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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..874b0e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51623 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51623) diff --git a/old/51623-h.zip b/old/51623-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1c1d30b..0000000 --- a/old/51623-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51623-h/51623-h.htm b/old/51623-h/51623-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 5045664..0000000 --- a/old/51623-h/51623-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1190 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Always a Qurono, by Jim Harmon. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph4 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - -.ph41 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph41 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Always a Qurono, by Jim Harmon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Always a Qurono - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: April 2, 2016 [EBook #51623] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALWAYS A QURONO *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="387" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>Always A Qurono</h1> - -<p>By JIM HARMON</p> - -<p>Illustrated by RITTER</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Magazine August 1962.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>You too can be a Qurono. All you need do is<br /> -geoplanct. All you need know is when to stop!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Barnhart sauntered right into the middle of them. He covertly watched -the crew close in around him and he never twitched an eyelash. -<i>Officers must never panic</i>, he reminded himself, and manipulated the -morning sighting on the nearest sun through the Fitzgerald lens. It was -exactly 900:25:30, Galactic Time.</p> - -<p>He jotted the reading in, satisfied. The warm breath tickling the back -of his neck was unnerving. If he showed fear and grabbed a blaster -from the locker he could probably control them, but he was devastingly -aware that a captain must never show fear.</p> - -<p>"Captain Barnhart," Simmons, the mate, drawled politely, "do you still -plan on making the jump at 900 thirty?"</p> - -<p>The captain removed his eyeglasses and polished the lenses.</p> - -<p>"Simmons," he said in comforting, confiding tones, "you are well aware -that regulations clearly state that a spaceship that phases in on -a star in major trans-spot activity is required to re-phase within -twenty-four hours to avoid being caught in turbulence."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," Simmons said. "But, as I have stated before, it is my -belief that regulation means that a ship should phase to avoid the -<i>possibility</i> of being caught in an energy storm. We landed right in -the middle of one. As you are aware, sir, if we phase now there is an -excellent chance we will warp right into the sun!"</p> - -<p>Barnhart shook his lean, bronze head wearily. "Simmons, the Admiralty -has gone through this thousands of times. Obviously they know our -danger is greater by staying where we are. Why, Ignatz 6Y out there may -<i>nova</i>! We'll have to take our chances."</p> - -<p>"No, sir." Simmons thrust his pale, blue-veined jaw at him, his light -eyes Nordicly cold below a blond cropping. "The storm spots are dying -down. We aren't phasing yet."</p> - -<p>Barnhart drew himself up and looked down at the mate. Behind Simmons, -York moved closer. The captain was suddenly aware of York's low -forehead and muscular, free-swinging arms. It was probably sheer bias, -but he had frequently entertained the idea that Englishmen were closer -to our apelike ancestor than most people ... the way they ran around -painted blue when everybody was civilly wearing clothes and all. -Obviously York was incapable of thinking for himself and was willing to -do anything Simmons commanded him to do.</p> - -<p>It became transparent to Barnhart that they were going to mutiny to -avoid following their duty as clearly outlined in regulations. Judging -from York's twitching knuckles, they were going to resist by strangling -him.</p> - -<p>Barnhart wondered if this was the time to show fear and unlock a weapon -to defend himself.</p> - -<p>York clamped onto him before he could decide on the proper -interpretation of the regulations and just as his mind settled on the -irresolvable question: If a captain must never show fear, why was he -given the key to a hand weapons locker to use when in fear of his life?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Barnhart gazed around the purple clearing with clouded eyes. He -trembled in near traumatic shock. It was almost too much to bear.</p> - -<p>Regulations clearly stated that no officer was to be <i>marooned</i> on a .9 -Earth-type planet at fourteen-forty Galactic Time, early evening local.</p> - -<p>Or (he brushed at his forehead) he was damned certain they at least -strongly <i>implied</i> it.</p> - -<p>But fear was such a foreign element to his daily routine he discarded -it.</p> - -<p>The scene took him back to his boyhood.</p> - -<p>He sorted out the survival supplies, lifting even the portable nuclear -generator effortlessly under the .67 gravity, and remembered how he -used to go camping regularly every month when he was a Boy Scout. He -had been a bookish child, too obsessed with reading, they told him. -So he had put himself on a regular schedule for play. Still, it never -seemed to make people like him much better. After he established his -routine he didn't try to change it—he probably couldn't make things -better and he certainly couldn't stand them any worse.</p> - -<p>Barnhart paused in his labors and stripped off his soaked uniform -shirt, deciding to break out his fatigues. As the wet sleeve turned -wrong side out he noticed his wristwatch showed fifteen hundred hours.</p> - -<p>As usual he fetched his toothbrush from the personals kit and started -to scrub his teeth.</p> - -<p>This was when he saw his first qurono in the act of geoplancting.</p> - -<p>It was a deeply disturbing experience.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Barnhart and the lank, slick-bodied alien ignored each other every -morning while the marooned captain had his coffee and the native -chronoped; each afternoon while Barnhart laid down for a nap and the -other xenogutted; and of course before retiring while Barnhart brushed -his teeth and the alien did his regular stint of geoplancting.</p> - -<p>The captain sat about arranging living quarters on the planet. The -crew of the <i>Quincey</i> had provided him with every necessity except -communications gear. Still he was confident he would find a way back -and see that Simmons and the rest got the punishment clearly called for -in Regulation C-79, Clause II.</p> - -<p>This driving need to have the regulation obeyed was as close as he -could get to anger.</p> - -<p>His lot was a rough and primitive one, but he sat down to doing -the best with things that he could. Using the nuclear reactor, he -synthesized a crude seven-room cottage. He employed an unorthodox -three-story architecture. This gave him a kind of observation tower -from which he could watch to see if the natives started to get -restless. Traditionally, this would be a bad sign.