YOUTH

by ISAAC ASIMOV

There was a spatter of
pebbles against the window
and the youngster stirred
in his sleep. Another, and he
was awake.

He sat up stiffly in bed.
Seconds passed while he interpreted
his strange surroundings.
He wasn’t in his
own home, of course. This
was out in the country. It was
colder than it should be and
there was green at the window.

“Slim!”

The call was a hoarse, urgent
whisper, and the youngster
bounded to the open
window.

Slim wasn’t his real name,
but the new friend he had
met the day before had needed
only one look at his slight
figure to say, “You’re Slim.”
He added, “I’m Red.”

Red wasn’t his real name,
either, but its appropriateness
was obvious. They were
friends instantly with the
quick unquestioning friendship
of young ones not yet
quite in adolescence, before
even the first stains of adulthood
began to make their appearance.

Slim cried, “Hi, Red!” and
waved cheerfully, still blinking
the sleep out of himself.

Red kept to his croaking
whisper, “Quiet! You want to
wake somebody?”

Slim noticed all at once
that the sun scarcely topped
the low hills in the east, that
the shadows were long and
soft, and that the grass was
wet.

Slim said, more softly,
“What’s the matter?”

Red only waved for him to
come out.

Slim dressed quickly, gladly
confining his morning
wash to the momentary
sprinkle of a little lukewarm
water. He let the air dry the
exposed portions of his body
as he ran out, while bare skin
grew wet against the dewy
grass.

Red said, “You’ve got to be
quiet. If Mom wakes up or
Dad or your Dad or even any
of the hands then it’ll be
‘Come on in or you’ll catch
your death of cold.'”

He mimicked voice and
tone faithfully, so that Slim
laughed and thought that
there had never been so funny
a fellow as Red.

Slim said, eagerly, “Do you
come out here every day like
this, Red? Real early? It’s like
the whole world is just yours,
isn’t it, Red? No one else
around and all like that.” He
felt proud at being allowed
entrance into this private
world.

Red stared at him sidelong.
He said carelessly, “I’ve
been up for hours. Didn’t you
hear it last night?”

“Hear what?”

“Thunder.”

“Was there a thunderstorm?”
Slim never slept
through a thunderstorm.

“I guess not. But there was
thunder. I heard it, and then
I went to the window and it
wasn’t raining. It was all
stars and the sky was just
getting sort of almost gray.
You know what I mean?”

Slim had never seen it so,
but he nodded.

“So I just thought I’d go
out,” said Red.

They walked along the
grassy side of the concrete
road that split the panorama
right down the middle all the
way down to where it vanished
among the hills. It was
so old that Red’s father
couldn’t tell Red when it had
been built. It didn’t have a
crack or a rough spot in it.

Red said, “Can you keep a
secret?”

“Sure, Red. What kind of
a secret?”

“Just a secret. Maybe I’ll
tell you and maybe I won’t.
I don’t know yet.” Red broke
a long, supple stem from a
fern they passed, methodically
stripped it of its leaflets and
swung what was left whip-fashion.
For a moment, he
was on a wild charger, which
reared and champed under
his iron control. Then he got
tired, tossed the whip aside
and stowed the charger away
in a corner of his imagination
for future use.

He said, “There’ll be a circus
around.”

Slim said, “That’s no secret.
I knew that. My Dad
told me even before we came
here—”

“That’s not the secret. Fine
secret! Ever see a circus?”

“Oh, sure. You bet.”

“Like it?”

“Say, there isn’t anything
I like better.”

Red was watching out of
the corner of his eyes again.
“Ever think you would like
to be with a circus? I mean,
for good?”

Slim considered, “I guess
not. I think I’ll be an astronomer
like my Dad. I think he
wants me to be.”

“Huh! Astronomer!” said
Red.

Slim felt the doors of the
new, private world closing on
him and astronomy became a
thing of dead stars and black,
empty space.

He said, placatingly, “A
circus would be more fun.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. I mean it.”

Red grew argumentative.
“Suppose you had a chance
to join the circus right now.
What would you do?”

“I—I—”

“See!” Red affected scornful
laughter.

Slim was stung. “I’d join
up.”

“Go on.”

“Try me.”

Red whirled at him, strange
and intense. “You meant
that? You want to go in with
me?”

“What do you mean?” Slim
stepped back a bit, surprised
by the unexpected challenge.

“I got something that can
get us into the circus. Maybe
someday we can even have a
circus of our own. We could
be the biggest circus-fellows
in the world. That’s if you
want to go in with me. Otherwise—Well,
I guess I can do
it on my own. I just thought:
Let’s give good old Slim a
chance.”

The world was strange and
glamorous, and Slim said,
“Sure thing, Red. I’m in!
What is it, huh, Red? Tell
me what it is.”

“Figure it out. What’s the
most important thing in circuses?”

Slim thought desperately.
He wanted to give the right
answer. Finally, he said,
“Acrobats?”

“Holy Smokes! I wouldn’t
go five steps to look at acrobats.”

“I don’t know then.”

“Animals, that’s what!
What’s the best side-show?
Where are the biggest
crowds? Even in the main
rings the best acts are animal
acts.” There was no doubt in
Red’s voice.

“Do you think so?”

“Everyone thinks so. You
ask anyone. Anyway, I found
animals this morning. Two of
them.”

“And you’ve got them?”

“Sure. That’s the secret.
Are you telling?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay. I’ve got them in the
barn. Do you want to see
them?”

They were almost at the
barn; its huge open door
black. Too black. They had
been heading there all the
time. Slim stopped in his
tracks.

He tried to make his words
casual. “Are they big?”

“Would I fool with them if
they were big? They can’t
hurt you. They’re only about
so long. I’ve got them in a
cage.”

They were in the barn now
and Slim saw the large cage
suspended from a hook in the
roof. It was covered with stiff
canvas.

Red said, “We used to have
some bird there or something.
Anyway, they can’t get away
from there. Come on, let’s go
up to the loft.”

They clambered up the
wooden stairs and Red
hooked the cage toward them.

Slim pointed and said,
“There’s sort of a hole in the
canvas.”

Red frowned. “How’d that
get there?” He lifted the canvas,
looked in, and said, with
relief, “They’re still there.”

“The canvas appeared to
be burned,” worried Slim.

“You want to look, or don’t
you?”

Slim nodded slowly. He
wasn’t sure he wanted to,
after all. They might be—

But the canvas had been
jerked off and there they
were. Two of them, the way
Red said. They were small,
and sort of disgusting-looking.
The animals moved quickly
as the canvas lifted and
were on the side toward the
youngsters. Red poked a cautious
finger at them.

“Watch out,” said Slim, in
agony.

