The Collected Stories of Frank Herbert (116 page)

*   *   *

Finishing his solitary ritual, Hugh Scott emerged from his hut and scanned the village pathways. Sadness, he told himself, must be submerged in duty. Only a few others as prompt and zealous as Today's Speaker were outside as yet to stroll the village perimeter and weft the fragrant bushes. Wefting offered a pleasant diversion to ease his bereavement. This was a pastime the Terrans had not been equipped to enjoy.

And there was the sleek ultra he'd admired earlier. He noted that ul wefted well even while fending off an importunate squish. Well … the Alex would soon reduce that unfortunate excess.

The Alex, yes.

Hugh turned back toward his hut's safety. Even the deepest sadness passed in time; there was no sense dying just yet. Best not to be out in the open for a while. He hesitated, glanced back at the ultra and the squish. What a shame if the Alex caught that exquisite ultra. He had another thought then:

An ultra and a squish … and I would make three.

This thought brought him a sharp sense of guilt. The Terrans had said … But there were no Terrans here now. His hutmates were dead. And he
was
Today's Speaker.

Hugh hurried back to the ultra who looked down at him. Damn the afternoon heat which made him so much shorter! But what a magnificent ultra! And the importunate squish still stood there somewhat awed by such exalted presences, no doubt.

Well, face it,
Hugh thought.
A squish is a squish.

Making the traditional gestures, Hugh said:

“My hut or yours?”

The ultra glanced at the squish, who stood looking dazed as though not believing such good fortune. But it took three to warple.

“Your hut,” the ultra said and sauntered ahead, a motion which displayed the ulform at its finest. The squish imposlumed behind them at a moderate pace.

Risking censure or even rejection, Hugh tried to move them faster. Where was the Alex? The ultra would not be hurried. Anxiously, Hugh explained in a low voice that an Alex was loose. His words brought the desired speed.

*   *   *

As he dashed through the clearing where he'd left the half-eaten Hoojie. Alex could hear the pack gaining on him. Well, Hoojie Town was close and with a bit of exertion he knew he could get there first. Thought of the Hoojie ripening in the tree clump helped make all of this effort worthwhile. He couldn't smell it—the wind was wrong—but he knew it was still there. After they'd celebrated his birthday at Hoojie Town, he'd return for dessert. Feelings of joy filled Alex. No one had ever had such a birthday!

*   *   *

There could be nothing better for easing the transition from grief, Hugh thought, than a warple with new mates—the erotic explorations, the ceiling-to-wall carom and the interesting differences of contour and position.

Newly matured, the squish was actually innocent. The most elementary matters had to be explained. Somehow, this added to the enjoyment. The ultra entered fully into the ambience of the occasion, playing crafty little games with the squish and iridescing with ecstasy at the results. The warple's climactics were superb.

Hugh salved his residual guilt with the thought that this warple would produce a female, and females were now in shortest supply.

The squish, diffident in its hutless condition, began the leave-taking ritual. Hugh realized that excitement had made the little creature forget about the free-roving Alex.

“You'd better stay,” Hugh said. “Remember the Alex.”

The squish could only stare at him in gratitude.

“Yes, yes,” Hugh said. “This is now your hut.”

After all, Hugh thought, he had to start rebuilding his household, and this young squish had an amiable disposition.

While this passed through his thoughts, Hugh caressed the ultra's breathing vents. “You could stay, too. Three's company.”

Obviously considering, Ul rippled alternate vents.

“What's your name?” Hugh ventured, trying some really daring caresses.

“Candide.”

Hugh noted that Candide's ripple rate had increased.

“I don't have a name,” the squish said. “I'm new.”

“Then that shall
be
your name,” Hugh said. “Welcome to your hut, New.”

Once more, Hugh turned to Candide. “Will you stay. We
are
three.”

“But I'm one of four in my present hut.”

“We'll soon be four here,” Hugh said. “Give us a little time. After all, the Alexii stockade wasn't built between noons.”

Before Candide could respond, the screaming began.