</p> - -<p>Humming to himself, he was idly adding some rococo work around the -front door when thirteen-hundred-thirty came up and he stopped for his -nap. At the edge of the now somewhat larger clearing the alien was -xenogutting in the indigo shadows of a drooping bush-tree. Since he -hadn't furnished the house yet, Barnhart stretched out on the grass. -Suddenly he sat upright and shot a glance at the alien. Could this sort -of thing be regarded as restless activity?</p> - -<p>He was safe so long as the aliens maintained their regular routine but -if they started to deviate from it he was in trouble.</p> - -<p>He tossed around on the velvet blades for some minutes.</p> - -<p>He got to his feet.</p> - -<p>The nap would have to be by-passed. As much as he resented the -intrusion on his regular routine he would have to find some other -natives. He had to know if all the aliens on the planet xenogutted each -afternoon as he was having his nap.</p> - -<p>The thought crossed his mind that he might not wake up some afternoon -if his presence was causing the aliens to deviate dangerously from -their norm.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The most unnerving thing about the village was that there were exactly -ten houses and precisely one hundred inhabitants. Each house was 33.3 -feet on a side. The surfaces were hand-hewn planking or flat-sided -logs. There were four openings: each opposing two were alternately one -foot and an alarming ten feet high. Barnhart couldn't see the roof. The -buildings appeared square, so he supposed the houses were 33.3 feet -tall.</p> - -<p>At the end of the single packed, violet-earthed street facing up the -road was a large sign of some unidentifiable metal bearing the legend -in standard Galactic:</p> - -<p class="ph3">THIS IS A VILLAGE OF QURONOS</p> - -<p>Barnhart received the information unenthusiastically. He had never -before encountered the term. The sign might as well have told him the -place was a town of jabberwockies.</p> - -<p>The single scarlet sun with its corona of spectrum frost was drawing -low on the forest-covered horizon. Barnhart, dry of mouth and sore of -foot, had not encountered yet a single one of the hundred inhabitants. -He had missed his nap and his dinner, and now (he ran his tongue over -his thick-feeling teeth) he was about to miss his nightly brushing of -his teeth. He had taken only a minimum survival kit with him—which did -not include a smaller personals kit.</p> - -<p>His wristwatch, still on good, reliable ship's time, recorded nearly -fifteen hundred hours straight up. His body chemistry was still -operating on the Captain's Shift, whereby he spent part of the time -with both the day and night shifts. It was nearly time for him to go -to bed. Fortunately it was almost night on the planet.</p> - -<p>He was searching out his portable force field projector from some loose -coins and keys when the one hundred quronos came out of their houses -and began geoplancting.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="ph4"><i>Fifth Day Marooned</i></p> - -<p class="ph41"><i>The Journal of<br /> -Captain T. P. Barnhart,<br /> -Late of the U.G.S. Quincey</i></p> - -<p>It becomes apparent that I may never leave alive this planet whose -name and co-ordinates have been kept from me. By reason, justice and -regulations, the men who put me here must pay (see formal attached -warrant against First Mate O. D. Simmons and the remainder of my -crew). For this reason and in the interest of science I am beginning -this journal, to which I hope to continue contributing from time to -time, barring sudden death.</p> - -<p>At this writing I am in a village of ten houses identified as a -settlement of quronos. These tall, hairless humanoids have performed -an intricate series of indescribable actions since I first encountered -them. My problem, as is apparent, is to decide whether these actions -constitute their normal daily routine or whether I have instigated -this series of actions.</p> - -<p>If the latter is the case: where will it all end?</p> - -<p class="ph4"><i>1700: Fifth day</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Barnhart was not used to being ignored.</p> - -<p>It was certainly not a part of his normal routine. Often in his life -he had been scorned and ridiculed. Later, when he earned a captaincy -in the exploration service, the men around him had to at least make a -show of respect and paying attention to him. Being ignored was a new -experience for him. While it was a strange thing to say of an explorer, -Barnhart didn't particularly like new experiences ... or rather he only -liked the same kind of new experiences.</p> - -<p>He kicked the wine-colored soil in red-faced impotence the first few -dozen times quronos went silently past him on the way to gather fruit -from the forest, or hew logs to keep the buildings in repairs (which -seemed to be a constant occupation.)</p> - -<p>However, when the twenty-fifth alien shouldered past him the morning -after he first discovered the village, Barnhart caught him by the -shoulder, swung him half around and slugged him off his feet with a -stabbing right cross.</p> - -<p>The alien shook his head foggily a few times and slowly climbed to his -feet.</p> - -<p>Barnhart bit at his under lip. That hadn't been a wise thing to do at -all. He should know that unorthodox moves like that led only to certain -disaster. He fumbled for his force-field projector, and with a flush -of adrenalin discovered he had lost it.</p> - -<p>Now, he thought, the alien will signal the rest of them. And they, all -one hundred of them (now does that include the one I first saw in the -clearing or not?) they will converge on me and—</p> - -<p>The qurono marched off into the forest.</p> - -<p>Everyone was still ignoring Barnhart.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Barnhart munched on a steak sandwich listlessly and watched the aliens -through the faint haze of the force field.</p> - -<p>He had found the projector half stamped into the earth and he was -testing it. But even a test was foolish. None of them was close enough -to him to harm him with so much as a communicable disease. He might as -well quit roughing it and get back to the cottage.</p> - -<p>In the last few days he had had time to think. He took up his journal.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="ph4"><i>Eighth Day</i></p> - -<p>I can only suppose that these actions of the aliens represent some -kind of religious ritual. Again I am presented with the problem of -whether these rituals are a part of their normal, daily life, or are -they a special series instigated by my presence?</p> - -<p>Yesterday I observed two of the quronos repairing one of the village -houses. The native lumber seems to be ill-suited to construction -purposes. Several times I have noticed logs tearing themselves free -and crawling back into the virgin forest. Due to the instability of -their building materials the aliens are constantly having to repair -their houses.</p> - -<p>In watching the two quronos at work I observed something highly -significant.