Authors: Alan Dean Foster
Quofum
CONTENTS
For Todd Lockwood,
who did this beautiful cover
PROLOGUE
It was easy to believe that Quofum did not exist because most of the time it didn’t. Lying along the inner edge of the Orion Arm and outside the boundaries of the Commonwealth, the rest of the system as apprised by the exploration robot seemed normal enough. The G-type sun burned slightly hotter than Sol but was otherwise unremarkable. It was orbited by half a dozen proper planets: two outer gas giants, ornamented by the usual regalia of variegated moons, and four inner rocky spheres. While all of the latter clung to atmospheres of varying density and composition, none supported life more complex than elementary bacteria. There were also a couple of asteroid belts and attendant clouds of comets.
And then there was Quofum.
It was not there when the robot first arrived. Its abrupt, unexpected appearance put a strain not only on the probe’s scientific instruments but on the logic circuits of its rudimentary AI. Though it was a rare occurrence, even a machine intelligence could be startled. The sudden materialization of an entirely new and previously unobserved planet in the spatial interstice between worlds two and three was an event of sufficient magnitude and lack of precedence to unsettle even the most efficiently designed artificial intelligence.
Confronted with an apparent impossibility, and a very sizable one at that, the probe’s first response was to backscan its accumulated data. It did this several times before concluding that the new observation was not a consequence of some prior instrumental malfunction. All preceding observations were incontestable. Subsequent to its arrival within the present system its instruments had observed and made recordings of six planets, twenty-two moons, two asteroid belts, and assorted free-ranging comets, meteors, and other characteristic planetary system debris. It had manifestly not overlooked an entire world some twelve percent greater in diameter than Earth.
While this rather massive contradiction was distressing, it did not prevent the probe from continuing its work. Resigning itself to leaving the conundrum to be resolved at some future date, it set about following up on its most recent discovery. It promptly set a course for the new world, assigning it a number according to built-in internal protocols, and embarked upon the usual round of standardized observations. Like its brethren, the previously unobserved planet had an atmosphere. Unlike them, this consisted of nitrogen and oxygen in a combination sufficient to support terrestrial-type life. The presence of an unusual variety of largely inert gases was duly noted without comment—the probe’s task was to observe and record, not evaluate.
There were pink skies. Beneath the pink skies, puddled oceans composed of liquid water, noble salts—and approximately nine percent alcohol. Landmasses gave clear evidence of supporting life, though the probe did not linger long enough or descend low enough to document specific examples. It did note the important fact that there were no signs of higher intelligence.
Having fulfilled its programming for the present system the probe prepared to activate its integrated KK-drive and move on through space-plus to the next on its list of designated systems to be explored. There were a lot of uncharted, unstudied, un-recorded systems on the fringes of the ever-expanding Commonwealth. The larger the Commonwealth became, the more far-reaching its borders. Survey probes were expensive and the time they could spend studying individual systems was therefore limited. If no sentient life was found, they were programmed to fill a prescribed portion of their data banks and move on—no matter how unusual a particular world or system might initially appear.
As the probe was accelerating toward changeover, rearward-facing instruments duly recorded one last interesting fact about the third planet of the new system. It had disappeared again—vanished as if it had never been. But it had been. The probe’s records were proof of that.
The robot did not attempt to put forth an explanation for the phenomenon. It merely recorded the relevant data. Like the rest of the facts and figures it had accumulated, this would be reviewed, discussed, and analyzed by the scientists who built and serviced the flotilla of deep-space probes. Eventually they might decide to do something about it.
It took years for the probe to fill its storage facilities to capacity and finally head homeward. The data it had acquired on the world that one bemused researcher promptly dubbed Quofum was initially presumed to be a consequence of equipment failure. When this was found not to be the case, a good bit of agitated discussion ensued. Some shouting transpired among a number of celebrated and knowledgeable individuals more accustomed to quiet, if often energetic, dialogue. There was spirited debate about throwing good money after what many felt must be evident nonsense.
