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diff --git a/23210-h/23210-h.htm b/23210-h/23210-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..693807e --- /dev/null +++ b/23210-h/23210-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2074 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Missing Link, by Frank Herbert + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + body { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + } + p { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; + } + .tr { + margin: 1em 10% 5em 10%; + padding: 1em; + text-indent: 0em; + background-color: rgb(90%,100%,90%); + color: black; + border: solid black 1px; + } + div.note { + margin: 4em 10% 0 10%; + padding: 0 1em 0 1em; + border: 1px dashed black; + background-color: rgb(90%,100%,90%); + color: black; + font-size: smaller; + } + div.note p { + text-indent: 0em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + font-weight: normal; + } + + h1 { + margin-top: 0em; + font-size: xx-large; + font-family: "Arial Narrow", sans-serif; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + p.author { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + font-size: large; + font-family: "Arial Narrow", sans-serif; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + p.illustrator { + font-size: small; + font-family: "Arial", sans-serif; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + p.end { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 2em; + } + p.newsection { + margin-top: 3em; + } + span.firstwords { + text-transform: uppercase; + } + + ul { + list-style: none; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 0em; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; + color: gray; + background-color: inherit; + } + + img { + border-style: none; + } + a:link { + text-decoration: none; + color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); + background-color: inherit; + } + a:visited { + text-decoration: none; + color: rgb(10%,30%,60%); + background-color: inherit; + } + a:hover { + text-decoration: underline; + } + a:active { + text-decoration: underline; + } + + .initial { + float: left; + clear: both; + padding-top: 0.1em; + padding-right: 0.5em; + } + + p.dropcapsection { + text-indent: -0.4em; + clear: none; + } + + .figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0px; + margin-right: 0px; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center;} + + .figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 0px; + margin-right: 0px; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; + } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Missing Link + +Author: Frank Patrick Herbert + +Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23210] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISSING LINK *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Markus Brenner and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p class="tr"><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong> This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction, Volume LXII No. 6, February 1959. Extensive research did not +uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> +<div style="position: relative; width: 500px; height: 476px; margin-bottom: 2em;"> +<div style="position: absolute; width: 164px; height: 476px;"> +<a href="images/illu1.jpg"> +<img src="images/illu1_th.jpg" alt="" title="" /></a> +</div> + +<h1 style="position: absolute; top: 100px; left: 200px; width: 300px;">MISSING LINK</h1> + +<p style="position: absolute; top: 150px; left: 200px; width: 300px;" class="author">BY FRANK +HERBERT</p> + +<p style="position: absolute; top: 250px; left: 200px; width: 300px; text-indent: 0em;"><i><span style="font-size: 120%">The Romantics</span> used to say +that the eyes were the windows +of the Soul. A good Alien Xenologist +might not put it quite +so poetically ... but he can, if +he’s sharp, read a lot in the +look of an eye!</i></p> + +<p style="position: absolute; top: 425px; left: 200px; width: 300px; text-align: right" class="illustrator">Illustrated by van Dongen</p> +</div> + + +<div class="initial" style="clear: both"> +<img src="images/initial.jpg" alt="W" /></div> +<p class="dropcapsection"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><span class="firstwords"><span style="display: none;">“W</span>e ought</span> to scrape +this planet clean of +every living thing on +it,” muttered Umbo +Stetson, section chief +of Investigation & Adjustment.</p> + +<p>Stetson paced the landing control +bridge of his scout cruiser. His footsteps +grated on a floor that was the +rear wall of the bridge during flight. +But now the ship rested on its tail +fins—all four hundred glistening red +and black meters of it. The open +ports of the bridge looked out on +the jungle roof of Gienah III some +one hundred fifty meters below. A +butter yellow sun hung above the +horizon, perhaps an hour from setting.</p> + +<p>“Clean as an egg!” he barked. He +paused in his round of the bridge, +glared out the starboard port, spat +into the fire-blackened circle that the +cruiser’s jets had burned from the +jungle.</p> + +<p>The I-A section chief was dark-haired, +gangling, with large head +and big features. He stood in his +customary slouch, a stance not improved +by sacklike patched blue fatigues. +Although on this present operation +he rated the flag of a division +admiral, his fatigues carried no +insignia. There was a general unkempt, +straggling look about him.