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Drexel - -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: The Crowded Colony - -Author: Jay B. Drexel - -Release Date: December 1, 2020 [EBook #63930] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWDED COLONY *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE CROWDED COLONY</h1> - -<h2>By Jay B. Drexel</h2> - -<p>Oh, how decadent these Martians were! Burke,<br /> -Barnes and the rest of the Conquerors laughed<br /> -loudly at the dusty shrines, those crude and<br /> -homely temples in the desert. More softly laughed<br /> -the Martians, who dreamed of laughing last....</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Fall 1950.<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>When the Martians had built the village of Kinkaaka there had been -water in the canal, a cool, level sweep of green water from the -northern icecap. Now there was none, and Kinkaaka clung to the upper -swell of the bank and curved its staggered residential terraces like -tragic brows over the long slope of sand and clay, the dead wall -baked criss-cross by the sun, that bore at its deep juncture with the -opposite bank the pitiful, straggling trench cut by Mars' last moving -waters an untold time ago.</p> - -<p>Kinkaaka's other side, away from the canal, was coated rust-red by -the desert winds that came with sunset. Here were the crumbling -market arenas of the ancient traders, the great mounds of underground -warehouses long empty; and here now, with Mars' conquest, was -the "native" section into whose sandstone huts the village's few -inhabitants were shoved firmly, but not brutally, to rest when they -weren't needed to work.</p> - -<p>Like most of the Conquerors, Jack Burke and his companions preferred -the canal side of Kinkaaka. There they could sit in the stone-cool -shade of the Expedition Restaurant and look through the broad glassless -windows down the sun-scalded canal bank, across to the opposite slope -with its dotting of nomad caves, the desert beyond and the red-tainted -blue of the sky.</p> - -<p>"Happy day we came to Mars," said Jack Burke. He picked up his stone -mug and drank with a shudder.</p> - -<p>He was big and brown, typical of the Conquerors, and spoke, as they -all did when within earshot of natives, the Martian dialect which the -Linguistics Squad had translated and reasoned to completion from the -pages of script found in the metal cairn, half-buried in desert sands -and upon which they had conveniently almost landed their space-cube -upon arrival two days ago.</p> - -<p>That was one of the dicta of the Psychologists: Always speak the native -tongue, and learn it preferably from graphics or a specimen before -contacting the native collective.</p> - -<p>There were other policies as strange, or more so; but the -Psychologists, off-world in the home-ship and poring over the -translations beamed to them, must know what they were doing.</p> - -<p>Barnes looked up in quick response to Burke's sarcasm. Of the three -Conquerors at this table, he was the smallest. He fiddled nervously -with his one-pronged fork, turning a piece of badly cooked <i>huj</i> over -and over, not looking at it.</p> - -<p>"That," he said, and he included the <i>huj</i>, "is a mouthful. There -doesn't seem to be a Martian in this village who can cook worth a -damn, and you—" this to the pasty faced Martian who stood attentively -by—"are no exception. You're getting off easy with this job, Martian. -Or would you rather go back to digging up history with the rest of your -tribe?"</p> - -<p>"I am sorry." The Martian advanced and bobbed his head. "The -preparation of your foodstuffs is difficult for me to comprehend. Would -you care to try something else, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>Barnes skidded the fork onto the plate and put his hands flat on the -stone table. "No. Just take this away."</p> - -<p>The Conquerors watched the creature as it moved silently off with the -plate of <i>huj</i>. All except Randolph, the youngest of the trio.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He sat nearest the stone-silled window, his gaze reaching out distantly -over the sandscape. On the far bank of the canal he could see a few -natives with their guards, emerging from a wood and stone structure -that thrust finger-shaped into the pink sky.