The Galactic Gourmet

CHAPTER 18

At the time of its discovery three months earlier, it was not thought that the world, which its dominant intelligent species called Wemar, would cause the cultural-contact specialists of the Monitor Corps any serious problems. It was an environmentally distressed world with subsistence level living standards for the tiny remnant of its surviving population that verged on uninhabitability. In its recent history — from the orbital studies of industrial archeological remains the date was estimated at a little over four centuries earlier — the native culture had been technologically advanced to the level of maintaining orbiting space satellites, and there were traces of a non-permanent base on the system’s closest and uninhabitable planet.

Because of their background of recently lost space technology, two important assumptions had been made. One was that the Wem would not be frightened by the idea of a galaxy inhabited by other intelligent beings and, even though they might be surprised and uneasy at the sudden arrival of a starship in orbit around their world, they would not be completely against the idea of making friendly contact with other-species visitors. The second assumption was that when contact had been widened and their natural fears allayed, they would agree to accept the offers of material and technical support which they so desperately needed.

Both assumptions proved wrong. When two-way translation-communication devices were soft-landed in the few inhabited areas — sound and vision communications were a part of their lost technology — the natives exchanged only a few angry words before ordering the strangers to leave Wemar and its system before smashing all of the off-world devices. Evidently they had grown to fear all forms of technology as well as the people who used it. Only one small, isolated group had shown some trace of reluctance at breaking off contact but they, too, destroyed the translator-communicators that had been sent to them.

Plainly the Wem were a proud species who would not accept the kind of help that the off-worlders were so anxious to give them.

Rather than risk the situation degenerating further, the commanding officer of the orbiting Monitor preliminary contact ship obeyed the first order by ceasing to send down any more communication devices, and ignored the second, safe in the knowledge that the planet-bound Wem could do nothing against the orbiting vessel which continued its close observation of the surface. Shortly afterwards, Wemar had been declared a disaster area, and Rhabwar had been sent to assess the medical problems and, if possible, suggest a solution.

It had never been the Federation’s policy to do nothing while another intelligent species tried to commit suicide.

Rhabwar emerged from hyperspace some ten planetary diameters from Wemar. From that distance it appeared to be like any other normal, life-bearing world, with wisps and blankets of cloud and the fat, white spirals of cyclonic weather systems softening and breaking up its continental outlines and polar ice fields. It was only when they had closed to within one diameter that the abnormal details became plain.

In spite of the generous scattering of rain-bearing clouds, it was only in a narrow band around the equator that the surface vegetation showed any traces of normal growth. Above and below the green belt and into the north and south temperate zones the coloration became increasingly tinged with yellow and brown until it merged into the tundra fringing the polar ice-fields. There were no large tracts of desert visible on those areas, it was simply that the once-thick forests and rolling grasslands of the past had withered and died or burned in what must have been great country-sized conflagrations due to naturally occurring lightning strikes, and the new growth was still fighting its way through the ashes of the old.

They were still watching but not enjoying the view when the casualty deck’s communicator lit with the image of the Captain.

“Doctor Prilicla,” said Fletcher, “we have a signal from Captain Williamson on Tremaar. He says that it is operationally unnecessary for Rhabwar to dock with his ship, but he would like to speak with you at once.”

The commanding officer of a Monitor Corps survey and preliminary contact vessel would hold a lot more rank than the Captain of an ambulance ship, Gurronsevas thought, and clearly this one intended to use it.

“Senior Physician Prilicla,” Williamson said without preamble, “I have no wish to give personal offense, but I am not pleased to see you here. The reason is that I am not happy with a mission philosophy based on near desperation and the assumption that if your presence here does not do any harm then it might do some good. From your briefing you already know that the situation here has gone sour and there are no signs of it improving. We are maintaining constant visual and surface sensor surveillance, but we have no direct communication with anyone on the surface. There is one small group of Wem who may be less proud and stubborn, or simply more intelligent than the others, who gave the impression that a few of their number thought they might be able to benefit from our offers of help. But they, too, stopped speaking to us and smashed our translators. Personally, I believe there is still a possibility that, provided we do nothing further to offend them, this group might resume contact and, if it is handled carefully, enable us to reopen communications with the other, less amenable groups who in time will accept the large-scale disaster relief they need so badly.”

