The Native Soil - Alan E Nourse

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The native soil by alan E Norse. Before the first
ship from Earth made a landing on Venus, there was
much speculation about what might be found beneath the cloud
layers obscuring that planet's surface from the eyes of all observers.
One school of thought maintained that the surface of Venus
was a jungle rank with hot house moisture, crawling with

(00:22):
writhing fauna and man eating flowers. Another group contended hotly
that Venus was an arid desert of wind carved sandstone,
dry and cruel, whipping dust into clouds that sunlight could
never penetrate. Others prognosticated an ocean planet with little or
no solid ground at all, populated by enormous serpents waiting

(00:45):
to greet the first Earthlings with jaws agape. But nobody knew.
Of course, Venus was the planet of mystery. When the
first earth ship finally landed there, all they found was
a great quantity of mud. There was enough mud on
Venus to go all the way around twice, with some
left over. It was warm, wet, soggy, mud clinging, and tenaceous.

(01:11):
In some places it was gray, in other places it
was black. Elsewhere it was found to be varying shades
of brown, yellow, green, blue, and purple, but just the same,
it was still mud. The sparse Venusian vegetation grew up
out of it, the small Venusian natives lived down in it.

(01:31):
The steam rose from it, and the rain fell on it.
And that, it seemed, was that the planet of Mystery
was no longer mysterious. It was just messy. People didn't
talk about it anymore. But the technologists of Piper Pharmaceuticals Incorporated.
R and D Squad found a certain charm in the

(01:52):
Venusian mud. They began sending cautious and very secret reports
back to the Home Office. When they discovered just what
exactly was growing in that Venusian mud besides Venusian natives.
The Home Office promptly bought up full exploratory and mining
rights to the planet for a price that was a

(02:14):
brazen steel, and then, in high excitement, began pouring millions
of dollars into ships and machines bound for the muddy planet.
The Board of Directors met hoots of derision with secret
smiles as they rubbed their hands together softly. Special crews
of psychologists were dispatched to Venus to contact the natives.

(02:36):
They returned exuberant with test results that proved the natives
were friendly, intelligent, co operative, and resourceful, and the board
of Directors rubbed their hands more eagerly together and poured
more money into the Piper Venusian installation. It took money
to make money, they thought. Let the fools laugh. They

(02:58):
wouldn't be laughing long after all. Piper Pharmaceuticals Incorporated could
recognize a gold mine when they saw one, they thought.
Robert Kyland, special investigator and troubleshooter for Piper Pharmaceuticals Incorporated,
made an abrupt and intimate acquaintance with the fabulous Venusian

(03:18):
Mud when the landing craft brought him down on that
soggy planet. He had transferred from the great bubble shaped
orbital transport ship to the sleek landing craft an hour
before Bard and impatient with the whole proposition, he had
no desire whatever to go to Venus. He didn't like Mud,

(03:39):
and he didn't like frontier projects. There had been nothing
in his contact with Piper demanding that he traveled to
other planets in pursuit of his duties, and he had
bulked at the assignment. He had even bulked at the
staggering bonus check they offered him to help him get
used to the idea. It was not until they had
convinced him that only his own superior judgment, his razor

(04:03):
sharp mind, and his extraordinarily shrewd powers of observation and
insight could possibly pull Pharmaceuticals Incorporated out of the mudhole
they'd gotten themselves into that he had reluctantly agreed to go.
He wouldn't like a moment of it, but he'd go.
Things weren't right on Venus, it seemed. The trouble was

(04:27):
that millions were going in and nothing was coming out.
The early promise of high production figures had faltered, sagged, dwindled,
and vanished. Venus was getting to be an expensive project
to have round, and nobody seemed to know just why. Now,

(04:47):
the pilot dipped the landing craft in and out of
the cloud blanket, breaking, the ship falling closer and closer
to the surface. As Kyland watched gloomily from the afterport,
the lurching billow of clouds made him queasy. He opened
his piper sample case and popped a pill in his mouth.

