Skid
The tasting of the plant


Written and Published by Keith Fenwick
PO Box 90312
Auckland
New Zealand

mailto: sam@iprolink.co.nz.

Copyright (C) Keith Fenwick 2000

The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or
translated into any other language or computer language,
in any form or by any means, whether it be electronic,
mechanical, magnetic, optical, manual or otherwise, without the
prior written consent of Keith Fenwick.




A planet called Skid
Keith Fenwick

Also by Keith Fenwick in the Skid series
Skid 2
Return to Skid
Skid 3
Another place called Skid

The tasting of the plant

     "We thank you almighty for this harvest." Inel wondered what the words really meant, for
on this planet he was the almighty.
     It was a tedious, but possibly the most significant duty of Skid's ruler the annual tasting of
the plant. The origins of the elaborate ceremony were long forgotten, as was the reason the
ceremony was enacted year after year.
      Whatever the case it seemed best to carry on regardless. It was a case of continuing a
tradition for traditions sake without question, for to question the need for this ceremony, in this
age would question all Skid's traditions, the very reason for there being a Skidian society at all.
     Despite its tremendous significance there was not much to it really. Trying not to tumble
headfirst into the bubbling liquid from his platform, Inel dipped an exquisitely carved, long
handled ladle, into one of the vast open vats where the planet's synthofood was produced. Then
after much chanting and exaggerated gesturing, he tasted some of the latest batch. It was
considered a propitious sign if that he did not keel over on the spot.
It would have been quite a simple process except it proceeded only after an hour or so of
solemn declarations, affirmations of duty, and the usual drama that turns a simple ritual into
one of great complexity and length. A theatre which assumed more importance than it
warranted in this enlightened and technological age.
Completely unaffected by the ritual the enormous fermentation vats bubbled away quietly,
providing the planet' sustenance, the way they had for several thousand years.
Towards the rear of the little group of witnesses, pressed up against the containment wall of the
vat, stood a man whose appearance marked him out as someone who was clearly of a different
race to the others. Noslow was short, slim, and had a swarthy complexion, in a crowd that was
mostly very tall, grossly overweight, and whose skin color almost matched that of the brilliantly
white robes they all wore.
Noslow carefully opened a small vial in the sleeve of his robe and concealing the vial in his
hand he tipped the contents into the vat.
With a nervous smirk Noslow listened to the final chant. A relic of a more superstitious age
when the Skidians believed their survival depended on placating the spirit world, as Inel went
through the motions of ensuring Skid would have sufficient food for the coming year. If all went
well Noslow hoped one of his own people; perhaps even himself would lead next year's
ceremony.

One man and his dogs

Wednesday 11/09/99

Bruce could feel a vein pulsing at his temple as he drew a deep breath and bellowed the next
command at the dogs.
"Get back Punch you moron!" he screamed. "Pheep pheep, pheep pheep," he whistled. "Get
back! Walk up, phip phip. Get in behind Punch! Walk up Can. Sit down Punch! That'll do Cop!"
Finally the cattle trotted across the hill, mooing and snorting unhappily, then slid down the
fence line and through the gate where Bruce stood as it began to rain again.
"Stop that, Cop, you senile old goat," Bruce screamed. The dog sat and waited expectantly on
the side of the hill like a wound up mechanical toy waiting to be let loose, his stubby tail
wagging furiously, instead of diving through the fence to head the mob of cattle off like he
thought he should. Can thought she had better sit too, while Punch, back up the empty hillside
just kept on barking like the lunatic he was.
Hunching his shoulders against the squally rain, Bruce counted the cattle through the gateway
and slammed shut it behind them.
"Bloody mongrels!" He grunted, as if the cattle were solely to blame for getting him wet. Well,
by being unnecessarily pig headed and all but refusing to budge, as far as he was concerned
they had been.
"Good boy." Bruce gave Punch, the pup a quick pat, aimed a kick at the other two dogs who
also decided that they deserved some attention, then stomped off towards his motorbike.
The rain shower passed but the wind still howled in off the sea, picking sand up from the dunes
and flinging it into his face as if he were standing in front of a sandblaster. Bruce pulled up the
hood of his swandri and trudged off through the dunes leaning into the wind, brushing through
the dead and dying lupines that he had planted as part of a halfhearted erosion control measure
in the spring.
At last he clambered over a fence and wearily threw his leg over the motorbike parked on the
other side. After a moment he kicked it into life and headed off up the track towards the next
mob of cattle that needed shifting, glancing around several times as he rode to make sure that
the dogs were following. Once he had to stop and yell at Can who was forever scavenging,
inspecting decomposing turkey or sheep carcasses, or anything else she thought had potential.
Anybody would think the dog was never fed.
The bike's rear slid about as the tire fought for traction on the steep, slick track while Bruce
dangled his feet off the foot pegs an attempt to keep it on course. The track was almost
impassable but Bruce did not believe in walking where he thought he could ride or drive.
To make matters worse his swandri hood had blown back and was slowly filling with water,
which trickled down the back of his neck.
Eventually the rear wheel did what it had been threatening to do ever since he'd started up the
track, and slipped out from under him before he could steady it with an out thrust leg.
"Bugger ya then." Bruce gave the bike a kick and left it lying where it dropped, the rear wheel
spinning until the motor finally stalled with a clunk.
The track was almost as difficult to walk up as it had been to ride up. For each step Bruce took
he seemed to slide half a one back, heavy clay sticking like lead weights to his boots.
Eventually he made it to the top and started across the paddock towards the last mob of cattle
waiting expectantly behind the electric fence for him to shift them onto a new break of grass.
Occasionally Bruce fantasized that he was the only person left on earth when he was out the
back of the farm, heading for the cliffs that dropped straight into the sea. Then he would catch
sight of a truck on the road that ran inland of the farm or hear somebody doing their nut at their
dogs a few miles away. Even so, if he had an accident, fell off the bike, or over the cliff or
something, the neighbors might not realize that he was missing for days.

Deep space patrol

Protected by stealth systems that had been activated since before entering this solar system,
the patrol ship carrying the members of Committee 21 flew through the planet's atmosphere
completely undisturbed. The crew was confident that they would remain undetected by the
unsophisticated tracking systems arrayed on the planet below although they really had no idea
how anything aboard the ship worked.
An argument raged aboard between the crewmembers as a great empty continent fell away
behind the ship as it headed westward towards a group of smaller islands and the vast empty
spaces of a large ocean beyond.
"Just how do we judge the suitability of likely candidates? Interrogate them? What questions
should we ask?" Mulgoon demanded.
Cyprus was all for simply transporting a likely-looking specimen aboard the ship and disposing
of him, her, it, or them, if they proved unsuitable for their needs. However, because of his lowly
status his counsel was not taken seriously. He was the token commoner of the committee that
formed the crew. He was not supposed to be there to offer an opinion on anything and the
others ignored most of what he said. To make matters worse, Toytoo, the chairman of the
committee was notorious among a planet of procrastinators, for never being able to make a
decision.
Mulgoon was wavering, almost on the point of deciding the whole scheme was really too risky
and felt that they should return home empty-handed.
"How can we decide where most of their food is produced?" Mulgoon, who should have known
better, asked. He had made a special study of the subject after all.
In an unusual departure from protocol Myfair was inclined to agree with Cyprus. The planet
was obviously populated by primitives and any one of them could provide the assistance they
needed. Furthermore, he, more than the others knew it was dangerous to loiter around the
planet. Despite their low level of technology, the inhabitants below could possibly have
developed systems that could sense, damage or destroy, the ship since the last time a Skidian
vessel ventured this way.
Unnoticed by the others Myfair slipped into the control room and studied images of the planet
unfolding beneath them. A lone figure suddenly appeared on the screen, moving across an area
of organic material.
Intrigued by this lonely figure, for Skidians were never really alone, Myfair instructed the ship
to hover while he studied the potential candidate and its accompanying four-legged
companions.
"He'll do," Myfair decided impulsively. This offworlder had to know something about the
organic material over which he moved. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the others,
who were still arguing in the conference chamber, and activated the transporter beam to bring
the offworlder on board.
"What the bloody hell?" Just as Bruce had been about to give Punch a good kick in the ribs for
rolling in a nicely rotting sheep carcass at the top of the cliff something had grasped him by the
scruff of the neck and yanked him skyward.
One moment he was struggling across a paddock leaning into the near gale force winds to keep
his balance lashed by driving rain. The next he was here. Wherever and whatever here was.
For a moment Bruce decided he must have been blown off the cliff somehow and smashed his
head on something. Was he on his way to heaven? If it wasn't heaven then it must be a
hallucination of another kind. Was he still asleep? Had he just fallen over and bumped his head
on a rock?
The three dogs? What were they doing here? Surely they wouldn't have been stupid enough to
follow him off the cliff. They didn't look particularly happy though. At first they trembled and
whimpered fearfully, tails between their legs, their eyes rolling in their sockets. Then all three
of them tried unsuccessfully to climb up under his swandri. Finding the struggle beyond them,
they gave up and cautiously sniffed the floor instead.
Cop was the first to venture off the platform to investigate a ghostly apparition that was
approaching from the far end of the dimly lit room. The apparition solidified into the figure of a
man wearing a long white robe of some kind that brushed the floor as he moved.
Bruce tensed. His heart thumped wildly behind his ribs, so hard that he thought it might leap
from his chest, as the figure stopped several feet in front of him.
Bruce wondered if it was Saint Peter, whether he might indeed be in heaven. Cop sniffed,
whined, and then scuttled back to cower behind his master, resting his head against Bruce's
feet, peering suspiciously up at the man.
"Gidday." Bruce could not think of anything more intelligent to say off the top of his head, and
immediately cursed himself for sounding so idiotic. This bloke probably wouldn't understand a
word he said.
He shifted uncomfortably and tapped his foot in the puddle of water that had run off his swandri
and leggings while the figure continued to stare at him, distastefully twitching his nose.
Despite his pallid skin and dark blue rimmed eyes, Bruce thought he appeared quite human,
though he had never seen anybody with such pale skin before. Not even on the bare legs of
tourists fresh from a northern winter wandering down a beach.
And if he were in fact a man, he was a big man, standing well over two meters tall like a
basketball player or rugby lock with a hormone imbalance.
Bruce started to step backwards, but the man loomed over him and placed his hands on his
shoulders, drawing Bruce forward and brushing his lips over each cheek.
Yuk!" Bruce wiped his cheeks on the sleeve of his swandri. "What the?" He stepped forward
to avenge the insult, but was halted in mid stride by a raised hand.
"Welcome. Thank you for joining us here." Myfair greeted Bruce in the traditional manner of
Skid where visitors were shown every courtesy, no matter what the host really thought of his
guest. "My name is Myfair and I am at your service."
Cop took this opportunity of an apparently friendly greeting to leave the dubious safety of
Bruce's presence and begin an exploration of the room. He cocked his leg against a cabinet
squirting a stream of urine at it, then trotted off his tail wagging jauntily. This was fresh turf
and as the boss dog here, he was staking his claim.
"What's going on?" Bruce managed to blurt out, pinching himself at the same time to make
sure that he was indeed still alive and maybe experiencing some extra surreal dream.
Myfair frowned, wondering whether the offworlder was as stupid as he looked. Surely that was
obvious?
"You are aboard a Skidian deep space patrol vessel in orbit around your home planet," he
stated the obvious just in case.
"Bullshit. You're having me on." The alien, if that's what he was pretending to be, spoke with a
mid-Atlantic drawl that was almost too good to be true. Bruce was sure now that he must be
dreaming. On the other hand, a victim of a CIA plot maybe!
"Kindly step this way and look into this monitor."
Bruce peered into the monitor for perhaps thirty seconds, and then stepped back, stunned at
the sight. This was either some kind of elaborate trick, or what? He wondered. On the screen
the earth had unfolded like a satellite picture from a television weather forecast. Bruce stepped
forward for another look and watched the earth's surface disappear behind them at an alarming
rate. They were flying above a sea. Which sea? He wondered. Not liking to ask, he glanced at
Myfair, scratched his nose, and reached into his pocket for his smokes.
With a nonchalance he certainly did not feel Bruce lit the cigarette and took a deep puff.
Myfair or whatever his stupid sounding name was, certainly wasn't pulling his leg. He might not
be on a space ship but he was in the air.
Too astonished by the idea to feel much fear or anxiety, Bruce asked, surprised at the
steadiness of his voice. "Well what happens now?"
Bruce had already decided that Myfair was neither God nor an angel and that he wasn't in
heaven or some other dream world. That vision had been replaced by a sudden fear of being
spirited off to be an exhibit at an alien zoo or research specimen at an alien laboratory.
Adrenaline coursing through his veins, his muscles tensed, Bruce prepared to run. Anywhere.
Then he realized there was nowhere to go.
Myfair seemed to sense his apprehension and laid a kindly hand on his arm. "Do not worry, we
merely wish to make use of your talents, for which you will be well rewarded," he lied.
"Eh? Whatdoyou mean?" Bruce asked, the question emerging from his mouth as one word.
"We have traveled to your world." Myfair stopped short at the point of explaining the purpose
of their journey as he caught sight of his fellow crewmembers watching him. He realized he had
some explaining of his own to do.
"All will be revealed to you in good time. Now you must be tired. Let me show you to our
hospitality suite." Myfair's tone was diplomatic, but the grip on Bruce's arm convinced him he
had little choice in the matter so he complied without a struggle. The alien was far too big to
argue with.
Bruce was guided towards an unmarked wall, which opened to reveal a large empty space. He
stood hesitantly on the threshold until Myfair gave him a firm shove.
"Please ask your companions to enter with you."
"Get in." His heart beating even faster now, Bruce stood in the center of the room, anticipating
who knew what.
"You will be comfortable in here while I consult with my associates."
Bruce tried to decide whether there was a hint of malice in Myfair's voice. Deciding there
wasn't, he relaxed a little.
Myfair motioned to a small keyboard on the wall beside the doorway. "These buttons will call
up any amenity you may require." He pressed one to demonstrate, and a toilet appeared. A
good old-fashioned dunny, complete with a wooden seat quite out of place in the stark sterile
chamber.
Bruce had been anticipating a slip that would prove he was caught up some kind of elaborate
hoax. Surely a real spaceship would have something more high tech to sit on. The toilet was so
terrestrial in appearance that Bruce almost found its presence reassuring.
Myfair pressed another button and the toilet bowl disappeared.
"Each button has a symbol for the amenity required," Myfair explained as he stepped outside
and the wall slid shut behind him with the finality of a cell door closing on a condemned man.
Bruce took a nervous drag on his cigarette, waiting for something to happen. Exactly what he
wasn't sure. He still half expected to wake up to find himself lying on a bed with needles and
tubes sticking out of him and a team of doctors poking him about. He wasn't sure whether he
imagined himself to be in intensive care at the hospital, or in some alien laboratory.
      Unable to find a suitable receptacle for his cigarette butt Bruce dropped it, grinding it into
the floor with his boot. Seconds later he almost jumped out of his skin as the silence of the
room was shattered by a shrill whirring sound.
      "What the hell?"
A trap door flipped open in the seamless wall below the keyboard and a small drone, shaped
like a toaster laid on its side with a bowl on top, rolled out.
The dogs cringed against the wall as the drone shot across the floor and stopped over the
cigarette butt. Emitting a sound like a vacuum cleaner it sucked up the butt and ash then spun
on its axis with an excruciating squeal and bolted back into its hole.
Bruce shrugged his shoulders as if to say nothing else could surprise him. He lit up another
smoke and had a close look at the buttons on the wall. The various symbols etched onto the
buttons made as much sense to him as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics would so he pushed a few
at random. A circle with a dot in the middle evidently meant 'toilet'. A sideways 'L' represented
a bed. An open-ended rectangle caused a shower, complete with running water, to appear in a
corner of the room.
Now that looked like a good idea Bruce thought. For the moment though he continued to push
the buttons randomly, vainly hoping that the door would open. Finally he decided that Myfair
must have locked it from the outside. Not that Bruce had the faintest idea what he would do if
he escaped from the room. He simply would have felt better if he could have got out. He
pressed the bed button. A bed shot out of the wall, joined moments later by the shower cubicle.
Temporarily cowed by the sudden appearance of the bed, and with Punch's heavy tail thumping
a slow steady rhythm on the floor, the three dogs watched Bruce peel off his clothing. Boots
first, then the plastic leggings, swandri, jersey, socks, shirt, singlet, trousers, and under strides.
All dropped in an untidy heap on the floor.
Almost as an afterthought, Bruce reached into his shirt and pulled out his smokes, chucking
them onto the bed for safety then stepped into the shower.
After several moments of standing under the comfortably warm jets of water Bruce
instinctively reached out for the soap, only to realize at the same time that the water itself
contained some sort of detergent.
"Shit hot!" He said, working a lather up all over his body. Then the dogs started barking
furiously.
"Shut up!" Bruce leaned out of the cubicle to see what the dogs were barking at just in time to
see a larger version of the drone that had sucked up his discarded cigarette butt in the process
of doing the same to his pile of clothing. Bruce leapt out of the shower, slipped as his foot
touched the floor, and missed the drone by inches as it bolted back into the wall.
"Bugger."
Bruce stood dripping in the middle of the room, cursing his loss. There was nothing like
nakedness in an alien environment to make a man feel completely inadequate.
"Shut up ya bastards!" He yelled at the dogs who were still barking maniacally at the wall the
drone had disappeared through. He could do without that racket as well.
Cultural superiority