</p> - -<p>The humanoids worked smoothly as a team, splitting and planing down -the reluctant logs with double-bladed axes. Then, putting the lumber -in place, they fastened it down with triangular wooden pegs. They -pounded these pegs home awkwardly with the flat side of the axes.</p> - -<p>The axes are crude and obviously indigenous to the culture.</p> - -<p>I view this with considerable alarm.</p> - -<p>Obviously any culture that can produce an axe is capable of inventing -the hammer.</p> - -<p>The quronos are not using their hammers in front of me. I am producing -a change in their routine.</p> - -<p>Where will it end?</p> - -<p>What are they saving their hammers for?</p> - -<p class="ph4"><i>800: Eighth Day</i></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="345" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Barnhart had written that just before dawn, but as usual the aliens had -continued to ignore him. For all he knew the ritual might go on for -years—before they used their hammers. Or whatever they were planning.</p> - -<p>It was drawing near time for his nap, but he felt completely wide awake -even inside the safety of the force field. His throat hurt and the -backs of his legs ached with the waiting, the waiting for the natives -to come out and begin xenogutting.</p> - -<p>He wiped his hands together and forced a smile. Why should he worry -what the natives did? He was completely safe. He could live out his -life in immutable security.</p> - -<p>But this wasn't his world. No part of it was his ... or at least only -the part he had brought with him. Sanity lay in holding to what was -left of his own world. But sanity didn't always mean survival.</p> - -<p>What if he could make the quronos' world his own?</p> - -<p>Barnhart wiped at the tiny stings against his face and his fingertips -came away moist with beads of perspiration.</p> - -<p>The aliens began marching out of the houses, in twos from the ten-foot -doors, singly from the foot-square openings of every other facing wall.</p> - -<p>It wasn't his world of fire-works-streaked Ohio summers and bold green -hills, this planet cowled with nun-like secrecy, looking acrid, tasting -violet and transmitting a beauty and confusion only a trio of physical -scientists could solve.</p> - -<p>But there was only one thing to do.</p> - -<p>Barnhart let down his force field and went out.</p> - -<p>The human body wasn't well-adapted for it but Barnhart did his best to -join the quronos in xenogutting.</p> - -<p>Instantly the cry welled up.</p> - -<p>"<i>Master.</i>"</p> - -<p>Barnhart stood up and faced the aliens, deeply disturbed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was even more disturbed when, later, he wrote again in his journal:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="ph4"><i>Ninth day</i></p> - -<p>"Qurono," I have learned from the Leader, is a term referring to a -particular type of sub-human android. The synthetic process used -in manufacturing these men does not allow them to develop beyond a -certain point—a built-in safety factor of their creators, I can -only suppose. Thus they were given the concept of the axe and have -retained it, but they were able only to devise the idea of using the -axe to hammer things with and are not capable of thinking of a special -hammering tool.</p> - -<p>With almost complete lack of creative ability they are bound to -the same routine, to which they adhere with an almost religious -fanaticism.</p> - -<p>Since last night I have been treated as virtually a god. I have been -given one of their buildings entirely for my own use.</p> - -<p>I find this turn of events absolutely surprising. I intend to discuss -this with the Leader today. (Note to any ethnologist who may see these -papers: Since all quronos are built to the same standards none is -superior to another. But, recognizing the need for one director, each -of the one hundred has an alternate term as Leader.)</p> - -<p class="ph4"><i>900: Ninth day</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Despite the upsetting turn of events Barnhart decided he was more -comfortable in his familiar role of command.</p> - -<p>He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised to note that he had -overslept. The time for both breakfast and chronopting was past. He -made himself ready and left the building.</p> - -<p>The alien was waiting just outside the door. He looked as if he hadn't -moved all night. Yet, Barnhart thought, he seemed a trifle shorter.</p> - -<p>"Are you the Leader?" Barnhart asked.</p> - -<p>"I am the Leader. But you are the Master."</p> - -<p>As an officer of a close-confines spaceship that sounded a little -stuffy even to Barnhart. The fellow <i>still</i> looked shorter. Maybe they -had changed Leaders the way he had been told the night before. Or -maybe quronos shrank when left out in the night air.</p> - -<p>"Let's go someplace where we can sit down. And, incidentally, just call -me 'sir' or 'captain.'"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>Barnhart nodded. He had been expecting: Yes, Master, I will call you -'captain.'</p> - -<p>But the alien didn't move. He finally decided that the Leader thought -they could sit on the ground where they were standing.</p> - -<p>Barnhart squatted.</p> - -<p>The Leader squatted.</p> - -<p>Before they could speak a muffled explosion vibrated the ground and -Barnhart caught a fleeting glimpse of an unstable chemical rocket -tearing jerkily into the maroon sky.</p> - -<p>"Celebration for my arrival?" Barnhart asked.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so. We are putting the un-needed ones in status."</p> - -<p>He decided to let that ride for the moment.</p> - -<p>"Tell me, why didn't you recognize me before I joined you in -your—ritual, Leader?"</p> - -<p>The alien tilted his head. "What was there to recognize? We thought you -were some new variety of animal. Before you xenogutted how were we to -know you were rational life?"</p> - -<p>Barnhart nodded. "But how did you so cleverly deduce that I was your -Master?"</p> - -<p>"There are one hundred of us. You were the one hundred and first. You -had to be the Master returned."</p> - -<p>The Master had been some friendly lifeform in the Federation, -obviously. Otherwise the qurono androids wouldn't speak Galactic. -Barnhart nibbled on his under lip.</p> - -<p>"I want to find out how much you still know after the Master has been -away so long," the captain said. "Tell me, how do you communicate with -the Master?"</p> - -<p>"What for?" The Leader began to look at Barnhart oddly.</p> - -<p>"For anything. Where's the sub-space radio?"</p> - -<p>The direct approach produced a rather ironic expression on the qurono's -narrow face but no answer. But if there was a radio on the planet -Barnhart meant to find it. Spacemen forced to abandon their craft -were required to report to the nearest Federation base as quickly as -possible. Besides, he meant to see that Simmons and his Anglo stooge -and all the others paid for their mutiny. But, he decided, perhaps he -had better not press the matter at the moment.</p> - -<p>Another rocket punctuated the moment of silence.</p> - -<p>"Take me to your launching area," Barnhart said.