Those Who Watch

Four

As he fell toward Earth, Mirtin knew that he was going to be severely injured. He took that calmly, as he took everything else. The matter was out of his hands. What he regretted was the notoriety that this involuntary exploit would win him at home, not the pain his body would suffer in the immediate future. Sooner or later, some watcher ship had been bound by probability to malfunction and force its crew to make an unscheduled landing on Earth, but Mirtin had never thought the malfunctioning ship would be his own.

There were techniques for calming one’s spirit in a time of stress. He used them as he hurtled toward the dark world below.

The loss of the ship was a minor matter to him. The embarrassment of this accident was also minor. The dangers he would encounter on Earth were less minor, but also no real source of sorrow; he would survive, or he would not survive, and why weep? Nor did he brood over the injuries he was certain to receive in landing. Those could be repaired.

No, what troubled Mirtin now was the disruption of his sexual group. As the oldest, the steadiest, he felt a responsibility for protecting the other two, and now they were beyond his help.

Glair was probably dead. That was a harsh blow. Mirtin had watched her make her clumsy leap, had seen her go pinwheeling out into emptiness in the worst of all possible dives. Perhaps she had pulled out of it, but what was most likely was that she had fallen, stonelike, to a quick and horrid death. Mirtin had lost group partners before, long ago, and he knew the trauma it brought. And Glair was special, uniquely sensitive to the needs of the group, the perfect female bridge to link the two males. She could not easily be replaced.

Vorneen had made a better jump, and in any case Vorneen could look out for himself. But he would land many miles from Mirtin’s impact point, and they might never find each other. Even if they did, their position would not be an easy one — especially without Glair.

Mirtin calmed himself.

Impact could not be far away, now.

They said that making a jump like this delivered an impact equal to dropping from a height of a hundred feet. Such a fall would not kill a Dirnan, but it would still be a substantial jolt. Since they had left the ship at an altitude far above the recommended one for a jump, it was reasonable to expect severe bodily damage. Mirtin did what he could, coiling his Dirnan interior securely within his fleshy outer shell, his Earthman disguise. That was all he could do. The bones that supported his shell would probably break; the Dirnan gristle and cartilage within was safe. But it would cause him pain and inconvenience to break bones, all the same. This housing he wore was now his body, even though he had not been born in it.

Down.

Consciousness threatened to leave him in the last few moments. Making a strenuous effort, Mirtin maintained his awareness. He saw that he was landing far from any large city. To the east He observed the rectangular mud buildings of an Indian village, one of those living curios of the past that the Earthmen preserved so carefully in this part of their world. To the west, in the distance, was the great cleft of a canyon. In between was his landing area, a furrowed plain marked by deep gorges, eroded terraces, steeply rising mesas. Down here he was subject to atmospheric currents; Mirtin felt them lift him slightly, deflect him toward the Indian village a mile or two. He checked the trend with his stabilizer jets, and cut in the deployment screen to spare himself the worse effects of impact.

At the last moment he blanked out anyway, despite his hard work. It was just as well; for when he regained his consciousness, Mirtin knew that he was badly injured.

The first order of business was to deal with the pain. He went down the rows of ganglia, deliberately switching them off. Some, of course, had to remain active — the ones that operated his autonomous nervous system. He needed the breathing reflex and the cluster of nerves that powered his digestive/respiratory/circulatory nexus. But anything that could be spared was disconnected, for the time being. Without that feverish haze of pain, he could survey his situation more clearly and see what else needed to be done.

More than an hour passed before Mirtin had shut off enough of his nervous system to reduce the pain to a tolerable level. He needed half an hour more to wash the accumulated pain-poisons from his body. Then he took stock.

He was lying on his back, toward the eastern end of a triangular wedge of land slightly elevated above the surrounding terrain. To his left ran the dry gully of what must be a stream in springtime. To his right was a steeply rising cliff, and by the faint light of approaching morning he saw that the stone was soft and sandy, pocked with many small openings. No more than a dozen body-lengths behind him was the dark mouth of a cave. If he could crawl in there somehow, he would have the sanctuary he needed while his body went through the healing process.

But he could not crawl.

He could not move at all.

