Gateways (60 page)

Fred’s work has long appealed to me for its satirical and farsighted depictions of commercial dominance of the future. From
Space Merchants
to the Heechee, I knew of Fred Pohl as a towering presence in the science fiction universe. It came as a total surprise when I heard that Betty and Fred had nominated my book,
A Door into Ocean
, for the Campbell Award. When I visited the University of Kansas to receive the award, it was an amazing experience to actually meet Fred, someone of whom I’d heard so much.

Since then, over the years, I’ve enjoyed seeing Fred at many meetings of the Science Fiction Research Association. Fred has always inspired me as the model of a professional writer and mentor in the science fiction community. He exemplifies the ability to live in two worlds at once—the world of science fiction, and the world of so-called reality. Those who truly understand the implications of science fiction know how challenging that is. One incident I recall, years ago at a SFRA meeting in Reno, brought this home to me. At the meeting, Fred and I were invited to be interviewed by a local television station. I was glad Fred came along because I had no idea what to say and I knew Fred would be a good guide.

When we arrived at the station, we discovered that our interview was to be the second act following the station’s weekly dog adoption. The dog to be adopted was placed in the seat of honor, right next to Fred. My seat of course came a distant third. The dog went first, getting its pitch for adoption broadcast to the Reno audience. After that, the announcer asked Fred to explain the significance of science fiction. Fred did so, creditably explaining how science fiction explores the nature of society. After his response, the announcer observed, “My, these science fiction writers use long words.” So then it was up to me. I did my best to follow Fred’s example of grace under pressure, with the hope that someone out there in Reno TV land might catch a spark from our long words.

I think our experience in Reno would fit just fine into one of Fred’s
books, or for that matter into
Brain Plague
, a book I dedicated to Betty and Fred because it would never have been written without their support and inspiration. I look forward to exploring the universe with the Heechee for many years to come.

The Pronunchumniak Institute of Moral Zoology (PIMZ) in Sector ORV 254 was directed by its board of ethicists to conduct a biological assay of certain planets in Thrasbol sector. It was decided to lease the Thwartian charter ship,
Sprot
, together with a good part of its crew, as the
Sprot
was already equipped for multiple environmental containments. While in Thwartian the word
Sprot
conveyed intrepidity, a mindless adherence to arbitrary rules of honor, and a complete willingness to maim/kill/destroy any being, thing, or place that got in its way, the Pronunchumniaks used the same auditory label to identify a certain bit of personal equipment used rarely and only under conditions of extreme embarrassment. The Pronunchumniaks (Pronun-CHUM-nee-aks; Chums or Chummys, as the Thwartians called them), did not consider a ship named
Sprot
appropriate to be cited in dignified academic documents or be identified with the Institute’s research.
Denartesestel Radichan
, on the other hand, meant “words of high praise for worthy endeavors,” a much more suitable label. The ship was promptly, though temporarily, given that name. It is probably unnecessary to remark that the Thwartians, though excellent space-farers, are a people of few words. The Pronunchumniaks are, on the other hand, academics.

Thrasbol sector, the Institute’s target area, contained five suns, twenty inhabited planets, and, as it turned out, a few previously unknown and quite dangerous space dwelling organisms. The first inkling of the existence of these organisms occurred when the
Denart Sp**t
—pronounced “spbleept” by the largely Thwartian crew—left its last scheduled survey site to return to Sector ORV 254, home base, as it were. Methane cargo holds one through four were wall to wall with creature-containers; aquatic hold five was about half full; oxygen holds six and seven were chock-a-block; and the smaller, exotic holds (offering extremes of pressure, temperature, and radiation) held numerous specimens that the Pronunchumniaks believed to be not only totally new to scholarship but capable of opening many new areas of academic
specialization, a greatly felt need on their home planet, where one could not go to a gathering of anyone who was anyone without bumping into several someones looking for a thesis topic that had not already been worn tissue thin by repeated elaboration. The mood aboard ship was celebratory, even ebullient, except among those highly trained Moral Zoologists who were serving as PECSNIFs, that is Professional Ethical Calculators and Special Native Intelligence Functionaries, as their arduous work always began after everyone else’s had been completed. Even they, however, admitted to being glad the long voyage was over and resigned to beginning their work in oxygen hold six, where a particular omnivorous, bisexual, bipedal, unarmored race of creatures (OBBUs) required immediate final classification.

“Not understand need for hurry,” the Thwartian captain said.

“The race is curiously repellent,” said the PECSNIF-in-chief. “We are afraid it may be so far gone in moral degeneracy that we would be prohibited from bringing any sample of it into that space which we hold in sentimental partiality.”

“Race is OBU,” the captain said. “Omniv, biped, unarmored. Not dangerous.”

“The race in question is not OBU, Most High Up of All Those Aboard with the Exception of the Professional Ethical Calculators. The race is OBBU!”

“Yes. Omnivorous. Bipedal. Unarmored. . .”

“And bisexual,” said the PECSNIF, with unusual brevity.

“No!” cried the captain with an aversive gesture, his bud pores flushing with embarrassment. “Then assess at once. Assess. Do what is needed.”