</p> - -<p>The android stood up and walked. But he walked at Barnhart's side, -forcing the captain to catch his stride a half-step to let the alien -lead him. He wasn't sure if it was a mark of respect not to get ahead -of the Master or an attempt to see if he knew where the launching site -was located. The quronos were limited, but just <i>how</i> limited Barnhart -was beginning to wonder.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They rounded the clump of drooping lavender trees and Barnhart saw the -eight men laying on the ground in the transparent casings. Not men, but -quronos, he corrected himself; in a molded clear membrane of some sort.</p> - -<p>"They are in status," the Leader explained, answering the captain's -unasked question.</p> - -<p>"This is how you keep your population at one hundred," Barnhart thought -aloud, removing his glasses to rest his eyes and to get a better look -at the bodies. Despite regulations he could still see better without -his spectacles.</p> - -<p>"It is how you arranged it, Master. But as you know we are now ninety -and one."</p> - -<p>The captain put his glasses back on. "I'll test you. Why are you now -ninety and one?"</p> - -<p>"Naturally," the Leader said emotionlessly, "you required a whole -shelter unit to yourself. We had to dispose of the ten who previously -had the unit."</p> - -<p>Barnhart swallowed. "Couldn't you think of anything less drastic? Next -time just build a new unit."</p> - -<p>"But master," the alien protested, "it takes a great deal of work to -construct our units. Our lumber escapes so badly no matter how often -we beat it into submission. Our work capacity is limited, as you are -aware. Is it really desirable to overwork us so much?"</p> - -<p>The captain was a little shocked. Was this humorless, methodical -android really protesting a command from his Master? "How do you -suppose the ten you are putting in status feel about it?" he managed.</p> - -<p>"They would doubtlessly prefer not to be overworked. Our fatigue -channels can only stand so much."</p> - -<p>But it wasn't the work, Barnhart suddenly knew. It was the idea that -there could be <i>eleven</i> houses, instead of ten. The concept of only -ninety quronos and a master must be only slightly less hideous to them. -They couldn't really be so overjoyed to see him.</p> - -<p>A third rocket jarred off, rising unsteadily but surely in the low -gravity. It was a fairly primitive device—evidently all they retained -from the original model supplied them by the Master.</p> - -<p>Barnhart looked at the figures on the ground. Only seven.</p> - -<p>"The ones in status go into the rockets!" Barnhart gasped.</p> - -<p>"And circle in the proper orbits," the Leader agreed.</p> - -<p>This time he saw the quronos lifting a stiff form and taking it to the -crude rocket. It looked entirely too much like a human body. Barnhart -looked away.</p> - -<p>But at the edge of his peripheral vision he saw the quronos halt and -stand up their fellow in status. He glanced at his wrist. Fifteen -hundred hours. The aliens began geoplancting.</p> - -<p>Barnhart ran his tongue over his teeth, noting that they needed -brushing. He came to himself with a start.</p> - -<p>Of course. He had almost forgot.</p> - -<p>Barnhart faced the others and joined them in geoplancting.</p> - -<p>A hideous cry built from one plateau of fury to another.</p> - -<p>"<i>He's no better than us!</i>" the Leader screamed.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="ph4"><i>Ninth day</i></p> - -<p>I have made a serious mistake.</p> - -<p>While it was necessary for me to conform to the quronos' ritual to -get myself recognized, I should not have continued to adhere to it. -Apparently by these creatures' warped reasoning I established myself -as a reasoning creature by first joining them in their routine; but -when I continued to act in accord with them I proved myself no better -than they are. As Master I am supposed to be superior and above their -mundane routine.</p> - -<p>At the moment they are milling belligerently outside my force-field -screen. As I look into their stupid, imaginationless faces I can only -think that somewhere in the past they were invented by some unorthodox -Terran scientist, probably of English descent. They—</p> - -<p>Wait.</p> - -<p>The force field. It's wavering. It must have been damaged when it got -tramped underfoot. They are going to get in to me. It—</p></div> - -<p>Barnhart watched them prepare the rocket that would blast him into -an orbit circling the planet. He could see and even hear the sound -that vibrated through the thin membrane in which he was encased, but -he could not move a nerve-end. Fortunately his eyes were focused on -infinity, so he could see everything at least blurrily.</p> - -<p>The Leader, who seemed to have grown a few inches, wasted no time. He -gave the orders and the quronos lifted him into the rocket. The hatch -closed down on the indigo day and he was alone.</p> - -<p>The blast of takeoff almost deafened him but he didn't feel the -jar—only because, he realized, he could feel nothing.</p> - -<p>A few weeks later the centrifugal force of the spinning rocket finally -nudged the latch and the hatch swung open. Barnhart was exposed to -naked fire-bright blackness itself.</p> - -<p>After a day or two he stopped worrying about that, as he had stopped -fretting about breathing.</p> - -<p>He grew accustomed to the regular turn around the planet every fourteen -hours. For two out of every three seconds he faced out into space and -that was always changing. Yet, all poetry aside, the change was always -the same.</p> - -<p>He didn't have to worry about keeping on a schedule. He kept on one -automatically.</p> - -<p>And he didn't like it.</p> - -<p>So he kept retreating further and further from it....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"We couldn't leave him there!"</p> - -<p>What? Who? Barnhart thought along with at least seven other -double-yous. He returned to himself and found that he was standing in -the airlock of a spaceship, faced by his first mate Simmons and his -stooge York.</p> - -<p>"We couldn't leave him there," Simmons repeated with feeling. "That -would be the nastiest kind of murder. We might maroon him. But none of -us are killers."</p> - -<p>"It's not the punishment we will get for the mutiny," York complained. -"It's having to go back to his old routine. That time-schedule mind of -his was derailing mine. He was driving the whole crew cockeyed. Even if -he wasn't going to kill us all by the rule book, I think we would have -had to maroon him just to get rid of him."</p> - -<p>Simmons fingered a thin-bladed tool knife. "I wonder how he got up -there in that rocket and in this transparent shroud? I'm sure he's -alive, but this is the most unorthodox Susp-An I've ever seen. Almost -makes you believe in destiny, the way we lost our coordinate settings -and had to back-track—and then found him out there. ("I'll bet he -jimmied the calculator," York grouched.) You know, York, it's almost as -if the world down there marooned him right back at us."</p> - -<p>The first mate inserted the knife blade. The membrane withered and -Barnhart lived.</p> - -<p>"Now the arrest," York murmured.