“They don’t hurt you,” said
Red. “Ever see anything like
them?”

“No.”

“Can’t you see how a circus
would jump at a chance to
have these?”

“Maybe they’re too small
for a circus.”

Red looked annoyed. He let
go the cage which swung back
and forth pendulum-fashion.
“You’re just trying to back
out, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. It’s just—”

“They’re not too small,
don’t worry. Right now, I’ve
only got one worry.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I’ve got to keep them
till the circus comes, don’t I?
I’ve got to figure out what to
feed them meanwhile.”

The cage swung and the
little trapped creatures clung
to its bars, gesturing at the
youngsters with queer, quick
motions—almost as though
they were intelligent.

II

The Astronomer entered
the dining room with decorum.
He felt very much the
guest.

He said, “Where are the
youngsters? My son isn’t in
his room.”

The Industrialist smiled.
“They’ve been out for hours.
However, breakfast was
forced into them among the
women some time ago, so
there is nothing to worry
about. Youth, Doctor, youth!”

“Youth!” The word seemed
to depress the Astronomer.

They ate breakfast in silence.
The Industrialist said
once, “You really think they’ll
come. The day looks so—normal.”

The Astronomer said,
“They’ll come.”

That was all.

Afterward the Industrialist
said, “You’ll pardon me.
I can’t conceive your playing
so elaborate a hoax. You
really spoke to them?”

“As I speak to you. At least,
in a sense. They can project
thoughts.”

“I gathered that must be
so from your letter. How, I
wonder.”

“I could not say. I asked
them and, of course, they were
vague. Or perhaps it was just
that I could not understand.
It involves a projector for the
focussing of thought and,
even more than that, conscious
attention on the part
of both projector and receptor.
It was quite a while before
I realized they were trying to
think at me. Such thought-projectors
may be part of the
science they will give us.”

“Perhaps,” said the Industrialist.
“Yet think of the
changes it would bring to society.
A thought-projector!”

“Why not? Change would
be good for us.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It is only in old age that
change is unwelcome,” said
the Astronomer, “and races
can be old as well as individuals.”

The Industrialist pointed
out the window. “You see that
road. It was built Beforethewars.
I don’t know exactly
when. It is as good now as
the day it was built. We
couldn’t possibly duplicate it
now. The race was young
when that was built, eh?”

“Then? Yes! At least they
weren’t afraid of new things.”

“No. I wish they had been.
Where is the society of Beforethewars?
Destroyed, Doctor!
What good were youth
and new things? We are better
off now. The world is
peaceful and jogs along. The
race goes nowhere but after
all, there is nowhere to go.
They proved that. The men
who built the road. I will
speak with your visitors as I
agreed, if they come. But I
think I will only ask them to
go.”

“The race is not going nowhere,”
said the Astronomer,
earnestly. “It is going toward
final destruction. My university
has a smaller student
body each year. Fewer books
are written. Less work is
done. An old man sleeps in
the sun and his days are
peaceful and unchanging, but
each day finds him nearer
death all the same.”

“Well, well,” said the Industrialist.

“No, don’t dismiss it. Listen.
Before I wrote you, I
investigated your position in
the planetary economy.”

“And you found me solvent?”
interrupted the Industrialist,
smiling.

“Why, yes. Oh, I see, you
are joking. And yet—perhaps
the joke is not far off. You
are less solvent than your
father and he was less solvent
than his father. Perhaps your
son will no longer be solvent.
It becomes too troublesome
for the planet to support even
the industries that still exist,
though they are toothpicks
to the oak trees of Beforethewars.
We will be back to village
economy and then to
what? The caves?”

“And the infusion of fresh
technological knowledge will
be the changing of all that?”

“Not just the new knowledge.
Rather the whole effect
of change, of a broadening
of horizons. Look, sir, I chose
you to approach in this matter
not only because you were
rich and influential with government
officials, but because
you had an unusual
reputation, for these days, of
daring to break with tradition.
Our people will resist
change and you would know
how to handle them, how to
see to it that—that—”

“That the youth of the
race is revived?”

“Yes.”

“With its atomic bombs?”

“The atomic bombs,” returned
the Astronomer, “need
not be the end of civilization.
These visitors of mine had
their atomic bomb, or whatever
their equivalent was on
their own worlds, and survived
it, because they didn’t
give up. Don’t you see? It
wasn’t the bomb that defeated
us, but our own shell shock.
This may be the last chance
to reverse the process.”

“Tell me,” said the Industrialist,
“what do these
friends from space want in
return?”

The Astronomer hesitated.
He said, “I will be truthful
with you. They come from a
denser planet. Ours is richer
in the lighter atoms.”

“They want magnesium?
Aluminum?”

“No, sir. Carbon and hydrogen.
They want coal and oil.”

“Really?”

The Astronomer said,
quickly, “You are going to
ask why creatures who have
mastered space travel, and
therefore atomic power,
would want coal and oil. I
can’t answer that.”

The Industrialist smiled.
“But I can. This is the best
evidence yet of the truth of
your story. Superficially,
atomic power would seem to
preclude the use of coal and
oil. However, quite apart
from the energy gained by
their combustion they remain,
and always will remain, the
basic raw material for all organic
chemistry. Plastics,
dyes, pharmaceuticals, solvents.
Industry could not exist
without them, even in an
atomic age. Still, if coal and
oil are the low price for
which they would sell us the
troubles and tortures of racial
youth, my answer is that the
commodity would be dear if
offered gratis.”

The Astronomer sighed and
said, “There are the boys!”

They were visible through
the open window, standing
together in the grassy field
and lost in animated conversation.
The Industrialist’s son
pointed imperiously and the
Astronomer’s son nodded and
made off at a run toward the
house.

The Industrialist said,
“There is the Youth you speak
of. Our race has as much of
it as it ever had.”

“Yes, but we age them
quickly and pour them into
the mold.”

Slim scuttled into the room,
the door banging behind him.

The Astronomer said, in
mild disapproval, “What’s
this?”

Slim looked up in surprise
and came to a halt. “I beg
your pardon. I didn’t know
anyone was here. I am sorry
to have interrupted.” His
enunciation was almost painfully
precise.

The Industrialist said, “It’s
all right, youngster.”

But the Astronomer said,
“Even if you had been entering
an empty room, son, there
would be no cause for slamming
a door.”

“Nonsense,” insisted the
Industrialist. “The youngster
has done no harm. You simply
scold him for being young.
You, with your views!”

He said to Slim, “Come
here, lad.”

Slim advanced slowly.

“How do you like the country,
eh?”

“Very much, sir, thank
you.”

“My son has been showing
you about the place, has he?”

“Yes, sir. Red—I mean—”

“No, no. Call him Red. I
call him that myself. Now tell
me, what are you two up to,
eh?”