</p> + +<p>Lewis Orne, junior I-A field man +with a maiden diploma, stood at the +opposite port, studying the jungle +horizon. Now and then he glanced +at the bridge control console, the +chronometer above it, the big translite +map of their position tilted from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +the opposite bulkhead. A heavy +planet native, he felt vaguely uneasy +on this Gienah III with its gravity +of only seven-eighths Terran Standard. +The surgical scars on his neck +where the micro-communications +equipment had been inserted itched +maddeningly. He scratched.</p> + +<p>“Hah!” said Stetson. “Politicians!”</p> + +<p>A thin black insect with shell-like +wings flew in Orne’s port, settled +in his close-cropped red hair. +Orne pulled the insect gently from +his hair, released it. Again it tried +to land in his hair. He ducked. It +flew across the bridge, out the port +beside Stetson.</p> + +<p>There was a thick-muscled, no-fat +look to Orne, but something about +his blocky, off-center features suggested +a clown.</p> + +<p>“I’m getting tired of waiting,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“<i>You’re</i> tired! Hah!”</p> + +<p>A breeze rippled the tops of the +green ocean below them. Here and +there, red and purple flowers jutted +from the verdure, bending and nodding +like an attentive audience.</p> + +<p>“Just look at that blasted jungle!” +barked Stetson. “Them and their +stupid orders!”</p> + +<p>A call bell tinkled on the bridge +control console. The red light above +the speaker grid began blinking. +Stetson shot an angry glance at it. +“Yeah, Hal?”</p> + +<p>“O.K., Stet. Orders just came +through. We use Plan C. ComGO +says to brief the field man, and jet +out of here.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ask them about using +another field man?”</p> + +<p>Orne looked up attentively.</p> + +<p>The speaker said: “Yes. They said +we have to use Orne because of the +records on the <i>Delphinus</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Well then, will they give us +more time to brief him?”</p> + +<p>“Negative. It’s crash priority. +ComGO expects to blast the planet +anyway.”</p> + +<p>Stetson glared at the grid. “Those +fat-headed, lard-bottomed, pig-brained +... POLITICIANS!” He +took two deep breaths, subsided. +“O.K. Tell them we’ll comply.”</p> + +<p>“One more thing, Stet.”</p> + +<p>“What now?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a confirmed contact.”</p> + +<p>Instantly, Stetson was poised on +the balls of his feet, alert. “Where?”</p> + +<p>“About ten kilometers out. Section +AAB-6.”</p> + +<p>“How many?”</p> + +<p>“A mob. You want I should count +them?”</p> + +<p>“No. What’re they doing?”</p> + +<p>“Making a beeline for us. You +better get a move on.”</p> + +<p>“O.K. Keep us posted.”</p> + +<p>“Right.”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Stetson looked across at his junior +field man. “Orne, if you decide you +want out of this assignment, you just +say the word. I’ll back you to the +hilt.”</p> + +<p>“Why should I want out of my +first field assignment?”</p> + +<p>“Listen, and find out.” Stetson +crossed to a tilt-locker behind the +big translite map, hauled out a white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +coverall uniform with gold insignia, +tossed it to Orne. “Get into these +while I brief you on the map.”</p> + +<p>“But this is an R&R uni—” began +Orne.</p> + +<p>“Get that uniform on your ugly +frame!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, Admiral Stetson, sir. +Right away, sir. But I thought I was +through with old Rediscovery & Reeducation +when you drafted me off +of Hamal into the I-A ... sir.” He +began changing from the I-A blue +to the R&R white. Almost as an +afterthought, he said: “... Sir.”</p> + +<p>A wolfish grin cracked Stetson’s +big features. “I’m soooooo happy +you have the proper attitude of subservience +toward authority.”</p> + +<p>Orne zipped up the coverall uniform. +“Oh, yes, sir ... sir.”</p> + +<p>“O.K., Orne, pay attention.” Stetson +gestured at the map with its +green superimposed grid squares. +“Here we are. Here’s that city we +flew over on our way down. You’ll +head for it as soon as we drop you. +The place is big enough that if you +hold a course roughly northeast you +can’t miss it. We’re—”</p> + +<p>Again the call bell rang.</p> + +<p>“What is it this time, Hal?” +barked Stetson.</p> + +<p>“They’ve changed to Plan H, Stet. +New orders cut.”</p> + +<p>“Five days?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all they can give us. +ComGO says he can’t keep the information +out of High Commissioner +Bullone’s hands any longer than +that.”</p> + +<p>“It’s five days for sure then.”</p> + +<p>“Is this the usual R&R foul-up?” +asked Orne.</p> + +<p>Stetson nodded. “Thanks to Bullone +and company! We’re just one +jump ahead of catastrophe, but they +still pump the bushwah into the Rah +& Rah boys back at dear old Uni-Galacta!”</p> + +<p>“You’re making light of my revered +alma mater,” said Orne. He +struck a pose. “We must reunite the +lost planets with our centers of culture +and industry, and take up the +<i>glor</i>-ious onward march of mankind +that was so <i>bru</i>-tally—”</p> + +<p>“Can it!” snapped Stetson. “We +both know we’re going to rediscover +one planet too many some day. Rim +War all over again. But this is a +different breed of fish. It’s not, repeat, +<i>not</i> a <i>re</i>-discovery.”</p> + +<p>Orne sobered. “Alien?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. A-L-I-E-N! A never-before-contacted +culture. That language you +were force fed on the way over, +that’s an alien language. It’s not +complete ... all we have off the +<i>minis</i>. And we excluded data on the +natives because we’ve been hoping to +dump this project and nobody the +wiser.”</p> + +<p>“Holy mazoo!”