</p> - -<p>"What are you muttering about, York?" Captain Barnhart demanded. "What -are we standing around here for? You can't expect me to waste a whole -afternoon on inspection. We have to get back on schedule." He looked -to his wrist. "Fifteen hundred hours."</p> - -<p>"He doesn't <i>remember</i>," York said behind him.</p> - -<p>"He remembers the same old routine," Simmons said. "Here we go again."</p> - -<p>Barnhart didn't say anything. In the close confines of a spaceship -there was bound to be a certain degree of informality.</p> - -<p>He stepped inside his cabin at the end of the corridor and did what he -always did at fifteen hundred hours.</p> - -<p>York and the first mate were deeply disturbed.</p> - -<p>Barnhart looked out at them sharply. "Well, spacemen, I run a taut ship -here. I expect everyone to hit the mark. Adhere to the line. Follow my -example. Snap to it!"</p> - -<p>Simmons looked at York and his shoulders sagged. They couldn't go -through the whole thing again, the marooning, the rescue, then this. -That routine would drive them crazy.</p> - -<p>Even this was preferable.</p> - -<p>They joined Barnhart in geoplancting.</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Always a Qurono, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALWAYS A QURONO *** - -***** This file should be named 51623-h.htm or 51623-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/6/2/51623/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Always a Qurono - -Author: Jim Harmon - -Release Date: April 2, 2016 [EBook #51623] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALWAYS A QURONO *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Always A Qurono - - By JIM HARMON - - Illustrated by RITTER - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Magazine August 1962. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - You too can be a Qurono. All you need do is - geoplanct. All you need know is when to stop! - - -Barnhart sauntered right into the middle of them. He covertly watched -the crew close in around him and he never twitched an eyelash. -_Officers must never panic_, he reminded himself, and manipulated the -morning sighting on the nearest sun through the Fitzgerald lens. It was -exactly 900:25:30, Galactic Time. - -He jotted the reading in, satisfied. The warm breath tickling the back -of his neck was unnerving. If he showed fear and grabbed a blaster -from the locker he could probably control them, but he was devastingly -aware that a captain must never show fear. - -"Captain Barnhart," Simmons, the mate, drawled politely, "do you still -plan on making the jump at 900 thirty?" - -The captain removed his eyeglasses and polished the lenses. - -"Simmons," he said in comforting, confiding tones, "you are well aware -that regulations clearly state that a spaceship that phases in on -a star in major trans-spot activity is required to re-phase within -twenty-four hours to avoid being caught in turbulence." - -"Yes, sir," Simmons said. "But, as I have stated before, it is my -belief that regulation means that a ship should phase to avoid the -_possibility_ of being caught in an energy storm. We landed right in -the middle of one. As you are aware, sir, if we phase now there is an -excellent chance we will warp right into the sun!" - -Barnhart shook his lean, bronze head wearily. "Simmons, the Admiralty -has gone through this thousands of times. Obviously they know our -danger is greater by staying where we are. Why, Ignatz 6Y out there may -_nova_! We'll have to take our chances." - -"No, sir." Simmons thrust his pale, blue-veined jaw at him, his light -eyes Nordicly cold below a blond cropping. "The storm spots are dying -down. We aren't phasing yet." - -Barnhart drew himself up and looked down at the mate. Behind Simmons, -York moved closer. The captain was suddenly aware of York's low -forehead and muscular, free-swinging arms. It was probably sheer bias, -but he had frequently entertained the idea that Englishmen were closer -to our apelike ancestor than most people ... the way they ran around -painted blue when everybody was civilly wearing clothes and all. -Obviously York was incapable of thinking for himself and was willing to -do anything Simmons commanded him to do. - -It became transparent to Barnhart that they were going to mutiny to -avoid following their duty as clearly outlined in regulations. Judging -from York's twitching knuckles, they were going to resist by strangling -him. - -Barnhart wondered if this was the time to show fear and unlock a weapon -to defend himself. - -York clamped onto him before he could decide on the proper -interpretation of the regulations and just as his mind settled on the -irresolvable question: If a captain must never show fear, why was he -given the key to a hand weapons locker to use when in fear of his life? - - * * * * * - -Barnhart gazed around the purple clearing with clouded eyes. He -trembled in near traumatic shock. It was almost too much to bear. - -Regulations clearly stated that no officer was to be _marooned_ on a .9 -Earth-type planet at fourteen-forty Galactic Time, early evening local. - -Or (he brushed at his forehead) he was damned certain they at least -strongly _implied_ it. - -But fear was such a foreign element to his daily routine he discarded -it. - -The scene took him back to his boyhood. - -He sorted out the survival supplies, lifting even the portable nuclear -generator effortlessly under the .67 gravity, and remembered how he -used to go camping regularly every month when he was a Boy Scout. He -had been a bookish child, too obsessed with reading, they told him. -So he had put himself on a regular schedule for play. Still, it never -seemed to make people like him much better. After he established his -routine he didn't try to change it--he probably couldn't make things -better and he certainly couldn't stand them any worse. - -Barnhart paused in his labors and stripped off his soaked uniform -shirt, deciding to break out his fatigues. As the wet sleeve turned -wrong side out he noticed his wristwatch showed fifteen hundred hours. - -As usual he fetched his toothbrush from the personals kit and started -to scrub his teeth. - -This was when he saw his first qurono in the act of geoplancting. - -It was a deeply disturbing experience. - - * * * * * - -Barnhart and the lank, slick-bodied alien ignored each other every -morning while the marooned captain had his coffee and the native -chronoped; each afternoon while Barnhart laid down for a nap and the -other xenogutted; and of course before retiring while Barnhart brushed -his teeth and the alien did his regular stint of geoplancting. - -The captain sat about arranging living quarters on the planet. The -crew of the _Quincey_ had provided him with every necessity except -communications gear. Still he was confident he would find a way back -and see that Simmons and the rest got the punishment clearly called for -in Regulation C-79, Clause II. - -This driving need to have the regulation obeyed was as close as he -could get to anger. - -His lot was a rough and primitive one, but he sat down to doing -the best with things that he could. Using the nuclear reactor, he -synthesized a crude seven-room cottage. He employed an unorthodox -three-story