</p> - -<p>"No race should have its soul dissected," he said slowly. "Not, at -least, until they're extinct and can't feel it." He avoided Barnes' -sudden, sharp look. "Our Archaeologists over there—" pointing at the -moving dots—"are poking around in burial crypts or sacred temples or -whatever—it's like cutting someone up alive. We don't know what those -things mean to these Martians."</p> - -<p>Barnes laughed, more of a snort. "You speak as if 'these Martians' were -people." He leaned forward and blinked his emphasis. "What in hell -ever happened to you that you've got such ideas? Primitive, misshapen -morons—you can't think of them as persons! Don't let an Intelligence -Officer hear you talking that way or you'll find yourself getting -shipped home!"</p> - -<p>Randolph's eyes flicked Barnes' heavy face, then turned to the mural on -the restaurant wall.</p> - -<p>"This is very beautiful," he said. He bent closer, examining the -delicate work. "This isn't moronic. You're wrong, Barnes."</p> - -<p>Burke spoke harshly: "You'd better shut up, Randolph. You're sitting -there emoting over decadent art and there's an Intelligence Officer at -the bar."</p> - -<p>Young Randolph stiffened and forced a smile. "Of course, the Martians -are a degenerated race. Our Archaeologists have revealed that Mars was -spiritually effeminized thousands of years ago. Our colonization will -have a reforming effect upon them. It is a healthy thing. That is our -mission in time and space."</p> - -<p>The Martian had returned and was again standing at service. Randolph -caught his eye and flushed, returned his gaze to the mural.</p> - -<p>Burke cleared his throat. The Intelligence Officer at the bar was still -looking icily at Randolph's back, twiddling his drink with a wooden -mixer.</p> - -<p>"You cannot doubt," Barnes took up the fraying thread, "that our -conquest of these Martians is a very good thing. For them. I ... -for <i>us</i>, too.... That is our mission in time and space. The first -desert shrine—the metal one from which we learned this tongue we -speak—is ugly enough proof. Sheaves of manuscript, recording the most -disgusting standards and attitudes. And the contents of subsequently -found structures—like that one across the canal—show an even greater -decline into sensualism and the subjugation of creative energies."</p> - -<p>The Martian stood quietly, his small-featured face blank and smooth. He -was meant to hear all this.</p> - -<p>"I heard one of our Archaeologists say something about the language of -that first shrine—the metal one—being different from all the others." -Randolph shifted his great bulk to lean back against the wall. "The -others are mostly alike, but this one we learned is totally different."</p> - -<p>The Martian's eyes flickered.</p> - -<p>"So what?" Barnes grunted. "Dialects. Same thing at home."</p> - -<p>"But, I mean they—"</p> - -<p>"But what? These Martians here speak the language we learned, don't -they?"</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"Hell! Do you speak <i>Ahrian</i>?"</p> - -<p>"You know I don't."</p> - -<p>"So when we get through investigating here and move on to other -villages, we'll find Martians who speak the other dialects."</p> - -<p>The Martian said: "Will there be anything else, sirs?"</p> - -<p>"Not," said Barnes, "unless you would like to try some <i>noedan</i>."</p> - -<p>"No thank you, sir."</p> - -<p>Randolph and Burke raised their eyehoods humorously. Then they looked a -little less amused as Barnes' voice hardened.</p> - -<p>"You might like it, Martian. Try it." He pulled a tough green wad of -<i>noedan</i> from his pouch and tore off a strip. "I think the sooner you -Martians get used to doing as we do and liking the things we like, the -better off you'll be. Now take this <i>noedan</i> and use it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, for hell's sake, Barnes—" Randolph put out a hand. "Let him -alone. He doesn't want it. It makes him sick."</p> - -<p>The Intelligence Officer got up from the bar and started for the table, -his eyes hard, his aural fronds quivering with emotion.</p> - -<p>Burke spotted him and seemed to shrug. "You asked for it, kid," he told -Randolph. "Give my love to the home worlds. You're through on Mars."</p> - -<p>"Maybe that's what I wanted," said Randolph.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Intelligence Officer halted beside the table and Randolph got up -without a word and left with him.