In the Beginning (3 page)

“By the way,” the Quangen said. “There’s one little feature of the furniture here that must be bothering you. We more experienced hands know how to circumvent it.” He extended his tail under the seat of the pneumochair, explored the insides of the chair for a moment, and then pulled his tail out quickly. An abortive “Hello, welcome to—” started out of the chair and died.

“Sit down,” the Quangen said. Kalainnen did, The chair was silent.

“Thank you,” Kalainnen said. “The chair was bothering me.”

“It won’t any longer,” said the Quangen. “I’m Hork Frandel, by the way.”

“My name’s Kalainnen,” Kalainnen said. He stared glumly out the window. “What’s that box over there?” he said.

“The video,” Frandel explained. “Put a quarter in the slot and it plays. It’s entertaining, but it’s one aspect of Terran technology I’d just as soon not bring back to Quange. You may like it, of course.”

“I don’t have any coins,” Kalainnen said. “All I have is Galactic Traveler’s Checks.”

“Allow me,” said the Quangen. He reached into his upper hip pocket with his tail and withdrew a small coin, which he inserted in the appropriate slot. The video flickered and came to life.

“The big news of the day!” said a deep, robust voice, and the screen showed a fleeing multitude, “All New York is in terror today. For the first time in over a century, a dangerous alien beast has escaped from New York’s famed Zoological Gardens and is roaming the city.” The camera showed a deserted cage.

The scene cut to a very scientific-looking office and the camera focused on a dapper man with extravagant mustaches. “I’m Carlson,” he said, “head of the zoo. We’re unable to account for the escape. The animal lived here peacefully for centuries. It’s something like an ape, something like a tiger. Eats anything. Completely indestructible, perhaps immortal, hitherto quite docile though frightening-looking. Skin like stone, but flexible. Origin is somewhere on one of the smaller outworlds; unfortunately our records have been misfiled and we’re not sure exactly where the animal comes from. My guess is Rigel II, possibly Alpheraz VI.” He smiled, doing impossible things with his mustaches, and radiating an aura of complete confidence.

“We’re taking all possible steps for the beast’s recapture; meantime DO NOT PANIC, but avoid unnecessary going out.”

Kalainnen looked at the Quangen, who looked back balefully.

“Things like this happen all the time?” Kalainnen asked.

“Not too often,” Frandel said. He looked boredly at the screen, which was showing shots of some incomprehensible sporting event, apparently having lost interest in the escaped animal. He glanced at his watch—Kalainnen noted how incongrous the Terran-type watch seemed against the Quangen’s scaly skin—and got up.

“I’ve got to be moving on,” he said. “But maybe I’ll see you at the Colonial Ministry tomorrow, if it’s safe to go out. I’ve got an appointment to ask for an appointment.” The Quangen grinned, waved his tail in salute, and left.

***

Kalainnen watched the video until the time Frandel had bought for him expired. The camera had gone to another office, the mayor’s, and he was discussing the situation. The plans being concocted for capture of the beast were growing more and more elaborate as the minutes went on; the animal had taken up headquarters in an office building (hastily evacuated) and Terran police had established a cordon around the building, with heavy artillery trained on the entrance waiting for the animal to appear. Kalainnen wondered what the point of using artillery on an indestructible beast was, but the mayor did not dwell on the point.

Suggestions offered by various authorities over the video included flooding the building with radiation, building a steel wall around the edifice, and bombing the whole area. Erecting the wall seemed the only solution of any value, but there was always the consideration that the hungry animal might appear before the wall was finished, causing all sorts of difficulties. Kalainnen had no coins, and so he climbed into the too-soft bed and, after a while, fell asleep, pondering the state of affairs.

The next morning he went down to the Colonial Ministry. Since the animal was, at least in theory, under control, people were going about business as usual, but they were moving quickly and cautiously through the streets as if they expected to be devoured at any instant.

It was not difficult to find the Ministry—it was one of the biggest of a great many immense buildings. But it was crowded. There were colonists of all shapes and sizes pleading their various cases. Lines of outworlders extended in all directions—humans, humanoids, and grotesque total-aliens wearing protective devices of great complexity. Besides those on line, many more milled around aimlessly, apparently too confused and too deafened by the enormous hubbub to do anything else. Kalainnen could see now why the Quangen had got no farther than a First Assistant Undersecretary in two years.

