Only Pendleton wasn't the type. He was the kind who have everything to live for, the kind you instinctively1 know will amount to something someday. And that was a lousy way to remember him. The clichés always come first. Your memory plays traitor2 and boils friendship down to the status of a breakfast food testimonial.
The soft red lights seemed to be dancing in the darkness of the cabin. Eckert was just a dull, formless blur3 opposite him. His cigarette was out.
Eckert had come into his office without saying a word and had watched his scenery-window. It had been snowing in the window, the white flakes4 making a simple pattern drifting past the glass. Eckert had fiddled5 with the controls and changed it to sunshine, then to a weird6 mixture of hail amid the brassy, golden sunlight.
And then Eckert had told him that Pendleton had taken the short way out.
He shouldn't get sentimental7. But how the hell else should he remember Pendleton? Try to forget it and drink a toast to him at the next class reunion? And never, never be so crude as to speculate why Pendleton should have done it? If, of course, he had....
The cabin was hazy8 in the reddish glow, the sleeping gas a heavy perfume.
Eckert and he had talked it out and gone over the records. Pendleton had come of good stock. There had been no mental instability in his family for as far back as the genetic9 records went. He had been raised in a middle-class neighborhood and attended a local grammar school where he had achieved average grades and had given his instructors10 the normal amount of trouble. Later, when he had made up his mind to enter the Diplomatic Service, his grades had improved. He had worked hard at it, though he wasn't what you would call a grind. In high school and later in college, he was the well-balanced type, athletic11, popular, hard-working.
How long would it be before memories faded and all there was left of Pendleton was a page of statistics? He had been on this team, he had been elected president of that, he had graduated with such and such honors. But try getting a picture of him by reading the records, resurrect him from a page of black print. Would he be human? Would he be flesh and blood? Hell, no! In the statistics Pendleton was the All-Around Boy, the cold marble statue with the finely chiseled14 muscles and the smooth, blank sockets15 where the eyes should be. Maybe someday fate would play a trick on a hero-worshiping public and there would actually be kids like that. But they wouldn't be human; they wouldn't be born. Parents would get them by sending in so many box tops.
He was drowsy16; the room was filled with the gas now. It would be only a matter of minutes before he would be asleep.
Pendleton had been in his second year as attache on Tunpesh, a small planet with a G-type sun. The Service had stumbled across it recently and decided17 the system was worth diplomatic recognition of some kind, so Pendleton had been sent there. He had been the first attache to be sent and naturally he had gone alone.
There was no need to send more. Tunpesh had been inspected and certified18 and approved. The natives were primitive19 and friendly. Or maybe the Service had slipped up, as it sometimes did, and Tunpesh had received something less than a thorough survey.
And then an unscheduled freighter had put in for repairs, one of the very few ships that ever came by Tunpesh. The captain had tried to pay his respects to Pendleton. Only Pendleton wasn't there. The natives said he had killed himself and showed the captain the little flower-covered plot where they had buried him.
Tunpesh had been Pendleton's second assignment.
The natives were oh-so-friendly. So friendly that he had made sure that a certain box was on board, filled with shiny atomic rifles, needle pistols, and the fat little gas guns. They might be needed. People like Pendleton didn't kill themselves, did they? No, they didn't. But sometimes they were murdered.
It was almost black inside the cabin now; only a thin red line around the ceiling told how close they were to takeoff. His head was thick with drowsiness20, his eyelids21 a heavy weight that he knew he couldn't keep open much longer.
Eckert and he had been chosen to go to Tunpesh and investigate. The two of them, working together, should be able to find out why Pendleton had killed himself.
But that wasn't the real reason. Maybe Eckert thought so, but he knew better. The real reason they were going there was to find out why Pendleton had been killed and who had killed him. That was it.
Who had killed Cock Robin22?
The thin red line was practically microscopic23 now and Templin could feel his lashes24 lying gently on his cheeks. But he wasn't asleep—not quite. There was something buzzing about in the dim recesses25 of his mind.
Their information on Tunpesh was limited. They knew that it had no trading concessions26 or armed forces and that nobody from neighboring systems seemed to know much about it or even visited it. But a staff anthropologist27 must have been routinely assigned to Tunpesh to furnish data and reports.