*   *   *

Claws extended and spraying gravel, Alex dashed into Hoojie Town. Some of his pursuers were close, but sweat had washed the Hoojie gore from his fur and it was easy to become one of the pack. And now there were Hoojies! Hoojies all over the place making their funny noises, running back and forth, scuttling into huts or trying to enter and being locked out.

Alex understood some Hoojie talk, mostly the kind they'd learned from the Terrans, but he didn't hear much worth remembering on this occasion—just a lot of screaming and pleading. A stupid lot, these Hoojies. Alex eased himself off to a safe distance and watched his companions have themselves more dinner than they'd enjoyed in a long time.

This is like old times,
he thought.

He could remember some of those times, but he wasn't particularly hungry at the moment. Besides, most of the Hoojies remaining outside the huts were of the short soft kind and he'd had one of those recently. Alex decided he'd prefer something different now; a balanced diet was more healthy.

Not since the Terrans had Alex eaten all four delicious Hoojie flavors at one sitting. It'd been a long, long time …

Distracted by such reflections, Alex almost missed his chance to grab one of the tall Hoojies and share half of it. Good; it was one of the three he'd aftertasted when his memory began to awaken. Still missing one flavor.

Alex jumped atop a Hoojie hut out of the sticky mess being created in the pathways. He sat there in the red heat, watching. His lower eyes squinted in amusement. This birthday celebration certainly was using up a great lot of Hoojies.

Dozing, reflecting, Alex began to realize that this was not really the same as the old times, not like the times before the Terrans. There'd been many Alexii then—many legs of legs-legs roving free where no more than about two legs-legs were all they could assemble for the Party now. And Alex remembered travels with his good companions … to many places and other Hoojie towns—a long way, sometimes.

He recalled then that they'd returned from a journey and found the Terrans at the edge of the plain. Whatever Terrans were. Nobody knew where the Terrans came from but Alex knew it couldn't be anyplace important because he'd never been there. What was important was that Terrans used odd weapons to kill Alexii.

Alex knew that his own people had once made and used weapons. That was before they'd discovered how to change the bodies of their spawn, making Alexii so strong and deadly that they didn't need weapons. Alexii no longer needed places to make things, and they didn't have to carry and repair excess baggage. Elders sometimes mentioned faraway caches where sample weapons had been stored to display the way things were before the Alexii were improved. Nobody cared about such nonsense nowadays. Everything you needed was part of your body and never wore out until you did. That was the right way.

It'd been that way since before Alex's three-times grand-spawner. Then the Terrans had come and they'd killed Alexii right and zorf and left and gilch. If anyone knew why Terrans did this, it wasn't Alex or the others at the party.

It wasn't a matter of eating; Alex knew
that.

After a few samples (since one shouldn't rely on a single opinion), Alexii didn't eat Terrans. They tasted awful and upset the digestion. No one had expected Terrans to be angered by a few sample meals, but apparently they were. They'd begun hunting and killing Alexii all over the place.

And they didn't eat a single one of us.

Very puzzling. Alexii were familiar with killing and eating rather than being killed and eaten, but either way made a recognizable pattern. Except that Terrans weren't edible. Not logical until it was discovered that Terrans were killing Alexii without eating them.

A new pattern!

This made everything all right. Alexii killed Terrans without eating
them,
either.

Fair was fair.

A very exciting time, Alex remembered, except that Terran weapons killed from a distance; so they were killing legs of claws of Alexii for each dead Terran. That was why Alexii took the fighting into the forests where there wasn't all that much open distance. Things improved in the forests, especially when Alexii began taking weapons off dead Terrans. The weapons were pretty fragile but anybody could see how to improve them, and even as they were, an Alex could get maybe a day's use out of one. Most Alexii didn't bother with such trifles. Claws and fangs had been good enough for a long time. Why change? Besides, it was more sporting just using your body, gave the Terrans
some
kind of chance.

Fair was fair.