</p> + +<p>“Twenty-six days ago an I-A +search ship came through here, had +a routine mini-sneaker look at the +place. When he combed in his net +of sneakers to check the tapes and +films, lo and behold, he had a little +stranger.”</p> + +<p>“One of <i>theirs</i>?”</p> + +<p>“No. It was a <i>mini</i> off the <i>Delphinus +Rediscovery</i>. The <i>Delphinus</i> has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +been unreported for eighteen standard +months!”</p> + +<p>“Did it crack up here?”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know. If it did, we +haven’t been able to spot it. She +was supposed to be way off in the +Balandine System by now. But we’ve +something else on our minds. It’s +the one item that makes me want to +blot out this place, and run home +with my tail between my legs. +We’ve a—”</p> + +<p>Again the call bell chimed.</p> + +<p>“NOW WHAT?” roared Stetson +into the speaker.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a <i>mini</i> over that mob, +Stet. They’re talking about us. It’s a +definite raiding party.”</p> + +<p>“What armament?”</p> + +<p>“Too gloomy in that jungle to be +sure. The infra beam’s out on this +<i>mini</i>. Looks like hard pellet rifles +of some kind. Might even be off the +<i>Delphinus</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you get closer?”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t do any good. No light +down there, and they’re moving up +fast.”</p> + +<p>“Keep an eye on them, but don’t +ignore the other sectors,” said Stetson.</p> + +<p>“You think I was born yesterday?” +barked the voice from the +grid. The contact broke off with an +angry sound.</p> + + +<p class="newsection">“One thing I like about the I-A,” +said Stetson. “It collects such even-tempered +types.” He looked at the +white uniform on Orne, wiped a +hand across his mouth as though he’d +tasted something dirty.</p> + +<p>“Why <i>am</i> I wearing this thing?” +asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“Disguise.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s no mustache!”</p> + +<p>Stetson smiled without humor. +“That’s one of I-A’s answers to those +fat-keistered politicians. We’re setting +up our own search system to +find the planets before <i>they</i> do. +We’ve managed to put spies in key +places at R&R. Any touchy planets +our spies report, we divert the files.”</p> + +<p>“Then what?”</p> + +<p>“Then we look into them with +bright boys like you—disguised as +R&R field men.”</p> + +<p>“Goody, goody. And what happens +if R&R stumbles onto me +while I’m down there playing patty +cake?”</p> + +<p>“We disown you.”</p> + +<p>“But you said an I-A ship found +this joint.”</p> + +<p>“It did. And then one of our spies +in R&R intercepted a <i>routine</i> request +for an agent-instructor to be assigned +here with full equipment. Request +signed by a First-Contact officer +name of Diston ... of the <i>Delphinus</i>!”</p> + +<p>“But the Del—”</p> + +<p>“Yeah. Missing. The request was +a forgery. Now you see why I’m +mostly for rubbing out this place. +Who’d dare forge such a thing unless +he knew for sure that the original +FC officer was missing ... or +dead?”</p> + +<p>“What the jumped up mazoo are +we doing here, Stet?” asked Orne. +“Alien calls for a full contact team +with all of the—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p><p>“It calls for one planet-buster +bomb ... buster—in five days. Unless +you give them a white bill in +the meantime. High Commissioner +Bullone will have word of this +planet by then. If Gienah III still +exists in five days, can’t you imagine +the fun the politicians’ll have with +it? Mama mia! We want this planet +cleared for contact or dead before +then.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like this, Stet.”</p> + +<p>“YOU don’t like it!”</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Orne. “There must +be another way. Why ... when we +teamed up with the Alerinoids we +gained five hundred years in the +physical sciences alone, not to mention +the—”</p> + +<p>“The Alerinoids didn’t knock +over one of our survey ships first.”</p> + +<p>“What if the <i>Delphinus</i> just +crashed here ... and the locals picked +up the pieces?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what you’re going in to +find out, Orne. But answer me this: +If they <i>do</i> have the <i>Delphinus</i>, how +long before a tool-using race could +be a threat to the galaxy?”</p> + +<p>“I saw that city they built, Stet. +They could be dug in within six +months, and there’d be no—”</p> + +<p>“Yeah.”</p> + +<p>Orne shook his head. “But think +of it: Two civilizations that matured +along different lines! Think of all +the different ways we’d approach the +same problems ... the lever that’d +give us for—”</p> + +<p>“You sound like a Uni-Galacta +lecture! Are you through marching +arm in arm into the misty future?”</p> + +<p>Orne took a deep breath. “Why’s +a freshman like me being tossed into +this dish?”</p> + +<p>“You’d still be on the <i>Delphinus</i> +master lists as an R&R field man. +That’s important if you’re masquerading.”</p> + +<p>“Am I the only one? I know I’m +a recent <i>convert</i>, but—”</p> + +<p>“You want out?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say that. I just want to +know why I’m—”</p> + +<p>“Because the bigdomes fed a set +of requirements into one of their +iron monsters. Your card popped out. +They were looking for somebody +capable, dependable ... and ... +<i>expendable</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Hey!”