Myfair followed his companions into the chamber where their discussions had been rudely
interrupted by his impulsive beaming up of the offworlder.
"Explain yourself Myfair!" Toytoo demanded.
"I. Er." Myfair fumbled for the right words with which to express himself as the other three
crewmen waited expectantly for an answer.
"The expert candidate is now resting in one of the accommodation units along with three other
unidentified specimens which were accompanying him at the time of his transportation."
"What were you thinking of Myfair?" Cyprus hissed, offended by Myfair's break from
procedure. "Why did you preempt the consultative process?"
"Haven't we all, my friend?" Myfair reminded him dryly, "by deciding to come here in the first
place?"
"Be that as it may, we were deciding on how we should identify likely candidates. How do you
know that you have made a suitable choice?" Cyprus blustered, suddenly unsure of himself in
the company of his peers.
"I am certain he will be ideal for our purposes," replied Myfair, hesitantly. Well he had to be
did he not?
"What gives you the right to take this sort of action yourself?" Mulgoon demanded, affronted
that his own counsel had been ignored so precipitously.
Unabashed, Myfair made no further effort to justify himself. He knew from his cultural
programming that silence was his best defense. Besides none of his fellow crewman was
sufficiently his social peer to remonstrate with him at any length. Certainly not Mulgoon or
Cyprus.
Toytoo recognized the parallels between Myfair's actions and their collective one by being in
this part of the universe at all. Rather rapidly for a Skidian he made up his mind.
"Although I believe Myfair's action to be precipitous, he has forced us to act in a manner that
will prove to be productive." The others nodded solemnly. This was Skidian decision making in
action. A problem was generally debated at length and then the most effective course of action
was taken. In other words, decisions were based on expediency and the self-interest of those in
the decision making process. Myfair could not be censured too heavily, for they relied on him
to pilot the patrol vessel home to Skid.
"I suggest we observe the candidate in order to assess whether he will meet our needs," he
continued. His pronouncement was greeted by three solemn nods. "Meanwhile I suggest
Myfair transports several more candidates to the ship so we will have a balanced sample from
which to make our final selections."
Mulgoon, Toytoo, and Cyprus watched the primary candidate, who now lay naked on the bed,
having completed his ablutions, on one of the internal monitors.
The offworlder was obviously too stupid to find himself some clothing after the drone had
automatically disposed of the garments he had carelessly discarded on the floor. Didn't the
offworlder realize that the drone management system would immediately sense and remove
any waste products from its designated zone of responsibility? If he did not know now, he would
soon learn.
Myfair rapidly developed a theory about the offworlders as he returned to the control room.
Being concerned with organic food production, it followed in Myfair's mind that the best
candidates would come from areas of the planet below covered by the larger examples of
vegetative organic material displayed on his monitor. He accepted that he might have erred in
the selection of the first offworlder and he now sought to redeem himself in the eyes of his
colleagues by refining his selection process.
Not that Myfair had the faintest idea of what organic material was; organic was simply a
technical term used to describe some of the material the vessel's sensors identified. That some
of this organic material might be inedible did not occur to Myfair either. Surely anything
organic could be consumed as a nutritive source?
Myfair made his selections. He chose a cross section of candidates so they could weed some of
them out if necessary and dispose of the one he had already transported up to the ship. Myfair
punched several sets of coordinates into the computer and made the necessary alterations to
the vessels' flight path.
In this manner the Skidians became host to an aged prospector from Australia's Northern
Territory who had been on an illicit prospecting trip through an Aboriginal reserve. A Swedish
forester, who had been checking for signs of regeneration in a forest devastated by acid rain,
joined him seconds later.
Before either man could begin to come to grips with this sudden change of scenery. The
Australian thought that he was suffering a severe attack of the DT's, while the Swede was sure
forest elves of ancient legends had kidnapped him, they were joined by a woman who had given
up all hope after becoming lost on a tramping trip in the northwestern United States.
Myfair studied the candidates standing before him, registering their expressions of surprise,
fear, and, in the case of the female, surprisingly of relief. For a fleeting moment Myfair
wondered how he would feel if suddenly transported onto an offworld spaceship. He did not
dwell on that unlikely event as his attention was drawn to an instrument warning light that had
begun to flash.
One of the planet's primitive detection systems had stumbled across the ship's presence in
their atmosphere. This was not a major problem as the ship could easily outstrip any pursuit
offered from the planet below. Nevertheless, it would not do to allow a close inspection of their
ship.
Myfair quickly adjusted the controls. With a barely perceptible jolt the ship accelerated,
leaving the earth's atmosphere and the as yet disorganized attempts at identifying and pursuing
a possible unidentified intruder wallowing in its wake.
A slight turbulence jostled the ship as it approached the light barrier; all pretense of stealth
forgotten in Myfair's haste to escape, and the ship became a bright speck in the sky visible to
millions on the planet below. Seconds later the ship ripped open a wormhole terminus that
would deposit the ship within a light day of its homeport on Skid.
The other members of Committee 21 alerted by the warning joined Myfair in the control room
to look over the new arrivals.
Both groups watched each other warily. The Skidians with a curious detachment and
indifference, after all these primitive offworlders were lesser beings than they were. Whatever
they might think or feel was of no importance when the future of Skid, the most advanced
society in the known universe was at stake. The offworlders unsurprisingly viewed their
situation with mounting anxiety.
The euphoria felt by the members of Committee 21 dissipated a little as they examined the
unlikely group on which their futures depended. For better or worse they were committed to the
scenario they had hastily conceived unless they dispatched the offworlders into space and
returned home empty handed.