(05:07):
Then he gave his nose a squirt or two with
his piper Rhinovac nebulizer, just for good measure. Finally, far
below him, the featureless gray surface, skimmed by a sparse,
scraggly forest of twisted gray foliage, sprang up at them.
The pilot sighted the landing platform, checked with the control tower,

(05:29):
and eased up for the final descent. He was a
skillful pilot, with many landings on Venus to his credit.
He bought the ship up on its tail and set
it down on the landing platform for a perfect three pointer.
As the jets rumbled, the silence. Then abruptly they sank,
landing craft platform and all. The pilot buzzed control tower

(05:53):
frantically as Kaylin fought down. Panic. Sorry, said the control tower.
Something must have gone wrong. They'd have them mount in
a jiffy. Good Lord, No, don't blast out again. There
were a thousand natives in the vicinity. Just be patient,
Everything would be all right. They waited presently. There were

(06:16):
thumps and bangs as grapplers clanged onto the surface of
the craft. Mud gurgled around them as they were hauled
up and out with the sound of a giant sipping soup.
A mud encrusted hatchway flew open, and Kylin stepped down
on a flimsy looking platform below. Four small rodent like

(06:37):
creatures were attached to it by ropes. They heaved with
a will and begin paddling through the soupy mud, dragging
the platform and Kyeland toward a row of low buildings
near some stunted trees. As the creatures paused to puff
and pant, the back half of the platform kept sinking

(06:57):
into the mud. When they finally reached comparatively solid ground,
Kyland was mud up to the hips and mad enough
to blast off without benefit of landing craft. He surveyed
the Piper Venusian installation, hardly believing what he saw. He
had heard glowing descriptions of the board of directors. He

(07:18):
had seen the architect's projections of fine modern buildings resting
on waterproof buoys, neat boating channels to the mine sites,
fine orange painted drudge equipment, including the new piper axis
traction dredges that had been developed especially for the operation.
It had sounded, in short, just the way a Piper

(07:41):
installation ought to sound, but there was nothing here that
resembled that Kyland could see a group of little wooden
shacks that looked as though they were ready at a
moment's notice to sink with a gurgle into the mud.
Off to the right, across a mud flat, one of
the drudges apparently had done just that. A swarm of

(08:02):
men and natives were hard at work dragging it up again.
Control tower was to the left, balanced precariously at a
slight tilt and a sea of mud. The piper Venusian
installation didn't look too much like a going concern. It
looked far more like a ghost town in the latter
stages of decay. Inside the administration shack, Kyland found a

(08:26):
weary looking man behind a desk, scribbling furiously at a
pile of reports. Everything in the shack was splattered with mud.
The crude desk and furniture was smeared, the papers had
black speckles all over them. Even the man's face was splattered,
his clothes encrusted with gobs of still damp mud. In

(08:48):
a corner, a young man was industriously scrubbing down the
wall with a large brush. The man wiped mud off
Kyland and jumped up with a gleam of hope in
his tired eyes. Ah, wonderful, he cried, great to see you,
old man. You'll find all the papers and reports in order. Here,
everything ready for you. He brushed the papers away from

(09:08):
him with a gesture of finality. Louis, get the landing
craft pilot and don't let him out of your sight.
Tell him I'll be ready in twenty minutes. Hold it,
said Kyland, aren't you Simpson? The man wiped mine off
of his cheek and spat. He was tall and gray.
That's right. Where do you think you're going? Aren't you

(09:30):
relieving me? I am not. Oh my, the man crumbled
behind the desk, as though his laves had just given away.
I don't understand it, they told me. I don't care
what they told you, said Kylin shortly. I'm the troubleshooter,
not an administrator. When the production figures begin to drop,

(09:50):
I find out why the production figures from this place
have never gotten high enough to drop. This is supposed
to be news to me, said Simpson. So you've got
troubles friend, you're right about that. Well, we'll straighten them out,
Kylon said smoothly. But first I went to see the foreman,

(10:11):
who put that wretched landing platform together. Simpson's eyes became wary. Uh,
you don't really want to see him, Yes, I think
I do. When there's just such obvious and competence, the
time to correct it is now. Well, maybe we can
go outside and see him. We'll see him right here.

(10:35):
Kylon sank down on a bench near the wall. A
tiny headache was developing. He found a capsule in his
sample case and popped it into his mouth. Simpson looked
sad and nodded to the orderly, who had stopped scrubbing
the wall. Louis, you heard the man, but Boss Simpson scowled.
Louis went to the door and whistled. Presently, there was

(10:58):
a splashing sound and a short gray creature patted in.
His hind feet were four toed, webbed paddles. His legs
were long and powerful, like a kangaroo's. He was covered
in thick gray fur, which dripped with thick black mud.
He squeaked at Simpson, wiggling his nose. Simpson squeaked back sharply. Suddenly,

(11:20):
the creature began shaking his head in a slow rhythmic
undulation with a cry. Simpson dropped behind the desk. The
orderly fell flat on the floor, covering his face with
his arms. Kylin's eyes widened. Then he was sitting in
a deluge of mud. As the little Venusian shook himself
until his fur stood straight out in all directions. Simpson