architecture. This gave him a kind of observation tower -from which he could watch to see if the natives started to get -restless. Traditionally, this would be a bad sign. - -Humming to himself, he was idly adding some rococo work around the -front door when thirteen-hundred-thirty came up and he stopped for his -nap. At the edge of the now somewhat larger clearing the alien was -xenogutting in the indigo shadows of a drooping bush-tree. Since he -hadn't furnished the house yet, Barnhart stretched out on the grass. -Suddenly he sat upright and shot a glance at the alien. Could this sort -of thing be regarded as restless activity? - -He was safe so long as the aliens maintained their regular routine but -if they started to deviate from it he was in trouble. - -He tossed around on the velvet blades for some minutes. - -He got to his feet. - -The nap would have to be by-passed. As much as he resented the -intrusion on his regular routine he would have to find some other -natives. He had to know if all the aliens on the planet xenogutted each -afternoon as he was having his nap. - -The thought crossed his mind that he might not wake up some afternoon -if his presence was causing the aliens to deviate dangerously from -their norm. - - * * * * * - -The most unnerving thing about the village was that there were exactly -ten houses and precisely one hundred inhabitants. Each house was 33.3 -feet on a side. The surfaces were hand-hewn planking or flat-sided -logs. There were four openings: each opposing two were alternately one -foot and an alarming ten feet high. Barnhart couldn't see the roof. The -buildings appeared square, so he supposed the houses were 33.3 feet -tall. - -At the end of the single packed, violet-earthed street facing up the -road was a large sign of some unidentifiable metal bearing the legend -in standard Galactic: - - THIS IS A VILLAGE OF QURONOS - -Barnhart received the information unenthusiastically. He had never -before encountered the term. The sign might as well have told him the -place was a town of jabberwockies. - -The single scarlet sun with its corona of spectrum frost was drawing -low on the forest-covered horizon. Barnhart, dry of mouth and sore of -foot, had not encountered yet a single one of the hundred inhabitants. -He had missed his nap and his dinner, and now (he ran his tongue over -his thick-feeling teeth) he was about to miss his nightly brushing of -his teeth. He had taken only a minimum survival kit with him--which did -not include a smaller personals kit. - -His wristwatch, still on good, reliable ship's time, recorded nearly -fifteen hundred hours straight up. His body chemistry was still -operating on the Captain's Shift, whereby he spent part of the time -with both the day and night shifts. It was nearly time for him to go -to bed. Fortunately it was almost night on the planet. - -He was searching out his portable force field projector from some loose -coins and keys when the one hundred quronos came out of their houses -and began geoplancting. - - _Fifth Day Marooned_ - - _The Journal of - Captain T. P. Barnhart, - Late of the U.G.S. Quincey_ - - It becomes apparent that I may never leave alive this planet whose - name and co-ordinates have been kept from me. By reason, justice - and regulations, the men who put me here must pay (see formal - attached warrant against First Mate O. D. Simmons and the remainder - of my crew). For this reason and in the interest of science I am - beginning this journal, to which I hope to continue contributing - from time to time, barring sudden death. - - At this writing I am in a village of ten houses identified as a - settlement of quronos. These tall, hairless humanoids have - performed an intricate series of indescribable actions since I - first encountered them. My problem, as is apparent, is to decide - whether these actions constitute their normal daily routine or - whether I have instigated this series of actions. - - If the latter is the case: where will it all end? - - _1700: Fifth day_ - -Barnhart was not used to being ignored. - -It was certainly not a part of his normal routine. Often in his life -he had been scorned and ridiculed. Later, when he earned a captaincy -in the exploration service, the men around him had to at least make a -show of respect and paying attention to him. Being ignored was a new -experience for him. While it was a strange thing to say of an explorer, -Barnhart didn't particularly like new experiences ... or rather he only -liked the same kind of new experiences. - -He kicked the wine-colored soil in red-faced impotence the first few -dozen times quronos went silently past him on the way to gather fruit -from the forest, or hew logs to keep the buildings in repairs (which -seemed to be a constant occupation.) - -However, when the twenty-fifth alien shouldered past him the morning -after he first discovered the village, Barnhart caught him by the -shoulder, swung him half around and slugged him off his feet with a -stabbing right cross. - -The alien shook his head foggily a few times and slowly climbed to his -feet. - -Barnhart bit at his under lip. That hadn't been a wise thing to do at -all. He should know that unorthodox moves like that led only to certain -disaster. He fumbled for his force-field projector, and with a flush -of adrenalin discovered he had lost it. - -Now, he thought, the alien will signal the rest of them. And they, all -one hundred of them (now does that include the one I first saw in the -clearing or not?) they will converge on me and-- - -The qurono marched off into the forest. - -Everyone was still ignoring Barnhart. - - * * * * * - -Barnhart munched on a steak sandwich listlessly and watched the aliens -through the faint haze of the force field. - -He had found the projector half stamped into the earth and he was -testing it. But even a test was foolish. None of them was close enough -to him to harm him with so much as a communicable disease. He might as -well quit roughing it and get back to the cottage. - -In the last few days he had had time to think. He took up his journal. - - _Eighth Day_ - - I can only suppose that these actions of the aliens represent some - kind of religious ritual. Again I am presented with the problem of - whether these rituals are a part of their normal, daily life, or - are they a special series instigated by my presence? - - Yesterday I observed two of the quronos repairing one of the - village houses. The native lumber seems to be ill-suited to - construction purposes. Several times I have noticed logs tearing - themselves free and crawling back into the virgin forest. Due to - the instability of their building materials the aliens are - constantly having to repair their houses. - - In watching the two quronos at work I observed something highly - significant. - - The humanoids worked smoothly as a team, splitting and planing down - the reluctant logs with double-bladed axes. Then, putting the - lumber in place, they fastened it down with triangular wooden pegs. - They pounded these pegs home awkwardly with the flat side of the - axes. - - The axes are crude and obviously indigenous to the culture. - - I view this with considerable alarm. - - Obviously any culture that can produce an axe is