</p> - -<p>Burke and Barnes watched them down the winding clay street, saw them -enter a portable teleport booth, one of the several scattered about -Kinkaaka to facilitate trips to and from the space-cube. The door -closed, the light blinked on and off, then the booth was open again, -empty.</p> - -<p>"On his way back to the home-ship and Parna," grunted Burke, "and I -don't know but that I envy him."</p> - -<p>"You too?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah. Now that there's no damned Intelligence Officer around, me too."</p> - -<p>"Disgrace and all?"</p> - -<p>"That's what stops me—" and noticing the angry color to Barnes' -<i>uiye</i>—"and the glory of our mission. Hell, anyone can get homesick, -can't they?"</p> - -<p>During the few moments of Randolph's arrest and departure the Martian -had disappeared. Barnes grunted and shoved the <i>noedan</i> back into his -pouch and finished his drink.</p> - -<p>"You'll never get anywhere acting like that," said Burke after a -short silence. "You can't shove our ways down their throats and get -cooperation."</p> - -<p>Barnes got up a little angrily. "Who wants to get anywhere? What do we -want out of these creatures? They smell! How are we <i>supposed</i> to act? -We own their smelly little world—"</p> - -<p>"Randolph might say we don't own it."</p> - -<p>"Shut up, Burke. I'm sick of that!"</p> - -<p>Barnes started for the door and Burke got up to follow. They stepped -out onto the hot clay of the street, moving their top-skins against the -tight-fitting impact of the sun's rays.</p> - -<p>"<i>I</i> don't want anything from them, Burke. <i>I'm</i> the one who should be -sent home. <i>I</i> want to go home. Why should we go around labeled with -Martian names? Barnes, Randolph, Burke, Smith—good God! And talking -this <i>jsu</i>-twisting <i>sutz</i> of a language Martian of all the time -speaking!"</p> - -<p>Burke chuckled, deep in his sac. "The Psychologists dreamed it up—to -make us seem less alien. We speak their sounds. And we take their -names. After all, no trouble at all is better than the little they -might be able to give us if they got excited."</p> - -<p>They went down the street toward the teleport booth, two big octopoids, -the sun warming their glistening brown backs.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The "Martian" was in the cool back room of the restaurant, seated -before a group of his kind. This was afternoon rest period, and some -freedom to congregate existed then.</p> - -<p>A man turned from the wall slit through which he had watched the exit -of Burke and Barnes.</p> - -<p>"Those things make me sick, Burke," he said to the "Martian". "How can -you get so close to them and keep your stomach? They smell."</p> - -<p>Burke shrugged. "You get used to it, Barnes."</p> - -<p>He bent down and lifted the lid of a box that was stamped: FIRST MARS -EXPEDITION—2006. He took out a heavy proton-buster, broke the grip and -examined its load of white pellets.</p> - -<p>"It's been two days now," he went on, "and I'm convinced at last that -this one party is all. Scouts, perhaps, from a parent ship off in deep -space. And I've listened to them talk. If they don't return, nobody's -going to come looking for them. They come from that kind of society. -The others will mark Sol off as a bad bet and move on."</p> - -<p>He clicked the gun together. "They still think we're the race pictured -in the Martian crypts and temples—and in your translations, Randolph. -Coincidence eh? that the old Martians were humanoid and their -appearance not discrepant with ours."</p> - -<p>"We colonize Mars," mused Randolph, "and Beta Centauri colonizes us as -Martians. Ring around the rosy."</p> - -<p>Burke stood there, the proton-buster in his hand. "And it was cosmic -coincidence that the Centaurians landed their ship at practically -the same spot we'd set down only three days before. And it's almost -incredible that they came to this village where we had taken up -headquarters and addressed us in English!" He turned to Barnes. "You're -the Psych-man ... let's have it again. Slowly."