(11:41):
stood up with a roar. I've told them a thousand times,
if I've told them once. He shook his head helplessly
as Kyland wiped mud out of his eyes. This is
the one you wanted to see, Kylin spluttered. Can it
talk to you? It doesn't talk. It's then ask it

(12:02):
to explain why the platform it built didn't hold the
landing craft. Simpson began whistling and squeaking at length to
the little creature. Its shaggy tail creft between its legs,
and it hung its head like a scolded puppy. He
says he didn't know a landing craft was supposed to
land on the platform, Simpson reported. Finally, He's sorry, he says,

(12:26):
but he hasn't seen a landing craft before. Squeak squeak. Oh, yes,
wasn't he told what the platform was being made for?
Squeak squeak. Of course, then why didn't the platform stand up?
Simpson sighed. Maybe he forgot what it was supposed to

(12:49):
be used for in the course of building it. Maybe
he never really did understand in the first place. I
can't get questions like that across from him with this whistling.
I doubt you'll ever find out which it was. Then
fire him, said Kyland. We'll find some other. Oh no,
I mean, let's let's not be hasty, said Simpson. I'd

(13:09):
hate to have to fire this one for a while yet.
At any rate, why because we've finally gotten across to him.
At least I think we have just how to take
down a drudge tube. Simpson's voice was almost tearful. It's
taken us months to teach him. If we fire him,
we'll just have to start all over again with another one.

(13:32):
Kylon stared at the Venusian and then at Simpson. So
he said, finally, I see. No, you don't, said Simpson
with conviction. You don't even begin to see yet. You
have to fight it for a few months before you
really see. He waved the Venusian out the door and

(13:52):
turned to Kyland with the burden of ten months frustration
in his voice. They're stupid, he said, slowly. They are
so incredibly stupid I could go screaming into this swamp
every time I see one of them coming. Their stupidity
is positively abysmal. Then why use them, Kylin spluttered, Because

(14:18):
if we ever hope to mind anything in this miserable
mud hole, we've got to use them for it. There
just isn't any other way. With Simpson leading, they donned
waste high waiters with wide flat silicone coated pans strapped
to their feet, and started out to inspect the installation.

(14:38):
A crowd of a dozen or more Venusian natives swarmed
happily around them, like a pack of hounds. They were
in and out of this steaming munths, circling and splashing,
squeaking and shaking. They seemed to be having a real
field day. Of course, Simpson was saying, since number four
dredge shank last week, there isn't a wail of a
lot of installation left for you to inspect, But you

(14:59):
can see what there is if you want. You mean,
number four dredge is the only one you've got to use.
Kayland asked peevishly, according to my record, you have five
axis traction dredges, plus a dozen or more of the
old kind, ah, said Simpson. Well, Number one had its
vacuum chamber corroded out a week after we started using dredging,

(15:22):
ran into a vein of stuff with fifteen percent acid content,
and it got chewed up something fierce. Number two sank
without a trace over there in the swamp some place.
He pointed, across the black mud flats to a patch
of sickly vegetation. The mud pubs know where it is,
they think, And I suppose they could go drag it
up for us if we dared to take the time,

(15:44):
But it would lose us a month, and you know
the production schedule we've been trying to meet. So what
about numbers three and five? Oh, we still have them.
They won't work without a major overhaul. Though overhaul they're
brand new, they were the mud pups didn't understand how
to sluice them down properly after operations. When this guck

(16:07):
gets out into the air, it hardens like sement. You
ever see a cement mixer that hasn't been cleaned out
after use after a few dozen times. That's numbers three
and five. What about the old style models? Half of
them are out on commission and the other half are
holding the islands still islands. Those chunks of semi solid ground.

(16:29):
We have administration built on the chunk that keeps control
tower in one place. Well, what were they going to do?
Walk away? That's just about right. The first week we
were in operation, we kept wondering why we had to
travel farther every day to get the drudges. Then we
realized solid ground on Venus isn't solid ground at all.

(16:50):
It's just big chunks of denser stuff that floats on
top of the mud, like dumplings in a stew. But
that was nothing compared to these other things. They had
reached the vicinity of the salvage operation on number five
dredge to Kyland. It looked like a huge cylinder tight
vacuum cleaner with a number of flexible hoses sprouting from

(17:11):
the top. The whole machine was three quarters submerged and
clinging mud. Off to the right a dereck floated hip
deep in slime. Grapplers from it were clinging to the dredge,
and the derreck was heaving and splashing like a trapped hippopotamus.
All about this submerged machine were mud puffs working like

(17:32):
strange little beavers as the man supervising the operation wiped
mud from his face and carried on a running line
of shouts, curses, whistles and squeaks. Suddenly, one of the
mud pups saw the newcomers. He let out a squeal,
dropped his line in the mud, and bounced up to
the surface, dancing like a dervish on his broad webbed

(17:54):
feet as he stared in unabashed curiosity. A dozen or
more followed his lead, squirming up and staring, shaking gobs
of mud from their fur. No. No, the man supervising
the operation screamed, pull, you idiots, come back here. Watch out.