A bump in the night

"What was that?" Bruce was a light sleeper. The barely perceptible jolts as the ship left the
earth's atmosphere and accelerated into space and the slight stutter as the ship ripped open the
wormhole terminus woke him. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looked around.
Can looked up, glanced around the room, and dozed off again. Cop made little doggy snuffling
sounds in his sleep, while Punch watched Bruce, his tail thumping against the deck as it wagged
lazily from side to side.
Bruce scratched his groin, deciding this was a funny sort of dream. Wasn't he supposed to
wake up and find it had all been a dream? Then he remembered the room, the room that the
alien had shut him into, the one in which he was sitting.
Although the room was comfortably warm, Bruce wished he had some clothes to put on. His
nakedness accentuated his feeling of vulnerability and added to his general discomfort.
To his great relief, despite the deprivations of the drone and his own body, Bruce discovered
that his smokes had survived intact, jammed between the bed and the wall. He reached down
and flipped open the cardboard lid. There were seven cigarettes left in the packet. Bruce
wondered whether he should ration himself. Who knew when he would get anymore?
He put a cigarette between his lips, took out the lighter which had been resting inside the
packet and lit it.
"A cup of coffee would be nice," Bruce suggested wistfully to the dogs, "a feed wouldn't go
amiss, either." However, perhaps he was not as hungry as he imagined. His stomach rumbles
could well be caused by tension and worry. Butterflies! He chuckled at that thought. If he was
really on a space ship, anything was possible.
"What was that?" Bruce heard a faint noise that sounded like a woman screaming as he
thought about his empty stomach. He shook his head. Not likely here, then he noticed the dogs
had pricked their ears up.
Suddenly it occurred to Bruce that the spacemen were probably watching him. This was more
important than some imaginary noises in his head. He belatedly dropped his hands to cover his
genitals. Then he realized they had probably seen all they wanted to by now, so he dropped all
pretence at modesty, stood, and wandered over to the keyboard by the door.
Before he had a chance to do anything a tray shot out of the wall laden with a pile of light
cotton sheets.
"A bit late for that. Eh boys?" Bruce picked up one of the sheets and shook it out. "A bloody
dress!" He grunted in disgust tossing his cigarette butt away. This time Bruce didn't bat an
eyelid as the little drone shot out of its lair to clean the butt up almost before it hit the ground.
"Too small." He tossed the first robe at Cop who got to his feet, shook it off, and lay down on
it. There were three smaller robes and one large one that Bruce guessed was meant for him.
He regarded the garment dubiously and then held it up to his body to check it for size. Not the
sort of clothing he would have chosen for himself, still he didn't seem to have a choice right at
that moment.
He pulled the robe over his head, fought his arms into the sleeves, and began to shake the rest
of it down over his body, missing the sound of the door sliding open in the process.
"Agggh, aghhh, let me go you creep!"
Bruce's first thought was that the screaming hadn't been imaginary as he tugged the robe down
in order to cover his extremities. The he realized he was giving whomever a full frontal and
tried to turn away.
"Bugger!" He exclaimed as he lost his balance and fell to the floor still struggling to dress
himself.
The screaming stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of someone sobbing. Bruce finally
regained his feet, arranged the unfamiliar garment about him with a series of firm tugs, and just
about tripped over the floor length hem in the process. Then he turned to see what all the
racket was about.
A woman stood, back against the wall, peering at him through her hands that covered the lower
part of her face. Her eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying for hours and dark and
tangled wisps of hair stuck to damp patches on her face and hands.
Bruce's eyes were drawn to the twin globes of her dark breasts that the open front of her robe
revealed. The woman caught his eye and clutched the material of the open neck together,
hunched her shoulders and slid down the wall until she was sitting against it with her legs out
stretched.
"Who are you?" Bruce wondered if she might be some sort of slave sent to minister to his
needs against her will. "Probably not," he muttered to himself. She was a fellow victim.
Cop got to his feet, stretched, and wandered over to investigate the new arrival. While Bruce
wondered what else to say, Cop broke the ice by licking at the hands covering the woman's
face. He was quickly joined by Punch, who took a quicker route to her affections by trying to
stick his head up her robe, which had bunched up around her thighs as she slumped against the
wall.
"Oh you horrible animal. Get away. Shoo!" She struggled feebly to push both dogs away.
Bruce couldn't blame her he wouldn't want Cop, whose favorite pass time was dining on
decomposing turkey, licking his face either.
"Go on, get out of it!" Bruce kicked Punch in the ribs and he slunk off to lie down in the corner
as if nothing had happened. Cop sat by the woman's side like a bodyguard, hesitantly watching
Bruce and occasionally taking a quick sniff at the woman.
"Gidday." Bruce tried again. However, not for the first time recently he cursed himself for not
having anything more intelligent to say. "Well here we are then," he tried again after a few
moments.
The woman didn't respond she just stared at him with wild confused eyes.
"Get away from me!" She screamed leaping to her feet as Bruce moved a little closer.
"Ok, lady, ah. Um." He was still stumped for something to say as he raised his hands in a
placatory gesture. She didn't think he was one of them, did she? Well, why not? How would she
know otherwise?
Bruce backed away, sat on the bed, and groped around for his smokes. Cop came over and
rested his head on his thigh while his eyes flicked like a metronome from Bruce, to the woman,
and back again. With great deliberation Bruce selected and lit a cigarette.
Trying to sound convincing as possible he said, "I'm not one of them, you know." He shook a
cigarette out of the packet and offered it to the woman. "Smoke?"
"She looked up and shook her head. " No."
"Sure?"
"I don't."
Bruce took his cigarette from his mouth and stared at it contemplatively
"I hope you don't mind me then."
"Yes I do," she replied sharply, "but it won't stop you, will it?"
Bruce shook his head. "No, it won't, I'm afraid. But not to worry. I've only got a couple left."
"Then why don't you just go and get some more?"
"Eh? Where the hell am I going to get a packet of smokes around here?"
"From your friends, of course, your fellow space cadets. What is this, anyway? Some kind of
joke?"
"Look here you stupid woman, do I look like one of those other blokes out there?" Bruce
tapped some ash onto Cop's back, "I imagine that just like yourself I was minding my own
business and then suddenly here I was. And I've been here for I don't know how long," he
added.
The woman glanced from Bruce to Cop, who was still resting his head on Bruce's knee, to the
other dogs, and then backs to Bruce. "You're not one of them, then?" She asked hesitantly.
Definitely an American, Bruce decided from her accent.
"Of course not!" he snarled. "Do I look like a bloody alien?"
"No, I suppose not," she conceded. "Not that I've ever met one before," she sobbed. "Ohhh."
Bruce reached out and patted the woman tentatively on her shoulder hoping to offer her a little
comfort. She immediately tensed as he touched her and started to shrug him off. After a
moment she relaxed a bit and sat down on the bed beside him.
"Now what?" Bruce took a closer look at the woman. Well, girl really, because she didn't look
that old. He tossed away his cigarette and felt her jump as the drone shot out of the wall
alongside her to clear up the butt.
"What's that?" She asked, fearfully
"Just the cleaning lady," Bruce joked, and she relaxed again. With his free hand Bruce hooked
her hair back so he could see her face more clearly.
"What's your name?"
"Sue. Sue Clark. What's yours?"
"Bruce. And that's Cop, Punch, and Can." Cop raised his head at the mention of his name and
padded over to sit beside Sue.
"And where does Sue Clark come from?" He asked, deciding that getting her talking might get
her mind off whatever predicament both of them were in.
"Portland, Oregon," she said, through a new barrage of sobs.
"You probably think it sounds obvious, but how did you get here, Sue?"
"Sniff. I'm a travel agent-my own company," Sue replied proudly, "and well I was on this
promotional hiking trip through the forest when I got lost. Sniff. I went behind a tree to pee and
when I'd finished, everyone had gone." Sue's body convulsed in a huge sob. "So I picked up
my pack and ran to catch up with them. When I came to a fork in the trail, I must have picked
the wrong one. By the time I realized that, it was almost dark." Sue took a deep breath and
sighed. "So I sat down trying not to panic. After a little while I decided that if I cut through the
forest I would find the other trail so I just kept walking and walking, trying to find it."
"You should have stayed put. Eh? Somebody would have come looking for you once they
realized you had gone."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"Well what happened next?"
      "I'm not certain. Just when I had about given up, I found myself out there thinking I had
been saved. It was so horrible."
"Oh it's not that bad really, is it?"
"Out there, I mean," Sue sobbed, gesticulating wildly when the words would not come.
"Take it easy. It can't be that bad."
"You want to bet? There were two men out there when I arrived."
"Two others? Well, where are they?" Bruce demanded. If there were two or three others,
maybe they could overpower the spacemen and fly the spaceship home.
Sue dashed his hopes almost as quickly as she had raised them. "No, it's too horrible. I can't."
"Tell me, Sue. Tell me." Bruce shook her roughly. "What about the two men?"
"I found myself standing out there on a platform," Sue sniveled, "with a man like none I'd ever
seen before, watching me," Sue sniffed again. "He was really pale, like an albino. Then I
realized that there were two other men standing beside me on the platform as well."
"Go on."
"Then three other spacemen joined the first one."
At least four then, thought Bruce grimly.
"Then there seemed to be some sort of problem. A warning light flashed on the bench. The first
alien pushed a few buttons and there was a bump and the ship seemed to accelerate."
I felt that, Bruce thought, that's what woke me up. Sue started crying again, pressing her face
into Bruce's shoulder. "Come on. Tell me what happened then," he insisted softly.
"One of the men beside me, he seemed quite old, suddenly fell down clutching at his chest. I
guess he must have had a heart attack or something."
When Sue had finished, Bruce had to admit it was quite a harrowing tale. No wonder she was so
upset.
The man, who had collapsed an old guy apparently, had writhed on the floor while the others
looked on helplessly, unable to move. Suddenly a large drone had shot out from somewhere
and sucked up one of the men. It must have made a mistake because it didn't suck up the man
on the floor but the one who had knelt down beside him to see what he could do to help. Then,
as if the drone had realized its mistake, it sucked up what was probably its priority target. Not
a pretty sight, Bruce conceded. Watching two men being sucked up by a self-propelled vacuum
cleaner and wondering if you were next. What a way to go!
Sue had been left standing there, numbed by the sudden brutality of the act and waiting for her
own end. She only recovered enough to scream and struggle when she was forced into another
room, where she had been stripped, thrown under a shower, and then been thrown in with
Bruce, where she now shivered with delayed shock. Little wonder that she had been scared
witless!
Taking agbar

The members of Committee 21 stood around a low table in the ship's debating chamber waiting
for Myfair to explain why he had partially decontaminated the transporter's precious cargo, his
second major misdemeanor in just a short time. Once that was out of the way, they would begin
to discuss exactly how they would introduce the two remaining candidates to the ruling council
and validate their actions.
At this stage the misguided members of Committee 21 were ignorant of the fact that the ruling
council knew all about their 'secret' operation and were preparing to take advantage of their
initiative.
This was thanks to Myfair, who being a typical Skidian followed the letter of the law no more
and no less by filing a flight plan to gain authorization for the use of the patrol ship to visit the
offworld planet. It had never occurred to him to file an inaccurate flight plan. It was beyond
Myfair to show that sort of initiative and suggest that he was planning an acceptable joyride to
the other end of the universe. This facet of Skidian culture made the present journey of himself
and his companions all that more remarkable.
"One of the candidates appeared to be terminally incapacitated, so the disposal unit
automatically dealt with him." Instant disposal was the standard medical treatment for any but
the most minor of Skidian infirmities.
Myfair cleared his throat noisily. "Unfortunately, the unit selected the wrong individual, so I
immediately rectified this error manually." Myfair lowered his eyes, avoiding the accusing
stares that were aimed in his direction. Feigning shame for his incompetence would be accepted
as sufficient punishment for his mistake. However the others well knew he did not feel any
remorse, let alone responsibility for his error.
"So now we have only two candidates, and one of them, the male is probably not equipped to
help us." Cyprus stated the obvious. "And their home planet has been alerted to our presence
so it would be unwise for us to return there for the present."
The four of them stood silently around the table, as if assimilating this latest piece of
intelligence for several minutes. At the center of the table sat a bowl half full of a murky liquid,
beside which rested a scoop on a white mat. The scoop was in fact the shell of a marine
crustacean, the history and significance of which had been lost in the mists of time. Indeed, if
asked, none of the Skidians could have said anything about the shell's origins and it would have
come as a shock to them to discover that it was the mobile home of a tasty marine animal.
The Skidians did not know what an animal was; they attached no significance to knowing such
things. This simple failing was one of the reasons why they could all soon starve to death
despite their dominance of the known universe. Not only had the Skidians become complacent,
Skid had long since ceased to expand and grow in both a technological and social sense. Most
Skidians had ceased to learn or do anything at all, living from day to day, without an apparent
care in the world. Their society had become moribund; most Skidians were totally ignorant of
the fact that their world was slowly falling to pieces about their ears. Those few that we aware
of this fact either didn't know what to do about it or hoped the crisis would just go away of its
own accord. More importantly most of them had also conveniently forgotten the mighty Skidian
achievements of the past because they did not suit the image that latter day Skidians had of
themselves.
In accordance with tradition Myfair reached across the table, dipped the scoop into the bowl,
and collected a small amount of the liquid in the scoop. He swilled the liquid around the scoop
several times in the correct manner, then flung the contents over his shoulder with a quick flick
of the wrist. In order of seniority, he offered the replenished scoop in turn to each of his
companions to drain and took one for himself. Then the ritual was re-enacted until the bowl was
empty.
Bowing his head Myfair began the last stage of the traditional process of flagellation. He
produced a small pouch from within the folds of his robe and extracted a small book of thin
papers. He then took a pinch of leafy material from the pouch, one of the papers, and rolled up
a cigarette. In contrast to their dignified behavior of a few minutes earlier the others threw
themselves at the pouch as Myfair produced a glowing plug and lit the cigarette poked into his
left nostril.
"The offworld male takes agbar orally," Myfair commented to the general disgust of the
others as they puffed away. Taking agbar, the leafy material that they smoked, was a solemn
ritual. The offworlder's abuse of the ritual served to reinforce to them that he was a base and
primitive being.
Before they could apply themselves to the task of how to introduce the primitive offworlders to
Skid a shrill beep heralded an incoming communications signal and they crowded around a
monitor to see if the nature of their unauthorized journey had been discovered.
It had, but the news could have been worse. The ruling council had somehow discovered the
reason for their journey and even more astonishingly had retroactively approved it. There was
no doubt as to whom would bear the responsibility for the failure or success of their wild
scheme. Nevertheless, for the moment the Skidians aboard the space ship felt as if they had
already succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, even if they were not entirely sure what they
were trying to achieve.
Toytoo stared thoughtfully at the screen, then said. "Brothers, let us look beyond the present
moment to consider how we can best prosper from the events that we have set in motion." It
perplexed Mulgoon and Myfair that Toytoo deemed it proper to suggest that a commoner such
as Cyprus could be casually termed a brother. However, at the same time Toytoo had also
presented them with another new and far more puzzling notion.
It was not often that Skidians stopped to consider where they were heading or to peer
particularly analytically into the future. This was a foreign concept for people that wanted for
nothing and for whom the possibility of impending famine was totally incomprehensible. On
Skid, whatever a Skidian wanted he got. There was no work, no sacrifice, no struggle to
survive, or to improve oneself. None was necessary on a world where a super industrial
complex that required almost no Skidian involvement met every conceivable physical
requirement. The sole reason for living for almost an entire race was to procreate perhaps once
or twice in a lifetime and ensure the survival of the Skidian race.
This indolent lifestyle meant that the Skidians were easily controlled and manipulated by an
aristocratic ruling elite that three of the Committee 21 members belonged and Cyprus had just
successfully aspired to, which had evolved in parallel to the development of a society of
immense technical ability.
Toytoo had some understanding of the situation, recognizing that the offworlders might provide
him with a powerful lever with which he could catapult himself into the leadership of Skid. While
he was the head a senior family in Skidian society he was not of the ruling family. If he was
going to change the present order of succession he was going to have to instigate a revolution
the likes of which had not been seen on the planet in generations.
The unheard of decline in the production of synthofood that Skid was presently experiencing
might mean that Skidians would have to be directed into producing organic food themselves.
This unheard of phenomenon could result in the development of a crisis that he might be able to
take advantage of to forment a rebellion. Unfortunately exactly what form this potential
revolution would take or how he could use it to his advantage, Toytoo could not begin to
imagine even after months of studying the idea.
What he did know was that he needed the faithful support of his companions and control over
the future activities of the offworlders if they survived their introduction to Skid, which at this
stage was by no means certain.
On the other hand if the introduction of the offworlders proved to be of little or no value to
Skid, then he would do his utmost to distance himself from any involvement with them.
"Mulgoon."
"Yes, Toytoo?"
     "Could you please establish the nutritional requirements of the offworlders and see that
they are provided for."
Mulgoon nodded and trotted off to consult his instruments. Toytoo believed he could be relied
on for support and total obedience, as could Myfair, who even by Skidian standards apparently
lacked any ambition. Only Cyprus's allegiances were suspect. Toytoo wondered if he could be
maneuvered into becoming a close associate and confidant of the offworlders. He hoped so.
Cyprus was the least valuable of his companions if someone needed to carry any blame for
their actions.
Shanghaied