It was difficult to evaluate the bodily damage with so much of his nervous system disconnected, but Mirtin guessed that he had suffered a perpendicular break across his central inner column. His legs and arms seemed to be all right, but there was no motor response in them, which meant that he must have snapped his spine. He could repair that, given enough time. First the bone would have to knit, and then he would have to regenerate the paths of the nerves. It would take, say, two months of local time. His inner, Dirnan, body was basically whole, so all he had to do was recreate his shell.

Lying out here on his back in the open, though? In winter? Without food?

His body had many special abilities unknown on Earth, but it could not do without food indefinitely. Mirtin estimated that he would starve to death long before he was healed enough to rise and seek food. That was academic, anyway; a week without water would finish him off. He needed shelter and food and water, and in his present state he could get none of those things unaided, which meant that he needed help.

Vorneen? Glair? If they were alive, they had problems of their own. Mirtin was unable to activate his communicator, which was mounted on his side just above his hip, and there was no way of signaling them. His only hope was the arrival of some friendly Earthman. And, in this wasteland, Mirtin did not find that very probable.

He realized that he was going to die.

Not yet, though. He resolved to wait three days, and see what happened. By then, the lack of water would be causing him great distress, and he would have just enough strength left to disconnect the rest of his nervous system and slip into a peaceful death. His corpse would decay swiftly, even in this dry climate, and some day only his empty suit would be discovered. These artificial Earthman bodies were designed to rot in a hurry, bones and all, once the inner spark of Dirnan life was withdrawn; the planners took every precaution to keep the watched from learning of the presence of the watchers. Mirtin waited.

Morning came, a slow increase of brightness rising out of the gully. He lay patiently. Another morning, and then another, and all would be over. He reviewed his life. He thought of Glair and Vorneen, and how deeply he had loved them. He wondered, in a calm way, whether it had been fruitful to give his life for his world like this.

He became aware, eventually, that someone was approaching him.

Mirtin had not expected that. He was already resigned to lying broken-backed in the desert for his arbitrarily chosen three days, letting the clock run out, and extinguishing himself. Yet it seemed he would be discovered after all.

Though he could not lift his head, he could roll his eyes. In the distance he saw an Earthman and a pet animal corning toward him, though not in any purposeful way. They moved circuitously, the animal leaping and frolicking, the Earthman pausing to hurl stones into the gully. Mirtin debated the proper course to take. A quick death, now, before he was discovered? If any risk existed that he would be brought before authorities, he was bound by oath to destroy himself. But the Earthman looked young. A boy, merely. Mirtin forced himself to think in English, to shift his entire frame of reference. What was the animal? He had forgotten most of what he knew about local mammals. Cat, rat, bat? Dog. Dog. The dog was on his scent, now. A small lean brown creature with a long white-tufted tail, a bristly nose, yellow eyes. Heading this way. Sniffing. Mirtin could see the bony ridges along the dog’s back. The boy followed.

The black snout was up against his faceplate now. The boy stood over him, eyes wide, mouth agape. Mirtin summoned his knowledge. The boy was in the prepuberty stage, perhaps ten or eleven years old. Black hair, black-brown eyes, light brown skin. A Negro-group member? No. The hair was straight. The lips were thin. The nose was narrow-bridged. A member of the surviving aborigines of this continent. Does he speak English? Is he malevolent? The mouth no longer gaped. Now it was closed, its corners turning upward. A smile. A sign of friendliness. Mirtin tried to smile too, and was relieved to find that his facial muscles worked.

“Hello,” the boy said. “Are you hurt?”

“I — Yes. I’m hurt very badly.”

The boy knelt beside him. Shining dark eyes peered into his own. The dog, tail wagging, nosed around Mirtin, prodding at him. With a quick slap the boy sent the animal away. Mirtin sensed sympathy from the young Earthman.

“Where’d you come from?” the boy whispered. “You fall out of an airplane?”

Mirtin let the awkward question slide past. I need food… water…”

“Yeah. What should I do, call the chief? They can send a truck out. Take you to the hospital in Albuquerque, maybe.”