Slim looked away. “Why—just
exploring, sir.”

The Industrialist turned to
the Astronomer. “There you
are, youthful curiosity and
adventure-lust. The race has
not yet lost it.”

Slim said, “Sir?”

“Yes, lad.”

The youngster took a long
time in getting on with it. He
said, “Red sent me in for
something good to eat, but I
don’t exactly know what he
meant. I didn’t like to say so.”

“Why, just ask cook. She’ll
have something good for
young’uns to eat.”

“Oh, no, sir. I mean for
animals.”

“For animals?”

“Yes, sir. What do animals
eat?”

The Astronomer said, “I
am afraid my son is city-bred.”

“Well,” said the Industrialist,
“there’s no harm in that.
What kind of an animal, lad?”

“A small one, sir.”

“Then try grass or leaves,
and if they don’t want that,
nuts or berries would probably
do the trick.”

“Thank you, sir.” Slim ran
out again, closing the door
gently behind him.

The Astronomer said, “Do
you suppose they’ve trapped
an animal alive?” He was obviously
perturbed.

“That’s common enough.
There’s no shooting on my
estate and it’s tame country,
full of rodents and small creatures.
Red is always coming
home with pets of one sort or
another. They rarely maintain
his interest for long.”

He looked at the wall
clock. “Your friends should
have been here by now,
shouldn’t they?”

III

The swaying had come to
a halt and it was dark.
The Explorer was not comfortable
in the alien air. It felt
as thick as soup and he had
to breathe shallowly. Even
so—

He reached out in a sudden
need for company. The Merchant
was warm to the touch.
His breathing was rough, he
moved in an occasional spasm,
and was obviously asleep.
The Explorer hesitated and
decided not to wake him. It
would serve no real purpose.

There would be no rescue,
of course. That was the penalty
paid for the high profits
which unrestrained competition
could lead to. The Merchant
who opened a new
planet could have a ten year
monopoly of its trade, which
he might hug to himself or,
more likely, rent out to all
comers at a stiff price. It followed
that planets were
searched for in secrecy and,
preferably, away from the
usual trade routes. In a case
such as theirs, then, there was
little or no chance that another
ship would come within
range of their subetherics except
for the most improbable
of coincidences. Even if they
were in their ship, that is,
rather than in this—this—cage.

The Explorer grasped the
thick bars. Even if they blasted
those away, as they could,
they would be stuck too high
in open air for leaping.

It was too bad. They had
landed twice before in the
scout-ship. They had established
contact with the natives
who were grotesquely
huge, but mild and unaggressive.
It was obvious that they
had once owned a flourishing
technology, but hadn’t faced
up to the consequences of
such a technology. It would
have been a wonderful market.

And it was a tremendous
world. The Merchant, especially,
had been taken aback.
He had known the figures that
expressed the planet’s diameter,
but from a distance of
two light-seconds, he had
stood at the visi-plate and
muttered, “Unbelievable!”

“Oh, there are larger
worlds,” the Explorer said. It
wouldn’t do for an Explorer
to be too easily impressed.

“Inhabited?”

“Well, no.”

“Why, you could drop your
planet into that large ocean
and drown it.”

The Explorer smiled. It
was a gentle dig at his Arcturian
homeland, which was
smaller than most planets. He
said, “Not quite.”

The Merchant followed
along the line of his thoughts.
“And the inhabitants are
large in proportion to their
world?” He sounded as
though the news struck him
less favorably now.

“Nearly ten times our
height.”

“Are you sure they are
friendly?”

“That is hard to say.
Friendship between alien intelligences
is an imponderable.
They are not dangerous, I
think. We’ve come across
other groups that could not
maintain equilibrium after
the atomic war stage and you
know the results. Introversion.
Retreat. Gradual decadence
and increasing gentleness.”

“Even if they are such
monsters?”

“The principle remains.”

It was about then that the
Explorer felt the heavy throbbing
of the engines.

He frowned and said, “We
are descending a bit too
quickly.”

There had been some
speculation on the dangers of
landing some hours before.
The planetary target was a
huge one for an oxygen-water
world. Though it lacked the
size of the uninhabitable
hydrogen-ammonia planets
and its low density made its
surface gravity fairly normal,
its gravitational forces
fell off but slowly with distance.
In short, its gravitational
potential was high and
the ship’s Calculator was a
run-of-the-mill model not designed
to plot landing trajectories
at that potential range.
That meant the Pilot would
have to use manual controls.

It would have been wiser
to install a more high-powered
model, but that would
have meant a trip to some
outpost of civilization; lost
time; perhaps a lost secret.
The Merchant demanded an
immediate landing.

The Merchant felt it necessary
to defend his position
now. He said angrily to the
Explorer, “Don’t you think
the Pilot knows his job? He
landed you safely twice before.”

Yes, thought the Explorer,
in a scout-ship, not in this
unmaneuverable freighter.
Aloud, he said nothing.

He kept his eye on the visi-plate.
They were descending
too quickly. There was no
room for doubt. Much too
quickly.

The Merchant said, peevishly,
“Why do you keep silence?”

“Well, then, if you wish me
to speak, I would suggest that
you strap on your Floater and
help me prepare the Ejector.”

The Pilot fought a noble
fight. He was no beginner.
The atmosphere, abnormally
high and thick in the gravitational
potential of this world
whipped and burned about the
ship, but to the very last it
looked as though he might
bring it under control despite
that.

He even maintained course,
following the extrapolated
line to the point on the northern
continent toward which
they were headed. Under
other circumstances, with a
shade more luck, the story
would eventually have been
told and retold as a heroic and
masterly reversal of a lost
situation. But within sight of
victory, tired body and tired
nerves clamped a control bar
with a shade too much pressure.
The ship, which had almost
levelled off, dipped down
again.

There was no room to retrieve
the final error. There
was only a mile left to fall.
The Pilot remained at his
post to the actual landing, his
only thought that of breaking
the force of the crash, of
maintaining the spaceworthiness
of the vessel. He did not
survive. With the ship bucking
madly in a soupy atmosphere,
few Ejectors could be
mobilized and only one of
them in time.

When afterwards, the Explorer
lifted out of unconsciousness
and rose to his feet,
he had the definite feeling
that but for himself and the
Merchant, there were no survivors.
And perhaps that was
an over-calculation. His Floater
had burnt out while still
sufficiently distant from surface
to have the fall stun him.
The Merchant might have had
less luck, even, than that.

He was surrounded by a
world of thick, ropy stalks of
grass, and in the distance
were trees that reminded him
vaguely of similar structures
on his native Arcturian world
except that their lowest
branches were high above
what he would consider normal
tree-tops.