“Where is this line heading?” he asked a tall purple beanpole, probably hailing from an inner world of Arcturus.

“I don’t know,” the beanpole said. “But it seems to be a short one.”

A cucumber-like alien from a planet Kalainnen didn’t know turned around and said, “Just got here? Try that line over there.” Kalainnen followed where the stubby tentacle pointed, and joined the other line, which seemed to stretch off endlessly. The new line seemed to be composed almost exclusively of humans and humanoids; occasionally a small dog-like being ran up and down the line, laughing wildly. In two hours the line moved seven feet. By late afternoon the line had unaccountably moved back until it was almost four feet behind where Kalainnen had joined it. Sensing there was no point in waiting any longer, since he still had not been able to find out what line he was on (not that it seemed to matter) and he had not been able to get anywhere in particular, he left, completely discouraged.

The Quangen, he knew, was a slick, shrewd operator—it was a characteristic of the race—and yet even he had failed to reach any appreciable proximity to the Colonial Minister. What chance, then, did he, Kalainnen, a visiting yokel from a backwater planet, have?

It didn’t look as if Trask were going to get the technological assistance it needed, he thought—not if every day were like this one. In a way it wasn’t so bad—Trask seemed to get along all right on tools five centuries out of date—but he would feel terribly unhappy about returning empty-handed. The whole planet had contributed to pay his passage, and he had been hailed as the savior of Trask. He had been a hero there; here he was just a stubby little man of no particular importance.

He walked all the way back to the hotel, feeling dismal. Everyone he passed seemed to be discussing the monster loose in the city, and he found himself wishing devoutly that the animal would eat them all, slowly.

***

“Get anywhere?” asked Frandel that evening.

Kalainnen shook his head.

“That’s too bad,” the Quangen said, soothingly. “It took me a month to get my petition received, though, so don’t worry too much. It’s just a matter of going there regularly, and getting there before everyone else.”

“What time does it open?” Kalainnen asked, too weary to look up.

“About 0800, I think. But you’ll have to get there about midnight the night before to make any headway. In fact, you’d be wise to start out right now and wait on line till it opens. You might be one of the first.”

“Leave now? Stand on line all night?”

“You don’t like the idea?” The Quangen grinned toothily. “Unfortunate. But you’re likely to disappoint all the folks back on Trask unless you do it. I didn’t enjoy it, either. Oh, by the way—I moved up a notch today. My application is now up to the Second Assistant Under-Secretary, and I might get to the First Associate in a couple of weeks. I should be bringing quite a load of valuable data back to Quange before long. In fact, there’s a very good chance that we’ll be leaving Trask far, far behind.” He curled his tail derisively.

That’s all we need, Kalainnen thought. He waved his hand feebly. “Congratulations. Fine. Leave me alone, will you?”

The Quangen bowed, grinned, and left.

Kalainnen stared at the video set for a long time after the reptile’s departure. The Quangen certainly was a slick operator. It might be ten years before Kalainnen got close to the Colonial Minister. Even for as slow-moving a planet as Trask, ten years was a long tine. They might think he was dead.

He played with the handful of coins he had accumulated during the day, and finally dropped one in the video. He stared glumly as the set came to life.

“New York remains paralyzed by the unknown alien monster in its midst,” a staccato voice said. “The animal is still somewhere in the building in the heart of the business district that it took over late yesterday, and a fearsome range of artillery is waiting for it to emerge.
Do not panic.
The situation is under study by our foremost experts on extraterrestrial life.

“And now, for the first time, we can show you what this monster looks like. Zoo officials have supplied a photograph of the animal.” The photograph appeared on the screen. Kalainnen reached to turn off the set, then stopped as the features of the beast behind the bars registered.

It was a bruug.

He sat back in his chair, startled. His first thought was one of incredulity. The whole city terrorized by a bruug? They were the most peaceful, the most—

Then he thought of calling the video station. They would be interested in learning the identity of the monster, the planet it came from, all the data that the zoo officials had misplaced or (more likely) forgotten.