(18:14):
The Derek wobbled and let out a whine as steel
cable sizzled out. Confused, the mud pups tore themselves away
from the newcomers and turned back to their lines. But
it was too late. Number five Dredge trembled with a
wet sucking sound and settled back into the mud. Blub
blub blub. The supervisor crawled down from his platform and

(18:40):
sloshed across to where Simpson and Kyland were standing. He
looked like a man who had suffered the torment of
the damned for twenty minutes too long, No more, he
screamed in Simpson's face. That's all I'm through. I'll pick
up my pay anytime you get it ready, and i'll
finish off my contract at home. But I'm through here.
One solid week I work to teach these idiots what

(19:01):
I want them to do, and you have to come
along at the one moment all week when I really
need their concentration. He glared his face, purple concentration. I
should hope for so much. You've got to have a
brain to have concentration. Barton, this is Kyland. Here's here
from home office to solve all our problems. You mean

(19:21):
he bought us an evacuation ship. No, he's going to
tell us how to make this installation pay, write Kyland.
Simpson's grin was something to see. Kyland scowled. What are
you going to do with the dredge? Just leave it there,
he asked angrily. No, I'm going to dig it out again,
said Barton, after we take another week off to drum

(19:43):
into those quarter brained mud hens just what we want
them to do again, and then persuade them to do
it again, and then hope, against hope that nothing happens
along to distract them again, any suggestions, Simpson shook his head.
Take of rest, Barton, Things will brighter in the morning.
Nothing ever looks brighter in the morning, said Barton, as

(20:05):
he sloshed angrily off toward the administration island. You see,
said Simpson, Or do you want to look around some more?
Back in the administration shack Kylin sprayed his throat with
piper fortified biostatic and took two tetrasyline capsules from his
sample case as he stared gloomily down at the little

(20:26):
blob of blue gray mud on the desk before him.
The Venusian Bonanza, the sole object of the multi million
dollar Piper Venusian installation, didn't look like much. It ran
in veins deep beneath the surface. The R and D
mint struck it quite by accident in the first place.
Sampled it along with a dozen other kinds of Venusian mud,

(20:50):
and found they had their hands on the richest mice
and bearing bacterial growth since the days of New Jersey
mud flats. The value of this stuff was incalculable. Twenty
first century Earth had not realized the degree to which
it depends on its effective antibiotic products for maintenance of
its health until the mutating immune bacterial strains begin to

(21:11):
outpace the development of new antibacterials. Early penicillin killed ninety
six percent of all organisms in its spectrum at first,
but time and natural selection undid its work in three generations.
Even the broad spectrum drugs were losing their effectiveness to

(21:31):
a dangerous degree within decades of their introduction, and the
new drugs grown from Earth born bacteria or synthesized in
the laboratories were too few and too weak to meet
the burgeoning demands of humanity. Until Venus, the bacteria indigenous
to that planet were alien to Earth. Every attempt to

(21:51):
transplant them had failed, but they grew with abandon in
the warm mud currents of Venus. Not all the mud
was of value. Only the singular blue gray stuff that
lay before Kyland on the desk could produce the micin
like tetrasyline derivative that was more powerful than the best
of Earth grown wide spectrum antibiotics, with few, if any

(22:13):
of the unfortunate side effects of the Earth products. The
problem seems simple. Find the mud in sufficient quantities for mining,
dredge it up, and transport it back to earth to
extract the drug. It was the first two steps of
the operation that depended so heavily on the mud acclimated
natives of Venus for success. They were as much at

(22:37):
home in the mud as they were in the dank,
humid air above. They could distinguish one type of mud
from another deep beneath the surface, and could carry a
dredge tube down to a load of the blue gray
muck with unfailing accuracy of a homing pigeon. If only
they could be made to understand just what they were
expected to do. And that was where production ground down

(23:00):
to a slow walk. The next few days were a
nightmare of frustration for Kayland as he observed with mounting
horror the standard operating procedure of the installation. Men and
mud pups went to work once again to drag number
five drudge out of the mud. It took five days
of explaining, repeating, coaxing, and threatening to do it, but

