Anthropol
ANTHROPOL
LOUIS TRIMBLE
a division of F+W Media, Inc.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII: Epilogue
Also Available
Copyright
I
I FINISHED CHECKING out a rumor that one of the Freebooter groups had tried to annex a pair of alien-inhabited planets located at the edge of the galaxy. Since the Galactic Federation had put the planets under its protection, one or another of its branch organizations was responsible for making sure that none of the anti-Federation Freebooter groups tried to move in to exploit the native populations.
I didn’t need much time to learn that the rumor had nothing behind it. The natives of both planets were as innocent of corruption as any of Rousseau’s beloved noble savages; and there was no sign that any Earth-originated people had ever called there since the discovery trip made by the Anthropol Central exploratory ship nearly a century (Earth-based time) in the past.
I rode my shuttle from the surface of the smaller planet up to the transport yacht waiting for me in orbit. By the time I had been pulled into the belly of the yacht, I had the inevitable report ready for transmission back to Anthropol Central on Earth. But the skipper himself was waiting for me as I climbed out of the decontamination chamber, and his message put the report to the back of my mind.
“Scramble message for you from the Chief, Vernay,” he said. “I couldn’t answer because it’s in one of the new codes.”
I dressed in a hurry and headed for the Com-room of the ship. If I had learned anything in my ten years as troubleshooter for Anthropol, it was to not keep the Chief waiting. It made no difference to him whether his messages had to cross one light-year or a hundred parsecs; nor whether the receiver was isolated in some equatorial jungle on Livingston or Schweitzer, or crawling through the squalid slums on one of the Freebooter-controlled planets. When the Chief sent a coded call, you answered — even if you had to do it by intuition.
The message had been taped for me. It was in a new headquarters’ code, one designed to keep Galactic Military from intercepting and understanding. That was a pointless game. Gal-Mil broke our codes as regularly as we broke theirs; but devising new codes almost daily had the virtue of keeping a lot of operatives with code-book mentalities occupied.
I caught the key signal for the code, tuned my translator to the correct coordinates, and stuffed the receiver into my ear.
The Chief’s deep rumble said clearly, “Double urgent priority, Vernay. Cancel the assignments on your list. Report immediately here. Signal landing time when you come out of the By-pass.”
I pulled the receiver from my ear. “Send this,” I told the Com-op. “Message received, being acted on.” I passed the remainder of the order to the skipper and then went below for a quick meal while we worked far enough out into space to begin the By-pass operation.
We were roughly 15,000 parsecs from Earth, and that meant our older model ship would have to go through the By-pass twice, biting off a little less than 8,000 parsecs per trip. I calculated a half hour (Earth time measure) getting to the entrance point and another hour getting from the exit point to Anthropol headquarters on Earth. Time in a By-pass is not measurable; the concept is meaningless.
I used up my half hour eating. When the first warning bell rang, I went to my cabin, lowered myself into the adjusto-chair and activated the automatic strapdown. The second bell came, and within three minutes the “nothingness” came.
More than one planet-tied character, Earth-originated and alien both, has asked me to describe the By-pass. But how do you describe absolute nothing? The emptiness of color-light sucked out as a pump sucks water from a bucket? The emptiness of heat — that momentary sensation of having brushed absolute zero? The emptiness of everything — suspension of thought, of body, of all molecular action?
I experienced them all, but so briefly that it was impossible to measure the elapsed time it took us to enter the By-pass, to come out the other side, to reenter, and to come out again. Only then was I aware of time, of existence again. The all-clear rang and I unstrapped and went back to the galley for a cup of kaf. I always felt the need of something when I came out of a By-pass, but I didn’t want to breathe liquor on the Chief, so I settled for the one commodity ubiquitous throughout the galaxy — kaf.
The yacht worked its way into an Anthropol-assigned orbit around Earth and I transferred to a shuttle. I used up the thirty minutes necessary to get me to land wondering about the urgency of the Chief’s recall message. There had been no pressing — or even impending — problems when I had left six weeks before. But six weeks provided ample time for developments that could concern Anthropol, especially with the new By-pass techniques permitting one-jump far out exploration — even to the nearer satellite stars orbiting the galaxy. And exploration meant the discovery of systems inhabited, sometimes by aliens, at others by one of the long-lost colonies of Earth-originated peoples who had left on the primitive early starships when control of the Inundation had seemed beyond the capabilities of science. The only solution to the preservation of mankind had then seemed to be sending the great ships into space with their city-sized populations.
Before I could even formulate a guess as to a problem important enough to justify the expense of bringing me back through a priority By-pass, the shuttle dropped down onto the high valley country of the central Rocky Mountains. Five minutes later I was inside the Anthropol Central tower and going up the air tube to the Chiefs office. He was waiting, despite its being the middle of the night. When he failed to greet me with his inevitable, dry, “You took long enough,” I knew that more than just another problem had come up.
Before I could do more than sit down, he said, “Tell me what you know of the planet Ujvila, Vernay, and of its sun.”