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Barnes half turned from the wall slit where he had been keeping an eye -out for Centaurians. "They found our ship and took it to be a primitive -shrine of some sort, never dreaming it was a vehicle, a space-craft." -He waved another man to the slit and stretched his legs as he sat -down on a crate. He struck a match and cupped it into his pipe. -"I'm almost certain that they didn't even recognize the mechanisms -as such. Their ship, as you've all seen, is a cube of pure energy, -configurated—they're that alien. Also, I believe they're military men, -soldiers and minor technicians. The top specialists are probably on the -other ship, away from possible danger and biding their talents until -called."</p> - -<p>The watcher's hand went up and fluttered for silence, and Barnes paused -while heavy, meaty footsteps scuffled the clay outside. When they had -passed, he spoke again, softly:</p> - -<p>"Fortunately, there wasn't room in our ship for a library, or they -might have encountered the Terrestrial mind and caught on. But they -learned our language—English, and a damned neat trick—from Randolph's -written translations of the Martian <i>inscriptiones sensuales</i> he was -working on. And when they came here and addressed us in that language -and we responded, nolens-volens they took us for Martians and judged -us by the context of those translations—foolish, vain and harmless, -but perhaps with some value as workers. They even took our names from -the nameplates on our bunks, something that would have found favor with -the perverse Fourth-Era Martians they presumed us to be." He sucked at -his pipe which had gone out. "Their Psychologists are clever—maybe a -little too clever. They think we have no violence potential."</p> - -<p>Randolph seemed almost entranced. "But how could they have worked out -the phonetics?"</p> - -<p>Barnes grinned, lifted a shoulder in admiration and envy. "I don't -know.... Ask <i>them</i>."</p> - -<p>"They couldn't know they were <i>our</i> names," said Randolph.</p> - -<p>"No, but they thought they were native names. Thank God, we got the -pitch right off and were able to carry the farce."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't they just kill us?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Barnes frowned and struck another match. "That would've been the really -smart thing to do, Dolph, but they're not brutes and they're not making -war. Their intention is to colonize, and we might as well be insects -for all we could mean to them or do to stand up to them."</p> - -<p>"But if we have to be dealt with at all, we're in the way—"</p> - -<p>Barnes had the pipe going. He shook his head. "We're not in their way; -we're underfoot, and only a sick mind makes a point of stepping on -ants. Would you kill a talking louse?"</p> - -<p>Randolph grinned. "Yes."</p> - -<p>"No, you wouldn't—not until you'd given it a going over."</p> - -<p>"They're not sick in a killing way," Burke grunted, "but they seem to -feel that their colonizations act as cathartic to wayward worlds. Just -look at them, and you know that's sick."</p> - -<p>"The people," said Barnes, "at the bottom of any movement—a pun, -gentlemen—are always fed on dream-stuff. Soldiers always are. Truth -is, maybe the big boys at home think they can find enough use for us to -warrant keeping us alive. As laborers, as subjects for experimentation, -as pets."</p> - -<p>Burke looked out the window at the reddening sky. Then he gathered -their attention by standing up.</p> - -<p>"If we hadn't been here," he said, "they would have gone on to Earth -and taken over. As is, they think Mars is nothing to write home about, -but they're sticking around to study awhile—not us, the supposed -latter Martians, the degenerates, but to search out and study the bones -of Mars' civilization back when it was dynamic. Maybe there's something -worth learning. That's what they think."</p> - -<p>He hefted the proton-buster. Barnes and Smith and Kirk and Randolph -and Jason and all the others got guns from the box.</p> - -<p>There was a hiss and they turned to the window. Rising above the -visible cluster of roof-domes from some point in the other side of -the village was a smaller edition of the Centaurians' space-cube. It -glinted once, high up, and was gone.</p> - -<p>"There goes a pretty decent person," said Burke. "I'm glad we don't -have to kill him. He appreciated Randolph's watercolor painting of the -canal." His voice was regretful. "How alien can you get? <i>His</i> name -was Randolph, and he's going home in disgrace."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p><i>"There goes a pretty decent person," said Burke. "I'm glad we don't have to kill him."