The Howling Stones

  "Tomochelor?" A rough‑looking, stocky, heavily bearded individual broke from the small crowd to block Pulickel's path. He wore a duty uniform of green shorts, shirt, and sandals. Insignia decorated his sleeves and shoulders. "Eric Train. On behalf of the department, wel­come to Senisran." He extended a hand and flagged Pulickel's up and down. "No hand luggage?"

  "No. I just have the one case."

  "That'll be waiting for you in the baggage area." He turned and Pulickel fell in step alongside him. "I've seen your schedule. You have a couple of days here in town before you have to head out to the site. I'd be glad to show you around."

  "I'd enjoy that." Actually, Pulickel wasn't sure that he would, but he'd learned early on in his career that when traveling, no amount of research, no matter how thor­ough, could substitute for the knowledge of someone lo­cal. While Train was exposing him to the few simple pleasures Ophhlia had to offer, Pulickel would patiently pump him for more practical information.

  "How was your flight?"

  "Like any KK‑drive journey. Pleasant enough. Quiet and busy. I had plenty of time to study and to work with the language synapse. It's a long way from Earth." They left the busy main atrium and turned down a side corri­dor. "I must say that based on everything I've read I don't quite see why my presence is so actively required."

  Train put a comradely arm around the other man's shoulders, a gesture that Pulickel disliked but had grown used to. "Let's just say that Parramat's a special problem that needs a specialist's attention." The newly arrived xe­nologist knew as much but politely allowed Train the pleasure of explication.

  The terminal was busier than Pulickel expected. Though Senisran was a far‑off, recently discovered world, Ophhlia was a busy place. Things were happening here.

  "After the initial contacts," Train was saying, "the xenology department was able to put together a few basic contact templates. With minor variations for individual island groupings these have worked pretty well‑until Parramat. "

  "So all the reports say." Pulickel commented only to show that he was paying attention.

  "But these Parramati, they're different." Train was shaking his head dolefully. "Not physically, of course. As far as appearance, physical ability, and intelligence, they're no different from any of the other seni. By the way, except for the overtly warlike tribes, the natives are nice folks‑for semihumanoid aboriginal aliens. And even the most aggressive tribes are usually ready to sit down and have a chat or share a meal before they paddle off to bash somebody else's heads in.

  "Generally speaking, we're getting along well with them. Staying a few jumps ahead of the AAnn. You know the lizards: they tend to be kind of impatient, whereas the seni are a species that likes to take its time. It reflects the nature of their environment. That's not to say that if we weren't here that every one of them wouldn't readily align themselves with the AAnn."

  Pulickel nodded. The AAnn were always in a hurry, expecting a yes‑or‑no answer to a question the first time it was asked. Establishing formal relations with new species often required a good deal more patience. This the AAnn had learned, but their natural instincts still had a tendency to frustrate their own efforts in that area. As a result, the Commonwealth had forged ahead in its efforts to secure alliances with Senisran's scattered and highly individualistic tribes. Struggling to catch up, the Empire had poured considerable resources into its local efforts. In territories where the locals remained uncommitted, such as the Parramat Archipelago, they were just as active as the representatives of the Commonwealth.

  The Parramati had shown themselves to be wary of the offers from both sides, as was to be expected. Like primi­tive sentients anywhere, they didn't want to make the mistake of allying themselves with a weaker party. So they listened patiently to the presentations of both visi­tors, human and AAnn alike, and asked questions, and debated among themselves, and put off making any kind of final decision. Pulickel was being brought in to hurry things along.

  "You know, of course, why we're making a greater ef­fort than usual to bring the Parramati quickly into the Commonwealth fold." Train preceded Pulickel through a security door.

  The slight newcomer nodded. The efforts to which his host was referring had less to do with the welfare of the inhabitants of the Parramat Archipelago than with what lay beneath their several dozen islands. Specifically, an unknown number of rare earth deposits of exceptional commercial value, from niobium and yttrium to obscure minerals with names even Pulickel couldn't pronounce.