Sue had settled down a little, though she was obviously still quite dazed, still not really
believing that she was on board a spaceship racing through space to who knew where. The idea
was a bit far fetched after all.
Bruce on the other hand was trying to work out exactly what a man did when he found himself
shanghaied by a bunch of aliens. In the movies he would be outraged. Well he was. Though he
wasn't getting worked up about it, banging on the wall and demanding to be released because
the aliens had no right to take him when he didn't want to go. Despite the fact he didn't feel like
it, he seriously doubted whether they would take any notice even if they heard him.
In a movie he would have rerouted the circuitry on the keyboard by now, would have opened
the door, and would be working out how to turn the spaceship around to take him home.
Unfortunately this was neither TV nor the movies this was reality. So Bruce pulled out another
smoke and lit it. There were only a couple left in the packet now.
      How was he going to cope when he ran out of smokes?
"Well, I've been thinking about giving up for ages now, and here's the best chance I'll get,"
Bruce decided aloud, though nicotine withdrawal symptoms weren't something he looked
forward to.
Sue snapped out of her trance as he puffed away contentedly.
"You're not going to smoke in here are you?" she snarled, "I can't stand cigarette smoke. It's
disgusting."
"Tough." Bruce snapped back, rising from the bed. He began to pace up and down, coming to a
standstill before the keyboard, pressing a button at random, and then resuming his pacing. He
did his best to ignore Sue, whose nagging was beginning to annoy him. Synthetic music
suddenly spilled into the room. The lights dimmed and some sort of heater switched on.
Bruce, sensing Sue was about to erupt stopped playing.
"Where do you think we might be going?" Sue asked suddenly, obviously worried about her
immediate prospects.
"How the hell would I know, you stupid woman? Geez Wayne," Bruce muttered under his
breath.
"There's no need to get nasty about it, is there?" sobbed Sue.
If the truth was known, Bruce was actually starting to get quite excited about the prospect of
being whisked away to another planet, though he was sure Sue wouldn't share his fantasy.
He stubbed out cigarette on the floor and opened his mouth to say something conciliatory.
"How gross."
"Eh?" Now what had he done to upset the stupid woman? He almost hoped the aliens would
come and take her away and leave him in peace.
Sue tucked her feet up as the drone shot out of the wall too suck up the butt.
"Oh. That you mean? Well, where else am I supposed to put it?"
Before Sue could reply the door slid open to reveal one of the spacemen standing in the
opening. This one was a little shorter, with a big belly evident beneath his robes, than the alien
who had greeted him when he was beamed aboard.
"Hello, my name is Mulgoon." Having introduced himself, the Skidian stepped aside to reveal
a self-propelled trolley that swept silently into the room.
The dogs looked up with interest and trotted over to investigate the trolley, sensing before
Bruce and Sue, that it contained food. Mulgoon became alarmed and began to back away when
the dogs started to leap up at the trolley and bark.
"Shut up you bastards!" Bruce yelled. However, his dogs had never been the most obedient of
creatures so he had to yell at them again until they sat in front of Mulgoon, panting and
drooling expectantly.
"I have some food for you," Mulgoon said after he had regained his composure. Lifting a flap
on the trolley he withdrew a plate of something that resembled boiled rice and offered it to
Bruce.
Punch could not contain himself. He leapt at the plate, knocking it from the alien's hand. In an
instant the other two dogs charged at the plate, devouring its contents in seconds. Not satisfied
with this meager offering, they pushed the plate around the floor until it slid under the trolley,
out of reach.
"I trust that meal was to your satisfaction sirs?"
"Woof."
"Oi, what about me?" Bruce was more than a little hungry himself.
"Don't worry about the dogs. They don't understand a word you're saying."
"You require sustenance?"
"Yeah, of course. What about you Sue?" Bruce added almost as an afterthought, thinking she
could probably use a good feed.
"What have you got in there? Food, drink?"
"I have a wide selection for you to choose from." The alien said opening up the trolley,
revealing trays of various sizes and colors.
"Get out of it!" Bruce snapped at the dogs who were showing renewed interest in the food.
"I will leave you to make your own selection, unless there is anything else you require."
Mulgoon said with great formality.
"Nah. Can't think of anything. Sue? Oh, hang on a minute! Is this stuff ok to eat?"
"Oh yes," Mulgoon replied. "I have analyzed your physiological profiles and have found your
nutritional requirements are quite similar to our own."
"Thanks mate," Bruce grunted sardonically.
Mulgoon bowed almost imperceptibly, an insult that would be recognized by any Skidian, and
left the room without a further word.
Bruce pulled some of the trays out of their racks, peered into the containers, pulled lids off
others, and sniffed at them all suspiciously. None of it looked particularly appetizing. Bruce
poked his finger at some of the rice-like material that seemed to have the consistency of
rubber. He looked at some of the containers that held fluids some hot and others cold. His sniff
test revealed one lot that resembled coffee, another that might have been beer, and one that
was probably water.
But was any of it ok to eat or drink? He scooped a blob out of a bowl and threw it at Cop, who
wolfed it down and came looking for more. Mind you the dogs ate anything without a second
thought.
Bruce shrugged, popped some of the stuff into his mouth, and waited for his taste buds to react.
It was like eating rubbery tasteless rice, a bit bland, but not otherwise offensive.
"Seems ok to me," he said mostly to himself and partly to Sue who seemed to be hypnotized by
the sight of the trolley.
He took a spoonful from another bowl and then sampled the others in turn only to find that each
bowl appeared to contain the same bland unappetizing material.
"Go on, try some, Sue. You must be hungry." Bruce said shoveling food into his mouth.
Finally Sue seemed to snap out of her daze, mustered her confidence a little at the sight of
Bruce eating, and tentatively tried some herself.
"What do you reckon about it, then?" Boring the food may have been, it certainly seemed to
fill the spot.
"Reckon? Well it's a bit like yogurt, sort of."
"Dunno. I've never really been partial to healthy food like yogurt. I'm a fan of proper food
myself," Bruce said.
      Proper food included things like roast mutton, steak, eggs and chips, roast spuds, peas,
carrots, bacon and eggs, bread, butter, and marmite.
       Bruce turned his attention to the liquid refreshments. The liquid that smelled a bit like
beer tasted a bit like it too, Bruce took a swig from the flask, wiping foam from his mouth with
the back of his hand.
"That tastes good." He swallowed some more beer and suddenly felt quite lightheaded. So
much so, that he had to steady himself against the trolley. "Got a bit of a kick to it as well."
"Is this de-caf, do you think?" Sue asked sniffing suspiciously at the coffee like liquid.
Highly bloody likely, thought Bruce.
"Dunno, try some anyway." He tossed a couple of bowls of food onto the floor which the dogs
immediately launched themselves at and filled the empty bowls with water for them.
Taking another draught of beer for himself, he began to hunt about in the trolley, moving
containers around until, feeling a little uncoordinated, he accidentally knocked one to the floor.
Can began to devour the mess, trying to shoulder the other two dogs out of the way at the same
time. The sight was so comical, like feeding time at the zoo, that Bruce laughed and
deliberately knocked another couple of bowls off onto the floor.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Just feeding the dogs," Bruce slurred.
"You're drunk."
"No way," he retorted. Not yet anyhow he thought, as he rummaged through the trolley.
"Hello! What have we here?"
On a recessed shelf in the end of the trolley Bruce found a small flat box. After fumbling with
the catch he flipped open the lid to find a sheath of wafer-thin papers and a fibrous material
that smelt like toasted tobacco.
"Shit hot!" he exclaimed loudly and somewhat theatrically, knocking more food containers off
the trolley as he swung around to show Sue.
The drone maid who had shot out of its hole and was competing with the dogs to clean the mess
up on the floor ran over his foot.
Bruce gave it an experimental nudge with his bare foot. He suddenly felt like wrecking
something, felt like lashing out the unfairness of it all. The drone responded by rolling to a stop
and emitting a high-pitched outraged squeal. He chucked the rest of his beer over it and then
rammed it into the wall with the trolley, barely missing Sue, who jumped out of the way.
"Stop it, you maniac!" she screamed, afraid his behavior would get them into deep trouble with
the aliens.
"How dare they kidnap me!" Yelled Bruce, ramming the drone into the wall again. "Bloody
stupid looking thing," he panted. "Must be just about idiot-proof." Disappointingly the drone
seemed to be quite undamaged so Bruce picked it up and flung it into the corner as hard as he
could, pelting it with food and drink until the trolley was nearly emptied.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to wreck things, what does it look like, you silly woman?"
Sue was momentarily stunned by Bruce's insult, then after a further moment's hesitation
pitched in and started throwing things around the room herself.
The dogs did their best to contribute to the mess, although they spent most of their time
dodging misguided missiles. When the ammunition was spent Sue and Bruce slumped onto the
bed, the dogs retreated to their places in the corner and the drone righted itself and went about
its business as if nothing had happened.
Bruce found the box of tobacco and rolled himself a smoke. By the time he had located his
lighter, the drone had somehow righted the trolley, replaced the bowls and plates, and cleaned
up the mess on the floor and walls with. The sight of the drone disappearing back into its lair
made Bruce wonder why he had even bothered.


A higher form of life

"What is your initial assessment of the offworlders Mulgoon?" Toytoo asked as they watched
the offworlders throw their food around the guest suite.
Mulgoon took a few moments to consider his reply, because he really had no idea.
"Without an in-depth analysis of the sort we will be able to conduct on Skid, it is difficult to say
accurately."
"Yes, yes, we understand," said Toytoo impatiently, disliking Mulgoon and his fellow
quasi-intellectuals for their evasiveness. Given even a simple question they never seemed able
to reply directly.
"Just give us your initial impressions."
"I would say that they have a limited mental capacity. For instance, their inability to use the
amenities keypad effectively, indicates this."
"Sufficiently capable enough to satisfy our needs?"
"Possibly." Mulgoon was not going to commit himself if he could avoid doing so.
"Mmmm."
"How do you suggest we prepare them for their role on Skid?" Cyprus was more concerned
with practicalities. The offworlders' intellectual abilities concerned him little.
     However he was secretly envious of their primitive status which allowed the offworlders to
get away with the violent outburst he was witnessing. Although he had managed to claw his way
up the Skidian social pecking order Cyprus realized his peers would never really accept him as
an equal. If only he could vent the feelings of inadequacy that this knowledge gave him in the
same fashion the offworlders were he was sure he would feel much better. Generations of
cultural programming denied him any form of release, physical or otherwise. He was not even
sure that it was acceptable for a Skidian to have these feelings. He was not about to discuss
them with anybody either because one misplaced word or action could mean permanent
detention in a social reeducation camp.
"Oh, I wouldn't do much at all. I consider they will be of most use to our cause if they first
prove their adaptability to Skid." Mulgoon was not sure how the offworlders should be primed
to complete their mission on Skid. Leaving their destiny in their own hands might neatly
sidestep the whole problem of having to think how.
"Like all Skidians they should gravitate into whatever occupation was ordained for them, in
this case to produce food organically for Skid and peacefully accept the way of things. We
should make the offworlders subtly aware of our problems, and then provide them with the
means to solve them in their own fashion," Mulgoon waffled on.
Toytoo nodded wisely. Not that he really understood the rationale Mulgoon was advocating.
This was not surprising, since neither did Mulgoon.
The matter was complicated by the impossibility of simply telling the offworlders what was
required of them on Skid. It was not just a matter of an admission of weakness or failure of
Skidian technological might which would have been bad enough, making any statement directly
about any matter simply was not done on Skid.
"Have you managed to collect any other data on the offworlders?" Toytoo asked, changing the
subject slightly.
This was much safer ground for Mulgoon, and he began to reel off the paltry details he had
assembled on his subjects. "We have in our possession two specimens, one female and one
male who are, as I have already mentioned, physiologically very similar to ourselves. Three
more primitive specimens that I have not been able to identify accompany the male.
"Primitive? How primitive?"
"I don't know. I won't be able to tell until I have studied them further." Mulgoon hurried to
cover his uncertainties. "However aggressive they appear to be, the male specimen has them
firmly under his control. I suspect that they may have a role in personal security, though I am
only guessing. Hopefully things will be clearer with the equipment available at our medical
research unit in Sietnuoc."
Mulgoon paused to study his book. "The female appears somewhat emotionally unstable. At
this stage I am not convinced she will prove entirely satisfactory for our purposes because of
this. However it must be remembered that we transported her from a region of vast organic
structures, so she may be of some long-term value to us. The male, according to initial
investigations, is of low intelligence and should be easy to manipulate. Unfortunately he also
appears to be somewhat aggressive."
On screen Bruce and Sue were in the last throes of trying to pull the trolley apart.
"See what I mean?"
"Brothers, it looks as if we have failed in our mission," said Cyprus summing up the situation
up for his companions.
"I hope not," Toytoo muttered, just loud enough for the others to hear. "Our need is too great,
and these offworlders may be our only chance of salvation."