</i></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Night was coming. Burke's face hardened. The Centaurians would be -coming too, ready to herd the Martians into their sleeping huts.</p> - -<p>"One alien ship, terribly armed," Burke went on, "and sixty Centaurians -walking around unarmed because they think we're pansies." He cocked the -gun. "They'll never leave Kinkaaka to bring back more."</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crowded Colony, by Jay B. 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Drexel - -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: The Crowded Colony - -Author: Jay B. Drexel - -Release Date: December 1, 2020 [EBook #63930] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROWDED COLONY *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE CROWDED COLONY - - By Jay B. Drexel - - Oh, how decadent these Martians were! Burke, - Barnes and the rest of the Conquerors laughed - loudly at the dusty shrines, those crude and - homely temples in the desert. More softly laughed - the Martians, who dreamed of laughing last.... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1950. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -When the Martians had built the village of Kinkaaka there had been -water in the canal, a cool, level sweep of green water from the -northern icecap. Now there was none, and Kinkaaka clung to the upper -swell of the bank and curved its staggered residential terraces like -tragic brows over the long slope of sand and clay, the dead wall -baked criss-cross by the sun, that bore at its deep juncture with the -opposite bank the pitiful, straggling trench cut by Mars' last moving -waters an untold time ago. - -Kinkaaka's other side, away from the canal, was coated rust-red by -the desert winds that came with sunset. Here were the crumbling -market arenas of the ancient traders, the great mounds of underground -warehouses long empty; and here now, with Mars' conquest, was -the "native" section into whose sandstone huts the village's few -inhabitants were shoved firmly, but not brutally, to rest when they -weren't needed to work. - -Like most of the Conquerors, Jack Burke and his companions preferred -the canal side of Kinkaaka. There they could sit in the stone-cool -shade of the Expedition Restaurant and look through the broad glassless -windows down the sun-scalded canal bank, across to the opposite slope -with its dotting of nomad caves, the desert beyond and the red-tainted -blue of the sky. - -"Happy day we came to Mars," said Jack Burke. He picked up his stone -mug and drank with a shudder. - -He was big and brown, typical of the Conquerors, and spoke, as they -all did when within earshot of natives, the Martian dialect which the -Linguistics Squad had translated and reasoned to completion from the -pages of script found in the metal cairn, half-buried in desert sands -and upon which they had conveniently almost landed their space-cube -upon arrival two days ago. - -That was one of the dicta of the Psychologists: Always speak the native -tongue, and learn it preferably from graphics or a specimen before -contacting the native collective. - -There were other policies as strange, or more so; but the -Psychologists, off-world in the home-ship and poring over the -translations beamed to them, must know what they were doing. - -Barnes looked up in quick response to Burke's sarcasm. Of the three -Conquerors at this table, he was the smallest. He fiddled nervously -with his one-pronged fork, turning a piece of badly cooked _huj_ over -and over, not looking at it. - -"That," he said, and he included the _huj_, "is a mouthful. There -doesn't seem to be a Martian in this village who can cook worth a -damn, and you--" this to the pasty faced Martian who stood attentively -by--"are no exception. You're getting off easy with this job, Martian. -Or would you rather go back to digging up history with the rest of your -tribe?" - -"I am sorry." The Martian advanced and bobbed his head. "The -preparation of your foodstuffs is difficult for me to comprehend. Would -you care to try something else, perhaps?" - -Barnes skidded the fork onto the plate and put his hands flat on the -stone table. "No. Just take this away." - -The Conquerors watched the creature as it moved silently off with the -plate of _huj_. All except Randolph, the