  Train was patting him on the shoulder. "You know, I envy you, going out to Parramat. Resolve this one and you'll really make a name for yourself."

  "I have a name," Pulickel replied quietly. He wanted to shrug the other man's arm off his shoulders but restrained himself. False conviviality always made him queasy. He hated attending parties, even parties of two.

  Instead of being offended by his guest's rejoinder, Train's grin expanded. "All right, so this'll help you en­hance it. Obviously, I don't have to tell you how impor­tant the assignment is." He lowered his voice and his bushy eyebrows did acrobatics. "There's also the matter of your local support, someone who's already on site. I could tell you how many local xenologists clamored for this duty just because of that, but I don't want to intimi­date you when you've just arrived." He chuckled. "Last poor schmuck I had to send out on contact duty ended up with an old thranx for company. That'd be okay for a few months, but for a year ... " He let the implication trail away, then added, "Your position will be ... different."

  Pulickel made himself smile at his host. "Do not worry about me. I don't intimidate easily. What's the prob­lem? Is the support individual in question particularly disagreeable?"

  Train gave him a funny look. "You'll see."

  "I find I'm able to get along with just about any per­sonality type. It's a necessary skill when one is working for long periods of time in comparative isolation. I'm sure this individual and I will come to an accommoda­tion. Could we pick up my case now, please? I'm anxious to see if everything's arrived in one piece."

  Train was still grinning. "It should be waiting for us at Transport."

  Pulickel debated whether to press his guide for addi­tional details about his field support but decided he'd find out soon enough. As he'd told Train, he wasn't concerned. Young, old, male, female, thranx, or human, he'd worked with them all, often under far more difficult conditions. It came naturally to him. He was such a nonthreatening personality that even initially hostile colleagues ended up adopting a protective attitude toward their new colleague. While he wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs, it was hard to pick a fight with someone who always attended strictly to business. The result was a mutually productive working environment, which was what the xenologist always strove for no matter where he was assigned.

  Train's underlying urgency was no surprise. Pulickel had read the relevant reports, every one of them. Common­wealth commercial interests wanted the vacillating situa­tion on Parramat resolved so they could move in and exploit the exceptional ore deposits that lay beneath the archipelago as soon as possible‑in an environmentally and socially sensitive manner, of course. It was empha­sized that the Commonwealth and not the AAnn should be the ones to do this.

  Though he thoroughly understood the situation, Pulickel had no intention of hurrying his work. He would take his time and do his job properly. Not that he expected it to prove especially troublesome. A couple of months at most, he'd decided when he'd finished the last of the field reports. A couple of months and the commercial in­terests in Ophhlia would have their treaty of agreement and he would be on his way back to Earth, awash in ac­colades and official commendations. It had always been thus. Mentally he was already readying himself for his next assignment.

  Meanwhile he expected as well as hoped to enjoy his stay on Senisran. New worlds and new alien cultures were endlessly fascinating. While certain patterns held true across the cosmos, every sentient species was dif­ferent and presented its ow
n unique problems to those charged with establishing formal contact. It would be in­teresting not only to meet the Parramati but to see how their culture differed from that of their fellow seni. Cer­tainly he would acquire enough material for one or two formal papers, which when published would only add to his growing reputation.

  The compact transport vehicle was waiting just outside the terminal, and his travel case, intact and unbreached, had been stowed securely in the rear storage compart­ment. Using a remote key, Train opened the single door and followed him inside. Cool, dehumidified air blew from several vents.

  "I'm looking forward to showing you around." Train nudged his guest in the ribs. "Ophhlia ain't fancy, but with all the money that's pouring in here we've managed a few amusements."

  "I can imagine," Pulickel responded amiably. He was more than familiar with the kinds of "amusements" common to newly contacted worlds‑which was why he couldn't wait to be on his way.

  Chapter Two

  Though he'd believed himself fully prepared, the journey from Ophhlia to Parramat still took longer than he'd ex­pected. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. Dis­tances on Senisran were substantial, and Parramat was located several thousand kilometers from Ophhlia.