Mirtin tensed. Hospital? Internal examination? He couldn’t risk it. Let an Earthman doctor shine one of their radiation machines through his body and see what was coiled within it, and the game was up. He was pledged to die first.

Shaping his words with care, Mirtin said, “Could you bring me food out here? Something to drink? Help me into that cave, maybe? Just until I’m all right.”

There was a long silence.

Then — a lucky stab, an intuitive leap, perhaps? — the boy narrowed his mouth and made a whistling sound and said, “Hey, I know! You fell off the flying saucer!”

It was a direct hit, and Mirtin flinched. He hadn’t been prepared for anything like that. Automatically he said, “Flying saucer? No … No, not a flying saucer. I was riding in a car. There was an accident. 1 was thrown from it.”

“Where’s the car, then?”

Mirtin’s eyes looked toward the gully. “Down there, I suppose. I don’t know. I was unconscious.”

“There isn’t any car. You couldn’t drive anything in here. Look, you came off that flying saucer, mister. You aren’t fooling me. What planet you from, huh? How come you look so much like Earthpeople there?”

Mirtin felt like laughing. There was so much intelligence in the pinched, angular little face, such a keen, skeptical mind behind those shining eyes. He liked the boy tremendously. Just a shabby child, who didn’t even speak English very well, and yet Mirtin could sense a potential within him, a spark of something. He wished he could be honest with the boy and drop this elaborate facade of lies.

Mirtin said, “Can you bring me food? Something to drink?”

“You mean, bring it to you out here?”

“Yes. If I could just stay in that cave — until I’m well again—”

“But I could get help from the pueblo. We’d take you to a hospital.”

“I don’t want to go to a hospital. I just want to stay out here… alone.”

Silence for a moment.

The boy said, “You don’t look like a jailbird. You aren’t running away. So why don’t you want the hospital? You in this funny suit. And you talk kind of funny, around the edges. Come on, mister. What planet you from? Mars? Saturn? You can trust me. I don’t get along so good with the pueblo, nohow. I help you, you help me. Yeah?”

Mirtin saw his opportunity. Why not confide in the boy? After all, he wasn’t under any binding oath to keep all Earthmen in ignorance of his extraterrestrial origin. He had to use his judgment about that. He might have more to gain by telling the truth to the smudge-faced boy, and getting help that way, than by maintaining secrecy. Especially if the only alternatives were to die out here or to go to a hospital and have his secret discovered by those most likely to expose it widely.

“Can I trust you?” Mirtin asked.

“You help me, I’ll help you. Sure.”

“All right. I baled out of a watcher ship. A saucer. You saw it explode last night?”

“You bet I did!”

“Well, that was me. Us. I landed here. I’m hurt — a broken back. It’ll take me a long time to get well. But if you take care of me, and bring me food and water, and don’t tell anybody I’m out here, I’ll be all right. And then I’ll try to help you, anything you want. But you mustn’t tell anyone about this.”

“You think anybody would believe me, anyway? A flying saucer man out in the desert? I won’t tell.”

“Good. What’s your name?”

“Charley Estancia. San Miguel tribe. I got two sisters Lupe and Rosita, and two brothers. They’re all dopes. What’s your name?”

“Mirtin.”

Charley repeated it. “That’s all? Just Mirtin?*

“That’s all.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a coded pattern of sound. It includes information on the place of my birth, the names of the members of my parent-group, and my vocational skills. There’s a lot packed into those two syllables.”

“So how come you look like an Earthman, Mirtin?”

“It’s a disguise. I’m different inside. That’s why I don’t want to go to a hospital.”

“They’d X-ray you and find out, huh?”

“Right.”

“What are you like inside?”

“You’d say I was plenty strange. I’ll try to tell you what I’m like. Later.”

“Will you show me?”

“I can’t do that,” said Mirtin. “My disguise — doesn’t come off that easily, Charley. It’s part of me. But I’ll tell you what’s underneath it, when we have time. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“You speak English pretty good.”

“I’ve had a long time to study it. I’ve been assigned to Earth since—” he paused, calculating “—since 1972. Ten years.”

“You speak any other languages? Spanish?”

“Pretty well.”

“What about Tewa? That’s my pueblo language. You know that?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mirtin confessed.