He called, his voice sounding
basso in the thick air and
the Merchant answered. The
Explorer made his way toward
him, thrusting violently
at the coarse stalks that
barred his path.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

The Merchant grimaced.
“I’ve sprained something. It
hurts to walk.”

The Explorer probed gently.
“I don’t think anything is
broken. You’ll have to walk
despite the pain.”

“Can’t we rest first?”

“It’s important to try to
find the ship. If it is spaceworthy
or if it can be repaired,
we may live. Otherwise,
we won’t.”

“Just a few minutes. Let
me catch my breath.”

The Explorer was glad
enough for those few minutes.
The Merchant’s eyes
were already closed. He allowed
his to do the same.

He heard the trampling and
his eyes snapped open. Never
sleep on a strange planet, he
told himself futilely.

The Merchant was awake
too and his steady screaming
was a rumble of terror.

The Explorer called, “It’s
only a native of this planet.
It won’t harm you.”

But even as he spoke, the
giant had swooped down and
in a moment they were in its
grasp being lifted closer to
its monstrous ugliness.

The Merchant struggled
violently and, of course, quite
futilely. “Can’t you talk to
it?” he yelled.

The Explorer could only
shake his head. “I can’t reach
it with the Projector. It won’t
be listening.”

“Then blast it. Blast it
down.”

“We can’t do that.” The
phrase “you fool” had almost
been added. The Explorer
struggled to keep his self-control.
They were swallowing
space as the monster moved
purposefully away.

“Why not?” cried the Merchant.
“You can reach your
blaster. I see it in plain sight.
Don’t be afraid of falling.”

“It’s simpler than that. If
this monster is killed, you’ll
never trade with this planet.
You’ll never even leave it.
You probably won’t live the
day out.”

“Why? Why?”

“Because this is one of the
young of the species. You
should know what happens
when a trader kills a native
young, even accidentally.
What’s more, if this is the
target-point, then we are on
the estate of a powerful native.
This might be one of his
brood.”

That was how they entered
their present prison. They had
carefully burnt away a portion
of the thick, stiff covering
and it was obvious that
the height from which they
were suspended was a killing
one.

Now, once again, the prison-cage
shuddered and lifted
in an upward arc. The Merchant
rolled to the lower rim
and startled awake. The cover
lifted and light flooded in. As
was the case the time before,
there were two specimens of
the young. They were not
very different in appearance
from adults of the species, reflected
the Explorer, though,
of course, they were considerably
smaller.

A handful of reedy green
stalks was stuffed between
the bars. Its odor was not unpleasant
but it carried clods
of soil at its ends.

The Merchant drew away
and said, huskily, “What are
they doing?”

The Explorer said, “Trying
to feed us, I should judge. At
least this seems to be the native
equivalent of grass.”

The cover was replaced and
they were set swinging again,
alone with their fodder.

IV

Slim started at the sound
of footsteps and brightened
when it turned out to be
only Red.

He said, “No one’s around.
I had my eye peeled, you bet.”

Red said, “Ssh. Look. You
take this stuff and stick it in
the cage. I’ve got to scoot
back to the house.”

“What is it?” Slim reached
reluctantly.

“Ground meat. Holy
Smokes, haven’t you ever seen
ground meat? That’s what
you should’ve got when I sent
you to the house instead of
coming back with that stupid
grass.”

Slim was hurt. “How’d I
know they don’t eat grass. Besides,
ground meat doesn’t
come loose like that. It comes
in cellophane and it isn’t that
color.”

“Sure—in the city. Out
here we grind our own and
it’s always this color till it’s
cooked.”

“You mean it isn’t cooked?”
Slim drew away quickly.

Red looked disgusted. “Do
you think animals eat cooked
food. Come on, take it. It
won’t hurt you. I tell you
there isn’t much time.”

“Why? What’s doing back
at the house?”

“I don’t know. Dad and
your father are walking
around. I think maybe they’re
looking for me. Maybe the
cook told them I took the
meat. Anyway, we don’t want
them coming here after me.”

“Didn’t you ask the cook
before you took this stuff?”

“Who? That crab? Shouldn’t
wonder if she only let me
have a drink of water because
Dad makes her. Come on.
Take it.”

Slim took the large glob of
meat though his skin crawled
at the touch. He turned toward
the barn and Red sped
away in the direction from
which he had come.

He slowed when he approached
the two adults, took
a few deep breaths to bring
himself back to normal, and
then carefully and nonchalantly
sauntered past. (They
were walking in the general
direction of the barn, he noticed,
but not dead on.)

He said, “Hi, Dad. Hello,
sir.”

The Industrialist said,
“Just a moment, Red. I have
a question to ask you?”

Red turned a carefully
blank face to his father. “Yes,
Dad?”

“Mother tells me you were
out early this morning.”

“Not real early, Dad. Just
a little before breakfast.”

“She said you told her it
was because you had been
awakened during the night
and didn’t go back to sleep.”

Red waited before answering.
Should he have told Mom
that?

Then he said, “Yes, sir.”

“What was it that awakened
you?”

Red saw no harm in it. He
said, “I don’t know, Dad. It
sounded like thunder, sort of,
and like a collision, sort of.”

“Could you tell where it
came from?”

“It sounded like it was out
by the hill.” That was truthful,
and useful as well, since
the direction was almost opposite
that in which the barn
lay.

The Industrialist looked at
his guest. “I suppose it would
do no harm to walk toward
the hill.”

The Astronomer said, “I am
ready.”

Red watched them walk
away and when he turned he
saw Slim peering cautiously
out from among the briars of
a hedge.

Red waved at him. “Come
on.”

Slim stepped out and approached.
“Did they say anything
about the meat?”

“No. I guess they don’t
know about that. They went
down to the hill.”

“What for?”

“Search me. They kept asking
about the noise I heard.
Listen, did the animals eat the
meat?”

“Well,” said Slim, cautiously,
“they were sort of looking
at it and smelling it or something.”

“Okay,” Red said, “I guess
they’ll eat it. Holy Smokes,
they’ve got to eat something.
Let’s walk along toward the
hill and see what Dad and
your father are going to do.”

“What about the animals?”

“They’ll be all right. A fellow
can’t spend all his time
on them. Did you give them
water?”

“Sure. They drank that.”

“See. Come on. We’ll look
at them after lunch. I tell you
what. We’ll bring them fruit.
Anything’ll eat fruit.”

Together they trotted up
the rise, Red, as usual, in the
lead.

V

The Astronomer said, “You
think the noise was their
ship landing?”

“Don’t you think it could
be?”

“If it were, they may all
be dead.”

“Perhaps not.” The Industrialist
frowned.

“If they have landed, and
are still alive, where are
they?”