"They could be intergalactic explorers, taking us back as research material to their planet."
Bruce speculated. "This whole spaceship could be crammed with all kinds of animals and plants
that they are taking home to analyze. Maybe they want to see what makes us tick."
"So we're just guinea pigs, then?" Sue shivered. "I wonder if they are watching us?"
"Probably. Mind you the alien I met out there said something about helping them. Buggered if
I know what he meant?" Bruce was thoughtful for a moment. "It's funny, you know, I've been
laughing for years at the reports of deranged old bags from some hick town or another who
says she's met a Martian or been taken for a ride by one. And look at us!"
"I beg your pardon?"
Bruce thought for a moment. "We're just like the first Indians that the early European
explorers of America took back with them, you know?"
Sue shrugged.
"You know, to be poked and prodded and paraded through the streets and then to die of the flu
or some other white man's disease." Why the hell did I start on about this? Bruce asked
himself. Getting Sue worked up over what might happen to them in the near future was the last
thing he needed to do.
"What are you talking about? I don't understand a word you Australians say. Why don't you
speak proper English for crying out loud?"
"You watch your tongue woman!" Bruce wagged a finger in Sue's face as if nothing enraged
him more than being mistaken for an Australian. "Don't you ever call me that again!" He
sounded so angry that the dogs cowered in the corner. But like Sue, the dogs had no way of
knowing that Bruce was far more annoyed at himself for winding Sue up unnecessarily than
anything she had said; sometimes he just couldn't help himself.
"I'm a New Zealander, "Bruce explained, "it's a different country!"
"But I thought New Zealand was a part of Australia," Sue pleaded ignorance, paling at his
verbal assault. "Isn't there a bridge joining Australia with New Zealand then?"
"Oh shit, woman, I give up!"
"Do you have kangaroos in New Zealand as well?" She asked, wondering why Bruce was
getting so upset over such a trivial issue.
"Are you really that dumb? Why are you people so insular and ignorant? Don't you know
anything?"
"Oh the whole world's against me," Sue wailed as tears started trickling down her cheeks
again.
Deciding that he had probably overdone it a little Bruce sat beside her and the dogs relaxed a
bit. "Don't worry about it," he said giving her a hug. "It's just that we New Zealanders have a
sort of love hate relationship with Australians, probably a bit like you do with Canadians, we're
a bit touchy about being mistaken for them."
"I'm sorry," Sue mumbled, but Bruce did not seem to hear her.
"Look, New Zealand is further from Australia than the westernmost part of Russia is from
America. How would you like to be mistaken for a Russian?"
When Sue just shook her head and started crying even harder, Bruce realized he wasn't
improving the situation.
"Listen," he said, scratching at his nose, "I read a book once. Hey don't laugh," he added as
Sue began to giggle. "What's so funny?"
"Oh nothing. It's just here we are on a spaceship going God knows where, you are giving me a
hard time about not knowing where you come from and then you suddenly mention a book you
once read."
"Yeah, well it's sort of relevant to our present plight."
"Do you read much?" Sue asked, finding it hard to accept that the oafish redneck sitting
beside her might even be literate.
"I read this book once," Bruce continued undeterred, "based on one of those hostage dramas
in the Middle East. Beirut I think. A bunch of Arabs had kidnapped some poor sods and well,
anyway, these hostages amused themselves by telling each other every detail that they could
remember about their lives."
"So?"
"It gave them something to do to pass the time eh. Take their minds of things. I'll start, if you
like."
"Oh, I see what you mean. No, I'll start," said Sue eagerly, grasping at the opportunity to take
her mind off her present predicament.
Fellowship

     " What is the condition of our passengers Myfair?" Toytoo asked.
"Satisfactory at present." Myfair replied. "They seemed to have settled over the last hour or
so," he added, turning back to the monitor. "Though I have noted that the male makes much
use of agbar in a most casual manner." Though feigning outrage at this excess, Myfair was
secretly envious of the offworlder, because agbar was in short supply at the moment. "I think
we may have to reassess our original analyses of the male as well."
"How do you mean, Myfair?" Toytoo asked. "Surely we should leave these assessments to
the experts."
"Perhaps, but I have a strange feeling about him, that's all," Myfair suggested. "I don't trust
the so called experts," he added to himself as Mulgoon waddled into the control room
accompanied by Cyprus.
     Myfair could not understand why his fellow crewmen were making such an issue out of
what to do with the offworlders. Surely simply telling the offworlders what was required of them
was a far less radical departure from the Skidian way than actually embarking on the trip to
their planet in the first place. What was the point of retaining their dignity if it meant that they
were going to starve?
      Myfair also knew that it was pointless arguing with his fellow crewmen. They thought they
were some kind of rebels, pushing for change. However all they really wanted was to secure
their own positions and ensure the continuation of the status quo. He despaired of his fellow
Skidians and was frustrated by his powerlessness to do anything constructive to shake them
out of their smug complacency.
      "What will be the procedure for the offworlders when we return to Skid, Mulgoon?"
Toytoo asked.
"They will be placed in strict quarantine while they undergo a variety of tests and I imagine
they will be presented to the ruling council, perhaps the entire senate, at some stage."
"Then we simply let them loose to solve all our problems? Impossible" Cyprus shook his head.
"I hope, for all our sakes it isn't impossible," Toytoo replied seriously.
"Are the offworlders free from harmful diseases and other pathogens?" He asked turning to
Mulgoon, who was a physician. It wouldn't do to have the offworlders land on Skid, only to
discover that they needed to be disposed of because they carried diseases potentially lethal to
Skid or Skidians.
"Yes. Amazingly for such primitive creatures, they are remarkably healthy. They will pose no
disease risk to us." Mulgoon was pleased to be able to display his simple talents to an
appreciative audience. "The male has undergone some basic surgery on his right knee to
correct a structural problem, coincidentally not inconsistent with the sort of knee injuries
suffered by some Stim performers. The surgery was successful, though the cosmetics leave a
little to be desired."
"The female?"
"Physically fine, if a little undernourished, and I am a little concerned about her skin
pigmentation. But consistent with my initial observations, she is emotionally unstable and does
not possess the physical and mental strength of the male."
"What about the difference in their skin coloring? Why is the female so much darker than the
male?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps it is because they come from opposite hemispheres of the planet, a
genetic scan suggests they are of one species."
Mulgoon did not add that the offworlders genetic material that was so close to their own that
the offworlders and Skidians must share the same evolutionary heritage. He knew this could
not be true. His equipment must be malfunctioning because it was a known fact that Skidians
were racially superior to any sentient species in known space.
"In other respects there is no more difference between them than there is between males and
females on Skid, except for their facial features, the nose and lips especially." Mulgoon
coughed discreetly, he was still a little shaken by the knowledge of, and the implications of
discovering that the offworlders apparently shared his racial heritage. The idea that Skidians
could have been as unsophisticated and primitive as the offworlders at some time in the past
called into question all he had believed about his own illustrious ancestry. That Skidians had
always been the highly sophisticated and technologically advanced race that they were today.
"Though the male initially appeared to be of low intelligence, I may have to alter this
assessment after using the more sophisticated equipment that will be available to me on Skid.
He seems remarkably adept at concealing his thoughts."
Myfair glanced significantly at Toytoo, as if to say I told you so.
"And the other specimens?"
"With these creatures I believe my earlier assessments to be correct. They are unintelligent
and appear to have some role in personal security. But as I say, I can't really be sure at this
early stage."
"Very well," said Toytoo with unusual decisiveness. "We must develop and maintain a close
relationship with the offworlders, ingratiate ourselves with them, no matter how distasteful that
might be."
      Toytoo turned to Cyprus and Mulgoon and said; "we have a little less than sixteen
standard hours before we reach Skid. I want you to spend at least part of that time speaking
with the offworlders. Gain their confidence, speak freely about Skid, though make no mention
of our synthofood crisis. We don't want them to get the wrong idea about us."
Mulgoon and Cyprus wandered away to prepare themselves for entering into fellowship with
the offworlders.
Myfair sighed at the inherent stupidity of his fellow crewmen and decided to get himself
assigned to a long range patrol vessel and off Skid before the synthofood crisis intensified and
left Toytoo to his own thoughts.
Carefully Toytoo withdrew a pouch of agbar from inside his robe, rolled a cigarette, and
carefully placed it into his left nostril. He was highborn and in the years to come would be in the
running for elevation to a seat on the ruling council. For some time he had been seeking a
means by which he could accelerate this process, to gain more influence in the largely impotent
senate and maybe aspire to the hitherto unattainable position of Skid's supreme ruler. Perhaps
he was now closer to gaining this position than he had ever been, thanks to the offworlders.
Despite the fact that the high council had effectively usurped responsibility for the expedition
that he and his companions had embarked on, their part in it would not be forgotten. Especially,
he thought wryly, if scapegoats were required. Cyprus the commoner upstart would definitely
make an admirable sacrifice if he were needed to ensure his own survival. Mulgoon who was so
transparently hiding something could join him if necessary.
Toytoo inhaled deeply, manipulating his eustachian tube so that smoke squirted in perfect rings
from his ears. Now, how best to employ the offworlders to maneuver himself onto the high
council? By the normal process of attrition it would be years before he could achieve that
status.
      Could the offworlders be used as assassins? Perhaps? The very idea disgusted Toytoo,
but he filed it away for future reference nonetheless. As far as he could recall, no incumbent
had been disposed of in that fashion for several hundred years.
Toytoo yawned; the unaccustomed mental activity had left him feeling quite drained. "Let's see
how they progress on Skid before we make any plans," he muttered, unable to even begin
formulating a plan he wandered off to lay down.

"Ok where do I start."
"Name, date of birth, where you were born, that sort of thing," Bruce suggested.
"My name is Sue Louise Clark and I was born twenty-seven years ago in Portland, Oregon,
which is where I still live. I own my own apartment, 1997 Prebble Drive, Portland. 696-1976."
"Go on."
"I have two brothers, both older than myself and married, and my parents are still alive."
"Kids?"
"One brother has two boys."
She added that almost guiltily, thought Bruce.
"What sort of work do you do again?" he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic, already
wondering if this little discussion was such a good idea.
"I run my own travel agency, Trekkers Tours."
"What are the names of your parents, sister, brother and the like, and what do they do for a
crust?" Bruce prodded Sue, sensing she was flagging. He was already thoroughly bored with
the whole idea himself.
"My elder brother's name is Scott and he's a math teacher at a Portland high school. His wife's
name is Thelma and the boys are Willard and George. My other brother is Lesley, he's an
accountant and makes lots of money. Mom and dad live in a retirement village in Northern
California. Is that enough?"
"Nah. Not really," Bruce shook his head. "What about boyfriends? Your best girlfriend?
When did you lose your virginity? You haven't really told me anything yet."
"I don't really feel like it at the moment. I'm just so tired," she snuffled weakly as her voice
trailed away.
Bruce looked down at her. "Ok it was my idea. I'd better have a go then."
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. What should he tell a total stranger about himself?
There were many things that he hardly even admitted to himself, let alone a complete stranger.
He certainly didn't want to tell her about all the stupid things that he had done in his life. The
total meaninglessness of his existence to date. Not that it really mattered he decided. Pulling
out his last tailor made cigarette; he lit it and puffed away until he had assembled his thoughts.
Not that the few extra seconds were a hell of a lot of use. Bruce had no idea what he was going
to say before the words began to tumble out.
"Like you, I'm twenty-seven and was born in a little place that doesn't even exist any longer"
Bruce was spared any painful revelations by the wall opening and two of the spacemen
waddling into the room. The fat one called Mulgoon who had delivered the food and another
one that Bruce couldn't recall having seen before.
"Greetings, my new friends," said the Mulgoon. With a wave of his hand he indicated his
companion. "This is my associate, Cyprus."
"Hello."
"Gidday."
"We wish to have some fellowship with you," Mulgoon announced, conjuring up two chairs by
pressing the appropriate button on the keyboard. "May we sit for a while?" He asked.
As they were obviously about to do as they pleased, Bruce said, "Feel free." Though the irony
was lost on the two Skidians.
Bruce lay back, stared at the ceiling, waiting for them to get on with it, and not particularly
concerned if he were breaking some sort of alien etiquette. When Sue seemed about to speak
he nudged her and brought a finger to his lips as if to indicate 'Lets see what they have to say.'
Which initially appeared to be not very much.
Cop did not have any of Bruce's scruples, rising from his apparent slumber and wandering over
to investigate the newcomers. Neither of the spacemen knew what to make of Cop.
"Hello," said Mulgoon. "How are you?" Cop took this as an invitation and jumped up onto
Mulgoon's ample lap. Mulgoon tried to push him away, but Cop was not going to be denied this
pleasure once he had been invited. Mulgoon, believing Cop's behavior was some primitive
ritual let the dog sniff at, and lick his face.
"That'll do. Sit down!" Bruce barked when he'd decided that the alien had probably had enough
of Cop and the other two dogs showed signs of wanting to join in the fun. Cop jumped down and
pranced back to his spot on the floor.
Bruce cleared his throat, still waiting for the spacemen to speak. The one called Mulgoon
opened his mouth and then, seeming to think the better of it, closed it again.
For something to do, Bruce rolled up some of the space tobacco into a cigarette then popped it
between his lips. As Bruce lit the smoke from the butt of his last tailor made cigarette; he
caught the incredulous stares of the two spacemen. Didn't they smoke the stuff then? Maybe
they chewed rather than smoked the tobacco. Maybe it was some kind of snuff.
"That is the most disgusting things I have ever seen," the spacemen called Cyprus said,
receiving support from an unexpected quarter.
"I agree," said Sue.
"In all my time I have never seen agbar used in this obscene fashion," Cyprus continued, as if
Sue had not spoken.
"Do you chew it or sniff it, then?" Bruce inquired, genuinely interested.
"I'm sure it must be unhealthy," Cyprus informed Mulgoon haughtily, who nodded his
agreement.
"What's the problem?" Bruce asked, taking another contented puff.
"We have come to prepare you for your visit to Skid," Cyprus said, recalling why he was there
and trying to ignore the offworlder's vulgarity.
"Visit? Skid?"
"We will answer any queries that you might have to the best of our abilities." The Skidians
seemed quite matter of fact about the whole thing, as though Bruce and Sue were guests rather
than kidnap victims.
"That's nice," Bruce replied derisively.
"I'm used to organizing my own vacations, thanks," Sue added, equally scornfully, "and I want
to go home now."
"I'm afraid that will be impossible," replied Mulgoon gravely.
"But you can't keep us here against our will."
"We can and we will if that suits us."
"Sometimes a crisis can only be satisfactorily resolved with by the adoption of unconventional
measures," said Cyprus enigmatically, adding, "there is no possibility of your ever returning to
your own planet."
Although Bruce had half expected to hear something like this, to be told it so bluntly still came
as a shock. He felt empty and angry. 'Never going home' had a ring of finality to it. I'll see
about that he promised himself. There must be some way of escaping this mess. On the other
hand, he might as well resign himself to his fate for the moment, because getting worked up
wouldn't help at all. He looked across at Sue with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
"What's your name again mate?" Bruce asked with a bravado he didn't really feel, as the
familiar looking Skidian opened his mouth to speak. He might as well learn a little more about
Skid
"Mulgoon, and this is my associate Cyprus."
     "Pleased to meet you." Bruce didn't see there was any point in making it easy for the
bastards. "I'm Bruce, this is Sue." Bruce did not bother introducing the dogs either.
"Skid is situated in the Pacificus system, about four hundred light years from your own planet,"
Mulgoon began woodenly, as if reading from a teleprompter. "Skid is in many respects similar
to your own planet, water covers much of the surface, our atmosphere has similar chemical
constituents, and we have a single star providing all our solar energy needs."
"Generally," Cyprus took up the story as if on cue from Mulgoon as if he were the second half
of a news reading team, "in respect to size, temperature variations, and climatic conditions,
Skid is also similar to your own planet. Skid has a population of nine hundred and seventy
million people who live in three immense cities spaced evenly around the equator or in vast
underground industrial complexes, leaving most of the planet's surface empty and
uninhabited."
"Whoopee shit," Bruce grunted as Cyprus paused dramatically.
"We on Skid are renowned and envied throughout our system for our technical sophistication
and degree of civilization," Cyprus continued proudly.
Mulgoon suddenly remembered his manners and asked, "How are you to be addressed?"
"I'm Bruce and she's Sue."
"The others?"
"Eh? Oh, the dogs. Cop, Can, and Punch."
"Have you any questions before I continue?" Mulgoon asked in a perfunctory fashion,
obviously not expecting any.
"Yeah, can you tell us why we're here?" Bruce demanded bluntly.
Mulgoon considered the question carefully, choosing an answer that he hoped would placate
Bruce without revealing too much about the crisis that was facing Skid.
"Oh, we wish to learn from you of course and perhaps improve life on Skid," he replied
casually.
"How?"
"In any fashion you think useful," replied Cyprus vaguely.
"Why us two in particular?"
"You were assessed as being suitable for our requirements," Mulgoon lied.
"Technically sophisticated and civilized eh?" Bruce muttered. If they heard the two Skidians
chose to ignore his comment. For the life of him Bruce couldn't think why he would be selected
to help a planet that obviously considered itself to be pretty clever. His ego though, was
suitably inflated.
"What about the two men who arrived with me?" Sue snapped.
"Unfortunately our monitors informed us that they were irrevocably contaminated and had to
be disposed of."
"So much for the selection criteria of universe's most sophisticated planet," Bruce muttered.
"Are we irrevocably contaminated?"
"I am pleased to inform you that you are not."
"When do we arrive on Skid?" Bruce asked.
"In about ten of your hours," Mulgoon replied inaccurately.
"We will be available at all times if you have any questions to ask of us." Mulgoon beamed.
He slapped his thighs heartily and hauled himself to his feet. Neither Skidian cared if the
offworlders realized that they could not leave the room fast enough now they had done their
duty. They left the room happy in the knowledge that they had completed the offensive task of
preparing the offworlders for life on Skid.
Bruce would have been amazed if he had been privy the thoughts of the Skidian's, for he was
still none the wiser about Skid or why they were being taken there. The events of the past few
minutes had taken on a surreal quality. There was something quite odd about the Skidians,
though he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly what seemed so odd about them. What
the bloody hell could he do to help the self appointed master race of the universe? He turned to
ask Sue what she thought but she seemed to have fallen asleep and was snoring softly.
Skidfall