capable of - inventing the hammer. - - The quronos are not using their hammers in front of me. I am - producing a change in their routine. - - Where will it end? - - What are they saving their hammers for? - - _800: Eighth Day_ - -Barnhart had written that just before dawn, but as usual the aliens had -continued to ignore him. For all he knew the ritual might go on for -years--before they used their hammers. Or whatever they were planning. - -It was drawing near time for his nap, but he felt completely wide awake -even inside the safety of the force field. His throat hurt and the -backs of his legs ached with the waiting, the waiting for the natives -to come out and begin xenogutting. - -He wiped his hands together and forced a smile. Why should he worry -what the natives did? He was completely safe. He could live out his -life in immutable security. - -But this wasn't his world. No part of it was his ... or at least only -the part he had brought with him. Sanity lay in holding to what was -left of his own world. But sanity didn't always mean survival. - -What if he could make the quronos' world his own? - -Barnhart wiped at the tiny stings against his face and his fingertips -came away moist with beads of perspiration. - -The aliens began marching out of the houses, in twos from the ten-foot -doors, singly from the foot-square openings of every other facing wall. - -It wasn't his world of fire-works-streaked Ohio summers and bold green -hills, this planet cowled with nun-like secrecy, looking acrid, tasting -violet and transmitting a beauty and confusion only a trio of physical -scientists could solve. - -But there was only one thing to do. - -Barnhart let down his force field and went out. - -The human body wasn't well-adapted for it but Barnhart did his best to -join the quronos in xenogutting. - -Instantly the cry welled up. - -"_Master._" - -Barnhart stood up and faced the aliens, deeply disturbed. - - * * * * * - -He was even more disturbed when, later, he wrote again in his journal: - - _Ninth day_ - - "Qurono," I have learned from the Leader, is a term referring to a - particular type of sub-human android. The synthetic process used - in manufacturing these men does not allow them to develop beyond a - certain point--a built-in safety factor of their creators, I can - only suppose. Thus they were given the concept of the axe and have - retained it, but they were able only to devise the idea of using - the axe to hammer things with and are not capable of thinking of a - special hammering tool. - - With almost complete lack of creative ability they are bound to - the same routine, to which they adhere with an almost religious - fanaticism. - - Since last night I have been treated as virtually a god. I have - been given one of their buildings entirely for my own use. - - I find this turn of events absolutely surprising. I intend to - discuss this with the Leader today. (Note to any ethnologist who - may see these papers: Since all quronos are built to the same - standards none is superior to another. But, recognizing the need - for one director, each of the one hundred has an alternate term - as Leader.) - - _900: Ninth day_ - -Despite the upsetting turn of events Barnhart decided he was more -comfortable in his familiar role of command. - -He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised to note that he had -overslept. The time for both breakfast and chronopting was past. He -made himself ready and left the building. - -The alien was waiting just outside the door. He looked as if he hadn't -moved all night. Yet, Barnhart thought, he seemed a trifle shorter. - -"Are you the Leader?" Barnhart asked. - -"I am the Leader. But you are the Master." - -As an officer of a close-confines spaceship that sounded a little -stuffy even to Barnhart. The fellow _still_ looked shorter. Maybe they -had changed Leaders the way he had been told the night before. Or -maybe quronos shrank when left out in the night air. - -"Let's go someplace where we can sit down. And, incidentally, just call -me 'sir' or 'captain.'" - -"Yes, sir." - -Barnhart nodded. He had been expecting: Yes, Master, I will call you -'captain.' - -But the alien didn't move. He finally decided that the Leader thought -they could sit on the ground where they were standing. - -Barnhart squatted. - -The Leader squatted. - -Before they could speak a muffled explosion vibrated the ground and -Barnhart caught a fleeting glimpse of an unstable chemical rocket -tearing jerkily into the maroon sky. - -"Celebration for my arrival?" Barnhart asked. - -"Perhaps so. We are putting the un-needed ones in status." - -He decided to let that ride for the moment. - -"Tell me, why didn't you recognize me before I joined you in -your--ritual, Leader?" - -The alien tilted his head. "What was there to recognize? We thought you -were some new variety of animal. Before you xenogutted how were we to -know you were rational life?" - -Barnhart nodded. "But how did you so cleverly deduce that I was your -Master?" - -"There are one hundred of us. You were the one hundred and first. You -had to be the Master returned." - -The Master had been some friendly lifeform in the Federation, -obviously. Otherwise the qurono androids wouldn't speak Galactic. -Barnhart nibbled on his under lip. - -"I want to find out how much you still know after the Master has been -away so long," the captain said. "Tell me, how do you communicate with -the Master?" - -"What for?" The Leader began to look at Barnhart oddly. - -"For anything. Where's the sub-space radio?" - -The direct approach produced a rather ironic expression on the qurono's -narrow face but no answer. But if there was a radio on the planet -Barnhart meant to find it. Spacemen forced to abandon their craft -were required to report to the nearest Federation base as quickly as -possible. Besides, he meant to see that Simmons and his Anglo stooge -and all the others paid for their mutiny. But, he decided, perhaps he -had better not press the matter at the moment. - -Another rocket punctuated the moment of silence. - -"Take me to your launching area," Barnhart said. - -The android stood up and walked. But he walked at Barnhart's side, -forcing the captain to catch his stride a half-step to let the alien -lead him. He wasn't sure if it was a mark of respect not to get ahead -of the Master or an attempt to see if he knew where the launching site -was located. The quronos were limited, but just _how_ limited Barnhart -was beginning to wonder. - - * * * * * - -They rounded the clump of drooping lavender trees and Barnhart saw the -eight men laying on the ground in the transparent casings. Not men, but -quronos, he corrected himself; in a molded clear membrane of some sort. - -"They are in status," the Leader explained, answering the captain's -unasked question. - -"This is how you keep your population at one hundred," Barnhart thought -aloud, removing his glasses to rest his eyes and to get a better look -at the bodies. Despite regulations he could still see better without -his spectacles. - -"It is how you arranged it, Master. But as you know we are now ninety -and one." - -The captain put his glasses back on. "I'll test you. Why are you now -ninety and one?" - -"Naturally," the Leader