“Zero,” I said. He nodded. “Until last week no one else knew anything about them either. Then our explorer ship Deneb out in Sector Q-12 picked up some audio at a frequency analogous to one of the old Earth radio bandwidths. They traced the transmission to the second planet of a small star not on any of the maps.”
That wasn’t surprising. Since the galaxy had been found to contain more than the 105 million stars pre-Inundation astronomers estimated, new ones are found all the time, even after over fifteen centuries of far-flung exploration.
“Earth-originated population from one of the lost starships?” I asked.
“Definitely,” he said. “The Deneb transmitted enough data back to the monitor ship in Sector Q-12 for us to determine an E-o people. It was all linguistic data, of course, picked up from the planet’s radio broadcasts. Then when the scout team had the language under control, they shuttled down. But why hear it from me? Kroglin and his crew finished the complete Reconstruct this morning. That’s when I called you.” He reached out to activate the machine that would play the Reconstruct tapes for me.
Kroglin headed our top Reconstruct team, the one that did all the key jobs — those that had to be finished the day before yesterday and those so highly technical that it wasn’t safe to misplace as much as a syllable. Later Kroglin told me that when he started on the four microtapes the monitor ship had sent on from the Deneb, he expected a standard Reconstruct and was about to turn the job over to a second echelon team when he realized he might have something a little out of the ordinary.
Routine or otherwise, reconstructs are pretty much standard as to initial procedures. The first steps are always unscramble jobs. Coded data as to the position of a scout ship is automatically fed at close time intervals to the monitor ship hovering in the middle of whatever sector the scout ship happens to be working in. When the scout ship’s crew makes any observations, they do so in the presence of an activated circuit, and their remarks are coded and sent to the monitor ship. Similarly, when a scout team leaves the ship and goes to the surface of a planet, each member carries his own throat transmitter that feeds both his vocal and sub-vocal remarks back to microtape on the scout ship. This same data is also sent automatically on to the monitor ship where it is put on the same microtape as all the other data from that scout ship. Routinely, the data goes through a By-pass to receiving tapes waiting at Anthropol Central on Earth.
At each stage, of course, the data is monitored. Position and other quantitative data are recorded on dials as well as on microtape, and oral comments are broadcast through a decoder at the same time they are being put on tape. In that way, should any trouble arise, it’s known about immediately.
In the case of the Deneb and its scout team, the team’s remarks — vocal and sub-vocal — made from the time of their leaving the ship, were heard by the monitor crew on the Deneb at the same time as they were being taped there and being sent on to the monitor ship. There, in turn, they were heard orally — along with any remarks made by the crew of the Deneb — and the totality was fed on to Anthropol Central.
The result is a mishmash of data flooding into Anthropol Central from any given monitor ship — in this case the one in Sector Q-12. The job of a Reconstruct team is to separate the data into parts that fit logically, set
aside the irrelevant, and reconstruct the remainder, either in report form or in narrative form, whichever best fits the given situation. In the case of the data from the Deneb, Kroglin had chosen to set the scene with some brief reports. Then he switched to narrative form to present the material from the scout team.
The Chief said, “Sirat ran that scout team. He had Covid as his technician and Reah as his linguist. There isn’t a better team in the galaxy when it comes to contacting Earth-originated populations cut off from their heritage for two millennia or better.”
He hesitated, his finger still poised over the switch that would activate the machine. “Listen carefully, Vernay. What you’re going to hear is the first problem they ever met that they couldn’t handle.”
I listened. Then I listened again. I listened over and over, even though after the first run-through I knew that by daylight I would be on my way to a planet called Ujvila.
II
REPORT 1. To Anthropol Central. From exploration ship Deneb. Subject: location of inhabited planet. Location made by tracing radio waves at audio frequencies. Star small, with three planets, of which only planet two is inhabited. Dense cloud cover prevented clear laser photos from reconnaissance orbit. However, linguistic analyses of radio transmissions made and telemetry data on environment gathered.
Linguistic analysis: The inhabitants of the planet are definitely Earth-originated. Radio transmissions picked up indicate a common tongue with mutually intelligible dialects. According to the analysis of linguist Reah, the language is archaic in structure, lexicon, and phonetic patterns. It is essentially agglutinating, basically Finno-Ugric. From limited reference sources available, linguist Reah has determined that it is essentially Magyar with a strong overlay of Rumanian lexical elements. The language shows no structural, phonetic, or morphological contacts with sapient alien or Freebooter speech patterns. It is therefore assumed that the planet has been isolated from contact since the starship carrying the original pioneers made planetfall. The native name for the planet is Ujvila, meaning approximately “New World”; for the sun, Napunk, meaning “Our Sun.”
Environmental data: Preliminary data is as follows: atmosphere is Earth life form sustaining but 3% richer in oxygen and 7% greater in water vapor content. Gravity, 98%. Further data to follow when closer survey made. End of transmission.