(23:23):
finally up it came, with mud kicked and hardened in
its insides until it could never be used again. So
they ferried number six down piecemeal from this special orbital
transport ship that had brought it only three landing crafts
sank during the process, and within two weeks Simpson and
Barton set bravely off with their dull witted cohorts to

(23:46):
tackle the swamp with a spanking new piece of equipment.
At last, the delays were over. Of course, it took
another week to get the actual dredging started. The mud
pups who had been taught the excavation procedure previously had
either disappeared into the swamp or forgotten everything they'd ever
been taught. Simce it had expected it, but it was

(24:09):
enough to keep Kildered sleepless for three nights and drive
his blood pressure to suicidal levels. At length, the blue
gray mud began billowing out of the dredge onto platforms
built to receive it, and the transport ship was notified
to stand by for loading. But by the time the
ferry had landed, the platform with the load had somehow

(24:30):
drifted free of the island and required a week long
expedition into the hinterland to track it down. On the
trip back, they met a rainstorm that dissolved the blue
gray stuff into soup, which ran out between the slats
of the platform and back into the mud again. They
did get the platform back at any rate. Meanwhile, the

(24:51):
drudge began sucking up green stuff that smelled of sewage
instead of the blue gray clay they sought. So the
natives dough mudward to explore the direction of the One
of them got caught in this suction tube, causing a
three day delay. While engineers dismantled the dredge to get
him out. In reassembling, two of the dredge tubes got

(25:11):
interlocked somehow, and the drudge burned out three generators trying
to suck itself through, so to speak. That took another
week to fix. Kyland buried himself in the administration shack,
digging through records. When the reign of confusion outside became
too much to bear, he sent for Tarnier, the installation physician, biologist,

(25:34):
and Erstwhile Venusian psychologist, doctor Tarnier looked like the breathing
soul of failure, Kyland had to steel himself to the
wave of pity that swept through him. At this side
of the man, you're the one who tested these imbeciles, originally,
he demanded. Doctor Tarnier nodded, his face was seamed, his

(25:58):
eyes lustrous. I tested them. God helped me. I tested
them how standard procedures, reaction time, mazes, conditioning, language, abstraction, numbers, association,
the works standard for earthmen. I presume you mean, so

(26:20):
what else? Piper didn't want to know if they were
Einstein's or not. All they wanted was a passable level
of intelligence. Give them natives with brains, and they might
have to pay them something. They thought they were getting
a bargain, some bargain. Yeah, only your tests say they're
intelligence as intelligents, say, as a low normal human being,

(26:45):
without the benefit of any schooling or education. Right, that's right,
said the doctor wearily, as though he had been through
this mill again and again. Schooling and education don't enter
it at all. Of course, all we measured was but
the results said they had it. Then how do you

(27:05):
explain the mess we've got out there? The tests were wrong,
or else they weren't applicable even on a basic level,
or something. I don't know. I don't even care much anymore. Well,
I care plenty. Do you realize how much those creatures
are costing us? If we ever do get this finished

(27:25):
product on the market, it'll cost too much for anyone
to buy. Doctor Tarnier spread his hands. Don't blame me,
blame them, and then this so called biological survey of yours.
Kylin continued, warming to his subject. From a scientific man,
it's a prize. Anatomical description limited because of absence of autopsy.

(27:48):
Specimens apparently have endoskeleton, but organization of the internal organs
remain obscure. Thought to be mammalianoid. There's a fin sitter
for you, but you can't be certain of this because
no young have been observed, nor any females in gestation.
Extremely gregarious, curious, playful, irresponsible, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

(28:09):
Habitat under natural conditions uncertain, diet uncertain, social organization uncertain.
Kylind threw down the paper with a snort. In short,
the only thing we're certain of is that they're there,
very helpful, especially when every dime we have in this
project depends on our teaching them how to count to
three without help. Doctor Tarnier spread his hands again. Mister Kyland,

(28:35):
I am a mere mortal. In order to measure something,
it has to stay the same long enough to get measured.
In order to describe something, it has to hold still
long enough to be observed. In order to form a
logical opinion of the creature's mental capability, it has to
demonstrate some perceptible mental capacity to start with. You can't

(28:57):
get very far studying a creature's habitat and social structure
when most of its habitating goes on under twenty feet
of mud. How about the language we get by with squeaks,
whistles and sign language, a sort of pigeon Venusian. They
use a very complex system among themselves, the doctor paused uncertainly. Anyways,

(29:23):
it's hard to get too tough with the pups, he
burst out. Finally, they really seem to try hard when
they can manage to keep their minds to it. Just
stupid and carefree, happy, go lucky kids, eh, Doctor Tarnier shrugged.
Go await, said Kyland in disgust, and turned back to
the reports with a sour taste in his mouth. Later

(29:45):
he called the installation comptroller. What do you pay the
mud pups for their work? He wanted to know, nothing,
said the comptroller, nothing. We have nothing they can use.
What would you give them nation coins? They just try
and eat it. How about something they can eat? Then?

