Page 15 of Sentenced to Prism

  A gap had been torn in the barrier, the walls ripped away, and several things were marching through the open­ing. Each was half as tall as Evan but considerably more massive. They moved slowly on four stubby, thick tentacles, the tip of each of which curled backward. Four slimmer tentacles, likewise short and powerful, were held in readiness in front of each invader. A pair of eyes, large to facilitate night vision, stared out at the world. They were normal eyes, shockingly ordinary, not glassy pu­pilless lenses of the type employed by Azure and his kind.

  They were completely organic excepting the gleaming shells that protected them.

  There were more than a dozen, and the first ones in began gathering up the bodies of the dead walls, slipping them into baskets. The next half dozen headed straight for the center of the Associative, where a cylindrical con­clave of walls housed the rare earths and mineral salts vital to silicate health and growth. Organosilicates required regular doses of such substances also, to ensure the steady health and growth of their silicate shells.

  The invaders' intentions were quite clear. They were taking advantage of their ability to move about during the night in order to perpetrate a bit of murder and thievery.

  They didn't appear to be in any hurry, though their pace may not have been a matter of choice. While thick and powerful, the bent‑back tentacles on which they walked were not designed for speed.

  Evan almost tripped over a comatose wall. Seeing that it was still largely intact, he took the time to move it out of the path of the other invaders. There was no point in trying to restore it to its original resting place. It didn't have the energy to relink with its kin.

  An Associative warrior stood in the way of the raiders. One of the intruders reached out with a pair of tentacles and gave it a contemptuous shove. The immobile warrior, so impressive and invulnerable during the day, simply fell over on its side. Its assailant began pulling its legs off, using two tentacles to hold it in place while the other pair twisted and wrenched until the limb came free. Each limb was then tossed into the invaders' basket. Oily internal fluids spilled from the joints.

  As this carnage proceeded quietly and unopposed, Evan was desperately looking for some kind of weapon. He ran past motionless fleas and silent physicians, wondering if they were even aware that an attack was taking place even as he wandered how often such nocturnal invasions occurred.

  Near the center of the Associative stood the silicate stump of a cascalarian. It had been torn down by the diggers to eliminate its unwanted shade. Now the stump stood alone, full of splinters and fragments. Evan chose a meter‑long chunk of quartzlike material with ragged edges, hefted it in both hands. It was solid and heavy.

  The first raiders had nearly reached the storehouse. All that stood in their way was a trio of immobile war­riors. The invader in the forefront shoved two of them aside. One warrior broke an eye lens when he struck the ground.

  Evan let out a yell and brought the quartz club around in a sweeping arc, aiming for the face beneath the silicate shield that covered the head. It was strange to see flesh give on this world, to witness the flow of real blood.

  Tentacles flailing the air, the invader fell sideways and began clawing at its ruined face. Its companions shifted their attention to this unexpected wraith, but their ten­tacles moved so slowly that Evan was able to dodge them with ease. He attacked both simultaneously, bashing at limbs and bodies unscientifically but with great enthusi­asm.

  In the face of this furious defense the invaders retreated, uttering calls like anxious coughs, calls that were produced by vocal cords and fleshy throats instead of peculiar inorganic cells. The rest of the raiding party, baskets half full of dismembered members of the Associative, hurried to help.

  But they were so slow. Even when it appeared they had him encircled, all he had to do was jump over the nearest individual. Jumping was another talent none of there possessed. Come to think of it, Azure was the only one of his kind who had demonstrated any kind of leaping ability. These inhabitants of Prism, silicate and organo­silicate alike, were largely earthbound.

  Even as they wheeled around he was behind them, swinging his club energetically and generally wreaking havoc. It made no impression on their silicate armor, but limbs and skulls were not as well protected as the rest of the squat bodies. Whenever he struck a soft area he was rewarded with a cough of discomfort.

  Faced with the relentless assault of the alien demon who had suddenly materialized in their midst, the invaders abandoned their attack on the storehouse. Carrying what loot they could, they began their slow retreat. Evan har­ried them mercilessly all the way. He had the satisfaction of killing two of them: the one whose eye he'd struck with his first blow and another whose tentacles he battered to a pulp while the others put on a burst of real speed.

  Finally the last of them had disappeared back through the gap in the walls. Evan stood there, staring through it into the surrounding forest and panting heavily. The club hung from his right hand. He did not look much like the ultimate product of a highly evolved civilization just then. Not that he gave a damn. There'd been no question of his trying to help, and not just because Azure and the libraries and the others had agreed to help him. A fair fight was one thing, and far be it from him to render judgment on hereditary alien feuds, but to attack and dis­member an enemy while it was locked, helpless, in hiber­nation was something else again. Evan might be more closely related to the invaders than to Azure and his kind, but there was no question in his mind which group was more deserving of his friendship. Mankind had learned soon after leaving its home system that civilization and civilized behavior was not a function of shape or com­position.