</p> + +<p>“That’s why I’m down here briefing +you instead of sitting back on a +flagship. <i>I</i> got you into the I-A. +Now, you listen carefully: If you +push the panic button on this one +without cause, I will personally flay +you alive. We both know the advantages +of an alien contact. But if you +get into a hot spot, and call for help, +I’ll dive this cruiser into that city to +get you out!”</p> + +<p>Orne swallowed. “Thanks, Stet. +I’m—”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">“We’re going to take up a tight +orbit. Out beyond us will be five +transports full of I-A marines and a +Class IX Monitor with one planet-buster. +You’re calling the shots, God +help you! First, we want to know if +they have the <i>Delphinus</i> ... and if +so, where it is. Next, we want to +know just how warlike these goons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +are. Can we control them if they’re +bloodthirsty. What’s their potential?”</p> + +<p>“In five days?”</p> + +<p>“Not a second more.”</p> + +<p>“What do we know about them?”</p> + +<p>“Not much. They look something +like an ancient Terran chimpanzee +... only with blue fur. Face is hairless, +pink-skinned.” Stetson snapped +a switch. The translite map became +a screen with a figure frozen on it. +“Like that. This is life size.”</p> + +<p>“Looks like the missing link +they’re always hunting for,” said +Orne. “Yeah, but you’ve got a different +kind of a missing link.”</p> + +<p>“Vertical-slit pupils in their eyes,” +said Orne. He studied the figure. It +had been caught from the front by +a mini-sneaker camera. About five +feet tall. The stance was slightly +bent forward, long arms. Two vertical +nose slits. A flat, lipless mouth. +Receding chin. Four-fingered hands. +It wore a wide belt from which dangled +neat pouches and what looked +like tools, although their use was +obscure. There appeared to be the +tip of a tail protruding from behind +one of the squat legs. Behind the +creature towered the faery spires of +the city they’d observed from the air.</p> + +<p>“Tails?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“Yeah. They’re arboreal. Not a +road on the whole planet that we +can find. But there are lots of vine +lanes through the jungles.” Stetson’s +face hardened. “Match <i>that</i> with a +city as advanced as that one.”</p> + +<p>“Slave culture?”</p> + +<p>“Probably.”</p> + +<p>“How many cities have they?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve found two. This one and +another on the other side of the +planet. But the other one’s a +ruin.”</p> + +<p>“A ruin? Why?”</p> + +<p>“You tell us. Lots of mysteries +here.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the planet like?”</p> + +<p>“Mostly jungle. There are polar +oceans, lakes and rivers. One low +mountain chain follows the equatorial +belt about two thirds around the +planet.”</p> + +<p>“But only two cities. Are you +sure?”</p> + +<p>“Reasonably so. It’d be pretty hard +to miss something the size of that +thing we flew over. It must be fifty +kilometers long and at least ten wide. +Swarming with these creatures, too. +We’ve got a zone-count estimate that +places the city’s population at over +thirty million.”</p> + +<p>“Whee-ew! Those are tall buildings, too.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know much about this +place, Orne. And unless you bring +them into the fold, there’ll be nothing +but ashes for our archaeologists +to pick over.”</p> + +<p>“Seems a dirty shame.”</p> + +<p>“I agree, but—”</p> + +<p>The call bell jangled.</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Stetson’s voice sounded tired: +“Yeah, Hal?”</p> + +<p>“That mob’s only about five kilometers +out, Stet. We’ve got Orne’s +gear outside in the disguised air +sled.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll be right down.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p><p>“Why a disguised sled?” asked +Orne.</p> + +<p>“If they think it’s a ground buggy, +they might get careless when you +most need an advantage. We could +always scoop you out of the air, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“What’re my chances on this one, +Stet?”</p> + +<p>Stetson shrugged. “I’m afraid +they’re slim. These goons probably +have the <i>Delphinus</i>, and they want +you just long enough to get your +equipment and everything you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Rough as that, eh?”</p> + +<p>“According to our best guess. If +you’re not out in five days, we blast.”</p> + +<p>Orne cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>“Want out?” asked Stetson.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Use the <i>back-door</i> rule, son. Always +leave yourself a way out. Now +... let’s check that equipment the +surgeons put in your neck.” Stetson +put a hand to his throat. His mouth +remained closed, but there was a +surf-hissing voice in Orne’s ears: +“You read me?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. I can—”</p> + +<p>“No!” hissed the voice. “Touch +the mike contact. Keep your mouth +closed. Just use your speaking muscles +without speaking.”</p> + +<p>Orne obeyed.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Stetson. “You come +in loud and clear.”</p> + +<p>“I ought to. I’m right on top of +you!”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be a relay ship over you +all the time,” said Stetson. “Now ... +when you’re not touching that mike +contact this rig’ll still feed us what +you say ... and everything that goes +on around you, too. We’ll monitor +everything. Got that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Stetson held out his right hand. +“Good luck. I meant that about diving +in for you. Just say the word.”</p> + +<p>“I know the word, too,” said +Orne. “HELP!”