“Think about that for a
while.” He was still frowning.

The Astronomer said, “I
don’t understand you.”

“They may not be friendly.”

“Oh, no. I’ve spoken with
them. They’ve—”

“You’ve spoken with them.
Call that reconnaissance.
What would their next step
be? Invasion?”

“But they only have one
ship, sir.”

“You know that only because
they say so. They might
have a fleet.”

“I’ve told you about their
size. They—”

“Their size would not matter,
if they have handweapons
that may well be superior to
our artillery.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“I had this partly in mind
from the first.” The Industrialist
went on. “It is for
that reason I agreed to see
them after I received your
letter. Not to agree to an unsettling
and impossible trade,
but to judge their real purposes.
I did not count on their
evading the meeting.”

He sighed. “I suppose it
isn’t our fault. You are right
in one thing, at any rate. The
world has been at peace too
long. We are losing a healthy
sense of suspicion.”

The Astronomer’s mild
voice rose to an unusual pitch
and he said, “I will speak. I
tell you that there is no reason
to suppose they can possibly
be hostile. They are small,
yes, but that is only important
because it is a reflection of the
fact that their native worlds
are small. Our world has what
is for them a normal gravity,
but because of our much
higher gravitational potential,
our atmosphere is too
dense to support them comfortably
over sustained periods.
For a similar reason the
use of the world as a base for
interstellar travel, except for
trade in certain items, is uneconomical.
And there are
important differences in
chemistry of life due to the
basic differences in soils.
They couldn’t eat our food or
we theirs.”

“Surely all this can be
overcome. They can bring
their own food, build domed
stations of lowered air pressure,
devise specially designed
ships.”

“They can. And how glibly
you can describe feats that
are easy to a race in its youth.
It is simply that they don’t
have to do any of that. There
are millions of worlds suitable
for them in the Galaxy. They
don’t need this one which
isn’t.”

“How do you know? All this
is their information again.”

“This I was able to check
independently. I am an astronomer,
after all.”

“That is true. Let me hear
what you have to say then,
while we walk.”

“Then, sir, consider that
for a long time our astronomers
have believed that two
general classes of planetary
bodies existed. First, the
planets which formed at distances
far enough from their
stellar nucleus to become cool
enough to capture hydrogen.
These would be large planets
rich in hydrogen, ammonia
and methane. We have examples
of these in the giant
outer planets. The second
class would include those
planets formed so near the
stellar center that the high
temperature would make it
impossible to capture much
hydrogen. These would be
smaller planets, comparatively
poorer in hydrogen and
richer in oxygen. We know
that type very well since we
live on one. Ours is the only
solar system we know in detail,
however, and it has been
reasonable for us to assume
that these were the only two
planetary classes.”

“I take it then that there is
another.”

“Yes. There is a super-dense
class, still smaller,
poorer in hydrogen, than the
inner planets of the solar system.
The ratio of occurrence
of hydrogen-ammonia planets
and these super-dense water-oxygen
worlds of theirs over
the entire Galaxy—and remember
that they have actually
conducted a survey of
significant sample volumes of
the Galaxy which we, without
interstellar travel, cannot
do—is about 3 to 1. This
leaves them seven million super-dense
worlds for exploration
and colonization.”

The Industrialist looked at
the blue sky and the green-covered
trees among which
they were making their way.
He said, “And worlds like
ours?”

The Astronomer said, softly,
“Ours is the first solar system
they have found which
contains them. Apparently the
development of our solar system
was unique and did not
follow the ordinary rules.”

The Industrialist considered
that. “What it amounts
to is that these creatures from
space are asteroid-dwellers.”

“No, no. The asteroids are
something else again. They
occur, I was told, in one out
of eight stellar systems, but
they’re completely different
from what we’ve been discussing.”

“And how does your being
an astronomer change the fact
that you are still only quoting
their unsupported statements?”

“But they did not restrict
themselves to bald items of
information. They presented
me with a theory of stellar
evolution which I had to accept
and which is more nearly
valid than anything our own
astronomy has ever been able
to devise, if we except possible
lost theories dating from
Beforethewars. Mind you,
their theory had a rigidly
mathematical development
and it predicted just such a
Galaxy as they describe. So
you see, they have all the
worlds they wish. They are
not land-hungry. Certainly
not for our land.”

“Reason would say so, if
what you say is true. But
creatures may be intelligent
and not reasonable. Our forefathers
were presumably intelligent,
yet they were certainly
not reasonable. Was it
reasonable to destroy almost
all their tremendous civilization
in atomic warfare over
causes our historians can no
longer accurately determine?”
The Industrialist brooded
over it. “From the dropping
of the first atom bomb over
those islands—I forget the
ancient name—there was only
one end in sight, and in plain
sight. Yet events were allowed
to proceed to that end.”

He looked up, said briskly,
“Well, where are we? I wonder
if we are not on a fool’s
errand after all.”

But the Astronomer was a
little in advance and his voice
came thickly. “No fool’s errand,
sir. Look there.”

VI

Red and Slim had trailed
their elders with the experience
of youth, aided by
the absorption and anxiety of
their fathers. Their view of
the final object of the search
was somewhat obscured by
the underbrush behind which
they remained.

Red said, “Holy Smokes.
Look at that. It’s all shiny
silver or something.”

But it was Slim who was
really excited. He caught at
the other. “I know what this
is. It’s a space-ship. That
must be why my father came
here. He’s one of the biggest
astronomers in the world and
your father would have to call
him if a space-ship landed on
his estate.”

“What are you talking
about? Dad didn’t even know
that thing was there. He only
came here because I told him
I heard the thunder from
here. Besides, there isn’t any
such thing as a space-ship.”

“Sure, there is. Look at it.
See those round things. They
are ports. And you can see the
rocket tubes.”

“How do you know so
much?”

Slim was flushed. He said,
“I read about them. My father
has books about them. Old
books. From Beforethewars.”

“Huh. Now I know you’re
making it up. Books from Beforethewars!”

“My father has to have
them. He teaches at the University.
It’s his job.”

His voice had risen and
Red had to pull at him. “You
want them to hear us?” he
whispered indignantly.

“Well, it is, too, a space-ship.”

“Look here, Slim, you mean
that’s a ship from another
world.”

“It’s got to be. Look at my
father going round and round
it. He wouldn’t be so interested
if it was anything else.”

“Other worlds! Where are
there other worlds?”

“Everywhere. How about
the planets? They’re worlds
just like ours, some of them.
And other stars probably have
planets. There’s probably zillions
of planets.”

Red felt outweighed and
outnumbered. He muttered,
“You’re crazy!”

“All right, then. I’ll show
you.”