Some of the oldsters (Alex's twice grandspawner, for one) wanted Alexii to go back to making their own weapons. The ways were not forgotten. Alex had heard the talk; you began by making a big hot fire in a little cave and melting down some of the red rock. After that, it got more complicated, but anyone could do it. He'd heard that a group had been sent off to get patterns from the display caches, but didn't know how that effort came out, if at all. One day, a little past first noon, on his way to Hoojie Town for a quick meal between fights, Alex had come on the thorn-tree enclosure where the Party was in full swing. Except for occasional outings which he hadn't even remembered until today, he'd been at the Party since.

Everyone had been at the party since. Very interesting.

Extruding all of his eyes, Alex scanned the Hoojie Town streets. Those Alexii he could see didn't look very hungry, although several still nibbled away here and there, not quite satisfied yet. And no doubt their memories were still defective. Alex wondered idly where the Hoojies made and stored the stuff that gummed up memories and softened the thorn barrier at the Party. There'd be time enough to find out about that later. The whole thing stank of Terrans. Hoojies weren't that smart.

Alex noted that no more Hoojies were running around loose in their town. There were a lot of bones, though, that had once had Hoojies on the outside. Considering the number of Alexii he'd brought along, the food supply was a little low.

Everybody should be well fed.

Alex slid off the Hoojie hut where he'd been studying the situation. When he'd been here before alone, the Hoojies who'd hidden in their huts had been safe. Strain as he might, Alex couldn't lift a hut to get at the delicious Hoojies inside. However, today he was not alone.

To gain attention, Alex slopped through the messy streets and woogled his frontishmost extenders until other Alexii gathered to watch. Then he explained to them how to satisfy their appetites.

Today's Speaker had never heard such screaming; he peered through the squintholes of his hut and saw horror.
Alexii!
More Alexii, it seemed to his shocked mind, than he knew to exist. There was only supposed to be one of them out there performing the sad task of eliminating excess squish.

New, after only one glance outside, grimpled in terror behind him. Candide, who'd also taken only one look, stood now at the hut's exact center and performed an abstract collade.

Although his sensibilities were battered, Hugh continued to watch.
Today's Speaker must not flinch!
But on his left he saw seven Alexii monsters cooperate to topple a hut, then leap to devour the foursome huddled there.

Then it got worse outside, even worse than the old days which Hugh had only heard about in the nighttime stories.

*   *   *

RECORDING:
Doctor Watson reporting from a position within sight of the native village. Alexii have destroyed nearly half the huts and have most likely eaten the occupants. I am certain this violates my directives. If there are any survivors, they cower under intact huts or have fled beyond my sensor range. This is very confusing. Which directive must I follow? Alexii are cooperating to topple the huts. That situation cannot be tolerated. Regardless of risk, I must divert them. I speak: “Stop! You are in violation. Stop!” Many turn to attack me. They are so very fast. Perhaps I have erred, but my directives … “Let go of that! It is essential to my functioning with…”

*   *   *

When the shiny clattering thing made loud noises at Alex in the Terran language, he woodled and made other signs until several Alexii joined him in attacking the thing. Soon, the thing clattered no more. Alex recognized it from the time of the Terran fighting and wondered if the Terrans had returned, but there were no other indications of such an occurrence.

The bothersome noise was stopped, though, and the thing lay separated into many small parts. Interesting parts. Alex wanted to sit down and study them, but the others were yelling at him. They all wanted to go back to the Party. Tempting and very distracting.

The Party … yes.

Alex raised himself on several rear limbs, gazed in several directions simultaneously. He saw that many of his companions were leaving to go back to the Party. They would be unable to get into the Party, Alex realized. Only two ways through the barrier—either Hoojies sprayed it to make it soft and good to eat, or …

Once more, Alex looked at all the interesting parts spread around him. Before, when he'd been outside the Party, no Hoojies had sprayed to let him back inside. His memory was working quite well now and he'd remember such a thing. What else could have let him in? There was only one logical answer and it also explained the presence of the shiny clattering thing without any accompanying Terrans.