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Gray mud floor and gloomy aisles +between monstrous bluish tree +trunks—that was the jungle. Only +the barest weak glimmering of sunlight +penetrated to the mud. The +disguised sled—its para-grav units +turned off—lurched and skidded +around buttress roots. Its headlights +swung in wild arcs across the trunks +and down to the mud. Aerial creepers—great +looping vines of them—swung +down from the towering +forest ceiling. A steady drip of condensation +spattered the windshield, +forcing Orne to use the wipers.</p> + +<p>In the bucket seat of the sled’s +cab, Orne fought the controls. He +was plagued by the vague slow-motion-floating +sensation that a +heavy planet native always feels in +lighter gravity. It gave him an unhappy +stomach.</p> + +<p>Things skipped through the air +around the lurching vehicle: flitting +and darting things. Insects came in +twin cones, siphoned toward the +headlights. There was an endless +chittering whistling tok-tok-toking +in the gloom beyond the lights.</p> + +<p>Stetson’s voice hissed suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +through the surgically implanted +speaker: “How’s it look?”</p> + +<p>“Alien.”</p> + +<p>“Any sign of that mob?”</p> + +<p>“Negative.”</p> + +<p>“O.K. We’re taking off.”</p> + +<p>Behind Orne, there came a deep +rumbling roar that receded as the +scout cruiser climbed its jets. All +other sounds hung suspended in +after-silence, then resumed: the +strongest first and then the weakest.</p> + +<p>A heavy object suddenly arced +through the headlights, swinging on +a vine. It disappeared behind a tree. +Another. Another. Ghostly shadows +with vine pendulums on both sides. +Something banged down heavily +onto the hood of the sled.</p> + +<div style="width:525px; margin:auto;"> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 174px;"> +<p><a href="images/illu2.jpg"><img src="images/illu2_th.jpg" +alt="" title="" /></a></p> +</div> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 338px;"> +<p><a href="images/illu3.jpg"><img src="images/illu3_th.jpg" +alt="" title="" /></a></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Orne braked to a creaking stop +that shifted the load behind him, +found himself staring through the +windshield at a native of Gienah III. +The native crouched on the hood, a +Mark XX exploding-pellet rifle in +his right hand directed at Orne’s +head. In the abrupt shock of meeting, +Orne recognized the weapon: +standard issue to the marine guards +on all R&R survey ships.</p> + +<p>The native appeared the twin of +the one Orne had seen on the translite +screen. The four-fingered hand +looked extremely capable around the +stock of the Mark XX.</p> + +<p>Slowly, Orne put a hand to his +throat, pressed the contact button. +He moved his speaking muscles: +<i>“Just made contact with the mob. +One on the hood now has one of +our Mark XX rifles aimed at my +head.”</i></p> + +<p>The surf-hissing of Stetson’s voice +came through the hidden speaker: +<i>“Want us to come back?”</i></p> + +<p><i>“Negative. Stand by. He looks +cautious rather than hostile.”</i></p> + +<p>Orne held up his right hand, palm +out. He had a second thought: held +up his left hand, too. Universal +symbol of peaceful intentions: empty +hands. The gun muzzle lowered +slightly. Orne called into his mind +the language that had been hypnoforced +into him. <i>Ocheero? No. That +means ‘The People.’ Ah ...</i> And he +had the heavy fricative greeting +sound.</p> + +<p>“Ffroiragrazzi,” he said.</p> + +<p>The native shifted to the left, answered +in pure, unaccented High +Galactese: “Who are you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p><p>Orne fought down a sudden panic. +The lipless mouth had looked so odd +forming the familiar words.</p> + +<p>Stetson’s voice hissed: <i>“Is that the +native speaking Galactese?”</i></p> + +<p>Orne touched his throat. <i>“You +heard him.”</i></p> + +<p>He dropped his hand, said: “I am +Lewis Orne of Rediscovery and Reeducation. +I was sent here at the +request of the First-Contact officer +on the <i>Delphinus Rediscovery</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Where is your ship?” demanded +the Gienahn.</p> + +<p>“It put me down and left.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“It was behind schedule for another +appointment.”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Out of the corners of his eyes, +Orne saw more shadows dropping to +the mud around him. The sled shifted +as someone climbed onto the load +behind the cab. The someone scuttled +agilely for a moment.</p> + +<p>The native climbed down to the +cab’s side step, opened the door. The +rifle was held at the ready. Again, +the lipless mouth formed Galactese +words: “What do you carry in this +... vehicle?”</p> + +<p>“The equipment every R&R field +man uses to help the people of a +rediscovered planet improve themselves.” +Orne nodded at the rifle. +“Would you mind pointing that +weapon some other direction? It +makes me nervous.”</p> + +<p>The gun muzzle remained unwaveringly +on Orne’s middle. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +native’s mouth opened, revealing +long canines. “Do we not look +strange to you?”</p> + +<p>“I take it there’s been a heavy +mutational variation in the humanoid +norm on this planet,” said Orne. +“What is it? Hard radiation?”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t really make any difference, +of course,” said Orne. “I’m +here to help you.”</p> + +<p>“I am Tanub, High Path Chief of +the Grazzi,” said the native. “I decide +who is to help.”</p> + +<p>Orne swallowed.</p> + +<p>“Where do you go?” demanded +Tanub.</p> + +<p>“I was hoping to go to your city. +Is it permitted?”