(30:07):
Everything we feed them they throw right back up planetary incompatible.
But there must be something you can use for wages,
Kylon protested. Something they want, something they'll work hard for. Well,
they like tobacco and pipes all right, but it interfered
with their oxygen storage, so they couldn't dive that rolled
out tobacco and pipes. They like Turkish towels too, but

(30:30):
they spent all their time parading up and down in
them and slaying the ladies, and wouldn't work at all
that rolled out Turkish towels. They don't seem to care
too much whether they're paid or not, though, as long
as we're decent to them, they seem to like us
in a stupid sort of way. Just loving, affectionate, happy,
go lucky kids. I know, go away, Kylin growled and

(30:53):
turned back to the reports, except that there weren't any
more reports that he hadn't read a dozen times or more,
nothing that made sense, and nothing that offered a lead.
Millions of piper dollars sunk into this project, and every
one of them sitting there blinking at him expectantly. For

(31:16):
the first time, he wondered if there really was any
solution to the problem. Stumbling blocks had been met and
removed before. That was Kylin's job, and he knew how
to do it. But stupidity could be a stumbling block
that was all but insurmountable. Yet he couldn't throw off
the nagging conviction that something more subtle than stupidity was involved.

(31:41):
Then Simpson came in, cursing and sputtering and bellowing for Louis.
Louis came and Simpson started dictating a message for relay
to the transport ship special order rush repeat Rush Simon
graded for immediate delivery pyper Venusian installation one piper axis
traction dredge previous specifications applicable. Kylon stared at him again.

(32:08):
Simpson gritted his teeth again. Sunk blub, said Simpson. Blob
blob blob. Slowly, Kylon stood up, glaring first at Simpson,
then at the little muddy creatures that were attempting to
hide behind his waiters, looking so forlorn and chastise, and woebegone.

(32:33):
All right, Kylin said, after a pregnant pause. That's all.
You won't be needing to relay that order to this ship.
Forget about number seven Dredge. Just get your files in
order and get a landing craft down here for me.
The sooner the better. Simpson's face lit up in pathetic eagerness.

(32:56):
You mean we're going to leave, That is what I mean.
The company's not going to like the company ought to
welcome us back with open arms. Kylon snarled. They should
shower us with kisses. They should do somersaults for joy that.
I'm not going to let them sink another half billion
into the mud out here. They took a gamble and

(33:18):
got cleaned, that's all. They'd be as stupid as your
pal's here if they kept coming back for more. He
pulled on his waiters, brushing penitent mud pups aside as
he started for the door. Send the natives back to
their burrows or whatever they live in, and get ready
to close down. I've got to figure some way to
make a report to the board that won't get us

(33:39):
all fired. He slammed the door and started to cross
to his quarters, waiters going splat splat in the mud.
Half a dozen mud pups were following him. They seemed
extraordinarily exuberant as they went diving and splashing the mud.
Kylon turned and roared at them, shaking his fist. They

(34:00):
stopped short and then slunk off with their tails between
their legs. But even at that their squeaking sounded strangely
like laughter to Kyland. In his quarters, the light was
so dim that he almost had his waiters off before
he saw the upheaval. The little room was splattered from
top to bottom with mud. His bunk was coated with slime.

(34:23):
The walls dripped blue gray goo across the room. His
wardrobe doors hung open as three muddy creatures rooted industriously
in the leather case on the floor. Kyland let out
a howl and threw himself across the room his sample's case.
The mud puffs scattered, squealing. Their hands were filled with capsules,

(34:47):
their muzzles were dripping with the white powder. Two went
between Kayland's legs and through the door. The third dough
for the window, with Kyland after him. The company man's
hand closed on a slippery tail, and he fell headlong
across the muddy bed as the culprit literally slipped through
his fingers. He sat up, wiping mud from his hair
and surveying the damage. Bottles and boxes of medicimans were

(35:10):
scattered all over the floor of the wardrobe covered with
mud but unopened. Only one large box had been torn apart,
its contents ravaged. Kylon stared at it as things began
clicking into place in his mind. He walked to the door,
stared out across the steamy, glooming mud flats toward the
lighted windows of the administration's shack. Sometimes, he mused, a