While the Care and Cleanliness Androids (CACAs) continued their care of the other specimens, the PECSNIFS drew a small sample population from the appropriate oxygen hold and set about their investigation. They had barely begun, however, when the first of the previously unknown space-dwelling predators was spotted by one of the Chummies, a Worm Hole Officer, Acting (WHOA). As that operator was entering the calibrations necessary for the first jump and as the jump-field expanded to the diameter necessary to encompass the ship—the
Denart Sp**t
being, as may be imagined, sizable—the officer was surprised to see several large instabilities entering the field from widely separated points. The expansion process could not, unfortunately, be discontinued at that stage of operation, though the WHOA resolved to mention the instabilities as soon as the
Denart Sp**t
had entered the wormhole.

When the WHOA did so, both Pronunchumniak and Thwartian bridge officers examined the readings with interest. The instabilities were certifiably
present in the jump-field, but they were maintaining a constant distance from the
Denart Sp**t
, making no threatening movements. Since the instabilities were an unknown, the PECSNIFs were also alerted and brought to the bridge.

“First transit where?” the Thwartian captain asked the WHOA.

“Deep space, Most High Up and Worthy of Respect of All Persons Aboard,” said the WHOA. “Second transit is some remote and quite insignificant system on a trailing edge.”

“First transit, lose instabilities?”

“It is feared by myself as Wormhole Officer, Acting, there would be insufficient distance to maneuver, Most High Up of and Worthy of All Persons Aboard,” replied the WHOA. “The nexus postulated presents the complication of being virtually an adjacency to our arrival point.”

“Second transit?”

“We will in all probability find we have sufficient maneuvering space, there, Most High Up of All—”

“Captain!” bellowed the Thwartian captain. “Just say ‘Captain.’ ”

“We have spacial sufficien. . . room there, ah, Captain.”

“Very well. Keep oglers ready while in hole. Set long-range oglers for closer look. If things alive, MZ people will want look.”

“Yes, Most High . . . Captain.”

The wormhole was a complicated one, of extensive duration. The oglers were set to record and the Moral Zoology people serving as PECs, SNIFs, or both stood around the screens gazing at the things and debating whether they were alive or not. Certainly they did not look alive, but then, they didn’t look like rocks, either. Or ice. Or clotted space fume. Or impacted gravitic nodules, which would have made the expedition members very rich if the
Denart Sp**t
could have snagged them without getting crushed in the process. All the PECSNIFs agreed that some possessed a certain repetitive and segmentary appearance, while others showed an erratic and nonfractal crystallinity. There were five of them in total, and no two were alike.

“What are they?” the captain asked the Moral Zoologists.

The Moral Zoologists performed a concerted shrug followed by a lengthy and complicated tentacular twiddle, meaning they had no idea. One of them suggested that at the next nexus, they attempt to get a closer look before making the succeeding transit. The WHOA was consulted about the advisability of such an action.

“If you believe ourselves so lacking in prudence as to take such a not inconsiderable leap in abysmal ignorance of consequences, certainly,” said the WHOA. “If you believe moral correctness requires approaching an unknown
quantity or quality, which may prove to be antithetical or even fatal in nature.”

The argument concerning this observation occupied the Chummy contingent during the remainder of the transit, with the majority still in favor of approach. True scholarship, as the dean of Spatio-Temporal Studies was fond of pointing out, required intrepidity.

When the
Denart Sp**t
emerged, and after the momentary crew disorientation passed, the MZ contingent gathered around the screens as the ship turned toward one of the instabilities, which immediately coiled up and extended several large claw-shaped energy fields.

“I cannot but believe it would be acceptable to reconfigure our approach toward one of the other instabilities,” suggested the WHOA in an unhurried but impassioned tone.

Accordingly, two more instabilities were approached in turn, only to have each respond with a movement that, while not immediately destructive, was menacing enough to be considered an aversive response. When the
Denart Sp**t
pulled back, each instability took its former shape.

“Machines,” said one of the MZs. “That’s my opinion.”

“Life-forms,” said another. “What would machines be doing out here?”

“We conveyed them to this location,” said the WHOA with unusual brevity. “They were at the time colocated within the expansion field.”

“Sprot-burricles!” said the captain, at which all Chummys within hearing turned their ashen budstalks downward in shame. “At next nexus we lose or destroy them! Be ready.”

All the MZs flushed a vivid puce and began to discuss the order with great vehemence. The discussion went on for some time without arriving at a conclusion. The next nexus was reached and the
Denart Sp**t
emerged into a small system at the back end of nowhere. The moment the oglers were refocused, the WHOA screamed at the top of his gas sacs, “Antithetical approach! Antithetical approach.”

Without taking time to discuss the matter, the captain armed the ship’s cannons and turned the ship directly toward the system star, barely visible in a wide gap between two of the threatening creatures. The
Denart Sp**t
picked up speed and fled between the two at a considerable distance, receiving a punishing blow from one or possibly both of them.

“What happened?” cried the captain. “Damage report!”

“Energy field, Most High Up and Worthy Though Perhaps Somewhat Precipitous of All Those Aboard Ship,” cried a Pronunchumniak damage control officer. “Engines one and five of the ship
Denartesestel Radichan
have been effectively nullified for purposes of directional propulsive activity.
All five instability creatures are currently manifesting activities indicating possible intensively antipathetic approach.”