As Bruce woke from a dreamless sleep he realized that he wasn't alone. There was a great
mass of dark hair and a body beside him. Who's this? He wondered, and then it all came back
to him.
"Hey wake up!" Bruce gave the body a nudge.
Sue stirred, turned her head, and screamed "Ah! Get away from me!"
Bruce didn't think that he was that ugly. Maybe he had bad breath or something. Sue
scrambled over Bruce in her haste to get away from him and tumbled on to the floor.
"Morning."
"Morning." Sue replied, sounding a little bewildered, as if she expected to wake up from a
nightmare and find her life had returned to normal.
"Shit, I feel horrible," said Bruce as he stood and stumbled over to the keyboard stabbing at
the buttons that would hopefully call up the dunny and the shower. Bruce never felt as though
the day had started properly unless he had used both.
"Excuse me," he muttered, a little embarrassed as he pulled up his robe and sat on the toilet
facing Sue.
"What do you think you're doing? Bruce?" Sue screeched, appearing to have difficulty
recalling his name. "Have you no decency at all?"
Bruce shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, but when a man's gotta go a man's gotta go." He
wriggled around and looked around for the magazine or book that should have been on the floor
beside the toilet.
"Wish I had a cup of coffee and something to read," he mused, forgetting he had an audience.
"You're so gross."
"Eh, what's wrong now? I spend some of my happiest moments sitting on the bog."
"All I ask is that you don't dribble on the seat," Sue retorted making an issue out of not
looking at him while Bruce sat contentedly for far longer than necessary.
"Are you quite finished?" Sue asked at last.
"Yes, I think so." He glanced around. "What do you reckon they use for toilet paper? Can't
see any, can you?" The Skidians seemed to have forgotten this basic necessity and it wasn't as
if Bruce could grab a handy dock leaf or something.
"Just hurry up and find something. I'm busting," Sue snapped.
After a bit of scratching about, Bruce found a shoehorn shaped object in a small compartment
behind the bowl. He turned it over in his hand.
"Hey, look at this! A disposable bum scraper! Neat eh?" Bruce tried it out and found it
surprisingly soft.
"Just the gears," he said dropping the scraper in the bowl. He stood up and looked for the
flush mechanism. There wasn't one, unless it was cunningly hidden. However, as he stepped
away from the bowl there was a whoosh and the contents were sucked away, leaving a little
pool of water in their wake.
"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" Sue demanded as Bruce wiped them on his robe.
     "Find me a tap, why don't you? Anyway I'm going to have a shower." Bruce jumped into
the cubicle, throwing his robe out as the water began to run.
Sue was relieved to see Bruce disappear. Now she could use the toilet herself with some
degree of privacy, discounting the interested stares of the dogs. It was a great relief to be able
to regain some personal space, even if only for a few minutes. She just was not emotionally
equipped to deal with spending so much time confined in such a small space with a total
stranger even if he was relatively harmless.
The flow of water stopped just as Bruce was starting to enjoy it replaced by a blast of hot air.
"Don't come out yet!" Sue yelled from the toilet seat as Bruce opened the cubicle's door.
"Why not?" Bruce asked, sneaking a hand out to grab his robe. "I've seen it all before.
Anyway, it's not fair, you watched me." None the less he stayed put until Sue gave him leave to
emerge. It was too early in the morning to start winding her up.
"I think I'll have a wash as well. How does it work?"
"Jump in and the water starts automatically. And hey! Don't forget to wash your hands, eh."
Sue frowned. "That's not funny," she said.
You snotty bitch, Bruce thought. He sat on the edge of the toilet seat and rolled himself a
cigarette. The first and most satisfying of the day.
"Are you smoking again?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
"Do you really have to?"
"Yeah. I have to." What was her problem? He wondered as the door slid open and a trolley
laden with containers of food advanced into the room.
Bruce tossed his cigarette away. A drone popped out of the wall to clean up the butt and was so
much a part of the landscape now that he didn't even notice its presence. He emptied the
contents of a few of the bowls on the floor and filled the empty bowls with water for the dogs.
Then he looked in vain for something that looked as though it was good to eat. The Skidian
food he had tried so far, despite slight differences in color and texture, had the same bland
taste. There was not any need to bother with a menu.
"Must be pretty nutritious stuff no matter how bad it tastes." Bruce said to Sue, who after her
shower was showing the same sort of limited interest in her tucker as he was in his,
"considering the size of the Skidians."
"At least you could wait until I've finished eating," Sue grumbled as Bruce rolled and lit
another cigarette after discovering a liquid that looked and tasted a little like coffee to wash his
breakfast down with.
"Yes dear, no dear, three bags full dear." Bruce chucked the half smoked cigarette at the
trolley where it fell into one of the empty bowls and tossed what remained of his breakfast on
the ground for the dogs to fight over.
Seconds after Sue carefully put the bowl with her own unfinished breakfast on the trolley and
found herself something to drink the door slid open and the trolley whisked almost silently out
of the room.
They weren't left to their own devices for long, which was just as well because an under current
of hostility was developing between them as they sat at either end of the bed trying not to look
at each other.
Just as Bruce cleared his throat to say something the door opened and Mulgoon waddled into
the room.
"Welcome to Skid," he announced extravagantly, as if the offworlders by some telepathic
process should have realized that the ship had landed on his home planet.
     "You are privileged to be the first offworlders to visit our planet," he added
uncomfortably, aware, given what he now knew about the offworlders that this traditional belief
probably was not true. If that was not true, what else was there that he had always taken for
granted that was not true either? Not that Mulgoon was about to openly question traditional
Skidian beliefs, because that was the quickest way to be transported to a social re-education
center that he knew.
"Isn't that lovely?" Bruce grunted preparing to be as bloody minded as possible.
However Mulgoon was unfazed by Bruce's sarcasm, he actually seemed pleased by Bruce's
remark, as if he interpreted the comment as a compliment.
Bruce decided that the Skidians had a particular talent for ignoring that which they didn't want
to hear, had very thick skins, or were merely ignorant. Most probably a combination of all
three he decided after a moment of reflection.
"We are going to present you to our senate, an honor not accorded even to most Skidians,"
Mulgoon continued self-importantly.
"I demand to see the United States ambassador!" Sue demanded, then she bit her lip as she
realized how silly she must sound.
Mulgoon continued as if she had not spoken: "Until the appropriate time we have a
documentary for you to watch in order that you might learn something of Skid." He pressed a
button on the keypad by the door which turned the opposite wall into some kind of screen, sat
heavily on a chair that seemed to appear from nowhere and without any preamble the show
began.
"Interesting eh?" Bruce grunted cynically after a few minutes.
"It's like one of those old Soviet propaganda movies," Sue whispered discreetly not wanting to
upset Mulgoon, "extolling the tawdry virtues of the old communist state."
The documentary did provide them with some insights about Skidian life. The tobacco like
material was called agbar and demonstrations of its use caused Bruce to double up with
laughter; at least he wouldn't run out of smokes. However, he'd never seen anything like it
before in his life, it was no wonder the Skidians had been so upset with him when they saw him
smoking. Taking it up the nose indeed! That wasn't natural!
Skid seemed to be something of a worker's paradise, a utopia of sorts. However the
presentation made Bruce uneasy, reminding him of communist propaganda from his youth. Few
of the Skidians appeared to be involved in any activity resembling work. In fact they didn't
seem to do much at all, though Skidian culture apparently gave all the inhabitants a say in the
running of their planet and provided a comfortable niche for each of them. Sure. So how did it
all work? Bruce wanted to know. The documentary did not make this particularly clear. What
was the catch? He kept asking himself.
He was about to check his observations with Sue, but she forestalled him.
"Doesn't it look wonderful," she said, "imagine never having to work for a living."
Bruce decided not to destroy her illusions. He could well be wrong after all; the Skidians
looked happy enough on the surface. Despite this he thought he detected something else in
their faces. Lurking behind the peaceful, contented façade he was sure a volatile cocktail of
emotions was ready to explode, a barely suppressed combination of violence, hostility, and
resentment, looking for a way to express itself.
"Ah well. You can't tell all that much just from a picture," he replied instead.
Bruce reckoned he might be happy in a place where no one seemed to work and
could occupy themselves in any fashion they wished. But only if he could find himself something
constructive to do.
The Skidians seemed to be freed from the drudgery of working for a living that enslaved most
people on earth. Their food and almost every other conceivable need was supplied without their
needing to labor for it. It seemed idyllic really, but the more he saw, the uneasier Bruce
became. It all seemed too good to be true.
The scenery was familiar enough. There were forests and grasslands, snow and mountains,
seas and lakes, arid plains, and tropical forests. Skid looked very much like earth, not the
exotic wonderland that Bruce had always imagined a highly sophisticated alien planet would
be.
One thing that did strike him was the lack of wildlife on Skid. There were a few strange-looking
cattle like beasts, several species of birds and fish, and a variety of insects. But nothing like
earth's abundance or diversity of wild life.
The absence of habitation outside the great cities struck also struck Bruce as a bit unusual.
Surely some of them would live out in the country? Skid was heavily industrialized, though the
factories were largely run without Skidian involvement and the factories themselves were
mostly hidden underground or in vast undersea complexes. Skidian industry mostly used raw
materials imported from other planets and asteroids since the planet's own resources had long
since exhausted through millennia of thoughtless plunder.
The process by which the asteroids were mined was an indication to Bruce just how incredibly
technologically advanced the Skidians were. Small robot spaceships were continuously
launched towards an asteroid belt several light years from Skid. Once a robot ship identified a
suitable asteroid it landed on it and turned itself into a mining and industrial module. This
module proceeded to mine the asteroid and build a propulsion system that propelled the
asteroid toward an orbit around Skid.
By the time the asteroid had swung into orbit around Skid not only was there a stockpile of raw
materials for further processing on the planet itself, it was also possible to program the
industrial modules to manufacture specialized products on the journey.
A continuous stream of these asteroids was strung out through space, on their way to join those
in various stages of consumption already in orbit. As soon as one came into orbit around Skid
another robot ship was dispatched from Skid. And not a Skidian in sight anywhere.
Despite being dependent on these imported raw materials Skid seemed to be the only place in
known space, apart from earth, that actually created anything of value.
The documentary ended abruptly, as though the producer had lost interest towards the end of
the task and decided enough was enough, encapsulating Bruce's experience of Skid and things
Skidian to date.
"Interesting place, isn't it, Bruce?"
"Yeah." He snorted noncommittally.
"Don't you get the feeling there's something a bit creepy about the place though? Did you see
any old people?"
Bruce hadn't, and realized that Sue was more on to it than he had given her credit for.
"Tell me about your food production systems," Bruce asked Mulgoon. The documentary had
not been clear on that, either. He'd seen no evidence of cultivation or animal husbandry and
hadn't understood the allusions to the synthofood plants. How did they produce the stuff they
had the gall to call food? Surely what they ate at home must be better than what they had got
on the ship?
      Mulgoon thought he neatly sidestepped the subject by saying he was not competent to
comment.
Bruce probed further, sensing an uneasiness behind Mulgoon's evasive reply.
"I notice you don't farm animals in any fashion."
"Farm?" Mulgoon examined this unfamiliar term closely. Mulgoon, who liked the sound of his
own voice, suddenly decided it would not be prudent to say anything more.
"Yes, well, I must leave you now." Mulgoon decided hastily, which did nothing to allay Bruce's
suspicions that the Skidians were hiding something from them.
"Perhaps they have some taboo about discussing how their food is produced," he suggested to
Sue once the Skidian had left.
"This is one weird place," Sue sighed. "What do you think will happen next? After we've been
presented to their government or whatever?"
"I would imagine they'll give us a good going over to see what makes us tick. Hook us up to
who knows what kind of machines, stick needles into us. That sort of thing." Not a pleasant
thought.
"Really?"
"Yeah. You don't think they're going to let us off here, say howdy doody and let us traipse
round as we please, do you?"
"I have no idea. I wouldn't have asked, otherwise."
"Consider it this way Sue, If the situation were reversed and it was a couple of Skidians on
earth that we'd got a hold of, what do you think would happen to them?"
"I expect there'd be doctors, psychiatrists and all sorts of people pawing them all over. But."
"But what?"
"This is different."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know. It would just be different, that's all."
"You basically mean it would be ok for us to do it to them, but it's not on for them to do it to us?
That's a strange sort of morality, don't you think? And if they managed to survive that
treatment, then what?"
He paused to let his words sink in. "They couldn't be allowed to roam about at will, because
people might get upset. People like church leaders and politicians would demand they be killed
in case they carried around some deadly disease or wanted to marry one of their daughters.
Imagine the reaction if that ever happened!" Sue's naiveté astounded Bruce.
"That's horrible. We'd never do that."
"You want to bet on it? Still they don't seem exactly hostile, do they? Maybe things will work
out all right." Bruce wondered whom he was trying to convince. Nevertheless, as helpless as he
felt, he saw no value in thinking negatively. Were the Skidians merely softening them up,
having some ghastly future in store for them? What frustrated Bruce most was that they were
entirely at the Skidians mercy.
"All we can do is resist passively and be as difficult as possible in the process. You know, like
Gandhi." Bruce rolled himself a cigarette, and something else occurred to him. "You know, I
might be on the wrong track, but I've got this oddest feeling the Skidians think we might be
able to help them somehow." It was a comforting fantasy. "Something one of them said about
helping them or being guests. The one called Myfair I think. Or was it the one called Cyprus?"
"They sounded fairly friendly, anyway."
"Sue, just think positively and anything might happen," Bruce said as the door slid open again,
"and probably will."
Two of the tallest men Bruce had ever seen clad only in loincloths and Sikh like turbans that
accentuated their semi nakedness and height, stood in the door way.
Bruce hoped that they hadn't come to take his blood or something because there was no way he
would be strong enough to resist them.
The Skidian called Cyprus pushed his way past the two grim figures and said gravely, as if
passing a sentence, "It is time for your presentation to the senate, these guards will escort
you."
Bruce rose slowly to his feet, his knees wobbly, and his heart pumping. He became acutely
aware of each little detail about him. A trace of ash on the floor, a blemish on Cyprus's cheek,
and a slight nicotine stain around his right nostril. He was ready for either flight or fight.
"Come on, Sue," he said more calmly than he felt, pulling her to her feet and commanding the
dogs to get in behind. Unfortunately he never had much control over them at the best of times
and once they sensed daylight they were off out the door, almost knocking over Cyprus and the
two security guards in the process.
"Get in, bugger you!" But the dogs had perfected the knack of embarrassing Bruce when he
least needed it. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled his stop command. The high
pitched whistle caused Sue, Cyprus, and the guards to jump almost out of their skins and clamp
their hands over their ears. However, the dogs completely ignored him and shot out of the open
doorway.
Skid