youngest of the trio. - - * * * * * - -He sat nearest the stone-silled window, his gaze reaching out distantly -over the sandscape. On the far bank of the canal he could see a few -natives with their guards, emerging from a wood and stone structure -that thrust finger-shaped into the pink sky. - -"No race should have its soul dissected," he said slowly. "Not, at -least, until they're extinct and can't feel it." He avoided Barnes' -sudden, sharp look. "Our Archaeologists over there--" pointing at the -moving dots--"are poking around in burial crypts or sacred temples or -whatever--it's like cutting someone up alive. We don't know what those -things mean to these Martians." - -Barnes laughed, more of a snort. "You speak as if 'these Martians' were -people." He leaned forward and blinked his emphasis. "What in hell -ever happened to you that you've got such ideas? Primitive, misshapen -morons--you can't think of them as persons! Don't let an Intelligence -Officer hear you talking that way or you'll find yourself getting -shipped home!" - -Randolph's eyes flicked Barnes' heavy face, then turned to the mural on -the restaurant wall. - -"This is very beautiful," he said. He bent closer, examining the -delicate work. "This isn't moronic. You're wrong, Barnes." - -Burke spoke harshly: "You'd better shut up, Randolph. You're sitting -there emoting over decadent art and there's an Intelligence Officer at -the bar." - -Young Randolph stiffened and forced a smile. "Of course, the Martians -are a degenerated race. Our Archaeologists have revealed that Mars was -spiritually effeminized thousands of years ago. Our colonization will -have a reforming effect upon them. It is a healthy thing. That is our -mission in time and space." - -The Martian had returned and was again standing at service. Randolph -caught his eye and flushed, returned his gaze to the mural. - -Burke cleared his throat. The Intelligence Officer at the bar was still -looking icily at Randolph's back, twiddling his drink with a wooden -mixer. - -"You cannot doubt," Barnes took up the fraying thread, "that our -conquest of these Martians is a very good thing. For them. I ... -for _us_, too.... That is our mission in time and space. The first -desert shrine--the metal one from which we learned this tongue we -speak--is ugly enough proof. Sheaves of manuscript, recording the most -disgusting standards and attitudes. And the contents of subsequently -found structures--like that one across the canal--show an even greater -decline into sensualism and the subjugation of creative energies." - -The Martian stood quietly, his small-featured face blank and smooth. He -was meant to hear all this. - -"I heard one of our Archaeologists say something about the language of -that first shrine--the metal one--being different from all the others." -Randolph shifted his great bulk to lean back against the wall. "The -others are mostly alike, but this one we learned is totally different." - -The Martian's eyes flickered. - -"So what?" Barnes grunted. "Dialects. Same thing at home." - -"But, I mean they--" - -"But what? These Martians here speak the language we learned, don't -they?" - -"But--" - -"Hell! Do you speak _Ahrian_?" - -"You know I don't." - -"So when we get through investigating here and move on to other -villages, we'll find Martians who speak the other dialects." - -The Martian said: "Will there be anything else, sirs?" - -"Not," said Barnes, "unless you would like to try some _noedan_." - -"No thank you, sir." - -Randolph and Burke raised their eyehoods humorously. Then they looked a -little less amused as Barnes' voice hardened. - -"You might like it, Martian. Try it." He pulled a tough green wad of -_noedan_ from his pouch and tore off a strip. "I think the sooner you -Martians get used to doing as we do and liking the things we like, the -better off you'll be. Now take this _noedan_ and use it." - -"Oh, for hell's sake, Barnes--" Randolph put out a hand. "Let him -alone. He doesn't want it. It makes him sick." - -The Intelligence Officer got up from the bar and started for the table, -his eyes hard, his aural fronds quivering with emotion. - -Burke spotted him and seemed to shrug. "You asked for it, kid," he told -Randolph. "Give my love to the home worlds. You're through on Mars." - -"Maybe that's what I wanted," said Randolph. - - * * * * * - -The Intelligence Officer halted beside the table and