  As the low‑altitude transport jet screamed through cloud‑flecked sky, he watched the landscape change be­neath him. Given the inherent limitations of Senisrani terrain, the panorama varied considerably. There were low islands and high islands, islands with marked volcanic craters and islands with heavily eroded ridges and peaks. He saw islands with deserts and islets so cloaked in green growth that no bare earth was visible. There were blind­ingly white atolls and blue holes, sandbars aligned like folds of pale skin beneath shallow turquoise waters, tiny islets strung like pearls on a necklace, and isolated ex­posed seamounts devoid of life. All were corpuscles aswim in blue blood. The largest took no more than a couple of minutes to overfly.

  It was impossible to count them all, and indeed, on­going surveys added dozens of new landmasses to the Senisran total every week. By no means were all inhab­ited, or even visited by the natives, but even the most in­consequential found its way onto the list. Geo‑Survey was very thorough.

  The AAnn were compiling their own overview. Chraara, their main base, was fortuitously located on the opposite side of the planet from Ophhlia, on a low, sandy island only an AAnn would find attractive. From there contact parties fanned out, attempting to secure the friendship of manifold native societies. Occasionally they found them­selves competing with human scouts for local affections. At such times a frosty politeness was established and maintained. It was all very formal, very restrained, and deadly serious. Beneath the diplomatic etiquette lay a bru­tal competition for influence with the locals.

  In the race to conclude treaties, neither side had any natural advantages. The seni were perfectly happy to lis­ten to the supplications of both. As to local conditions, the AAnn handled the heat better while humans enjoyed a greater tolerance for the high humidity. Physiologically, the thranx were better suited to Senisrani conditions than either human or AAnn, but their dislike of open water rendered them unenthusiastic when it came to accepting assignments on an island world, and the semihumanoid natives found them unpleasant to look upon. So it fell upon humans and AAnn to compete in the face‑to‑face negotiations.

  "There it is." Even as he pointed, the pilot banked to starboard and descended to give his passenger a better view. "Parramat."

  Pulickel had been on many similar craft, but while seasickness held no worries for him, aerial maneuvers al­ways left him feeling slightly queasy. He would be re­lieved when they were down.

  The mass of islands and islets rising from the azure sea was in no way remarkable. As near as Pulickel could tell, it differed only slightly from the thousands of similar islands they had overflown on the long flight out from Ophhlia.

  The pilot proceeded to circumnavigate the entire archi­pelago, pointing out the thirty‑six main islands and the occasional important minor group that had been dis­missed by Survey with a collective name. Pulickel did his best to pay attention. To the north lay the archipelago of Ririroarak, to the west Mosiniatan, to the south Bebat, and to the east the close‑packed island groups of Koma­pau, Seriseri, and Apla. Other clusters lay farther afield. All were inhabited, but thus far only Ririroarak and Seri­seri had been visited by representatives of the Common­wealth. The Department of Xenology had many demands on its time and resources. Senisran received its fair share of attention, but no more.

  "You know that the AAnn have a station here, too." As the pilot maintained their descent, Pulickel did his best to match the view outside with the survey map of Parramat he'd committed to memory. The two lined up adequately in his mind, except that the reality was far more beautiful than the recordings he'd been given to study.

  "I've seen the prospectus," he informed his guide. "It doesn't matter. Their base is on an island in the far north of the group. I don't expect their presence to affect my work."

  The pilot grunted softly. "Hope not. I reckon trying to make sense of one island culture after another is hard enough without the lizards making things more difficult than they already are. Personally, the less I have to do with them, the better I like it." In response to a nudge on a switch, there was a whine from the belly of the craft as her landing pontoons deployed.

  "They're not lizards." As the g‑forces on him increased modestly, Pulickel shifted uneasily in his harness. "They're far more closely related to the extinct order dinosauria, be­ing warm‑blooded and possessing distinctive characteristics of their own. The resemblance to terrestrial lizards is purely superficial."