  The ease with which the invaders had gone about their plundering had shocked him. If he hadn't been there to intervene he had no doubt they would have emptied the storehouse at their leisure in addition to decimating the population of the Associative. There had to be some way for Azure and his kind to mount a defense against such nocturnal assaults, but how?

  Tired as he was, he didn't sleep any more that night.

  Chapter Ten

  The flects stirred first, sensitive to the first rays of the rising sun. Powered up, they turned to the business of pouring light on their still somnolent com­panions. Next into action were the warriors. They imme­diately took note of what had occurred while they'd slept and began the sad task of supervising the cleanup. The walls hurried to repair the gap in the community's pro­tective barrier.

  Evan wished he could listen in to their conversation, but he had no way of deciphering the cacophony of buzzes, squeaks, and hums that filled the morning air. He had to wait for Azure to wake. Plugged in both to him and to the tower, they waited together on the lingering libraries, who remained motionless longest of all. Perhaps they required more energy to become active because of their prodigious memories.

  "Vwacorites," muttered the first library when the corpse of one Evan had killed was displayed by a pair of warriors. "A periodic curse. Nothing we can do about them, unfortunately, except hope that the walls will hold through the night. In this instance it's clear they did not, though they are not to blame. We encounter the creatures during the day sometimes. When we do, our warriors kill all they can find. They cannot stand against us during the day. The world is nothing if not equitable, however. The night belongs to them. Then they take their revenge."

  "It is not equitable," the third library insisted. "They can run or fight during the day. We can do neither during the long darkness."

  "A fact which I particularly regretted last night," the second declared. "It would have been a grand sight to watch our alien friend drive them away. They cannot know that you are a pure organic and that your exoskeleton is a product of the froporia and not your own body. Such knowledge would shock them even more."

  "Do they form communities too, like your Associa­tive?"

  "None that we have ever encountered." There was sorrow in the third library's tone. "The Vwacorites are not the only on
es we have to fear during the long darkness, but they are the worst because they work together."

  "It's so damned unfair," Evan mumbled. "There must be some way for you to defend yourself at night."

  "Would that there were. In most instances the solidity of the walls is sufficient. Very few creatures have the strength to break through healthy walls before we awaken. Only the Vwacorites are a persistent problem." Evan received the impression of a sigh. "Intelligence carries with it corresponding curses. Surely it's the same with your own kind."

  Evan mulled that one over. He was still outraged by what he'd witnessed the night before. The grounds of the Associative were full of busy gatherers patiently recover­ing the fragments of walls and warriors and the others who'd been killed. Once more the storehouse was defended by three warriors. A physician was working to repair the lens off the one who was missing an eye.

  "Naturally there is no way for us to thank you appro­priately for what you have done for us."

  "Any civilized individual would have done the same."

  "There is no need for false modesty."

  Evan smiled faintly. "That's something I've never been guilty of. Listen, when I get back in touch with my people we're going to take care off this problem for you, some­how. We have developed defenses, weapons, that function just as well at night as they do during the day."

  "These defenses would operate forever, without your supervision?"

  "Well, not forever, no, but..." He hesitated, struck by a sudden thought. "What you need, of course, is some­thing you can maintain and repair yourselves. Maybe what you really need isn't something new at all. It's always more practical to modify an existing device than to replace it."

  "We do not understand your meaning." The three libraries spoke in concert.

  "It may not be worth anything. My idea, that is. But I would like to suggest it."

  " Go ahead and suggest," said the third library.

  "I need something first." He was glad they could not interpret the expression on his face. They owed him for what he'd done last night, but still, there was no account­ing for alien reactions. They seemed sensible, highly log­ical folk, but how could you guess at customs as yet unobserved?

  He'd gone too far to back out. "I need," he said evenly, "one of your cadavers."

  A pause while he waited tensely. The libraries con­versed among themselves. They must have passed on their conclusion to the talker standing outside because two gatherers appeared shortly thereafter. They carried a dead warrior between them.

  Evan moved to examine the corpse. It lay on its back and though the bright colors hadn't changed, they had become duller somehow; the red lenses were dark. Sev­eral of the limbs were missing, carried off by the Vwa­corites. Around the body lingered the vinegary smell of dried internal fluids.

  The heavy armor was cracked in several places, but Evan couldn't see inside. He explained his requirements to Azure, who passed them on to the libraries. Evan waited and hoped he wasn't stepping on any local superstitions. But the corpse had to be opened up.

  While they waited the flects shifted their stances periodically to ensure that those at the meeting place received maximum sunshine. Occasionally one would have to be reminded to turn away from Evan, who had less need of their attentions.

  Eventually they were joined by four physicians. Together they represented more than half of the medical complement of the Associative. Their names were far longer and more complex than Azure's. Evan satisfied himself by identifying them with numbers, as he had the libraries.

  Once the request was explained to them they went to work quickly. They looked much like the libraries, though not as large and without the distinctive backward‑facing horns. By way of compensation they boasted the most extraordinary array of fine tentacles, fingers, and cilia, along with more specialized limbs, that Evan had ever seen attached to a single being. These they employed on the warrior's corpse with marvelous efficiency.