In the end it was decided that the ramifications posed by the probe’s data concerning this particular new world were worthy of a much closer and more detailed look, if only to determine firsthand their validity. A compromise was reached. Funding for a follow-up hands-on expedition was authorized, but at the bottom end of the customary survey scale. If Quofum did indeed exist and was found to be worthy of a full-scale study, that could and would be sanctioned to follow in due course. There was only one problem. The approved expedition could not set course for a world that long-range scrutiny insisted was not present. The system in question was therefore subject to continuous monitoring.
When Quofum unexpectedly did reappear, or at least when observation seemed to coincide with the historical record, things moved quickly.
1
Like everyone else on the
Dampier,
Tellenberg was a volunteer and a polymath. With a full crew of only half a dozen there was no room on the low-budget expedition for specialists. At least among the scientific complement, everyone had been chosen for their ability to do work in several disciplines. Tellenberg hoped he would have the opportunity to exercise all of his considerable range of knowledge. Like the others, his greatest fear had been that they would emerge from space-plus to find that the world they were charged with surveying and exploring was nothing more than a myth.
If it accomplished nothing else, the mission had already put that particular worry to rest.
Quofum was there, a thickly cloud-swathed world situated between the orbits of the system’s second and third planets, exactly where the much earlier robot probe had predicted. As the
Dampier
decelerated toward its destination, he hurried forward to catch a first glimpse of the new world through the sweeping port that dominated the bridge. Screens in his cabin and the lab could have provided much more detailed representations. But experiencing a new world in the form of a projection as opposed to viewing it in vivo was not the same thing. In this manner Tellenberg had previously been privileged to experience first contact with two newly discovered planets. Quofum would be his third and, if the preliminary survey turned out to be valid, the most unusual.
An unusual world fit for an unusual researcher. Twenty years ago Esra Tellenberg had suffered the loss of both arms and both legs in a laboratory accident. Only the telltale darkening of his skin below the shoulders and the knees marked him as a multiple regenerate. From research devoted to studying echinoderms skilled gengineers and doctors had long ago learned how to manipulate genes to induce severely damaged human beings to regrow lost limbs. A far better and more natural option than mechanical prosthetics, these bioengineered replacements were indistinguishable from the appendages they replaced—except for one unanticipated difference. No matter how hard the cosmetic biologists worked at solving the problem, they always had a difficult time matching melanin.
Tellenberg’s own body had regrown his arms and legs, but from shoulder and knee down his flesh was noticeably darker. Body makeup would have rendered hues the same. Being a scientist and not a fashion model, he disdained their use. Thus clearly and unashamedly colored as a regenerate, it was to be expected that he would be nicknamed “starfish.” He wore the label amiably, and with pride.
He was the last to arrive on the bridge. With a full complement of six, it was not crowded. Though its intensity and size had been greatly diminished by changeover and the drop back into normal space, the luminous violet of the posigravity field projected by the ship’s KK-drive still dominated the view ahead. As the
Dampier
continued to decelerate, the field’s strength steadily moderated, revealing the rest of the view forward and allowing them a first glimpse of their destination.
“Pretty substantial-looking. Not like something that would go popping in and out of existence.”
While he was a master of multiple skills who could lay claim to several specialized credentials, Salvador Araza simply preferred to be called a maintenance tech. As well as a way of showing deference toward those from whom he had learned, it was also an honest expression of modesty. Tall, slender, and as dark as Tellenberg’s regenerated forearms, he tended to keep to himself. So much so that the xenologist was surprised to hear the expedition’s jack-of-all-trades venture an unsolicited opinion. More expressive even than his face, Araza’s hands were by far his most notable feature. Tellenberg had seen them loop alloy he himself could not even bend, and in the next moment exhibit the skill of a surgeon while realigning components under a technician’s magnifying scope.
Araza was standing just behind Boylan. In the case of the
Dampier,
the captain was the crew. Appointed though he was, he was still almost a figurehead. Interstellar KK-drive vessels essentially flew themselves, their internal operations and requisite calculations being far too byzantine for mere human minds to manage. Still, on any expedition someone had to be in charge, if only nominally. That responsibility fell to the gruff-voiced Nicholai Boylan. With his flaring black beard, deep-set eyes, stocky build, and an occasionally distressing lack of personal hygiene, he struck Tellenberg as an eventual candidate for brain as well as body regeneration.