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Down there. I’m going to
ask my father. I suppose
you’ll believe it if he tells you.
I suppose you’ll believe a Professor
of Astronomy knows
what—”

He had scrambled upright.

Red said, “Hey. You don’t
want them to see us. We’re
not supposed to be here. Do
you want them to start asking
questions and find out about
our animals?”

“I don’t care. You said I
was crazy.”

“Snitcher! You promised
you wouldn’t tell.”

“I’m not going to tell. But
if they find out themselves,
it’s your fault, for starting an
argument and saying I was
crazy.”

“I take it back, then,”
grumbled Red.

“Well, all right. You better.”

In a way, Slim was disappointed.
He wanted to see the
space-ship at closer quarters.
Still, he could not break his
vow of secrecy even in spirit
without at least the excuse of
personal insult.

Red said, “It’s awfully
small for a space-ship.”

“Sure, because it’s probably
a scout-ship.”

“I’ll bet Dad couldn’t even
get into the old thing.”

So much Slim realized to
be true. It was a weak point
in his argument and he made
no answer. His interest was
absorbed by the adults.

Red rose to his feet; an
elaborate attitude of boredom
all about him. “Well, I guess
we better be going. There’s
business to do and I can’t
spend all day here looking at
some old space-ship or whatever
it is. We’ve got to take
care of the animals if we’re
going to be circus-folks.
That’s the first rule with circus-folks.
They’ve got to take
care of the animals. And,”
he finished virtuously, “that’s
what I aim to do, anyway.”

Slim said, “What for, Red?
They’ve got plenty of meat.
Let’s watch.”

“There’s no fun in watching.
Besides Dad and your
father are going away and I
guess it’s about lunch time.”

Red became argumentative.
“Look, Slim, we can’t start
acting suspicious or they’re
going to start investigating.
Holy Smokes, don’t you ever
read any detective stories?
When you’re trying to work
a big deal without being
caught, it’s practically the
main thing to keep on acting
just like always. Then they
don’t suspect anything. That’s
the first law—”

“Oh, all right.”

Slim rose resentfully. At
the moment, the circus appeared
to him a rather tawdry
and shoddy substitute for the
glories of astronomy, and he
wondered how he had come
to fall in with Red’s silly
scheme.

Down the slope they went,
Slim, as usual, in the rear.

VII

The Industrialist said, “It’s
the workmanship that
gets me. I never saw such construction.”

“What good is it now?” said
the Astronomer, bitterly.
“There’s nothing left. There’ll
be no second landing. This
ship detected life on our
planet through accident.
Other exploring parties would
come no closer than necessary
to establish the fact that there
were no super-dense worlds
existing in our solar system.”

“Well, there’s no quarreling
with a crash landing.”

“The ship hardly seems
damaged. If only some had
survived, the ship might have
been repaired.”

“If they had survived, there
would be no trade in any case.
They’re too different. Too disturbing.
In any case—it’s
over.”

They entered the house and
the Industrialist greeted his
wife calmly. “Lunch about
ready, dear.”

“I’m afraid not. You
see—” She looked hesitantly
at the Astronomer.

“Is anything wrong?”
asked the Industrialist. “Why
not tell me? I’m sure our
guest won’t mind a little
family discussion.”

“Pray don’t pay any attention
whatever to me,” muttered
the Astronomer. He
moved miserably to the other
end of the living room.

The woman said, in low,
hurried tones, “Really, dear,
cook’s that upset. I’ve been
soothing her for hours and
honestly, I don’t know why
Red should have done it.”

“Done what?” The Industrialist
was more amused than
otherwise. It had taken the
united efforts of himself and
his son months to argue his
wife into using the name
“Red” rather than the perfectly
ridiculous (viewed
youngster fashion) name
which was his real one.

She said, “He’s taken most
of the chopped meat.”

“He’s eaten it?”

“Well, I hope not. It was
raw.”

“Then what would he want
it for?”

“I haven’t the slightest
idea. I haven’t seen him since
breakfast. Meanwhile cook’s
just furious. She caught him
vanishing out the kitchen
door and there was the bowl
of chopped meat just about
empty and she was going to
use it for lunch. Well, you
know cook. She had to change
the lunch menu and that
means she won’t be worth living
with for a week. You’ll
just have to speak to Red,
dear, and make him promise
not to do things in the
kitchen any more. And it
wouldn’t hurt to have him
apologize to cook.”

“Oh, come. She works for
us. If we don’t complain about
a change in lunch menu, why
should she?”

“Because she’s the one who
has double-work made for
her, and she’s talking about
quitting. Good cooks aren’t
easy to get. Do you remember
the one before her?”

It was a strong argument.

The Industrialist looked
about vaguely. He said, “I
suppose you’re right. He isn’t
here, I suppose. When he
comes in, I’ll talk to him.”

“You’d better start. Here
he comes.”

Red walked into the house
and said cheerfully, “Time
for lunch, I guess.” He looked
from one parent to the other
in quick speculation at their
fixed stares and said, “Got to
clean up first, though,” and
made for the other door.

The Industrialist said,
“One moment, son.”

“Sir?”

“Where’s your little
friend?”

Red said, carelessly, “He’s
around somewhere. We were
just sort of walking and I
looked around and he wasn’t
there.” This was perfectly
true, and Red felt on safe
ground. “I told him it was
lunch time. I said, ‘I suppose
it’s about lunch time.’ I said,
‘We got to be getting back
to the house.’ And he said,
‘Yes.’ And I just went on and
then when I was about at the
creek I looked around and—”

The Astronomer interrupted
the voluble story, looking
up from a magazine he had
been sightlessly rummaging
through. “I wouldn’t worry
about my youngster. He is
quite self-reliant. Don’t wait
lunch for him.”

“Lunch isn’t ready in any
case, Doctor.” The Industrialist
turned once more to his
son. “And talking about that,
son, the reason for it is that
something happened to the ingredients.
Do you have anything
to say?”

“Sir?”

“I hate to feel that I have
to explain myself more fully.
Why did you take the chopped
meat?”

“The chopped meat?”

“The chopped meat.” He
waited patiently.

Red said, “Well, I was sort
of—”

“Hungry?” prompted his
father. “For raw meat?”

“No, sir. I just sort of
needed it.”

“For what exactly?”

Red looked miserable and
remained silent.

The Astronomer broke in
again. “If you don’t mind my
putting in a few words—You’ll
remember that just
after breakfast my son came
in to ask what animals ate.”

“Oh, you’re right. How stupid
of me to forget. Look here,
Red, did you take it for an
animal pet you’ve got?”

Red recovered indignant
breath. He said, “You mean
Slim came in here and said I
had an animal? He came in
here and said that? He said
I had an animal?”