</p> + +<p>A long pause while the vertical-slit +pupils of Tanub’s eyes expanded +and contracted. “It is permitted.”</p> + +<p>Stetson’s voice came through the +hidden speaker: <i>“All bets off. We’re +coming in after you. That Mark XX +is the final straw. It means they have +the</i> Delphinus <i>for sure!”</i></p> + +<p>Orne touched his throat. <i>“No! +Give me a little more time!”</i></p> + +<p><i>“Why?”</i></p> + +<p><i>“I have a hunch about these creatures.”</i></p> + +<p><i>“What is it?”</i></p> + +<p><i>“No time now. Trust me.”</i></p> + +<p>Another long pause in which +Orne and Tanub continued to study +each other. Presently, Stetson said: +<i>“O.K. Go ahead as planned. But find +out where the</i> Delphinus <i>is! If we +get that back we pull their teeth.”</i></p> + +<p>“Why do you keep touching your +throat?” demanded Tanub.</p> + +<p>“I’m nervous,” said Orne. “Guns +always make me nervous.”</p> + +<p>The muzzle lowered slightly.</p> + +<p>“Shall we continue on to your +city?” asked Orne. He wet his lips +with his tongue. The cab light on +Tanub’s face was giving the Gienahn +an eerie sinister look.</p> + +<p>“We can go soon,” said Tanub.</p> + +<p>“Will you join me inside here?” +asked Orne. “There’s a passenger +seat right behind me.”</p> + +<p>Tanub’s eyes moved catlike: right, +left. “Yes.” He turned, barked an +order into the jungle gloom, then +climbed in behind Orne.</p> + +<p>“When do we go?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“The great sun will be down +soon,” said Tanub. “We can continue +as soon as Chiranachuruso +rises.”</p> + +<p>“Chiranachuruso?”</p> + +<p>“Our satellite ... our moon,” said +Tanub.</p> + +<p>“It’s a beautiful word,” said Orne. +“Chiranachuruso.”</p> + +<p>“In our tongue it means: The +Limb of Victory,” said Tanub. “By +its light we will continue.”</p> + +<p>Orne turned, looked back at Tanub. +“Do you mean to tell me that +you can see by what light gets down +here through those trees?”</p> + +<p>“Can you not see?” asked Tanub.</p> + +<p>“Not without the headlights.”</p> + +<p>“Our eyes differ,” said Tanub. He +bent toward Orne, peered. The vertical +slit pupils of his eyes expanded, +contracted. “You are the same as the +... others.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, on the <i>Delphinus</i>?”</p> + +<p>Pause. “Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p><p>Presently, a greater gloom came +over the jungle, bringing a sudden +stillness to the wild life. There was +a chittering commotion from the +natives in the trees around the sled. +Tanub shifted behind Orne.</p> + +<p>“We may go now,” he said. +“Slowly ... to stay behind my ... +scouts.”</p> + +<p>“Right.” Orne eased the sled +forward around an obstructing +root.</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Silence while they crawled ahead. +Around them shapes flung themselves +from vine to vine.</p> + +<p>“I admired your city from the +air,” said Orne. “It is very beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Tanub. “Why did you +land so far from it?”</p> + +<p>“We didn’t want to come down +where we might destroy anything.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to destroy in +the jungle,” said Tanub.</p> + +<p>“Why do you have such a big +city?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>“I said: Why do you—”</p> + +<p>“You are ignorant of our ways,” +said Tanub. “Therefore, I forgive +you. The city is for our race. We +must breed and be born in sunlight. +Once—long ago—we used crude +platforms on the tops of the trees. +Now ... only the ... wild ones +do this.”</p> + +<p>Stetson’s voice hissed in Orne’s +ears: <i>“Easy on the sex line, boy. +That’s always touchy. These creatures +are oviparous. Sex glands are +apparently hidden in that long fur +behind where their chins ought to +be.”</i></p> + +<p>“Who controls the breeding sites +controls our world,” said Tanub. +“Once there was another city. We +destroyed it.”</p> + +<p>“Are there many ... wild ones?” +asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“Fewer each year,” said Tanub.</p> + +<p><i>“There’s how they get their +slaves,”</i> hissed Stetson.</p> + +<p>“You speak excellent Galactese,” +said Orne.</p> + +<p>“The High Path Chief commanded +the best teacher,” said Tanub. +“Do you, too, know many things, +Orne?”</p> + +<p>“That’s why I was sent here,” +said Orne.</p> + +<p>“Are there many planets to +teach?” asked Tanub.</p> + +<p>“Very many,” said Orne. “Your +city—I saw very tall buildings. Of +what do you build them?”</p> + +<p>“In your tongue—glass,” said +Tanub. “The engineers of the <i>Delphinus</i> +said it was impossible. As +you saw—they are wrong.”</p> + +<p><i>“A glass-blowing culture,”</i> hissed +Stetson. <i>“That’d explain a lot of +things.”</i></p> + +<p>Slowly, the disguised sled crept +through the jungle. Once, a scout +swooped down into the headlights, +waved. Orne stopped on Tanub’s order, +and they waited almost ten minutes +before proceeding.</p> + +<p>“Wild ones?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” said Tanub.</p> + +<p>A glowing of many lights grew +visible through the giant tree trunks. +It grew brighter as the sled crept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +through the last of the jungle, +emerged in cleared land at the edge +of the city.</p> + +<p>Orne stared upward in awe. The +city fluted and spiraled into the +moonlit sky. It was a fragile appearing +lacery of bridges, winking dots +of light. The bridges wove back and +forth from building to building until +the entire visible network appeared +one gigantic dew-glittering web.</p> + +<p>“All that with glass,” murmured +Orne.</p> + +<p><i>“What’s happening?”</i> hissed Stetson.