“Yes, in a non-biological sense. I retain the physiology of a human being, of course.”
“What do you mean, then, that you’re a plant?”
“The reference is to attitudinal response, to Weltanschauung.”
“Go on.”
“It is possible for a warm-blooded animal, an upper primate, to adopt the psychology of a plant, to some extent.”
“Yes?”
“I refer to this.”
“And the others? They refer to this also?”
“Yes.”
“How did this occur, your adopting this attitude?
Bradshaw’s image hesitated, the lips twisting. “See?” Harris said to Cox. “Strong conflict. He wouldn’t have gone on, if he had been fully conscious.”
“Yes?”
“I was taught to become a plant.”
The image of Harris showed surprise and interest. “What do you mean, you were taught to become a plant?”
“They realized my problems and taught me to become a plant. Now I’m free from them, the problems.”
“Who? Who taught you?”
“The Pipers.”
“Who? The Pipers? Who are the Pipers?”
There was no answer.
“Mr. Bradshaw, who are the Pipers?”
After a long, agonized pause, the heavy lips parted. “They live in the woods. . .”
Harris snapped off the projector, and the lights came on. He and Cox blinked. “That was all I could get,” Harris said. “But I was lucky to get that. He wasn’t supposed to tell, not at all. That was the thing they all promised not to do, tell who taught them to become plants. The Pipers who live in the woods on Asteroid Y-3.”
“You got this story from all twenty?”
“No.” Harris grimaced. “Most of them put up too much fight. I couldn’t even get this much from them.”
Cox reflected. “The Pipers. Well? What do you propose to do? Just wait around until you can get the full story? Is that your program?”
“No.” Harris said. “Not at all. I’m going to Y-3 and find out who the Pipers are, myself.”
The small patrol ship made its landing with care and precision, its jets choking into final silence. The hatch slid back and Doctor Henry Harris found himself staring out at a field, a brown, sun-baked landing field. At the end of the field was a tall signal tower. Around the field on all sides were long gray buildings, the Garrison check station itself. Not far off a huge Venusian cruiser was parked, a vast green hulk, like an enormous lime. The technicians from the station were swarming all over it, checking and examining each inch of it for lethal life-forms and poisons that might have attached themselves to the hull.
“All out, sir,” the pilot said.
Harris nodded. He took hold of his two suitcases and stepped carefully down. The ground was hot underfoot, and he blinked in the bright sunlight. Jupiter was in the sky, and the vast planet reflected considerable sunlight down onto the asteroid.
Harris started across the field, carrying his suitcase. A field attendant was already busy opening the storage compartment of the Patrol ship, extracting his trunk. The attendant lowered the trunk into a waiting dolly and came after him, manipulating the little truck with bored skill.
As Harris came to the entrance of the signal tower the gate slid back and a man came forward, an older man, large and robust, with white hair and a steady walk.
“How are you, Doctor?” he said, holding his hand out. “I’m Lawrence Watts, the Garrison Chief.”
They shook hands. Watts smiled down at Harris. He was a huge old man, still regal and straight in his dark blue uniform, with his gold epaulets sparkling on his shoulders.
“Have a good trip?” Watts asked. “Come on inside and I’ll have a drink fixed for you. It gets hot around here, with the Big Mirror up there.”
“Jupiter?” Harris followed him inside the building. The signal tower was cool and dark, a welcome relief. “Why is the gravity so near Terra’s? I expected to go flying off like a kangaroo. Is it artificial?”
“No. There’s a dense core of some kind to the asteroid, some kind of metallic deposit. That’s why we picked this asteroid out of all the others. It made the construction problem much simpler, and it also explains why the asteroid has natural air and water. Did you see the hills?”
“The hills?”
“When we get up higher in the tower we’ll be able to see over the buildings. There’s quite a natural park here, a regular little forest, complete with everything you’d want. Come in here, Harris. This is my office.” The old man strode at quite a clip, around the corner and into a large, well-furnished apartment. “Isn’t this pleasant? I intend to make my last year here as amiable as possible.” He frowned. “Off course, with Deutsch gone, I may be here forever. Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Sit down, Harris.”
“Thanks.” Harris took a chair, stretching his legs out. He watched Watts as he closed the door to the hall. “By the way, any more cases come up?”
“Two more today.” Watts was grim. “Makes almost thirty, in all. We have three hundred men in this station. At the rate it’s going –”
“Chief, you spoke about a forest on the asteroid. Do you allow the crew to go into the forest at will? Or do you restrict them to the buildings and grounds?”
Watts rubbed his jaw. “Well, it’s a difficult situation, Harris. I have to let the men leave the grounds sometimes. They can see the forest from the buildings, and as long as you can see a nice place to stretch out and relax that does it. Once every ten days they have a full period of rest. Then they go out and fool around.”
“And then it happens?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But as long as they can see the forest, they’ll want to go. I can’t help it.”
“I know. I’m not censuring you. Well, what’s your theory? What happens to them out there? What do they do?”
“What happens? Once they get out there and take it easy for a while they don’t want to come back and work. It’s boondoggling. Playing hookey. They don’t want to work, so off they go.”
“How about this business of their delusions?”
Watts laughed good-naturedly. “Listen, Harris. You know as well as I do that’s a lot of poppycock. They’re no more plants than you or I. They just don’t want to work, that’s all. When I was a cadet we had a few ways to make people work. I wish we could lay a few on their backs, like we used to.”
“You think this is simple goldbricking, then?”
“Don’t you think it is?”
“No,” Harris said. “They really believe they’re plants. I put them through the high-frequency shock treatment, the shock box. The whole nervous system is paralyzed, all inhibitions stopped cold. They tell the truth, then. And they said the same thing — and more.”
Watts paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. “Harris, you’re a doctor, and I suppose you know what you’re talking about. But look at the situation here. We have a garrison, a good modern garrison. We’re probably the most modern outfit in the system. Every new device and gadget is here that science can produce. Harris, this garrison is one vast machine. The men are parts, and each has his job, the Maintenance Crew, the Biologists, the Office Crew, the Managerial Staff.
“Look what happens when one person steps away from his job. Everything else begins to creak. We can’t service the bugs if no one services the machines. We can’t order food to feed the crews if no one makes out reports, takes inventories. We can’t direct any kind of activity if the Second in Command decides to go out and sit in the sun all day.
“Thirty people, one tenth of the Garrison. But we can’t run without them. The Garrison is built that way. If you take the supports out the whole building falls. No one can leave. We’re all tied here and these people know it. They know they have no right to do that, run off on their own. No one has that right anymore. We’re all too tightly interwoven to suddenly start doing what we want. It’s unfair to the rest, the majority.”
Harris nodded. “Chief, can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Are there any inhabitants on the asteroid? Any natives?”
“Natives?” Watts considered. “Yes, there’s some kind of aborigines living out there.” He waved vaguely toward the window.
“What are they like? Have you seen them?”
“Yes, I’ve seen them. At least, I saw them when we first came here. They hung around for a while, watching us, then after a time they disappeared.”
“Did they die off? Diseases of some kind?”
“No. They just — just disappeared. Into their forest. They’re still there, someplace.”
“What kind of people are they?”
“Well, the story is that they’re originally from Mars. They don’t look much like Martians, though. They’re dark, a kind of coppery color. Thin. Very agile, in their own way. They hunt and fish. No written language. We don’t pay much attention to them.”