Then he realized he was the ace in the hole.

At the rate he was going, he would never come to the Terrans’ notice, and, just as Trask was a forgotten backwater of the Galaxy, he would remain in this hotel, forgotten by Terra and, eventually, by Trask.

But there was one thing he could do. He was of vital importance to Terra, though they didn’t realize it. The bruug, the familiar red beast, was virtually a domestic animal on Trask; every Traskan could handle one like a pet. It was all a matter of understanding animals, and this the Traskans did superbly. No bomb would do any good—not on an animal with a hide like that. No; it was understanding. A few gentle words from a Traskan and the animal would lie down placidly. Understanding.

And who understood the bruug? Kalainnen. His way seemed perfectly clear to him.

Of course, the bruug might not be red. It might be blue. The only way he could tell was by close examination. And if the bruug were blue—but he preferred not to think about that.

Anyway, it would be good to see something from home again.

***

The streets were deserted. No Terran cared to venture out into the night while the bruug was loose in the city, no matter how many guns were trained on it. The spectacle of an immense city completely terrorized by an animal of which he himself had no more fear than of a butterfly amused Kalainnen as he walked down to the building where they bruug was.

It was a long walk, but the city was intelligently planned and he had no trouble finding his way. He enjoyed the walk; the air was clean and fresh at night, almost like Trask, and there were no people in the streets to snicker at him.

Finally, in the distance, he glimpsed some big guns and a group of soldiers. He began to trot a little. When he reached the guns, the soldiers stopped him.

“What do you want?” said a very tall man in a very resplendent uniform. In the dim light Kalainnen saw that his hair was dyed a flaming bronze-red. “Are you crazy, walking right in here?”

“I’m from Trask,” Kalainnen said. “We know how to handle these animals. Let me through, please.” He started to walk on.

“Just a minute!” The big soldier grabbed him; Kalainnen twisted loose. Two other soldiers dove for him and caught him, and he found himself looking up at an even taller and more resplendent one.

“This guy says he’s from Flask, sir,” the first soldier said. “Says he knows how to handle the animal.”

“That’s right,” Kalainnen said. “They’re domestic animals on Trask.”

The officer looked at him—he was more than a foot taller than Kalainnen—and laughed. “Domestic animal, eh? Pet for the kiddies? Take him away—anywhere, just out of my sight.”

As the first soldier reached for Kalainnen, a mighty roar erupted from the office building. Kalainnen felt a thrill of familiarity; knowing there was a bruug in the vicinity—even a blue one—was a comforting feeling.

“All hands to battle stations!”
the officer roared. “Prepare to fire!”

The bruug roared again from somewhere inside the building. The soldiers dashed to the gun installations, and suddenly Kalainnen found himself standing alone and ignored. He looked briefly around and began to run as fast as he could for the entrance to the building, ignoring the outraged and amazed yells of the soldiers who watched him.

***

The building was unlighted and very big. Kalainnen wandered around in the dark for a moment or two, hoping the bruug would not appear before he had acclimated his vision to the darkness. From somewhere on an upper floor, he heard the deep-throated roar he knew so well. The poor beast was hungry.

Bruugs were docile animals. But the blue bruugs of Kandarth, the deserted island in South Trask, were hardly so. And they refused to be understood.

As he wandered through the darkened building, he began to wonder whether or not he was biting off more than he was going to get down his throat. If the bruug were blue, well, that was it. But even if it were the domesticated kind, it had, after all, been captured (or, more likely, given away by the Traskans) centuries before. Perhaps it had forgotten.

The roaring grew louder. Kalainnen mounted the stairs.

It was dark, but he was growing accustomed to the darkness and could see fairly well. Not well enough to discern the color of the bruug’s skin at a distance, though; he would have to look under the thick fur, and by the time he got that close it no longer mattered much.

On the fourth floor he came across the bruug, sprawled out in the corridor and munching angrily on a splintered door. The bruug was a big one; he had prospered in captivity. He scented Kalainnen and looked up slowly at him and emitted a great roar.