Read Online The Ship Who Won by Anne McCaffrey, Jody Lynn Nye - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne McCaffrey, Jody Lynn Nye
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy fiction, Space Opera, Interplanetary voyages, Life on other planets, Women, Space ships, People With Disabilities, Interplanetary voyages - Fiction, Space ships - Fiction, Women - Fiction
Ads: Link
of humanoid! I can write a
paper about mem." Keffs breath quickened with his
enthusiasm. "Parallel development to Homo sapiens
terraneum? Evolution accomplished separately from
Earth-born humanity?"
"It's far more likely that they were seeded here thousands of years ago," Carialle suggested, knowing that she'd
better dampen his enthusiasm before it got out of hand.
"Maybe a forgotten colony?"
"But the physical differences would take eons to evolve,"
Keff said. The odds against parallel development were
staggering, but the notion that they might have found an
unknown cousin of their own race strongly appealed to him.
"Of course, scientifically speaking, we'd have to consider that
possibility, especially in the light of the number of colonial
ventures that never sent back a 'safe down' message."
"Yes, we should seriously consider that aspect," Carialle
said, but without sarcasm.
"JJ- y
By thrusting out the angle of his jawbone, Keff
increased the gain on his long-distance microphone to listen in on the natives as they called out to one another. All
the inhabitants of this locale were harvesting root produce.
If any kind of formal schooling existed for the young, it
must be suspended until the crops were brought in. Typical of farm cultures, all life revolved around the cycle of
the crops. Humanoids of every age and size were in or
around the broad fields, digging up the roots. They
seemed to be divided into groups of eight to ten, under the
supervision of a crew boss, either male or female, who
worked alongside them. No overseer was visible, so everyone apparently knew his or her job and got on with it.
Slackers were persuaded by glares and peer pressure to
persevere, Keff wondered if workers were chosen for their
jobs by skill, or if one inherited certain tasks or crop rows
by familial clan.
Well out of the way of the crews, small children minding
babies huddled as near as they could to a low cavern
entrance from which Carialle had picked up heat source
traces, suggesting that entrance led to their habitation. It
made sense for the aborigines to live underground, where
the constant temperature was approximately 14# C, making
it warmer than it was on the surface. Such an accommodation would be simple to heat, with the earth itself as
insulation. Only hunger could have driven Keff out to farm
or hunt in this cold, day after day.
Keff could not have designed a world more likely to be
dependent upon subsistence culture. The days were long,
but the temperature did not vary between sunup and sun-down. Only the hardiest of people would survive to breed:
and the hardiest of plants. It couldn't be easy to raise crops
in this stony ground, either. Keff rubbed a pinch of it
between his finger and thumb.
"High concentration of silicate clay in that soil," Carialle
said, noticing his action. "Makes it tough going, both for
the farmer and the crop."
"Needs more sand and more fertilizer," Keff said. "And
more water. When we get to know one another, we can
advise them of irrigation and soil enrichment methods. See
that flat panlike depression at the head of the field? That's
where they pour water brought uphill by hand." A line of
crude barrels nestled against the hillside bore out his
theory.
Dirt-encrusted roots of various lengths, shapes, and colors piled up in respectable quantity beside the diggers,
whose fur quickly assumed the dull dun of the soil.
"Its incredible that they're getting as much of a yield as
they are," Keff remarked. 'They must have the science of
fanning knocked into them."
"Survival," Carialle said. 'Think what they could do with
fertilized soil and steady rainfall. The atmosphere here has
less than eight percent humidity. Strange, when you consider they're in the way of prevailing continental winds,
between the ocean and that mountain range. There should
be plenty of rain, and no need for such toil as that."
Under the direction of a middle-aged male
paper about mem." Keffs breath quickened with his
enthusiasm. "Parallel development to Homo sapiens
terraneum? Evolution accomplished separately from
Earth-born humanity?"
"It's far more likely that they were seeded here thousands of years ago," Carialle suggested, knowing that she'd
better dampen his enthusiasm before it got out of hand.
"Maybe a forgotten colony?"
"But the physical differences would take eons to evolve,"
Keff said. The odds against parallel development were
staggering, but the notion that they might have found an
unknown cousin of their own race strongly appealed to him.
"Of course, scientifically speaking, we'd have to consider that
possibility, especially in the light of the number of colonial
ventures that never sent back a 'safe down' message."
"Yes, we should seriously consider that aspect," Carialle
said, but without sarcasm.
"JJ- y
By thrusting out the angle of his jawbone, Keff
increased the gain on his long-distance microphone to listen in on the natives as they called out to one another. All
the inhabitants of this locale were harvesting root produce.
If any kind of formal schooling existed for the young, it
must be suspended until the crops were brought in. Typical of farm cultures, all life revolved around the cycle of
the crops. Humanoids of every age and size were in or
around the broad fields, digging up the roots. They
seemed to be divided into groups of eight to ten, under the
supervision of a crew boss, either male or female, who
worked alongside them. No overseer was visible, so everyone apparently knew his or her job and got on with it.
Slackers were persuaded by glares and peer pressure to
persevere, Keff wondered if workers were chosen for their
jobs by skill, or if one inherited certain tasks or crop rows
by familial clan.
Well out of the way of the crews, small children minding
babies huddled as near as they could to a low cavern
entrance from which Carialle had picked up heat source
traces, suggesting that entrance led to their habitation. It
made sense for the aborigines to live underground, where
the constant temperature was approximately 14# C, making
it warmer than it was on the surface. Such an accommodation would be simple to heat, with the earth itself as
insulation. Only hunger could have driven Keff out to farm
or hunt in this cold, day after day.
Keff could not have designed a world more likely to be
dependent upon subsistence culture. The days were long,
but the temperature did not vary between sunup and sun-down. Only the hardiest of people would survive to breed:
and the hardiest of plants. It couldn't be easy to raise crops
in this stony ground, either. Keff rubbed a pinch of it
between his finger and thumb.
"High concentration of silicate clay in that soil," Carialle
said, noticing his action. "Makes it tough going, both for
the farmer and the crop."
"Needs more sand and more fertilizer," Keff said. "And
more water. When we get to know one another, we can
advise them of irrigation and soil enrichment methods. See
that flat panlike depression at the head of the field? That's
where they pour water brought uphill by hand." A line of
crude barrels nestled against the hillside bore out his
theory.
Dirt-encrusted roots of various lengths, shapes, and colors piled up in respectable quantity beside the diggers,
whose fur quickly assumed the dull dun of the soil.
"Its incredible that they're getting as much of a yield as
they are," Keff remarked. 'They must have the science of
fanning knocked into them."
"Survival," Carialle said. 'Think what they could do with
fertilized soil and steady rainfall. The atmosphere here has
less than eight percent humidity. Strange, when you consider they're in the way of prevailing continental winds,
between the ocean and that mountain range. There should
be plenty of rain, and no need for such toil as that."
Under the direction of a middle-aged male
Similar Books