Bruce stepped out of the spaceship after the dogs and shaded his eyes against the brilliant
sunlight. Resisting the insistent nudges of the guards who were prodding him forward, he
turned to inspect the spaceship. It was a bit of a disappointment really; he had expected a
space ship to be far more elaborate. It was also a lot smaller than he imagined, no larger than
an ordinary three bed roomed house, shaped like a smooth inverted pudding bowl, with the lip
of the bowl resting on the ground.
Bruce wondered what powered the space ship because there was no outward indication of
rocket motors that he could see, unless they were on the bottom of the saucer. Apart from the
doorway they had exited from, the surface of the space ship was smooth and seamless. There
were no windows, no flashing lights, no hiss of escaping gases or steam, it was simply an inert
gray lump of metal crisscrossed by long brownish scorch marks.
The dogs loped across the vast cobbled plaza that the ship had landed on, reveling in the open
spaces after being cooped up inside. At any other time they would have made a comical sight,
so excited at being let outside, they could hardly stop to relieve themselves as their wild
exultant barking filled the still air.
Stepping the two or three steps to the ground from the spaceship's doorway had felt a bit like
walking into an impenetrable wall of humidity that Bruce imagined he could almost lay on and
he started to sweat profusely.
"Bloody humid, eh?" He whispered to Sue who walked woodenly alongside, apparently
resigned to whatever fate decreed.
Bruce felt like a pygmy from darkest Africa suddenly being confronted with a city like London
or Rome; he was almost overwhelmed by the vastness of the plaza they were walking across
and the size of the building they were headed to.
The small party was headed for a long low building, domed with an immense cupola, which was
in turn capped by a tall spire, on which a flag hung limply. The building stretched away on either
side of the cupola as far as the eye could see flanked by the poplar type trees that also
surrounded the plaza, isolating it from whatever was on the other side.
Looking over his shoulder Bruce caught glimpses of other bowl shaped objects beyond the
trees with busy unrecognizable shapes rushing between them, and realized that the plaza must
be adjacent to some sort of space port. What really struck him was the almost total silence.
The only sound he could hear apart from their own footsteps and someone's heavy breathing
beside him, came from the soft scuffing of paws on the cobbles accompanied by the furious
sniffs and yelps of the dogs as they zoomed around like lunatics.
"Get in!" Bruce's yell echoed around the plaza and one of the guards glared at him as though
he had committed some grievous sin. The guard brandished his stave at the dogs as they got in
behind, and they were suitably cowed, for the moment at least.
The procession finally entered the lobby of the building and stopped in front of a massive door
of polished metal.
"Wow!" Sue seemed to have snapped out of her daze. "It's magnificent!"
Bruce had no particular interest in, or appreciation of architecture, recent or historic.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. He looked up and noticed the rough plaster finish on the
ceiling as though the builders couldn't be bothered finishing off that bit because it was too hard
to reach.
One of the guards approached the door, rapped twice upon it with his stave, and stepped back.
"You'd have thought aliens who can build a spaceship that can fly faster than the speed of light
could be a bit more imaginative in their building, wouldn't you?" Bruce suggested, peering
around critically at other examples of shoddy workmanship.
"Don't be so negative," Sue said. "Nothing bad can happen to us here, I'm sure of it." Her
spirits were suddenly noticeably brighter.
Bruce decided she was a yo-yo, up one minute and down the next. He couldn't see what she was
suddenly so optimistic about. Personally the place gave him the creeps.
To disguise his anxiety, he pulled out his pouch of agbar, and with difficulty, because his hands
were shaking and damp, rolled himself a smoke.
"You can't smoke in here!" Sue hissed. "Put it out." Reluctantly Bruce frugally pinched off the
glowing tip and put the cigarette back into the pouch. He wasn't about to argue with her this
time. Perhaps she was right, although neither Cyprus who stood alongside them, nor their
guards had shown any disapproval.
Bruce tapped his foot nervously, waiting for something to happen. After a minute or so one of
the doors creaked slowly open and their guards ushered them inside.
They found themselves in a room like a large lecture theatre, with rows of benches stretching
upwards away from them. Hundreds of men and women were chattering away, gesticulating at
them. On a low stone bench facing the tiered rows, six large white haired men dressed in purple
robes sat imperiously and turned to stare at them.
The guards withdrew leaving Sue and Bruce to stand doubtfully in the doorway, bewildered by
the sight of so many people staring at them, nervously wondering what might happen next.
Cyprus seemed to have disappeared completely as if by magic, then Bruce caught sight of him
making his way to an empty seat beside some other Skidians that looked vaguely familiar.
"I feel as if I'm in a goldfish bowl watched by a hungry cat," Bruce whispered to Sue, who
reached out and gripped his hand.
"Can you work out what they're saying?"
Even amongst those closest to them, who's voices they could clearly hear, nobody seemed to
be using the strictly formal English the other Skidians had used on the ship as far as Bruce
could tell.
"No," he replied, "but I can see one of the Skidians from the ship. Over there," Bruce pointed
for Sue's benefit, "second row, third from the left, by the big fat woman."
"I can't see him, they all look the same to me. Oh yes, I see him now." Bruce cringed as she
waved at Mulgoon and Cyprus.
"Geez woman, what are ya? " How long will this go on for, I wonder?" He added. No one had
appeared to usher them to a seat or give any other directions. Bruce sensed the entire crowd
was waiting expectantly for something to happen, for them to do something as if it were part of
a test.
He noticed an empty bench on the other side of the room. Bugger this he thought they might as
well sit over there.
"Let's go and sit over there," he suggested, pointing to the empty bench. "C'mon," he insisted,
when Sue remained rooted to the spot.
"No, they would have already told us if we were supposed to."
"So what? We're supposed to be difficult, remember?" Knowing Sue would just argue the
point; Bruce took a firmer grip of her hand and dragged her across the floor in front of the six
old fat men sitting at their bench.
"See? Nothing happened," he said as he pushed Sue down. "Hello?" It looked as if he might
have been wrong. The crowd had hushed and every eye seemed to stare at them accusingly.
"Now look at what you've done!" Sue whimpered.
Their guards stood mouths agape, as the offworlders committed the almost unforgivable sin of
passing in front of the ruling council without bowing respectfully.
      However, after several moments the sound of excited voices regained their former pitch.
      Bruce gave Sue a knowing grin as they both relaxed slightly. He pulled out his pouch of
agbar, determined to have a smoke to pacify his nerves. Shaking off Sue's restraining hand, he
lit the cigarette he had earlier extinguished and bowed his head self-consciously. Again the
chatter abated, although not altogether this time. Bruce looked up, half expecting to be told off,
only to find that every Skidian in the place, bar their escorts, was following his lead. They had
all taken out their own pouches and were busily rolling up cigarettes.
Bruce and Sue watched, open-mouthed as the chatter stopped almost completely and the
Skidians puffed away happily, cigarettes dangling from one nostril or the other. Bruce could not
suppress a chuckle at this incredible sight.
"Look at them, Sue." He hated to miss a dig at her. "Maybe you should take up smoking like
everyone else."
"No way," she retorted angrily.
Inhaling through his mouth rather than his nostrils didn't seem to faze the Skidians at all now.
Catching his eye this time Cyprus nodded in Bruce's direction, which could only be taken as a
sign of approval.
One by one the Skidians stubbed out their cigarettes on the benches before them and the butts
were cleaned up by small drones moving along the benches as unobtrusively as only drones
could.
Once the butts had been cleared away, one of the six fat men, who sat on the bench beside
Bruce and Sue, rose and began to speak. He grasped a baton in one hand and slapped it in the
other from time to time as if to punctuate his remarks, which neither Sue nor Bruce understood.
Heads nodded wisely and the speech was punctuated by loud grunts from the audience. Bruce
couldn't tell whether they were dissenting or agreeing.
"Greetings friends." Sue nudged him and Bruce suddenly realized they were being addressed.
"I have just introduced you to the members of Skid's governing body and formally opened this
extraordinary session of our senate." The speaker who had turned to face them now turned
back to face the rows of Skidians.
"After the last session to discuss…"
Bruce had trouble understanding everything the man said.
"…we decided to dispatch a patrol ship to the carbon based planet 100083L situated in the
Lani Galaxy to obtain material for research purposes."
Sue gripped his arm tightly and Bruce felt his own optimism fade. So their fate was to be guinea
pigs for Skidian scientists to play with after all.
"From the background material that has been supplied to each of you, you will note that most
of this planet's population, examples of which you see before you, is involved in food
production. Furthermore, as the planet's population is expanding at an incredible rate, it would
be logical to assume that this growth, no matter how primitive they might be, can only be
sustained by efficient food production systems."
"Ha! What a load of! " Bruce managed to suppress a guffaw, but not before the speaker had
paused to glare at him.
"Be quiet, you fool!" Sue hissed, nudging his ribs.
"Ok, keep your hair on. I just can't believe what he's saying. I've just realized they're not as
clever as they'd like to think they are."
"Shut up, will you? Everyone's staring at us," Sue whispered urgently.
"Initially, four offworld specimens were transported to the patrol ship along with three other
unidentified creatures. Two specimens were dispatched due to their infirmity, after the patrol
ship had been detected in the planet's air space by local surveillance systems."
"That'll cause a stir. Another UFO sighting."
"If only the authorities knew how accurate reports of UFO sightings really were," sighed Sue.
"Nobody could have done anything about it, even if they knew we were on board dummy!"
"At that stage it was deemed inadvisable to linger in that proximity, so the patrol vessel
returned to Skid. Initial analyses of the offworlders indicate," the speaker who would later be
introduced as Inel, Skid's supreme leader, paused to glance at the handheld unit that he
appeared to be reading from before continuing. "That the specimens are of limited intelligence
and are emotionally unstable, riddled with primitive hostilities and prejudices."
"Bullshit!" Bruce yelled, unable to contain himself, reinforcing in the minds of most the initial
assessments of Mulgoon.
"Bruce!" Sue hissed. "Shut up or you'll get us into trouble."
"Trouble! Shit, girlie, look around you!" he said desperately. "We're already in it up to our
eyebrows."
"Despite this lack of sophistication, this primitiveness..."
Bruce was beginning to feel like some lower form of life.
"…for our sakes and the sake of Skid, not to mention the other inhabitants of our system, I
hope they will still be able to assist us to solve the crisis that confronts us at this time." None
of which made any sense at all to Bruce.
"Oi, one day you might find out we're not as basic as you'd like to think we are," Bruce
shouted, unable to restrain himself any longer.
Inel interrupted his discourse and glared at the offworlder who had the audacity and bad
manners to speak out of turn.
"Now we have had a chance to meet our guests, they will be conducted to the Central Medical
Facility for further evaluations."
"I wonder what's really going on here?" However, Bruce's question was lost on Sue, who had
been gripped by a terror that rendered her speechless and incapable of movement at the
mention of medical tests. Something about the place was completely out of whack with reality.
Is this guy a few cents short of the dollar or what? He wondered, reminded of a slightly
ineffectual schoolmaster imploring an unruly class to pay attention on the last day of term.
Bruce would later discover, misguided as he was, Inel was not the absent minded, ineffectual,
and weak figure he seemed on first impression.
Discovering that Toytoo and the other members of Committee 21 had taken the unprecedented
step of attempting to bring offworlders back to Skid Inel had initially been stunned. After he
had assessed the potential of their scheme he found time to wonder at their unusual audacity in
actually thinking and doing for themselves an almost unheard of feat. It would never do for the
members of Committee 21, or anyone else for that matter, to get too used to thinking for
themselves if he was going to remain in control of events on Skid.
Soon news must leak out to the general population about the deepening synthofood production
crisis, and despite a tradition of obedience Skid might fall into a state of chaos from which it
might never recover once that news became public.
As he watched the offworlders being led away by members of his personal guard Inel hoped the
offworlders could show them how to produce food organically, or better still that the scientific
community would discover a cure for the virus that was ravaging the synplants. He realized that
by accepting their unprecedented and illegal presence on Skid he was also admitting the
desperateness of the situation. A bold move that could not only signal the end of his reign, but
also the end of Skid as he knew it, and the planet's role as the most powerful planet in known
space.
Escape on Skid