“No, he didn’t. He simply
asked what animals ate.
That’s all. Now if he promised
he wouldn’t tell on you,
he didn’t. It’s your own foolishness
in trying to take something
without permission that
gave you away. That happened
to be stealing. Now
have you an animal? I ask
you a direct question.”

“Yes, sir.” It was a whisper
so low as hardly to be
heard.

“All right, you’ll have to
get rid of it. Do you understand?”

Red’s mother intervened.
“Do you mean to say you’re
keeping a meat-eating animal,
Red? It might bite you
and give you blood-poison.”

“They’re only small ones,”
quavered Red. “They hardly
budge if you touch them.”

“They? How many do you
have?”

“Two.”

“Where are they?”

The Industrialist touched
her arm. “Don’t chivvy the
child any further,” he said,
in a low voice. “If he says
he’ll get rid of them, he
will, and that’s punishment
enough.”

He dismissed the matter
from his mind.

VIII

Lunch was half over
when Slim dashed into
the dining room. For a moment,
he stood abashed, and
then he said in what was almost
hysteria, “I’ve got to
speak to Red. I’ve got to say
something.”

Red looked up in fright, but
the Astronomer said, “I don’t
think, son, you’re being very
polite. You’ve kept lunch
waiting.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Oh, don’t rate the lad,”
said the Industrialist’s wife.
“He can speak to Red if he
wants to, and there was no
damage done to the lunch.”

“I’ve got to speak to Red
alone,” Slim insisted.

“Now that’s enough,” said
the Astronomer with a kind
of gentleness that was obviously
manufactured for the
benefit of strangers and which
had beneath it an easily-recognized
edge. “Take your
seat.”

Slim did so, but he ate only
when someone looked directly
upon him. Even then he
was not very successful.

Red caught his eyes. He
made soundless words, “Did
the animals get loose?”

Slim shook his head slightly.
He whispered, “No, it’s—”

The Astronomer looked at
him hard and Slim faltered
to a stop.

With lunch over, Red
slipped out of the room, with
a microscopic motion at Slim
to follow.

They walked in silence to
the creek.

Then Red turned fiercely
upon his companion. “Look
here, what’s the idea of telling
my Dad we were feeding
animals?”

Slim said, “I didn’t. I
asked what you feed animals.
That’s not the same as saying
we were doing it. Besides, it’s
something else, Red.”

But Red had not used up
his grievances. “And where
did you go anyway? I thought
you were coming to the house.
They acted like it was my
fault you weren’t there.”

“But I’m trying to tell you
about that, if you’d only shut
up a second and let me talk.
You don’t give a fellow a
chance.”

“Well, go on and tell me if
you’ve got so much to say.”

“I’m trying to. I went back
to the space-ship. The folks
weren’t there anymore and I
wanted to see what it was
like.”

“It isn’t a space-ship,” said
Red, sullenly. He had nothing
to lose.

“It is, too. I looked inside.
You could look through the
ports and I looked inside and
they were dead.” He looked
sick. “They were dead.”

“Who were dead.”

Slim screeched, “Animals!
like our animals! Only they
aren’t animals. They’re people-things
from other planets.”

For a moment Red might
have been turned to stone. It
didn’t occur to him to disbelieve
Slim at this point. Slim
looked too genuinely the
bearer of just such tidings.
He said, finally, “Oh, my.”

“Well, what are we going
to do? Golly, will we get a
whopping if they find out?”
He was shivering.

“We better turn them
loose,” said Red.

“They’ll tell on us.”

“They can’t talk our language.
Not if they’re from
another planet.”

“Yes, they can. Because I
remember my father talking
about some stuff like that to
my mother when he didn’t
know I was in the room. He
was talking about visitors
who could talk with the mind.
Telepathery or something. I
thought he was making it up.”

“Well, Holy Smokes. I
mean—Holy Smokes.” Red
looked up. “I tell you. My Dad
said to get rid of them. Let’s
sort of bury them somewhere
or throw them in the creek.”

“He told you to do that.”

“He made me say I had
animals and then he said,
‘Get rid of them.’ I got to do
what he says. Holy Smokes,
he’s my Dad.”

Some of the panic left
Slim’s heart. It was a thoroughly
legalistic way out.
“Well, let’s do it right now,
then, before they find out. Oh,
golly, if they find out, will
we be in trouble!”

They broke into a run toward
the barn, unspeakable
visions in their minds.

IX

It was different, looking
at them as though they
were “people.” As animals,
they had been interesting; as
“people,” horrible. Their eyes,
which were neutral little objects
before, now seemed to
watch them with active
malevolence.

“They’re making noises,”
said Slim, in a whisper which
was barely audible.

“I guess they’re talking or
something,” said Red. Funny
that those noises which they
had heard before had not had
significance earlier. He was
making no move toward them.
Neither was Slim.

The canvas was off but
they were just watching. The
ground meat, Slim noticed,
hadn’t been touched.

Slim said, “Aren’t you going
to do something?”

“Aren’t you?”

“You found them.”

“It’s your turn, now.”

“No, it isn’t. You found
them. It’s your fault, the
whole thing. I was watching.”

“You joined in, Slim. You
know you did.”

“I don’t care. You found
them and that’s what I’ll say
when they come here looking
for us.”

Red said, “All right for
you.” But the thought of the
consequences inspired him
anyway, and he reached for
the cage door.

Slim said, “Wait!”

Red was glad to. He said,
“Now what’s biting you?”

“One of them’s got something
on him that looks like
it might be iron or something.”

“Where?”

“Right there. I saw it before
but I thought it was just
part of him. But if he’s ‘people,’
maybe it’s a disintegrator gun.”

“What’s that?”

“I read about it in the
books from Beforethewars.
Mostly people with space-ships
have disintegrator guns.
They point them at you and
you get disintegratored.”

“They didn’t point it at us
till now,” pointed out Red
with his heart not quite in it.

“I don’t care. I’m not hanging
around here and getting
disintegratored. I’m getting
my father.”

“Cowardy-cat. Yellow cowardy-cat.”

“I don’t care. You can call
all the names you want, but
if you bother them now you’ll
get disintegratored. You wait
and see, and it’ll be all your
fault.”

He made for the narrow
spiral stairs that led to the
main floor of the barn, stopped
at its head, then backed
away.

Red’s mother was moving
up, panting a little with the
exertion and smiling a tight
smile for the benefit of Slim
in his capacity as guest.

“Red! You, Red! Are you
up there? Now don’t try to
hide. I know this is where
you’re keeping them. Cook
saw where you ran with the
meat.”

Red quavered, “Hello, ma!”

“Now show me those nasty
animals? I’m going to see to
it that you get rid of them
right away.”