Contrastingly, the stunted and Neanderthal-looking captain was quite an accomplished amateur microbiologist.
Moselstrom N’kosi (everybody called him Mosi) stood as close to the port as the sweeping instrument console would allow. He also hovered as near as he dared to his fellow xenologist Tiare Haviti. Tellenberg didn’t blame him. When opportunity allowed, he endeavored to do the same. It was always a delicate dance when single men and women were compelled to share the limited, enclosed space on board a small interstellar vessel. Given the uncertain and potentially risky nature of their destination, it was an application requirement that every potential crew member be unattached. All being mature adults, everyone knew their limits. When a fellow researcher was as alluring as Haviti, however, time tended to produce an accelerated compression of those limits. Aware of her unavoidable attractiveness and as adult and worldly as her male colleagues, she knew how to handle the inevitable attention. Proximity was tolerated: indeed, within the limited space on the ship that was allotted to living quarters it was inescapable. But that was all.
Haviti, Tellenberg found himself reflecting, was not unlike plutonium. Though potentially dangerous it was also heavily shielded. With care, one could get quite close. Actual contact, however, might prove physically injurious. Having previously lost and subsequently been obliged to regrow four major appendages, he had no intention of risking any others. There was also the daunting and very real possibility that she was smarter than any of them. Wielded by the right tongue, lips, and larynx, a word could be as damaging as a whack.
Of the five males on board, she let only Valnadireb get physically close to her. This intimacy occasioned no jealousy among Tellenberg and his colleagues. Not because Valnadireb was anything other than a virile adult male in his physical prime, but because their fellow xenologist was thranx. Though intellectually simpatico, Valnadireb and Haviti were as biologically incompatible as a chimp and a mantis, the latter being the Terran species to whom his kind’s appearance was most often compared. A bit over a meter tall when standing on all four trulegs and the front set of foothands, rising to a meter and a half when standing on trulegs alone and utilizing both foothands and truhands for purposes of digital manipulation, the insectoid Valnadireb completed the ship’s complement. Like the rest of the ship, the air on the bridge was permeated by the delicate perfume that was the natural body odor of his species.
Surrounded by colorful hovering projections both statistical and representative, a busy Boylan grunted a response to Araza’s observation.
“It’s there, alright. Every reading, she is coming back normal. Iron core, stony outer shell, breathable atmosphere, tolerable gravity. Lots of liquid water she has in her oceans. All normal.” For an instant his crusty demeanor gave way to a twinkle in both eye and voice. “Except for that remarkable alcohol content in the seas.”
“Nine percent,” Mosi reiterated unnecessarily. Unnecessarily because each of them had committed to memory every known fact about their objective since long before their departure from Earth.
“Maybe the place was originally discovered by a wandering race of long-lost master distillers,” a deadpan Haviti commented. Though not unanticipated, the joke still generated a few chuckles on the bridge.
Tellenberg shared the captain’s phlegmaticism. Gazing at the slowly rotating image of the solid globe floating before them, it was next to impossible to imagine something so large and substantial suddenly not being there. He tried to imagine it winking out of existence in the blink of an eye. To further the metaphor, he blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Quofum was still there.
Instrumentation malfunction, he told himself confidently. There was no question about it, could be no other explanation. All down the line that had been focused on this world, there had occurred a succession of instrumental malfunctions. As Boylan methodically recited aloud one hard, cold, incontrovertible reading after another, Tellenberg felt increasingly confident he would be able to set his regenerated feet down on the target planet’s surface without having to worry about them abruptly passing through it.
Having concluded the not-so-insignificant business of confirming the world’s existence, he was now eager to explore its surface to study the profusion of life-forms that the initial survey probe had insisted were there. It was an anticipation and excitement he knew was shared by his colleagues. This being such a small expedition there could well be ample discovery (and subsequent professional kudos) to go around.
“I will run a final prep on shuttle one.” As Araza turned to go Boylan put up a hand to halt him.
“Not so fast, my friend. You know the procedure.” He let his gaze touch on each of those present. “You all know the procedure.”