(35:31):
man can get so close to something that he can't
see the obvious. He stared at his sample's case again.
Sometimes stupidity works both ways, and sometimes what looks like
stupidity can really be something far more deadly. He licked
his lips and flipped the telephone talker switch. After a

(35:53):
misconnection or two, he got control tower. Control tower said, yes,
they had a small exploratory scooter on hand. Yes, it
could be controlled on a beam and fitted with cameras,
but of course it was special equipment, emergency use only.
He cut them off and buzzed Simpson excitedly. Cancel all

(36:16):
I said about leaving. I mean change of plans, something's
come up. No, don't order anything, but get one of
those natives that can understand your whistling and give him
the word. Simpson bellowed over the wire. What word, What
do you think you're doing? I may just be saving
our skins. We won't know for a while, but however

(36:38):
you manage it. Tell them we're definitely not leaving venus.
Tell them they're all fired. We don't want them around anymore.
The installation is off limits from here on in. And
tell them we've devised a way to mine the load
without them. Got that. Tell them the equipment will be

(36:59):
arriving as soon as we can bring it down from
the transport. Oh now, look, you want me to repeat that,
Simpson sighed, All right, fine, I'll tell them then. What then,
Just just don't bother me for a while. I'm going
to be busy watching TV. An hour later, carolnd was

(37:22):
in control tower, watching the pale screen as the little
remote control Explorer circled around installation. Three TV cameras were
in operation. As he settled down behind the screen, he
told Sparks what he wanted to do, and the ship
whizzed off in the direction the mud Puffs raiders had taken.

(37:43):
At first, there was nothing but dreary mud flats sliding
past the camera's watchful eyes. Then he picked up a
flicker of movement and the ship circled in lower for
a better view. It was a group of natives, a
large group. There must have been fifty of them, working
busily in the mud, five miles away from the piper installation.
They didn't look so cure free and happy go lucky now.

(38:07):
They looked very much like desperately busy mud puffs with
a job on their hands. And they were so absorbed
that they didn't even see the small craft circling above them.
They worked in teams. Some were diving with small containers,
some were handling mines attached to the containers. Still others
were carrying and dumping. They came up full, went down empty,

(38:29):
came up full. The produce was heaped in a growing
pile on a small, semi solid island with a few
scraggly trees on it. As they worked, the pile grew
and grew. It only took a moment for Kylind to
tell what they were doing. The color of the stuff
was unmistakable. They were mining piles of blue gray mud

(38:50):
just as fast as they could mine it. With a
gleam of satisfaction in his eye, Kylin snapped off the
screen and nodded at Sparks to bring the cameras back. Then,
Q rang Simpson again. Did you tell them? Simpson's voice
was uneasy. Yeah, yeah, I told them. They left in
quite a hurry. Yes, I imagine they did. Where are

(39:13):
your men now out working on number six trying to
get it up? Better? Get them together and pack them
over to Control tower fast, said Kyland, I mean everybody,
every man in the installation. We may have this thing
just about tied up if we can get out here
soon enough. Kailn's chair gave a sudden lurch and sailed

(39:33):
across the room, smashing into the wall. With a yelp.
He struggled up the sloping floor. It reared and heaved
over the other way, throwing Kyland and Sparks to the
other wall amid a heap of instruments. Through the window,
they could see the gray mud flats careening wildly below them.
It only took an instant to realize what was happening.
Kylin shouted, let's get out of here, and headed down

(39:56):
the stairs, clinging to the railing for dear life. Control
Tower was sinking in the mud. They had moved faster
than he had anticipated. Kyland thought and snarled at himself
all the way down to the landing platform below. He
had hoped at least to have time to parley, to
stop and discuss the wise and wherefores of the situation

(40:18):
with the natives. Now it was abundantly clear that any
wise and wherefours that were likely to be discussed would
be discussed later, and very possibly under twenty feet of mud.
A stream of men were floundering out of administration, shack
plowing through the mud with waiters only half strapped on

(40:39):
as the line of low buildings began shaking and sinking
into the morass. From the direction of number six dredge.
Another crew was heading for the tower, but the tower
was rapidly growing shorter as the buoys that sustained it
broke loose with ear shattering crashes. Kyland caught sparks by
the shoulder, shouting to be heard above the racket the transport,