It was over! And despite
the imminent corporal punishment,
Red felt something
like a load fall from him. At
least the decision was out of
his hands.

“Right there, ma. I didn’t
do anything to them, ma. I
didn’t know. They just looked
like little animals and I
thought you’d let me keep
them, ma. I wouldn’t have
taken the meat only they
wouldn’t eat grass or leaves
and we couldn’t find good nuts
or berries and cook never lets
me have anything or I would
have asked her and I didn’t
know it was for lunch and—”

He was speaking on the
sheer momentum of terror
and did not realize that his
mother did not hear him but,
with eyes frozen and popping
at the cage, was screaming
in thin, piercing tones.

X

The Astronomer was saying,
“A quiet burial is all
we can do. There is no point
in any publicity now,” when
they heard the screams.

She had not entirely recovered
by the time she reached
them, running and running.
It was minutes before her
husband could extract sense
from her.

She was saying, finally, “I
tell you they’re in the barn. I
don’t know what they are.
No, no—”

She barred the Industrialist’s
quick movement in that
direction. She said, “Don’t
you go. Send one of the hands
with a shotgun. I tell you I
never saw anything like it.
Little horrible beasts with—with—I
can’t describe it. To
think that Red was touching
them and trying to feed
them. He was holding them,
and feeding them meat.”

Red began, “I only—”

And Slim said, “It was
not—”

The Industrialist said,
quickly, “Now you boys have
done enough harm today.
March! Into the house! And
not a word; not one word!
I’m not interested in anything
you have to say. After this is
all over, I’ll hear you out and
as for you, Red, I’ll see that
you’re properly punished.”

He turned to his wife.
“Now whatever the animals
are, we’ll have them killed.”
He added quietly once the
youngsters were out of hearing,
“Come, come. The children
aren’t hurt and, after
all, they haven’t done anything
really terrible. They’ve
just found a new pet.”

The Astronomer spoke with
difficulty. “Pardon me, ma’am,
but can you describe these
animals?”

She shook her head. She
was quite beyond words.

“Can you just tell me if
they—”

“I’m sorry,” said the
Industrialist, apologetically,
“but I think I had better take
care of her. Will you excuse
me?”

“A moment. Please. One
moment. She said she had
never seen such animals before.
Surely it is not usual to
find animals that are completely
unique on an estate
such as this.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s not discuss
that now.”

“Except that unique animals
might have landed during
the night.”

The Industrialist stepped
away from his wife. “What
are you implying?”

“I think we had better go
to the barn, sir!”

The Industrialist stared a
moment, turned and suddenly
and quite uncharacteristically
began running. The Astronomer
followed and the woman’s
wail rose unheeded behind
them.

XI

The Industrialist stared,
looked at the Astronomer,
turned to stare again.

“Those?”

“Those,” said the Astronomer.
“I have no doubt we appear
strange and repulsive to
them.”

“What do they say?”

“Why, that they are uncomfortable
and tired and
even a little sick, but that
they are not seriously damaged,
and that the youngsters
treated them well.”

“Treated them well! Scooping
them up, keeping them in
a cage, giving them grass and
raw meat to eat? Tell me how
to speak to them.”

“It may take a little time.
Think at them. Try to listen.
It will come to you, but perhaps
not right away.”

The Industrialist tried. He
grimaced with the effort of
it, thinking over and over
again, “The youngsters were
ignorant of your identity.”

And the thought was suddenly
in his mind: “We were
quite aware of it and because
we knew they meant well by
us according to their own
view of the matter, we did
not attempt to attack them.”

“Attack them?” thought
the Industrialist, and said it
aloud in his concentration.

“Why, yes,” came the answering
thought. “We are
armed.”

One of the revolting little
creatures in the cage lifted a
metal object and there was a
sudden hole in the top of the
cage and another in the roof
of the barn, each hole rimmed
with charred wood.

“We hope,” the creatures
thought, “it will not be too
difficult to make repairs.”

The Industrialist found it
impossible to organize himself
to the point of directed
thought. He turned to the
Astronomer. “And with that
weapon in their possession
they let themselves be handled
and caged? I don’t understand
it.”

But the calm thought came,
“We would not harm the
young of an intelligent species.”

XII

It was twilight. The Industrialist
had entirely
missed the evening meal and
remained unaware of the
fact.

He said, “Do you really
think the ship will fly?”

“If they say so,” said the
Astronomer, “I’m sure it will.
They’ll be back, I hope, before
too long.”

“And when they do,” said
the Industrialist, energetically,
“I will keep my part of
the agreement. What is more
I will move sky and earth to
have the world accept them.
I was entirely wrong, Doctor.
Creatures that would refuse
to harm children, under
such provocation as they received,
are admirable. But
you know—I almost hate to
say this—”

“Say what?”

“The kids. Yours and mine.
I’m almost proud of them.
Imagine seizing these creatures,
feeding them or trying
to, and keeping them hidden.
The amazing gall of it. Red
told me it was his idea to get
a job in a circus on the
strength of them. Imagine!”

The Astronomer said,
“Youth!”

XIII

The Merchant said, “Will
we be taking off soon?”

“Half an hour,” said the
Explorer.

It was going to be a lonely
trip back. All the remaining
seventeen of the crew were
dead and their ashes were to
be left on a strange planet.
Back they would go with a
limping ship and the burden
of the controls entirely on
himself.

The Merchant said, “It was
a good business stroke, not
harming the young ones. We
will get very good terms; very
good terms.”

The Explorer thought:
Business!

The Merchant then said,
“They’ve lined up to see us
off. All of them. You don’t
think they’re too close, do
you? It would be bad to burn
any of them with the rocket
blast at this stage of the
game.”

“They’re safe.”

“Horrible-looking things,
aren’t they?”

“Pleasant enough, inside.
Their thoughts are perfectly
friendly.”

“You wouldn’t believe it of
them. That immature one, the
one that first picked us up—”

“They call him Red,” provided
the Explorer.

“That’s a queer name for
a monster. Makes me laugh.
He actually feels bad that
we’re leaving. Only I can’t
make out exactly why. The
nearest I can come to it is
something about a lost opportunity
with some organization
or other that I can’t quite interpret.”

“A circus,” said the Explorer,
briefly.

“What? Why, the impertinent
monstrosity.”

“Why not? What would you
have done if you had found
him wandering on your native
world; found him sleeping on
a field on Earth, red tentacles,
six legs, pseudopods and all?”

XIV

Red watched the ship
leave. His red tentacles,
which gave him his nickname,
quivered their regret
at lost opportunity to the very
last, and the eyes at their tips
filled with drifting yellowish
crystals that were the equivalent
of Earthly tears.

Transcriber’s Note:

This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction May 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.