The captain’s declaration gave rise to a chorus of groans that was more resigned than resentful. Everyone knew you just didn’t settle into orbit around an entirely new, unexplored world and dash down for a ramble. First, a prescribed number of observations and measurements would have to be made from orbit. These would then have to be analyzed and their results approved by the ship’s AI, the latter not being susceptible to complimentary words or physical blandishments by folks in a hurry to set foot on unfamiliar ground. Boylan would then review the final breakdown. If approved, only then would the anxious scientists be permitted to crowd into the shuttle with their equipment and their expectations and allowed to descend to the alien surface.
Though as impatient as any of his colleagues, Tellenberg understood the need to follow procedure. Especially at a new site with as unusual a background as Quofum. With every orbit, the world below became more and more familiar to the team and to the ship, less and less potentially bizarre.
With the exception of its unusual potent oceans and pink-tinged atmosphere, they saw nothing from orbit to mark the globe as anything out of the ordinary. Viewed from high above, it boasted nothing as dramatic as the frozen seas of Tran-ky-ky or the endless metropolitan hive that was the thranx world of Amropolous, both of which Tellenberg had visited. There were mountains and valleys, rivers and deserts, islands and peninsulas, volcanoes and icecaps. A slightly larger pink-tinged Earth. Hopefully the flora and fauna would offer a bit more excitement than anything they were able to discern from orbit.
A week later the always reluctant, ever-circumspect Boylan grudgingly allowed as how it might finally be safe to go down and have a look around.
Anxious as the scientists were to commence their research, everyone knew that the first order of business was to choose an amenable location and establish a base camp. Lively argument ensued over whether to do this on the edge of a desert, mountain, riverine, or oceanic zone. Using his vote, Boylan settled the matter by opting for a temperate zone set-down where a sizable river running through native forest entered a shallow sea, a physical location that hopefully addressed as many requests as possible at the same time. Not a single member of the expedition’s scientific team was entirely pleased with this choice, which showed that the captain had made the correct one.
Even though all the essential equipment was prefabricated and compacted, it took several round-trips in the shuttle to convey all of it safely to the surface. Arriving in a much larger vessel than the
Dampier,
a normal-sized expedition would have been equipped with a proper cargo shuttle. Still, the team managed. Only when the last tool, the last wall panel, the last section of roofing and self-routing sealant had been landed according to regulations, did Boylan give the go-ahead for construction to begin.
It was hard. Not because the trio of largely self-erecting buildings proved difficult to put up, but because as soon as they set foot on Quofum, every one of the scientists was overwhelmed by the incredible fecundity of their surroundings. It took an effort of will on the part of every member of the crew in addition to continuous cajoling by an exasperated Boylan to get them to attend to the business of putting together a place to sleep, eat, and work. Everyone wanted to explore the alien forest or the alien beach or the alien river.
There was life everywhere. Mosi N’kosi, who thought he had been on bountiful worlds, avowed as how he had never seen anything like their new planetfall. Haviti was visibly overcome by both the opportunities that surrounded them as they worked to erect the camp and by its beauty. Being thranx, Valnadireb had never lived on worlds that were anything other than tropical in nature, but even he had to confess that for sheer richness of biota Quofum surpassed any place up to and including the incredibly lush thranx mother world of Hivehom. For its part, what the researchers initially took to be the more advanced native life-forms appeared as interested in the new arrivals as they did in them.
It took less than a week to set up the tripartite portable facility: living quarters in one extended rectangular structure, lab in another, equipment and gear storage in the third—all laid out like the spokes of an incomplete wheel around the domed main entranceway and biolock. Each successive day they spent on Quofum without succumbing to local bacteria or other infectious microbiota, the less necessary the formal double entrance became. Still, no one suggested doing away with the additional security. Just because they had not yet encountered any hostile life-forms did not mean they did not exist. As experienced xenologists, they knew better.
They also knew that since there were only four of them in addition to Boylan and Araza, it was necessary to stay and work closely together until they had a far better conception of their surroundings. While having four researchers go off on four different tangents might prove to be individually gratifying and scientifically productive, it could also prove singularly fatal. So for the present they restrained themselves.