the shock, a million or more Glom troops would
be here.
With more following.

 
          
 
The day passed slowly, and nothing happened.

 
          
 
Nervously
Pid
watched
the front of the plant. It shouldn't be taking so long, if Ger were successful.

 
          
 
Late into the night he waited. Men walked in
and out of the installation, and Dogs barked around the gates. But Ger did not
appear.

 
          
 
Ger had failed. Ilg was gone. Only he was
left.

 
          
 
And still he didn't know what had happened.

 
          
 
By morning,
Pid
was
in complete despair. He knew that the twenty-first Glom expedition to this
planet was near the point of complete failure. Now it was all up to hirri.

 
          
 
He decided to sally out boldly in the shape of
a
Man.
It was the only possibility left.

           
 
He saw that workers were arriving in great
numbers, rushing through the gates.
Pid
wondered if he
should try to mingle with them, or wait until there was less commotion. He
decided to take advantage of the apparent confusion and started to shape
himself into a
Man.

 
          
 
A Dog walked past the woods where he was
hiding.

 
          
 
"Hello," the Dog said.

 
          
 
It wasGer!

 
          
 
"What happened?"
Pid
asked, with a sigh of relief. "Why were you so long? Couldn't you get
in?"

 
          
 
"I don't know," Ger said, wagging
his tail. "I didn't try."

 
          
 
Pid
was speechless.

 
          
 
"I went hunting," Ger said
complacently. "This form is ideal for Hunting, you know. I went out the
rear gate with another Dog."

 
          
 
"But the expedition—your duty—"

 
          
 
"I changed my mind," Ger told him.
"You know, Pilot, I never wanted to be a Detector."

 
          
 
"But you were born a Detector!"

 
          
 
"That's true," Ger said. "But
it doesn't help. I always wanted to be a Hunter."

 
          
 
Pid
shook his entire
body in annoyance. "You can't," he said, very slowly, as one would
explain to a Glomling. "The Hunter shape is forbidden to you."

 
          
 
"Not here it
isn't,"
Ger said, still wagging his tail.

 
          
 
"Let's have no more of this,"
Pid
said angrily. "Get into that installation and set
up your Displacer. I'll try to overlook this heresy."

 
          
 
"I won't," Ger said. "I don't
want the Glom here. They'd ruin it for the rest of us."

 
          
 
"He's right," an oak tree said.

 
          
 
"Ilg!"
Pid
gasped. "Where are you?"

 
          
 
Branches stirred. "I'm right here,"
Ilg said. "I've been
Thinking
."

 
          
 
"But—your caste—"

 
          
 
"Pilot," Ger said sadly, "Why
don't you wake up? Most of the people on Glom are miserable. Only custom makes
us take the caste-shape of our ancestors."

 
          
 
"Pilot," Ilg said, "All Glom
are born Shapeless!"

 
          
 
"And being born Shapeless, all Glom
should have Freedom of Shape," Ger said.

           
 
"Exactly," Ilg said. "But he'll
never understand. Now excuse me. I want to
Think
."
And the oak tree was silent.

 
          
 
Pid
laughed
humorlessly. "The Men will kill you off," he said.
"Just
as they killed off the rest of the expeditions."

 
          
 
"No one from Glom has been killed,"
Ger told him. "The other expeditions are right here."

 
          
 
"Alive?"

 
          
 
"Certainly.
The
Men don't even know we exist. That Dog I was
Hunting
with is a Glom from the nineteenth expedition. There are hundreds of us here,
Pilot. We like it."

 
          
 
Pid
tried to absorb
it all. He had always known that the lower castes were lax in
caste-consciousness. But this—this was preposterous!

 
          
 
This planet's secret menace was—freedom!

 
          
 
"Join us, Pilot," Ger said.
"We've got a paradise here. Do you know how many species there are on this
planet? An uncountable number! There's a shape to suit every need!"

 
          
 
Pid
shook his head.
There was no shape to suit his need. He was a Pilot.

 
          
 
But Men were unaware of the presence of the
Glom. Getting near the reactor would be simple!

 
          
 
"The Glom Supreme Council will take care
of all of you," he snarled, and shaped himself into a Dog. "I'm going
to set up the Displacer myself."

 
          
 
He studied himself for a moment, bared his
teeth at Ger, and loped toward the gate.

 
          
 
The Men at the gate didn't even look at him.
He slipped through the main door of the building behind a man and loped down a
corridor.

 
          
 
The Displacer in his body pouch pulsed and
tugged, leading him toward the reactor room.

 
          
 
He sprinted up a flight of stairs and down
another corridor. There were footsteps around the bend, and
Pid
knew instinctively that Dogs were not allowed inside the building.

 
          
 
He looked around desperately for a hiding
place, but the corridor was bare. However, there were several overhead lights
in the ceiling.

 
          
 
Pid
leaped and glued
himself to the ceiling. He shaped himself into a lighting fixture and hoped
that the Men wouldn't try to find out why he wasn't shining.

 
          
 
Men passed, running.

 
          
 
Pid
changed himself
into a facsimile of a Man and hurried on.

 
          
 
He had to get closer.

 
          
 
Another Man came down the corridor. He looked
sharply at
Pid
, started to speak, and then sprinted
away.

 
          
 
Pid
didn't know what
was wrong, but he broke into a full sprint. The Displacer in his body pouch
throbbed and pulsed, telling him he had almost reached the critical distance.

 
          
 
Suddenly a terrible doubt assailed his mind.
All the expeditions had deserted! Every single Glom!