"Ted12?" he murmured sleepily.
A faint stirring in the black bulk opposite him. "Yes?"
"How come our anthropologist on Tunpesh didn't come across with more information?"
A drowsy mumble28 from the other cot: "He wasn't there long enough. He committed suicide not long after landing."
The room was a whirling pool of blackness into which his mind was slowly slipping. Takeoff was only seconds away.
Why do people commit suicide?
"It's a nice day, isn't it, Ted?" Eckert took a deep and pleasurable breath. "It's the type of day that makes you feel good just to be alive."
Warm breezes rustled29 through Eckert's graying hair and tugged30 gently at his tunic31. The air smelled as if it had been washed and faintly perfumed with the balsamy scent32 of something very much like pine. A few hundred yards away, a forest towered straight and slim and coolly inviting33, and brilliantly colored birds whirled and fluttered in the foliage34.
The rocketport, where they were standing35 surrounded by their luggage, was a grassy36 valley where the all too infrequent ships could land and discharge cargo37 or make repairs. There was a blackened patch on it now, with little blast-ignited flames dying out around the edges. It won't be long before it will be green again, he thought. The grass looked as though it grew fast—it would certainly have plenty of time to grow before the next ship landed.
He looked at the slim, dwindling38 shape that was the rocket, and was suddenly, acutely aware that he and Templin would be stranded39 for six months on a foreign and very possibly dangerous planet. And there would be no way of calling for help or of leaving before the six months were up.
He stood there for a moment, drinking in the fresh air and feeling the warmth of the sun against his face. It might be a pleasant six months at that, away from the din13 and the hustle40 and confusion, spending the time in a place where the sun was warm and inviting.
I must be getting old, he thought, thinking about the warmth and comfort. Like old dogs and octogenarians.
Templin was looking at the scenery with a disappointed expression on his face. Eckert stole a side glance at him and for a fleeting41 moment felt vaguely42 concerned. "Don't be disappointed if it doesn't look like cloak-and-dagger right off, Ray. What seems innocent enough on the surface can prove to be quite dangerous underneath43."
"It's rather hard to think of danger in a setting like this."
Eckert nodded agreement. "It wouldn't fit, would it? It would be like a famous singer suddenly doing a jazz number in an opera, or having the princess in a fairy tale turn out to be ugly." He gestured toward the village. "You could hardly class that as dangerous from its outward appearance, could you?"
The rocketport was in a small valley, surrounded by low, wooded hills. The village started where the port left off and crawled and wound over the wooded ridges44. Small houses of sun-baked, white-washed mud crouched45 in the shadow of huge trees and hugged the banks of a small stream.
It looked fairly primitive, Eckert thought, and yet it didn't have the earmarks, the characteristics of most primitive villages. It didn't seem cluttered46 or dirty and you didn't feel like beating a hasty retreat when the wind was blowing toward you.
A few adults were watching them curiously47 and the usual bunch of kids that always congregated48 around rocketports quickly gathered. Eckert stared at them for a moment, wondering what it was that seemed odd about them, and they stared back with all the alert dignity of childhood. They finally came out on the field and clustered around him and Templin.
Templin studied them warily49. "Better watch them, Ted. Even kids can be dangerous."
It's because you never suspect kids, Eckert thought, you never think they'll do any harm. But they can be taught. They could do as much damage with a knife as a man could, for instance. And they might have other weapons.
But the idea still didn't go with the warm sun and the blue sky and the piny scent of the trees.
One of the adults of the village started to walk toward them.
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1
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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5
fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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6
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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7
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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9
genetic
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| adj.遗传的，遗传学的 | |
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instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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12
ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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13
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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14
chiseled
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| adj.凿刻的，轮廓分明的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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15
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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16
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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certified
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| a.经证明合格的；具有证明文件的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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21
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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24
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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25
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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26
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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anthropologist
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| n.人类学家，人类学者 | |
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28
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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29
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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32
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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35
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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38
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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39
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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40
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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41
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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42
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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43
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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44
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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45
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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47
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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48
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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