  "Yeah, right." His attempt at casual camaraderie thus rebuffed, the pilot's voice returned to neutral. "I‑Lang on. Might be a little bumpy setting down. The lagoon's ten kilometers wide and the water inside is flat calm, but afternoon winds can be tricky."

  Pulickel went silent, wondering if the pilot was being honest or if he was simply tired of trying to make friends with his stuffy passenger. Not that it mattered one way or the other. They wouldn't be seeing one another again for some time, if ever.

  Banking sharply, they made one overfly of the landing site to check local conditions. Pulickel's view filled with water in a dozen amazing shades of blue and green, all enclosed within a huge lagoon ringed with low islets composed of largely uncolonized sand. Although a fair proportion of the material was a familiar white, in many places it was a startlingly bright red or yellow. This re­flected its origin in aqueous alien growths that, while analogous in form and lifestyle to communal Terran corals, contained a high proportion of silicon as opposed to the more common calcium. The result was sand that was not only differently and more brightly colored but extra­ordinarily reflective, and reefs whose component struc­tures tended to be sharp and angular rather than soft and rounded.

  A single sharp bounce and they were down. Garrulous the pilot might be, but he knew his business. Backjets roared, fighting to reduce the ship's speed and making conversation impossible. Ahead of the slowing craft, sev­eral dozen silvery, nearly transparent fleratii exploded from the surface of the lagoon, fluttered fluted fins, and dispersed toward the eastern horizon. From a distance they suggested a fistful of fairy dust scattered upon the sea.

  Pulickel knew that Senisran's single world‑girdling ocean boasted creatures that in variety and numbers put those of Earth to shame. Not all were as beautiful as the feratii, whose glistening transparent skins scattered rainbows in their wake. There were thousands of forms glimpsed but as yet undescribed, and millions more to be discovered. The preparatory materials he had studied so assiduously prior to arrival had acquainted him with only a minimum of the most notable examples. What stood out foremost in his mind about Senisran's ocean life was that unlike on Earth and Cachalot, here invertebrate life­forms were dominant. One could fish but would do better with a basket than a hook.

  As they slowed, the pilot aimed for a small, sandy cay loc
ated inside the lagoon. A second craft was already drawn up on the picture‑perfect beach, its silvery‑gray exterior at odds with the reddish‑white surface on which it rested. Green crowns burst from the tops of three gen­tly curving, blue‑black boled trees. Their stiff, starlike crests provided the only shade on the little islet.

  Beneath the largest of these hearty growths, Pulickel noted as the pilot cut the engine and they coasted into the shallows, was some kind of fold‑up lounge. On the lounge lay a figure, which due to their angle of approach seemed to be mostly legs. The pilot chuckled.

  "Your field support."

  Mentally organizing his neatly packed gear, the xenolo­gist turned to him. "Something funny about that?"

  "Funny? Naw, nothing funny about that." And he chuckled again. "I guess there's worse fates than being stuck on an island for months on end with only Fawn Seaforth for company."

  "Why? Does she have a reputation for inhospitableness?" The pilot pursed his lips before replying. "I expect you'll find out, since you're the first person who's been assigned here to do more than temporary construction or delivery work." Both men lurched slightly forward as the ship's pontoons grounded on smooth sand.

  "Yes, I suppose I will. I'm not worried, you know. No matter how obstinate or difficult they are at first, I've always been able to ingratiate myself with whomever I've been assigned to work with." For some reason this prompted the pilot to chortle even louder.

  "Let's go." Grinning at some private thought, he wiped at one eye. "I'll unload that precious case of yours."

  As the cockpit canopy slid back into the body of the transport, the landing ramp automatically deployed, com­ing to rest on a patch of dry, red sand that glittered like powdered rubies. Pulickel preceded the pilot, who was busy removing his passenger's travel case from the cargo hold.

  As the xenologist marched down the ramp and into the heat, the figure reclining on the lounge raised up to get a better look at him. A hand waved in greeting. He ignored it, his first concern being for his kit.