Randolph got up -without a word and left with him. - -Burke and Barnes watched them down the winding clay street, saw them -enter a portable teleport booth, one of the several scattered about -Kinkaaka to facilitate trips to and from the space-cube. The door -closed, the light blinked on and off, then the booth was open again, -empty. - -"On his way back to the home-ship and Parna," grunted Burke, "and I -don't know but that I envy him." - -"You too?" - -"Yeah. Now that there's no damned Intelligence Officer around, me too." - -"Disgrace and all?" - -"That's what stops me--" and noticing the angry color to Barnes' -_uiye_--"and the glory of our mission. Hell, anyone can get homesick, -can't they?" - -During the few moments of Randolph's arrest and departure the Martian -had disappeared. Barnes grunted and shoved the _noedan_ back into his -pouch and finished his drink. - -"You'll never get anywhere acting like that," said Burke after a -short silence. "You can't shove our ways down their throats and get -cooperation." - -Barnes got up a little angrily. "Who wants to get anywhere? What do we -want out of these creatures? They smell! How are we _supposed_ to act? -We own their smelly little world--" - -"Randolph might say we don't own it." - -"Shut up, Burke. I'm sick of that!" - -Barnes started for the door and Burke got up to follow. They stepped -out onto the hot clay of the street, moving their top-skins against the -tight-fitting impact of the sun's rays. - -"_I_ don't want anything from them, Burke. _I'm_ the one who should be -sent home. _I_ want to go home. Why should we go around labeled with -Martian names? Barnes, Randolph, Burke, Smith--good God! And talking -this _jsu_-twisting _sutz_ of a language Martian of all the time -speaking!" - -Burke chuckled, deep in his sac. "The Psychologists dreamed it up--to -make us seem less alien. We speak their sounds. And we take their -names. After all, no trouble at all is better than the little they -might be able to give us if they got excited." - -They went down the street toward the teleport booth, two big octopoids, -the sun warming their glistening brown backs. - - * * * * * - -The "Martian" was in the cool back room of the restaurant, seated -before a group of his kind. This was afternoon rest period, and some -freedom to congregate existed then. - -A man turned from the wall slit through which he had watched the exit -of Burke and Barnes. - -"Those things make me sick, Burke," he said to the "Martian". "How can -you get so close to them and keep your stomach? They smell." - -Burke shrugged. "You get used to it, Barnes." - -He bent down and lifted the lid of a box that was stamped: FIRST MARS -EXPEDITION--2006. He took out a heavy proton-buster, broke the grip and -examined its load of white pellets. - -"It's been two days now," he went on, "and I'm convinced at last that -this one party is all. Scouts, perhaps, from a parent ship off in deep -space. And I've listened to them talk. If they don't return, nobody's -going to come looking for them. They come from that kind of society. -The others will mark Sol off as a bad bet and move on." - -He clicked the gun together. "They still think we're the race pictured -in the Martian crypts and temples--and in your translations, Randolph. -Coincidence eh? that the old Martians were humanoid and their -appearance not discrepant with ours." - -"We colonize Mars," mused Randolph, "and Beta Centauri colonizes us as -Martians. Ring around the rosy." - -Burke stood there, the proton-buster in his hand. "And it was cosmic -coincidence that the Centaurians landed their ship at practically -the same spot we'd set down only three days before. And it's almost -incredible that they came to this village where we had taken up -headquarters and addressed us in English!" He turned to Barnes. "You're -the Psych-man ... let's have it again. Slowly." - -Barnes half turned from the wall slit where he had been keeping an eye -out for Centaurians. "They found our ship and took it to be a primitive -shrine of some sort, never dreaming it was a vehicle, a space-craft." -He waved another man to the slit and stretched his legs as he sat -down on a crate. He struck a match and cupped it into his pipe. -"I'm almost certain that they didn't even recognize the mechanisms -as such. Their ship, as you've all seen, is a cube of pure energy, -configurated--they're that alien. Also, I