The boy exploded with laughter. “That’s okay! Because we don’t know it so good ourselves. The old people, they think they can say things in Tewa, but they don’t really understand each other anymore. They just think so, but they’re fooling themselves. It’s pretty funny. Hey, you from Saturn? Neptune?”

“I’m from a different solar system,” Mirtin said. “Far from here. From a planet that goes around another star. You know what a solar system is? And stars and planets? This is a planet right here, this Earth, and there are other—”

“You think I’m a dumb Indian?” Charley Estancia said hotly. I know stars and planets. And galaxies and nebulas. The whole deal. I’m no dope. I can read. They got a library truck, it comes around even to a pueblo. Where you from? When the stars come out tonight, point to it.”

“I can’t point to anything, Charley. I can’t lift my arm. Paralyzed.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“For now. I’ll get better, if you take care of me. But I’ll show you where to look, tonight. You can see the three bright stars, right in a row.”

“You mean, Orion’s belt?”

Pausing, Mirtin considered the constellations as seen from Earth. “Yes. That’s the one.”

“And that’s were you from?”

“That’s were I’m from. The fifth planet of the star on the eastern end. It’s a long way from here.”

“And you came all the way from there in a flying saucer?”

Mirtin smiled. “In a watcher ship, yes. To patrol Earth. And tonight our ship exploded. We got free just in time, and this is where I landed. I don’t know about the other two.”

The boy was silent, staring at him, the gleaming eyes picking out details of Mirtin’s suit, searching Mirtin’s face perhaps for some hint of alienness. At length Charley said, “I don’t know who crazier. You for telling, me for believing.”

“Don’t you think it’s the truth?”

“I don’t know. What should I do? Take a knife and cut you open, see what’s inside?”

I’d rather you didn’t”

The boy laughed in his explosive way. “Don’t worry, I won’t. It all sounds so crazy, though. A flying saucer man dropping right here. Look, you got to tell me what it’s like out there, huh? You talk, I listen, then I’ll know if it’s real. I can tell if you fooling me. I’ll get you into that cave, and then you’ll talk to me about the stars. I got to know everything. I never been away from home, and you’re from a planet. You’re going to tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” Mirtin said.

“Now we got to get you into that cave, though. Then I’ll get you something to eat, drink. The pueblo isn’t far. Will it hurt if I help you stand up? You could lean on me.”

“That won’t work. My legs are paralyzed too. You’ll have to pull me along the ground.”

“Drag you by the arms? With you hurt bad like this? You won’t like that. Hey, I got a better idea, Mirtin. I’ll put you on a stretcher. It’s better that way.”

Mirtin watched as the boy leaped up, pulling a hunting knife from a sheath at his side, and began to slash at the nearby vegetation. He cut two slim poles from a scrawny tree, pruned away the branches, and started to hack at the stems of scrubby gray-green plants growing low to the ground. His face was set tight in concentration, lips clamped. The boy’s fingers moved rapidly, weaving a network of fibers between the two poles. The sight fascinated Mirtin. It was so primitive, and yet so efficient!

After a silent hour of energetic work, the stretcher was done.

“This is gonna hurt,” Charley said. I got to haul you onto that stretcher somehow. Once you’re on it it’ll be okay, but while I’m hauling you—”

“I can shut off my body,” Mirtin told him. “I won’t feel anything for several minutes. Longer than that and I’ll die.”

“Just turn it off? Like a switch?”

“Something like that. When my eyes close, you move fast and get me on the stretcher.”

For the first time, Mirtin saw something like genuine awe, even terror, come into the boy’s eyes. But only for a moment. It was as though Charley had still half believed it was all a joke, until Mirtin had offered to shut down his central nervous system, and the boy had come to realize that he might actually be in the presence of a genuine extraterrestrial. But the terror passed swiftly. Charley Estancia did not seem to fear him at all. Mirtin knew that he had been amazingly lucky in his discoverer. He and Charley were going to get along fine.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Charley said.;

“Now,” said Mirtin.

He knocked out the remaining ganglia. Briefly, he felt thin, cold hands grasping his wrists, and then he descended into the darkness of a temporary death.