Williamson took a deep breath and went on, “Regardless of your good intentions, Rhabwar blundering uninvited into this situation could end this tenuous future hope. And if you were to set down in an equatorial region, where the political power and the remains of their offensive technology are concentrated, it could also result in damage to your ship and casualties among your personnel. The efforts of a small medical team are not going to significantly affect the situation here, except possibly for the worse …”

While the other Captain was speaking, Gurronsevas studied its manner and minor changes of facial expression. It was an Earth-human who in many ways resembled Chief Psychologist O’Mara. The hairy crescents above the eyes and the head fur showing below the uniform cap were an identical shade of metallic grey, the eyes never looked away nor did they blink, and its words carried the self-assurance that went with the habit of command. In manner, however, Williamson was much more polite than O’Mara.

The preliminary briefing had suggested that the medical team could expect some arguments from the authorities on-site, Gurronsevas thought worriedly, but this sounded like a very serious difference of opinion indeed. He wondered what a shy and timid emotion-sensitive like Prilicla could do against such strong opposition.“… Regrettably,” Williamson continued, “I cannot order you back to Sector General because, theoretically, you have operational authority at the scene of any disaster, and this could quickly become a disaster on the largest scale. But the Wem are a proud race with a degenerating culture which, as often happens in situations like this, still retains much of its weapons technology. We do not want to risk another Cromsaggar Incident here. For the safety of your crew and to avoid the physical and non-physical trauma that a failure with casualties would bring to any empathic entity who was responsible, I would strongly advise you to return to Sector General without delay.

“Please give my advice serious consideration, Senior Physician Prilicla,” it ended, “and let me know your intentions as soon as possible.”

Prilicla was maintaining a stable hover in front of the communicator’s vision pick-up and giving no indication of being intimidated, Gurronsevas saw, or perhaps it had only one form of response to another thinking being regardless of the other’s high rank or bad manners. It said, “Captain, I am grateful for your concern over the safety of my crew, and for your understanding of the emotional distress I personally would suffer in the event of them sustaining injuries. Knowing this, you must also know that I belong to the most physically fragile, timid and abjectly cowardly species in the Federation, the members of which will go to great extremes to avoid physical pain or emotional discomfort for ourselves or those around us which, for an empath, is the same thing. Friend Williamson, it is a law of nature, an evolutionary imperative, that I take no unnecessary risks.”

Williamson gave an impatient shake of its head and said, “You are the senior medical officer on Rhabwar, the ambulance ship that has more high-risk rescue missions to its credit than any other vessel in the Monitor Corps. You may argue that at the time those risks were necessary and unavoidable, even by a being to whom cowardice is a way of life. But with respect, Senior Physician, the risks you would take on Wemar are unnecessary, avoidable and stupid.”

Prilicla showed no physical reaction to the other’s harsh words and, Gurronsevas realized suddenly, the reason must be that Tremaar was orbiting many thousands of miles away and far too distant for even an empath of Prilicla’s hyper-sensitivity to detect Williamson’s emotional radiation. Gently, it said, “My immediate intention is to assess for myself the situation in the north temperate zone, where the technology level and living conditions are primitive and, hopefully, the Wem minds are more flexible, before deciding whether or not to land and/or subsequently abort the mission.”

Captain Williamson exhaled audibly but did not speak.

“If or when we land,” Prilicla went on, “I would be grateful if you would maintain orbital surveillance of the area so as to warn us of any hostile action that the Equatorials might be mounting against us. Rhabwar’s meteor shield will protect the ship against anything the Wem can throw at us, but I have no intention of starting a war, even a defensive war, and will lift off and go elsewhere before that can happen. I would also be pleased to have any new information not contained in our preliminary briefing. I would appreciate having that information as soon as is convenient.

“Our primary interest is in areas where there is little or no weapons technology,” Prilicla continued, “and subsistence-level conditions with, if possible, a higher than average infant population. We are assuming that Wem parents resemble other civilized beings in that they would be willing to subordinate their racial pride and anger at outside interference if by so doing they could alleviate the hunger of their children. And if the proper approach can be made and the parents can be influenced into accepting our help, it would be advisable to minimize their embarrassment by not being too obvious regarding the food supply operation.”

For a moment Williamson turned its head to give a quiet instruction to someone off-screen, then it returned its attention to Prilicla and said, “We both know that once you land in the disaster area, and in this case that means anywhere on this whole damn planet, you have the rank. Very well, your immediate requirement is for continuous intelligence updating, protective surveillance from orbit, and covert supply drops at night if or when necessary. You’ve got it. Anything else?”