believe they're military men, -soldiers and minor technicians. The top specialists are probably on the -other ship, away from possible danger and biding their talents until -called." - -The watcher's hand went up and fluttered for silence, and Barnes paused -while heavy, meaty footsteps scuffled the clay outside. When they had -passed, he spoke again, softly: - -"Fortunately, there wasn't room in our ship for a library, or they -might have encountered the Terrestrial mind and caught on. But they -learned our language--English, and a damned neat trick--from Randolph's -written translations of the Martian _inscriptiones sensuales_ he was -working on. And when they came here and addressed us in that language -and we responded, nolens-volens they took us for Martians and judged -us by the context of those translations--foolish, vain and harmless, -but perhaps with some value as workers. They even took our names from -the nameplates on our bunks, something that would have found favor with -the perverse Fourth-Era Martians they presumed us to be." He sucked at -his pipe which had gone out. "Their Psychologists are clever--maybe a -little too clever. They think we have no violence potential." - -Randolph seemed almost entranced. "But how could they have worked out -the phonetics?" - -Barnes grinned, lifted a shoulder in admiration and envy. "I don't -know.... Ask _them_." - -"They couldn't know they were _our_ names," said Randolph. - -"No, but they thought they were native names. Thank God, we got the -pitch right off and were able to carry the farce." - -"Why didn't they just kill us?" - - * * * * * - -Barnes frowned and struck another match. "That would've been the really -smart thing to do, Dolph, but they're not brutes and they're not making -war. Their intention is to colonize, and we might as well be insects -for all we could mean to them or do to stand up to them." - -"But if we have to be dealt with at all, we're in the way--" - -Barnes had the pipe going. He shook his head. "We're not in their way; -we're underfoot, and only a sick mind makes a point of stepping on -ants. Would you kill a talking louse?" - -Randolph grinned. "Yes." - -"No, you wouldn't--not until you'd given it a going over." - -"They're not sick in a killing way," Burke grunted, "but they seem to -feel that their colonizations act as cathartic to wayward worlds. Just -look at them, and you know that's sick." - -"The people," said Barnes, "at the bottom of any movement--a pun, -gentlemen--are always fed on dream-stuff. Soldiers always are. Truth -is, maybe the big boys at home think they can find enough use for us to -warrant keeping us alive. As laborers, as subjects for experimentation, -as pets." - -Burke looked out the window at the reddening sky. Then he gathered -their attention by standing up. - -"If we hadn't been here," he said, "they would have gone on to Earth -and taken over. As is, they think Mars is nothing to write home about, -but they're sticking around to study awhile--not us, the supposed -latter Martians, the degenerates, but to search out and study the bones -of Mars' civilization back when it was dynamic. Maybe there's something -worth learning. That's what they think." - -He hefted the proton-buster. Barnes and Smith and Kirk and Randolph -and Jason and all the others got guns from the box. - -There was a hiss and they turned to the window. Rising above the -visible cluster of roof-domes from some point in the other side of -the village was a smaller edition of the Centaurians' space-cube. It -glinted once, high up, and was gone. - -"There goes a pretty decent person," said Burke. "I'm glad we don't -have to kill him. He appreciated Randolph's watercolor painting of the -canal." His voice was regretful. "How alien can you get? _His_ name -was Randolph, and he's going home in disgrace." - -[Illustration: _"There goes a pretty decent person," said Burke. "I'm -glad we don't have to kill him."_] - -Night was coming. Burke's face hardened. The Centaurians would be -coming too, ready to herd the Martians into their sleeping huts. - -"One alien ship, terribly armed," Burke went on, "and sixty Centaurians -walking around unarmed because they think we're pansies." He cocked the -gun. "They'll never leave Kinkaaka to bring back more." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crowded Colony, by Jay B. 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