said emotionlessly, "you required a whole -shelter unit to yourself. We had to dispose of the ten who previously -had the unit." - -Barnhart swallowed. "Couldn't you think of anything less drastic? Next -time just build a new unit." - -"But master," the alien protested, "it takes a great deal of work to -construct our units. Our lumber escapes so badly no matter how often -we beat it into submission. Our work capacity is limited, as you are -aware. Is it really desirable to overwork us so much?" - -The captain was a little shocked. Was this humorless, methodical -android really protesting a command from his Master? "How do you -suppose the ten you are putting in status feel about it?" he managed. - -"They would doubtlessly prefer not to be overworked. Our fatigue -channels can only stand so much." - -But it wasn't the work, Barnhart suddenly knew. It was the idea that -there could be _eleven_ houses, instead of ten. The concept of only -ninety quronos and a master must be only slightly less hideous to them. -They couldn't really be so overjoyed to see him. - -A third rocket jarred off, rising unsteadily but surely in the low -gravity. It was a fairly primitive device--evidently all they retained -from the original model supplied them by the Master. - -Barnhart looked at the figures on the ground. Only seven. - -"The ones in status go into the rockets!" Barnhart gasped. - -"And circle in the proper orbits," the Leader agreed. - -This time he saw the quronos lifting a stiff form and taking it to the -crude rocket. It looked entirely too much like a human body. Barnhart -looked away. - -But at the edge of his peripheral vision he saw the quronos halt and -stand up their fellow in status. He glanced at his wrist. Fifteen -hundred hours. The aliens began geoplancting. - -Barnhart ran his tongue over his teeth, noting that they needed -brushing. He came to himself with a start. - -Of course. He had almost forgot. - -Barnhart faced the others and joined them in geoplancting. - -A hideous cry built from one plateau of fury to another. - -"_He's no better than us!_" the Leader screamed. - - _Ninth day_ - - I have made a serious mistake. - - While it was necessary for me to conform to the quronos' ritual to - get myself recognized, I should not have continued to adhere to it. - Apparently by these creatures' warped reasoning I established - myself as a reasoning creature by first joining them in their - routine; but when I continued to act in accord with them I proved - myself no better than they are. As Master I am supposed to be - superior and above their mundane routine. - - At the moment they are milling belligerently outside my force-field - screen. As I look into their stupid, imaginationless faces I can - only think that somewhere in the past they were invented by some - unorthodox Terran scientist, probably of English descent. They-- - - Wait. - - The force field. It's wavering. It must have been damaged when it - got tramped underfoot. They are going to get in to me. It-- - -Barnhart watched them prepare the rocket that would blast him into -an orbit circling the planet. He could see and even hear the sound -that vibrated through the thin membrane in which he was encased, but -he could not move a nerve-end. Fortunately his eyes were focused on -infinity, so he could see everything at least blurrily. - -The Leader, who seemed to have grown a few inches, wasted no time. He -gave the orders and the quronos lifted him into the rocket. The hatch -closed down on the indigo day and he was alone. - -The blast of takeoff almost deafened him but he didn't feel the -jar--only because, he realized, he could feel nothing. - -A few weeks later the centrifugal force of the spinning rocket finally -nudged the latch and the hatch swung open. Barnhart was exposed to -naked fire-bright blackness itself. - -After a day or two he stopped worrying about that, as he had stopped -fretting about breathing. - -He grew accustomed to the regular turn around the planet every fourteen -hours. For two out of every three seconds he faced out into space and -that was always changing. Yet, all poetry aside, the change was always -the same. - -He didn't have to worry about keeping on a schedule. He kept on one -automatically. - -And he didn't like it. - -So he kept retreating further and further from it.... - - * * * * * - -"We couldn't leave him there!" - -What? Who? Barnhart thought along with at least seven other -double-yous. He returned to himself and found that he was standing in -the airlock of a spaceship, faced by his first mate Simmons and his -stooge York. - -"We couldn't leave him there," Simmons repeated with feeling. "That -would be the nastiest kind of murder. We might maroon him. But none of -us are killers." - -"It's not the punishment we will get for the mutiny," York complained. -"It's having to go back to his old routine. That time-schedule mind of -his was derailing mine. He was driving the whole crew cockeyed. Even if -he wasn't going to kill us all by the rule book, I think we would have -had to maroon him just to get rid of him." - -Simmons fingered a thin-bladed tool knife. "I wonder how he got up -there in that rocket and in this transparent shroud? I'm sure he's -alive, but this is the most unorthodox Susp-An I've ever seen. Almost -makes you believe in destiny, the way we lost our coordinate settings -and had to back-track--and then found him out there. ("I'll bet he -jimmied the calculator," York grouched.) You know, York, it's almost as -if the world down there marooned him right back at us." - -The first mate inserted the knife blade. The membrane withered and -Barnhart lived. - -"Now the arrest," York murmured. - -"What are you muttering about, York?" Captain Barnhart demanded. "What -are we standing around here for? You can't expect me to waste a whole -afternoon on inspection. We have to get back on schedule." He looked -to his wrist. "Fifteen hundred hours." - -"He doesn't _remember_," York said behind him. - -"He remembers the same old routine," Simmons said. "Here we go again." - -Barnhart didn't say anything. In the close confines of a spaceship -there was bound to be a certain degree of informality. - -He stepped inside his cabin at the end of the corridor and did what he -always did at fifteen hundred hours. - -York and the first mate were deeply disturbed. - -Barnhart looked out at them sharply. "Well, spacemen, I run a taut ship -here. I expect everyone to hit the mark. Adhere to the line. Follow my -example. Snap to it!" - -Simmons looked at York and his shoulders sagged. They couldn't go -through the whole thing again, the marooning, the rescue, then this. -That routine would drive them crazy. - -Even this was preferable. - -They joined Barnhart in geoplancting. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Always a Qurono, by Jim Harmon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALWAYS A QURONO *** - -***** This file should be named 51623.txt or 51623.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/6/2/51623/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan 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 print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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