• • •
REPORT 2. To Anthropol Central. From exploration ship Deneb. Subject: results of photographic survey of newly discovered planet Ujvila. By proceeding just beneath cloud cover extending from 3,000 to 10,000 meters, Deneb managed to cover 67% of the planet’s surface. No sign of detection indicated. Aerial maps being transmitted. Oral data as follows: planet elliptical with slight flattening at poles. Diameter 2,600 meters through the equator. Inclination to plane of the ecliptic, 20.6°. Small polar ice caps followed by wide bands of barren lands, similar to Earth Arctic tundra, reaching to an average of latitudes 50° to 23° land is fertile, with belts of prairie alternating with mixed deciduous and evergreen forest. Nature of flora not yet determined. Between latitudes 23° the entire land surface is covered with thick jungle and swamp. Approximately 34.5% of the surface is made up of seas. These bodies of water break the planet’s land area into three continents, only one of which lies in the fertile belt. This continent alone shows signs of habitation, with a fairly large city at N. Latitude 43°, one lesser in size similarly located south of the equator, and a still undetermined number of smaller towns and villages scattered throughout the fertile areas. Only two inhabited areas were noted outside the fertile belt, one on the sea-coast at N. Latitude 14°30’, the second on the same sea-coast at N. Latitude 51° 18’. Both appear to be supply centers for small lumbering and mining industries in the equatorial and arctic zones respectively. Further data to follow upon scout team’s contact with natives. This step will be taken according to routine procedure. End of transmission.
• • •
The remainder of the Reconstruct was in narrative form, mainly from the viewpoints of the scout team members. That way I had a vivid picture of what Sirat, Covid, and Reah saw, heard, felt — what their impressions were — but only a very hazy picture of what ultimately happened to them.
• • •
REPORT 3. Narrative Reconstruct based upon oral transmissions from exploratory ship Deneb scout team. Personnel as follows: Leader, Sirat; Technician, Covid; Linguist, Reah.
• • •
With the Deneb stationed in orbit one hundred kilometers above the surface of the planet, the scout team prepared to take the shuttle down, their goal the northern city.
Reah said, “Does anyone need another run-through on the language programmer?”
“No,” Sirat said. “We don’t want to sound too well versed in their speech, anyway.” He glanced around. “Are the trade good samples all aboard?”
“All checked,” Covid said. He waited for Sirat’s signal and then eased the little shuttle from the bay in the Deneb’s underbelly and began the descent through the cloud cover toward the surface. As they broke into the open, the city began to come at them in sharper and sharper detail.
“I’d say this city is definitely the capital,” Sirat commented. “That central cluster of buildings looks administrative.”
He and Reah watched in the viewscreen. The city was obviously planned around a central core of heavy buildings surrounding a tall tower that gave a view of the flat landscape. Outside the core was a wide belt of green filled with grass, heavily-leafed and flower-laden trees, and thick clusters of bushes. In front of the squat stone structure fronting the tower was a cascading fountain. Despite the efforts at beautification, the architecture seemed somehow heavy and unyielding.
Wide avenues cut a swath through the tight clusters of low buildings that made up most of the city. One led westward to a small village at the edge of the shimmering sea. A second ran directly north to a cleared area containing a cluster of rounded structures with a number of primitive winged aircraft standing near them.
“From the position of the sun, it’s mid-morning,” Sirat observed. “But notice how few people there are on the streets, and how few vehicles.” He focused the tele-camera for a closer look at the handful of persons moving about the nearly deserted streets. As they studied the pictures, both he and Reah commented either aloud or sub-vocally, thus making sure that their impressions were heard on the Deneb.
“They’re definitely Earth peoples,” Reah concluded. “But not happy ones from the expressions on most of their faces.” She added, “Do you notice they have only two types of costumes — those loosely fitted coveralls the men seem to be wearing and those loose blouse and trouser outfits on the women?”
“I’m glad you can tell them apart,” Sirat said dryly. “Half of those in blouse and trousers look like men to me.”
They studied the people a short time longer while Covid slowly angled the shuttle toward the airport to the north. Those few they saw were light-skinned with hair coloring ranging from black to deep blond. They moved slowly, almost apathetically.
“I wouldn’t hurry either with a temperature of thirty-five degrees centigrade and a saturation of over ninety,” Sirat said.
“That’s a nice winter day where I come from,” Reah said. “But look at those women coming from that large building in front of the tower. They aren’t wearing that ugly dun color like the others, and they’re moving fast enough.”
“Blue, green, gray-silver,” Sirat said. “Uniforms, I suppose.”
“Perhaps not,” Reah commented. “If their culture is as archaic as their linguistic forms, they may still have a primitive caste system based on economic levels.” She shook her head. “It’s always puzzled me that so many descendants of the early starship peoples retrogressed after making planetfall and developed cultures that seem to be based on exploiting their fellow humans.”
Covid broke in sharply: “Something is trying to tie into our Com-system, both audio and video.”
“Help them out,” Sirat suggested. “Follow standard pre-landing procedures.”
Covid brought the shuttle to a halt a bare kilometer above the barren area with its few primitive aircraft. Setting the automatic controls, he moved to the communication panel. “Cut into the video only at first,” Sirat said. “And let’s get a look at whoever is on the other end before they get a look at us.”