(41:01):
Did you get it? I I think so. They're Sydney
GUSA ferry. It should be on its way. Simon sloshed up,
his face heavy with dismay. The dredges they've cut loose,
the dredges, bother the dredges. Get yourman collected and into
the shelters. We'll have a ship here any minute. But
what's happening. We are leaving if we can make it

(41:24):
before these carefree, happy go lucky kids here sink us
in the mud, drudges control tower and all out of
the gloom above. There was a roar and a streak
of murky yellow as the landing craft eased down through
the haze. Only the top of the control tower was
out of the mud. Now. The administration shack gave a lurch,

(41:44):
sagging as a dozen indistinct gray forms pulled and tugged
at the supporting structure beneath it. Already a circle of
natives was converging on the earthmen as they gathered near
the landing platform shelters. They're cutting loose the flame hunting platform.
Somebody wailed. One of the lines broke loose with a
resounding snap, and the platform lurched. Then a dozen men

(42:09):
dived through the mud to pull away the slippery, writhing
natives as they worked to cut through the remaining guys.
Moments later, the landing craft was directly overhead, and men
and natives alike scattered as she sank down The platform
splintered and jolted under her weight, began skidding, then held
firm to the two guy ropes remaining. A horde of

(42:32):
gray creatures hurled themselves on those lines. As a hatchway
opened above and a ladder dropped down. The men scurried
up the ropes, just as the plastic dome of the
controlled tower sank with a gurgle. Kyland and Simpson paused
at the bottom of the ladder, blinking at the scene
of devastation around them. Stupid, you say, said Kylind heavily.

(42:54):
Better get up there, or we'll go where the control
tower went. But everything gone wrong again, everything saved. Kyland
urged the administrator up the ladder and sighed with relief.
As the hatch clanged shut. The jets bloomed and sprayed
boiling mud far and wide. As the landing craft lifted
soggily out of the mire and roared for the clouds above,

(43:18):
Kyland wiped sweat from his forehead and sank back on
his cot with a shudder. We should be so stupid,
he said, I must admit, he said later to a
weary and mystified Simpson, that I didn't expect them to
move so fast. But when you've decided in your mind
that somebody's really pretty stupid, it's hard to adjust that

(43:38):
idea that maybe he isn't. All of a sudden, we
should have been much more suspicious of doctor Tarnier's test.
It's true they weren't designed for Venusians, but they were
designed to assess intelligence. And intelligence isn't quality that's influenced
by environment or species. It's either there or it isn't.
And the good doctor told us unequivocally that it was there.

(44:00):
But their behavior even that should have tipped us off.
There is a very fine line dividing incredible stupidity and
incredible stubbornness. It's often a tough different shial to make.
I didn't spot it until I found them wolfing down
the tetrascyline capsules in my samples case. Then I began
to see the implications. Those mud puffs were stubbornly and

(44:24):
tenaciously determined to drive the Peter Vessutian installation off Venus permanently,
by fair means or foul. They didn't care how. They
just wanted it off. But why we weren't hurting them?
There's plenty of mud on venus Ah, but not so
much of the blue gray stuff we were after. Perhaps
suppose a spaceship settled down in a wheatfield in Kansas

(44:46):
along about harvesting time and started loading wheat into the hold.
I suppose the farmer wouldn't mind too much. After all,
there's plenty of vegetation on earth. They're growing the stuff
for all they're worth, said Kyland. Lord knows what sort
of metabolism uses tetches siline for food, but they are
growing mud that yields an incredibly rich concentration of antibiotic

(45:10):
their native food. They grow it, harvest it, live on it.
Even the way they shake whenever they come out of
the mud is a giveaway. What better way to seed
their crop? Far and wide? We were mining away the
staff of life, my friends, You can't really blame them
for objecting. Well, if they think they can drive us
off that way, they're going to have to get that

(45:31):
brilliant intelligence of theirs into action, Simpson said ominously. We'll
bring enough equipment down there to mind them out of
house and home. Why, said Kyland, After all, they're mining
it themselves a lot more efficiently than we ever could
do it, and with piper warehouses back on Earth, full
of old, useless antibiotics they can't sell for peanuts. No,

(45:54):
I don't think we'll mind anything when a simple trade
arrangement will do just as well. He sank back in
his cap, staring dreamily through the port as the huge
orbital transport loomed large ahead of them. He found his
throat spray and dosed himself liberally in preparation for his
return to civilization. Of course, the natives are going to
be wondering what kind of idiots they're dealing with to

(46:16):
seldom pure refined extract of the Suvian beefsteak in return
for raw chunks of unrefined native soil. But I think
we can afford to just let them wonder for a while.
End of the Native Soil by Alan Edward Norris