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Authors: Julian May, Ted Dikty
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really
is
adorable."
Misstiliss said, "When we saw that the planetside controllers meant to let Laika die, we were outraged—and we acted. I'm sorry we violated the Guidance Statutes, but not sorry we saved the little dog."
Commander Vorpi tapped the side of the empty Scotch glass with the talon of his little finger. "A grave matter. Yet, as you said, it would seem no harm was done."
"I haven't yet logged the hearing," GupGup Zuzl insinuated slyly. "And we have enjoyed a perfect duty tour up until now..."
Vorpi fixed the Krondak scientist with a meaningful gaze. "However, the violation was witnessed and reported by two citizens of unimpeachable status."
Did you say Caol lla, my dear Vorpi?
I only have two bottles.
One for me and one for Toka'edoo Rok.
"What is your disposition of this case, Commander?" the Gi secretary inquired formally.
"I don't find any infraction of Milieu statutes," Vorpi replied, "but these crewmen are clearly derelict in not having filed a report on their last inspection of the satellite Sputnik II. Let a reprimand be entered in their files, and they are sentenced to six days each on waste-water-recycling system maintenance. The animal can keep them company. Dismissed."
The Krondaku canceled his coercive grip on the dog, which came to its senses as Misstiliss scooped it up. It lapped at the Simb's glistening green face.
"Likes the way we taste," the scout said sheepishly. He and Bali Ala saluted and hurried away, taking Laika with them.
7
FROM THE MEMOIRS OF ROGATIEN REMILLARD
B ELATEDLY, AT THE age of twelve, I discovered that I liked to read. It was early in 1958 and every American kid was passionately interested in the new "race for space." Our older cousins bought science-fiction magazines and left them lying around, and I picked them up and immediately became addicted. They were much more exciting than comic books. But it was not the tales of space travel that fascinated me so much as the stories that dealt with extrasensory perception.
ESP! For the first time I was able to put a name to the powers that made Don and me aliens in our own country. I got all worked up over the discovery and made Don read some of the stories, too; but his reaction was cynical. What did that stuff have to do with us? It was fiction.
Somebody had made it up.
I ventured beyond the magazines, to the Berlin Public Library. When I looked up ESP and related topics in the encyclopedias, my heart sank. One and all, the reference books acknowledged that "certain persons" believed in the existence of mental faculties such as telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychokinesis. One and all, the books declared that there was no valid scientific evidence whatsoever for such belief.
I went through all the books in the juvenile department that dealt with the brain, then checked the adult shelves. None of the books even mentioned the mind-powers that Don and I had. The Berlin library was rather small and it had no serious volumes about parapsychology, only a few crank books listed under "Occult Phenomena" in the card catalog. Hesitantly, I went to the librarian and asked if she could help me find books about people who had extraordinary mind-powers. She thought very hard for a moment, then said, "I know the very book!"
She gave me one of the old Viking Portable Novel collections and pointed out Olaf Stapledon's
Odd John
to me. Concealing my disappointment at the fiction format, I dutifully took it home, read it, and had the living hell scared out of me.
The book's hero was a mutant of singular appearance and extremely high mental power. He was Homo superior, a genius as well as an operant metapsychic, trapped in a world full of drab, commonplace normals, most of whom did their fumbling best to understand him but failed. Odd John wasn't persecuted by ordinary humans; there were even those who loved him. And yet he was tormented by loneliness and the knowledge of his uniqueness. In one chilling passage, he described
is
adorable."
Misstiliss said, "When we saw that the planetside controllers meant to let Laika die, we were outraged—and we acted. I'm sorry we violated the Guidance Statutes, but not sorry we saved the little dog."
Commander Vorpi tapped the side of the empty Scotch glass with the talon of his little finger. "A grave matter. Yet, as you said, it would seem no harm was done."
"I haven't yet logged the hearing," GupGup Zuzl insinuated slyly. "And we have enjoyed a perfect duty tour up until now..."
Vorpi fixed the Krondak scientist with a meaningful gaze. "However, the violation was witnessed and reported by two citizens of unimpeachable status."
Did you say Caol lla, my dear Vorpi?
I only have two bottles.
One for me and one for Toka'edoo Rok.
"What is your disposition of this case, Commander?" the Gi secretary inquired formally.
"I don't find any infraction of Milieu statutes," Vorpi replied, "but these crewmen are clearly derelict in not having filed a report on their last inspection of the satellite Sputnik II. Let a reprimand be entered in their files, and they are sentenced to six days each on waste-water-recycling system maintenance. The animal can keep them company. Dismissed."
The Krondaku canceled his coercive grip on the dog, which came to its senses as Misstiliss scooped it up. It lapped at the Simb's glistening green face.
"Likes the way we taste," the scout said sheepishly. He and Bali Ala saluted and hurried away, taking Laika with them.
7
FROM THE MEMOIRS OF ROGATIEN REMILLARD
B ELATEDLY, AT THE age of twelve, I discovered that I liked to read. It was early in 1958 and every American kid was passionately interested in the new "race for space." Our older cousins bought science-fiction magazines and left them lying around, and I picked them up and immediately became addicted. They were much more exciting than comic books. But it was not the tales of space travel that fascinated me so much as the stories that dealt with extrasensory perception.
ESP! For the first time I was able to put a name to the powers that made Don and me aliens in our own country. I got all worked up over the discovery and made Don read some of the stories, too; but his reaction was cynical. What did that stuff have to do with us? It was fiction.
Somebody had made it up.
I ventured beyond the magazines, to the Berlin Public Library. When I looked up ESP and related topics in the encyclopedias, my heart sank. One and all, the reference books acknowledged that "certain persons" believed in the existence of mental faculties such as telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychokinesis. One and all, the books declared that there was no valid scientific evidence whatsoever for such belief.
I went through all the books in the juvenile department that dealt with the brain, then checked the adult shelves. None of the books even mentioned the mind-powers that Don and I had. The Berlin library was rather small and it had no serious volumes about parapsychology, only a few crank books listed under "Occult Phenomena" in the card catalog. Hesitantly, I went to the librarian and asked if she could help me find books about people who had extraordinary mind-powers. She thought very hard for a moment, then said, "I know the very book!"
She gave me one of the old Viking Portable Novel collections and pointed out Olaf Stapledon's
Odd John
to me. Concealing my disappointment at the fiction format, I dutifully took it home, read it, and had the living hell scared out of me.
The book's hero was a mutant of singular appearance and extremely high mental power. He was Homo superior, a genius as well as an operant metapsychic, trapped in a world full of drab, commonplace normals, most of whom did their fumbling best to understand him but failed. Odd John wasn't persecuted by ordinary humans; there were even those who loved him. And yet he was tormented by loneliness and the knowledge of his uniqueness. In one chilling passage, he described
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