  The dissection was not ignored by the other members of the Associative. While they continued about their daily tasks, those who passed the meeting ground glanced curi­ously at the activities taking place there, wondering what the libraries and the strange alien were up to. Only the less intelligent, more prosaic individuals like the conduits and walls ignored the goings‑on.

  Evan watched intently and tried to make sense out of the warrior's insides. He wasn't having too much luck. It was more like looking at a machine than a living crea­ture, and an alien machine at that. With neither metal nor plastic in its body.

  It was left to the physicians, communicating with him through the good offices of the talker, to enlighten him. The third gestured with a delicate tentacle.

  "Here is the organ you expressed an interest in seeing."

  Evan leaned over the opened body. The physician was indicating a cylindrical silicate shape full of fine striations and subtle inclusions. It was light yellow and mildly trans­lucent. Evan could see where the striations connected up with filaments that ran through the rest of the body.

  Despite the absence of blood and flesh, he had to steady himself while the physician, at his request, removed the organ in question. It was handed to Evan, who tried to examine it with the scientific detachment he tried to con­vince himself he possessed. Bundles of filaments pro­truded from both ends. It was not very heavy.

  When he asked the physicians what the organ was called, he was not surprised when the mind picture they gave him was translated as heart.

  "I've watched you replacing legs and eyes. Why can't you simply enlarge these organs? Is this beyond your skills?"

  "We are not ignorant," the second physician replied. "The same line of thinking has occurred to us also. But no matter how much we increase the size of the heart, it does not seem capable of generating additional energy."

  So much for that bright idea, Evan thought disconso­lately. He studied the organ closely. It was dry to the touch. Evidently it could not store solar power for very long. A few hours of darkness depleted its reserves.

  If it could be supercooled it might provide enough power to last someone like Azure through the long night. He was dreaming. Encasing the organ in a bath of liquid nitro­gen would likely have other, less efficacious effects on the rest of the body. Gently he placed the organ back in the warrior's body and stepped clear.

  It had been a worthwhile idea, though, even if it hadn't panned out. It seemed that Azure and his kin were des­tined to remain at the mercy of night‑roaming organo­silicates.

  From what the libraries had told him the Vwacontes were likely to return, perhaps more heavily armed this time and prepared to deal even with alien interlopers.

  "It's not fair," he said again, without thinking that it would be picked up by the talker and relayed to those around him.

  "Who ever said life was?" quipped the fourth physi­cian. "There is nothing to be done for it. When the sun goes down, we go down with it."

  "Your bodies are so well designed, so efficiently put together. This is all that's holding you back. Maybe one day you'll have access to my people's advanced tech­nology. You're such natural biosilicate engineers now, I can see you someday producing something as advanced as this without the need for machines." He showed them the emergency beacon that pulsed in his wrist.

  "This is the device that produces the signal that we're going to try to trace. It's a small transmitter, homing unit, and identity generator all in one, powered by a tiny lithium battery."

  One of the libraries perked up. "Battery? That sounds like heart."

  "No, they're not the same." He found himself frowning as he thought furiously. What a crazy idea! "They're not the same at all."

  One of the physicians crawled nearer. Multiple lenses focused on the softly pulsing beacon. "Might I see that a little more closely?"

  "Well‑be careful with it."

  "We are careful with everything," came the slightly insulted reply.

  They had trusted him. Could he do less, ev
en with his last link to a possible survivor of the station catastrophe? Surely they would handle it with great care. He used thumb and forefinger to remove it from its aseptic recep­tacle in his wrist and handed it to the curious alien. Phy­sicians crowded around the strange artifact. Peculiar limbs and structures felt of it constantly.

  "Interesting flavor," the first physician murmured.

  "Miorian, yancoth, seririgia," the fourth added. "What of the internal structure?"

  Evan winced as the cap on the back of the unit was pried open, but he held his peace.

  "Fascinating. See here?" the third said. "Different but not complex."

  "The purpose is clearly divined via the structure," the first commented.

  Eventually they handed it back to Evan.

  "I believe," the first physician said solemnly, "that we can duplicate this and apply it to our own bodies."

  Evan snapped it back into his wrist, smiled gently. "I don't mean to denigrate your abilities, but I don't think you can. The beacon is the product of a fully equipped modern factory. You don't just grow one like a flower."

  "Not the entire organ. We are interested only in its heart."

  "Even that. There's lithium involved. You can't toss that stuff around in a free state. It's too volatile."

  "What is he talking about?" the second physician mut­tered.

  "I think he refers to bequanel," the third said.

  "Oh. Is that all?"

  The four physicians conferred. A discussion involving the libraries followed. Two of the physicians disappeared, to return moments later with a pair of processors in tow. The meeting place became a hive of activity. For the moment, Evan's presence was forgotten.

  "What are they doing?"

  "Trying, I think, to build a little heart like the one in your wrist," Azure informed him.