</p> + +<p>Orne touched his throat contact. +<i>“We’re just into the city clearing, +proceeding toward the nearest building.”</i></p> + +<p>“This is far enough,” said Tanub.</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Orne stopped the sled. In the +moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns +all around. The buttressed +pedestal of one of the buildings +loomed directly ahead. It looked taller +than had the scout cruiser in its +jungle landing circle.</p> + +<p>Tanub leaned close to Orne’s +shoulder. “We have not deceived +you, have we, Orne?”</p> + +<p>“Huh? What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“You have recognized that we are +not mutated members of your +race.”</p> + +<p>Orne swallowed. Into his ears +came Stetson’s voice: <i>“Better admit +it.”</i></p> + +<p>“That’s true,” said Orne.</p> + +<p>“I like you, Orne,” said Tanub. +“You shall be one of my slaves. You +will teach me many things.”</p> + +<p>“How did you capture the <i>Delphinus</i>?” +asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“You know that, too?”</p> + +<p>“You have one of their rifles,” +said Orne.</p> + +<p>“Your race is no match for us, +Orne ... in cunning, in strength, in +the prowess of the mind. Your ship +landed to repair its tubes. Very inferior +ceramics in those tubes.”</p> + +<p>Orne turned, looked at Tanub in +the dim glow of the cab light. “Have +you heard about the I-A, Tanub?”</p> + +<p>“I-A? What is that?” There was a +wary tenseness in the Gienahn’s figure. +His mouth opened to reveal the +long canines.</p> + +<p>“You took the <i>Delphinus</i> by +treachery?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“They were simple fools,” said +Tanub. “We are smaller, thus they +thought us weaker.” The Mark XX’s +muzzle came around to center on +Orne’s stomach. “You have not answered +my question. What is the +I-A?”</p> + +<p>“I am of the I-A,” said Orne. +“Where’ve you hidden the <i>Delphinus</i>?”</p> + +<p>“In the place that suits us best,” +said Tanub. “In all our history there +has never been a better place.”</p> + +<p>“What do you plan to do with +it?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“Within a year we will have a +copy with our own improvements. +After that—”</p> + +<p>“You intend to start a war?” asked +Orne.</p> + +<p>“In the jungle the strong slay the +weak until only the strong remain,” +said Tanub.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p><p>“And then the strong prey upon +each other?” asked Orne.</p> + +<p>“That is a quibble for women,” +said Tanub.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad you feel that way,” +said Orne. “When two cultures meet +like this they tend to help each +other. What have you done with the +crew of the <i>Delphinus</i>?”</p> + +<p>“They are slaves,” said Tanub. +“Those who still live. Some resisted. +Others objected to teaching us what +we want to know.” He waved the +gun muzzle. “You will not be that +foolish, will you, Orne?”</p> + +<p>“No need to be,” said Orne. “I’ve +another little lesson to teach you: I +already know where you’ve hidden +the <i>Delphinus</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>“Go, boy!”</i> hissed Stetson. +<i>“Where is it?”</i></p> + +<p>“Impossible!” barked Tanub.</p> + +<p>“It’s on your moon,” said Orne. +“Darkside. It’s on a mountain on the +darkside of your moon.”</p> + +<p>Tanub’s eyes dilated, contracted. +“You read minds?”</p> + +<p>“The I-A has no need to read +minds,” said Orne. “We rely on superior +mental prowess.”</p> + +<p><i>“The marines are on their way,”</i> +hissed Stetson. <i>“We’re coming in to +get you. I’m going to want to know +how you guessed that one.”</i></p> + +<p>“You are a weak fool like the +others,” gritted Tanub.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad you formed your +opinion of us by observing only the +low grades of the R&R,” said Orne.</p> + +<p><i>“Easy, boy,”</i> hissed Stetson. +<i>“Don’t pick a fight with him now. +Remember, his race is arboreal. He’s +probably as strong as an ape.”</i></p> + +<p>“I could kill you where you sit!” +grated Tanub.</p> + +<p>“You write finish for your entire +planet if you do,” said Orne. “I’m +not alone. There are others listening +to every word we say. There’s a ship +overhead that could split open your +planet with one bomb—wash it with +molten rock. It’d run like the glass +you use for your buildings.”</p> + +<p>“You are lying!”</p> + +<p>“We’ll make you an offer,” said +Orne. “We don’t really want to exterminate +you. We’ll give you limited +membership in the Galactic Federation +until you prove you’re no menace +to us.”</p> + +<p><i>“Keep talking,”</i> hissed Stetson. +<i>“Keep him interested.”</i></p> + +<p>“You dare insult me!” growled +Tanub.</p> + +<p>“You had better believe me,” said +Orne. “We—”</p> + +<p>Stetson’s voice interrupted him: +<i>“Got it, Orne! They caught the</i> +Delphinus <i>on the ground right where +you said it’d be! Blew the tubes off +it. Marines now mopping up.”</i></p> + +<p>“It’s like this,” said Orne. “We +already have recaptured the <i>Delphinus</i>.” +Tanub’s eyes went instinctively +skyward. “Except for the captured +armament you still hold, you obviously +don’t have the weapons to +meet us,” continued Orne. “Otherwise, +you wouldn’t be carrying that +rifle off the <i>Delphinus</i>.”</p> + +<p>“If you speak the truth, then we +shall die bravely,” said Tanub.</p> + +<p>“No need for you to die,” said +Orne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p><p>“Better to die than be slaves,” +said Tanub.</p> + +<p>“We don’t need slaves,” said +Orne. “We—”</p> + +<p>“I cannot take the chance that you +are lying,” said Tanub. “I must kill +you now.”