“Thank you no, friend Williamson,” said Prilicla.

The other began shaking its head slowly from side to side, then it said, “I was told that trying to make you change your mind would be like fighting cobwebs — a maximum expenditure of energy with minimum results. I have said all that I can to dissuade you. It was good advice, Senior Physician, even though I cannot force you to take it, but …be very careful down there, friend.”

Before Prilicla could reply, Williamson’s face disappeared to be replaced by that of Captain Fletcher, who said briskly, “Tremaar is already sending the update you requested. Their communications officer tells me that it includes some nice close-ups of adult and young Wem, the disposition of their defenses and some ideas about their social structure and behavior, which are mostly guesswork, but that last bit is unofficial. I’ll run the new material on your repeater screen as soon as we have it all. Meanwhile, Rhabwar is closing Wemar under cruising thrust and we are estimating low-orbit insertion in thirty-two hours and two minutes.”

“Thank you, friend Fletcher,” the empath replied. “That will give us plenty of time to review the new information before landing.”

“Or time to change our minds about landing,” said Naydrad.

Murchison laughed quietly and said, “I don’t think so, that would be too sensible.”

A few minutes later the main screen began displaying the new material and, during the discussion that followed, Gurronsevas quickly discovered what it was like to be an unseen observer.

Surprisingly it was the non-medic Fletcher who began by saying that, with all due respect, his opposite number on Tremaar had been deliberately exaggerating the threat posed by the Wem heavy weaponry which, they had seen for themselves, was very old, badly corroded, and showed no signs of recent use, while the emplacements and connecting system of defensive pits were overgrown or reduced by natural erosion. The long-range weapons were of the chemically-powered type firing solid or exploding projectiles, but in Fletcher’s opinion they would be a greater danger to the users than their targets. Because the vision pickups sent down could not be directed inside a Wem dwelling or sub-surface arsenal without them being immediately seen and destroyed, it was possible that the Wem had concealed stocks of portable weapons but this, too, was unlikely.

“My reason for believing this,” Fletcher went on, “is based on our covert observations of the young Wem. Like most youngsters, they play at being hunters or warriors, using the toy spears or bows and arrows that are the harmless, scaled-down weapons of the adults. But not one of them has been seen pointing a pretend weapon and shouting ‘Bang!’ which, incidentally, seems to be the same word-sound in every species’ language, so it is unlikely that chemically powered weapons are used widely by their parents. As well, the population of the Wem fortified villages we’ve seen have shrunk so much that their defenses can no longer be fully manned. My feeling is that the early fortifications were built to repel raiders in search of meat. But now the surviving Wem are so widely scattered, and their numbers and those of their food animals so reduced, they are no longer capable of mounting a long-range raid because they would probably starve before reaching the target village.

“I think Captain Williamson was trying to scare us off before we could take a close look at the situation,” Fletcher ended. “It is my feeling that the Wem do not pose a physical threat. What I don’t understand is why, even though these people are facing imminent starvation, they are so choosy about their food.”

“Thank you, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla. “Your words leave us feeling greatly reassured. And we are asking ourselves the same question. Friend Danalta, I feel you wanting to speak.”

The green, organic mound that was currently the shape-changer quivered, added a loose, shapeless mouth to its single eye and ear, and said, “I have observed that hunger can make a civilized people behave in a most uncivilized fashion, especially when their dietary spectrum is limited. Fortunately, my own species was able to survive and evolve intelligence by eating anything and everything that wasn’t trying to eat us. But can we decide whether this is a matter of tradition, some form of early religious conditioning? Or is it due to a basic physiological need?”

“No Wem burial places have been discovered,” said Fletcher. “The outward sign of remembering or honoring the dead can indicate a belief in the afterlife. We can’t be certain, naturally, but our present information suggests that the Wem are not religious.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Murchison. It moved to the console, tapped for rECALL and hOLD when the screen displayed the first of many close-up pictures of the natives, and went on, “The Wem life-form belongs to physiological classification DHCG. For the non-medics among us, that is a warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing species with an adult body mass just under three times that of an Earth-human and, since Wemar’s surface gravity is one point three eight standard Gs, a healthy specimen is proportionately well-muscled …”

If anything, Gurronsevas thought as the succession of still and moving images continued, it resembled a picture he had once seen of a rare Earth beast called a kangaroo. The differences were that the head was larger and fitted with a really ferocious set of teeth; each of the two short forelimbs terminated in six-fingered hands possessing two opposable thumbs, and the tail was more massive and tapered to a wide, flat, triangular tip which was composed of immobile osseous material enclosed by a thick, muscular sheath. The flattening at the end of the tail, Murchison explained, served a threefold purpose: as its principal natural weapon, as an emergency method of fast locomotion while hunting or being hunted, and as a means of transporting infant Wem who were too small to walk.

There was one charming picture of a pair of adults — Gurronsevas was still not sure which sex was which — dragging their tails and two of their happily squeaking offspring behind them, and a less charming sequence of them hunting. For this they began by adopting an awkward, almost ridiculous stance with their forelimbs tightly folded, their chins touching the ground, and their long legs spread so as to allow the tail to curve sharply downward and forward between the limbs so that the flat tip was at their center of balance. When the tail was straightened suddenly to full extension, it acted as a powerful third leg capable of hurling the Wem forward for a distance of five or six body lengths.

If the hunter did not land on top of its prey, kicking the creature senseless with the feet before disabling it with a deep bite through the cervical vertebrae and underlying nerve trunks, it pivoted rapidly on one leg so that the flattened edge of the tail struck its victim like a blunt, organic axe.“… While the tail is highly flexible where downward and forward movement is concerned,” Murchison said, “it cannot be elevated above the horizontal line of the spinal column. The fine details will have to wait until we are able to make an internal scan, but you can see from the visible external structure of the dorsal and tail vertebrae and associated musculature that it’s impossible for the tail to be brought close to the back without major spinal dislocation. The back and upper flanks are, therefore, the Wem’s only body areas that are vulnerable to attack by natural enemies, who must also possess the element of surprise if they are not to become the victim.”

There was a brief sequence showing a quadruped, with fur so black that few physical details could be seen other than its long, sharp teeth and even longer claws, leaping onto the Wem from an overhanging branch. It dug its claws deeply into the victim’s cloaked back and tore at the side of its neck while the Wem used its tail to jump frantically about in an attempt to dislodge the creature so that its spear could be brought to bear. Either by accident or design, one of its near vertical jumps sent it crashing against the underside of another overhanging branch, crushing the predator’s body and causing a large quantity of its own blood and internal organs to be expelled through its mouth. Both bodies dropped to the ground where, Murchison said, they terminated a few minutes later.

Gurronsevas turned his eyes towards the direct vision port before the sight made him nauseated.

Murchison went on, “The black furry creature is one of, and probably the most dangerous of, the animals hunted for food, and plainly there is room for argument regarding who are the eaters and who the eaten. But enough of the bloody melodrama. It is shown to make us more aware and cautious of the creatures, both intelligent and non-intelligent, we will be meeting down there, and to make an important anatomical point. Confirmation will have to wait on an internal scan of the Wem stomach and digestive system but, based on our external visuals we can say …”

For a few minutes the pathologist’s language became so densely specialized that Gurronsevas could understand only the odd word. But its concluding summation, perhaps for his benefit, was clear and unambiguous.“… So there can be no doubt that the Wem life-form evolved as, and still remains, an omnivore,” Murchison said. “There is no external evidence of it ever possessing the multiple stomach system characteristic of a ruminant herbivore, and I would say that its digestive system is unspecialized and not unlike our own. With the exception of Danalta’s, that is. Add the fact that the very young Wem have been seen to eat a combination of animal and vegetable matter, the proportion of animal tissue increasing with the approach of puberty. In a sapient species this means that the carnivorous eating habit is a matter of choice rather than physiological necessity. In their past there may have been environmental or sociological factors influencing them to make this choice but, whatever the reason, in the present situation it is the wrong one. Unless the Wem can be made to change their present eating habits, their food animals will be hunted to extinction while they themselves die of starvation because they insist on being hunters. As farmers they just might survive.”

Murchison paused, its features still and serious as it looked around at all of them, then it said grimly, “Somehow we must convince a planet full of meat-eaters to become vegetarians.”

A long silence followed its words. The pathologist did not move and neither did Danalta, but Prilicla was being shaken by the intensity of the others’ emotional radiation, and Naydrad’s silvery, expressive pelt was being stirred by sudden waves and eddies as if it, too, were being blown by an unfelt wind.

Loudly, it said, “Is that why Gurronsevas is here?”