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">Orne’s foot rested on the air sled +control pedal. He depressed it. Instantly, +the sled shot skyward, heavy +G’s pressing them down into the +seats. The gun in Tanub’s hands was +slammed into his lap. He struggled +to raise it. To Orne, the weight was +still only about twice that of his +home planet of Chargon. He reached +over, took the rifle, found safety +belts, bound Tanub with them. Then +he eased off the acceleration.</p> + +<p>“We don’t need slaves,” said +Orne. “We have machines to do our +work. We’ll send experts in here, +teach you people how to exploit your +planet, how to build good transportation +facilities, show you how to +mine your minerals, how to—”</p> + +<p>“And what do we do in return?” +whispered Tanub.</p> + +<p>“You could start by teaching us +how you make superior glass,” said +Orne. “I certainly hope you see +things our way. We really don’t want +to have to come down there and +clean you out. It’d be a shame to +have to blast that city into little +pieces.”</p> + +<p>Tanub wilted. Presently, he said: +“Send me back. I will discuss this +with ... our council.” He stared at +Orne. “You I-A’s are too strong. +We did not know.”</p> + + +<p class="newsection">In the wardroom of Stetson’s +scout cruiser, the lights were low, +the leather chairs comfortable, the +green beige table set with a decanter +of Hochar brandy and two +glasses.</p> + +<p>Orne lifted his glass, sipped the +liquor, smacked his lips. “For a while +there, I thought I’d never be tasting +anything like this again.”</p> + +<p>Stetson took his own glass. “ComGO +heard the whole thing over the +general monitor net,” he said. +“D’you know you’ve been breveted +to senior field man?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, they’ve already recognized +my sterling worth,” said Orne.</p> + +<p>The wolfish grin took over Stetson’s +big features. “Senior field men +last about half as long as the juniors,” +he said. “Mortality’s terrific?”</p> + +<p>“I might’ve known,” said Orne. +He took another sip of the brandy.</p> + +<p>Stetson flicked on the switch of a +recorder beside him. “O.K. You can +go ahead any time.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you want me to start?”</p> + +<p>“First, how’d you spot right away +where they’d hidden the <i>Delphinus</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Easy. Tanub’s word for his people +was <i>Grazzi</i>. Most races call themselves +something meaning <i>The People</i>. +But in his tongue that’s <i>Ocheero</i>. +<i>Grazzi</i> wasn’t on the translated list. +I started working on it. The most +likely answer was that it had been +adopted from another language, and +meant <i>enemy</i>.”</p> + +<p>“And <i>that</i> told you where the +<i>Delphinus</i> was?”</p> + +<p>“No. But it fitted my hunch about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +these Gienahns. I’d kind of felt +from the first minute of meeting +them that they had a culture like the +Indians of ancient Terra.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“They came in like a primitive +raiding party. The leader dropped +right onto the hood of my sled. An +act of bravery, no less. Counting +coup, you see?”</p> + +<p>“I guess so.”</p> + +<p>“Then he said he was High Path +Chief. That wasn’t on the language +list, either. But it was easy: <i>Raider +Chief.</i> There’s a word in almost +every language in history that means +raider and derives from a word for +road, path or highway.”</p> + +<p>“Highwaymen,” said Stetson.</p> + +<p>“Raid itself,” said Orne. “An ancient +Terran language corruption of +road.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, yeah. But where’d all this +translation griff put—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be impatient. Glass-blowing +culture meant they were just out +of the primitive stage. That, we +could control. Next, he said their +moon was <i>Chiranachuruso</i>, translated +as <i>The Limb of Victory</i>. After that +it just fell into place.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“The vertical-slit pupils of their +eyes. Doesn’t that mean anything to +you?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe. What’s it mean to you?”</p> + +<p>“Night-hunting predator accustomed +to dropping upon its victims +from above. No other type of creature +ever has had the vertical slit. +And Tanub said himself that the +<i>Delphinus</i> was hidden in the best +place in all of their history. History? +That’d be a high place. Dark, likewise. +Ergo: a high place on the darkside +of their moon.”</p> + +<p>“I’m a pie-eyed greepus,” whispered +Stetson.</p> + +<p>Orne grinned, said: “You probably +are ... sir.”</p> + + +<p class="end">THE END</p> + + + +<div class="note"> +<p><strong>Transcriber’s Notes:</strong> The table below lists all corrections applied to +the original text.</p> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#Page_102">p. 102</a>: [normalized] ComGo -> ComGO</li> +<li><a href="#Page_103">p. 103</a>: net of snakers -> sneakers</li> +<li><a href="#Page_105">p. 105</a>: [removed extra quote] “Orne swallowed</li> +<li><a href="#Page_111">p. 111</a>: [added closing quote] “A glass-blowing culture,”</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Missing Link, by Frank Patrick Herbert + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISSING LINK *** + +***** This file should be named 23210-h.htm or 23210-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/2/1/23210/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Markus Brenner and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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