For a moment Bruce was thoroughly disoriented as he tried to work out what was going on.
This wasn't his bed! Where am I?
After thirty or so confused seconds he remembered where he was and discovered that he was
lying on a hard white bed, clad only in a scanty cream colored loincloth.
"Bloody hell!"
Slowly his brain rolled into action and he vaguely recollected leaving the debating chamber.
How long ago, he had no idea. What had happened between then and now was a bit of a
mystery, as if a fog had settled over his mind.
Bruce didn't remember one of the Skidian guards placing his stave under his nose and firing a
jet of gas into his face. A gas whose victims were left temporarily senseless but mobile, which
enabled them to be led away or herded like sheep.
The room was bare except for the bed, and painted in what in a mental institution would be
called soothing green. There was no sign of any clothes, dogs, or more importantly for the
moment, any smokes. No bedside table and jug of water, no curtains on the window, flowers in
a vase, or, to his relief, any medical equipment either.
Bruce ran his hands over his body, the inside of his elbows especially, for telltale needle marks
but could find none.
They can't have started their tests on me yet, Bruce decided, unaware that an exhaustive
series of tests was long since complete.
He rolled off the bed and shook his head to clear a brief giddy feeling as his feet hit the floor.
Somewhere outside the room an alarm bell rang, but it didn't concern him. He was more
interested in the view out of the window and the possibility of making himself scarce.
Trees dotted a field that rolled away towards the horizon, split in the distance by the lazy
winding course of a river that sparkled in the sunshine.
Quite a pleasant little scene, Bruce thought searching for a window catch so he could get out.
There was none, and nothing he could throw through the window either.
"Oh well." Bruce shrugged his shoulders, returned to bed, and lay down.
He must have dozed off again, for he had a dream. A nightmare almost, about an immensely fat
woman who sat in a chair and watched over him while Bruce could only lay there, unable to
escape her menacing gaze.
Suddenly his eyes blinked open and Bruce was horrified to find the face staring down at him. A
fat gross face, with little piggy eyes set too close together, above a number of chins that
wobbled each time the head moved.
The nightmare hadn't done the woman any justice at all. She had enormous arms and mammoth
bulges pressed against the front of her robe. What a monster!
Smiling grotesquely, the woman asked, "How do you feel now? I hope our testing procedures
were not too exacting?"
"You're finished then?" Bruce replied, quite relieved.
"Of course, due to your cooperation they were a simple formality." This was a euphemism for
Bruce being so knocked out that he did not know what was going on.
"Shit, I wouldn't have been if I'd have known what was going on." Bruce was taken aback by a
clear little voice in the back of his head telling him the Skidians could and would deal with him
exactly as they pleased and there wasn't a lot he could do about it.
"What about a feed then?" Bruce demanded.
"Feed?"
"Yes, you know, food. I'm hungry." Bruce rubbed his belly to emphasize the point. Not that he
had a particular craving for anything but a nicotine fix. Then he would work out how to get out
of this place, find the dogs, and, well, Sue, he supposed.
"Certainly. I will convey you to a dining area," said the woman, having understood his
requirements, "if you will dress."
"Fine." Bruce jumped off the bed. "Where are some clothes?
My clothes?"
"In the closet."
"What closet?"
With a condescending smile, no doubt recalling she was dealing with a primitive being, she
opened a closet by pressing an inconspicuous dimple on the wall and then stood aside to allow
Bruce to pull a robe over his head.
Bruce then followed her from the room noting carefully where she placed her hand to open the
door.
The woman looked like a quivering mass of jelly as she waddled along an empty white corridor
trying to keep pace with Bruce. Bruce chuckled at this unlikely vision, and she turned with a
questioning look in her little piggy eyes. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, tactfully
deciding to keep his thoughts to himself.
Somewhere a dog barked. Bruce suddenly realized he hadn't seen them since he'd walked
across the plaza and into the senate building. At least one of them was ok. It was Can barking
she had a distinctive pitch to her bark. This one meant: "I can see food. Feed me before I bite
your hand off."
The woman paused, swaying slightly as if it took a few moments for her considerable bulk to
come to a standstill. "How can we stop that terrible noise? Your companions respond to no
known form of communication."
"Have you tried feeding them? Failing that. Pheeep!" Bruce whistled piercingly. "That usually
does the trick."
The woman jumped in surprise, bringing her hands to her ears and almost but not quite
tumbling to the floor in the process. Bruce would have hated trying to help her back to her
feet.
"You have some degree of control over them?" she croaked, amazed at the noise emanating
from someone who was almost Skidian after all.
Bruce nodded. "Some. After all, they are mine."
"Mine?" Skidians had no notion of personal ownership. 'Mine,' was just a figure of speech in a
foreign tongue.
"I've had them all since they were pups."
"Pups?"
"Yeah. Babies, you know?" Bruce cradled his arms and made a rocking motion. The woman
gave him a dubious stare, then continued down the hallway.
A little further on she stopped and placed her hand against the wall where Bruce discerned
another slight depression. How the hell she had found it on an otherwise blank wall Bruce could
not understand. A door slid open, revealing a large room filled with easy chairs set around low
tables. Sitting in one of them was Sue.
"Hi," she said diffidently, unsure of Bruce's feelings towards her. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, no worries. Why should there be?"
Sue's breast heaved with an emotion that eluded Bruce. She did seem pleased to see him
though he noted, wondering why.
"You've been out for three days now. I was getting a little worried about you. That's all."
"Really?" said Bruce, missing the point altogether. "No wonder I felt a little dizzy when I got
up."
"I will order a food trolley for you," said the big woman, leaving them alone for a few minutes
in case they needed to follow some strange offworld ritual of reunification.
"Thanks very much, Sideshow," Sue thanked the woman as she left the room.
"Sideshow? What a ridiculous name! She certainly looks a bit like a circus attraction, doesn't
she?"
"Now don't start on her Bruce. She's been very good to me while they were working on you."
Sue said defensively. "You made things really difficult for them, I understand."
"Is that right?" Bruce asked proudly.
"Something to do with actively repressed thought processes and emotional responses."
"Sounds good," said Bruce, wondering what she meant. "Is that good or bad?"
A knock at the door interrupted them, and another large Skidian wheeled in a food trolley.
Bruce fell on it eagerly. Chances were the food on Skid would be a big improvement on the
stuff they had on the spaceship. Surely?
He was sorely disappointed. They would have to make do with the same sort of muck they had
eaten on the way here.
Sue took only a cup of coffee, saying she had eaten earlier, while Bruce ate standing up and
slopped his food as far and as wide as possible.
Sideshow reentered the room and made a beeline for the trolley, helping herself to a pile of
food, before sitting beside Sue.
The women indulged in a little female idle chitchat as Sideshow devoured her meal. Bruce tried
to ignore the two of them, but he suddenly felt a bit left out. The thing
was though, that Sue just rubbed him up the wrong way. Not for any reason he could point to,
they were almost as culturally incompatible as both of them were with the Skidians.
Finished eating, Bruce searched the trolley for agbar, found some and then with a cup of coffee
sat opposite the two women while he rolled himself a smoke.
"You are familiar with agbar then?" Sideshow was already well aware that Bruce was, but she
was eager to show the unsophisticated brute how superior Skid and Skidians were.
"Oh yes. We call it tobacco at home."
"It's bad for your health, it stinks, and I wish you wouldn't smoke around me," Sue snapped.
"To use agbar on Skid is a great privilege. Why don't you don't use it, Sue?"
"Where we come from, only people with no concern for their health or the health of others;
smoke," Sue informed Sideshow sharply.
Bruce placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it, tossing the dead match carelessly to the
floor.
Sideshow stared at him with an expression of disgust and disbelief that Bruce was quickly
becoming familiar with.
"Why do you put it in your mouth in that manner?" Sideshow asked, for a plausible reason had
eluded them to date.
"Everyone knows that smoking causes cancer and heart disease," Sue continued, to no one in
particular.
Bruce suddenly remembered that the Skidians smoked through their noses. He took the
cigarette from his mouth and studied it for a moment. "Well that's the way we smoke it." He
inhaled deeply and blew a stream of smoke in Sue's direction.
She waved the smoke away. "Yuk! Do you have to be so inconsiderate?" She got out of the
chair and walked over to the window.
"Always have. In fact I've never seen anybody put a smoke up their nose unless they were
drunk or just being silly. It must be bloody uncomfortable." Bruce considered trying it, decided
not to, and took an extra noisy slurp from his coffee cup instead.
"Pig!"
Sideshow reached across for the matches and agbar that Bruce had dropped onto the table.
"How often do you use agbar? We use it only sparingly, especially as it is in short supply at the
present time."
Bruce was appalled. "Any time I feel like it. Oh, twenty or thirty times a day, whatever. I hope
I don't run out."
Sideshow was in turn appalled at this excess. She placed her own cigarette firmly between her
teeth and lit it. After several puffs she decided this positional change was not for her and
returned to smoking in the accustomed manner.
"Don't you grow the agbar then?" Bruce asked, wondering why it might be in short supply.
Disease, drought? An insect plague perhaps?
"Grow it? Please, I don't understand," Sideshow replied after a brief pause.
"You know, this stuff comes from a plant. To get agbar you chop the leaves off, dry them, and
dice them up. You know?"
"Plant?"
Bruce was starting to get confused. Surely she understood about plants and growing them?
There, right out the window, were grass and trees. How was a man supposed to explain
something so obvious and fundamental?
"Those are trees and that's grass out there, right?" He pointed out the window and waited for
some sort of reaction from Sideshow.
She nodded dubiously and glanced out of the window at the organic structures that existed
there. Who knew anything about the wilderness and the structures that had been there for all
time?
"Well, those trees, for instance, are big plants," said Bruce triumphantly. Surely the woman
wasn't that dumb?
Sideshow was not sure what to make of Bruce's explanation. Plants were the immense
structures under the sea where synthofood and other products were manufactured. Sideshow
thought Bruce must have become deranged as a result of his recent experiences.
Maybe she was. Bruce tried another tack. "Where does your agbar come from?"
Sideshow brightened. "From the plants under the sea close to Larrel."
"Oh, it grows under the sea?" Well, Bruce thought, he couldn't expect everything to be like it
was at home.
"No it is manufactured there."
"Oh, I see now. It's synthetic like the food!" Little wonder, then, that Sideshow didn't
understand about growing things. Did they grow anything here? What about kids? Were they
made in factories as well? That idea conjured up visions of baby farms and rows of test tubes
containing developing embryos.
"Please explain this growing to me," Sideshow demanded, realizing they had missed something
vitally important when they analyzed the offworlder's brains. Much of their accumulated data
was virtually useless to them because it could not be related to any relevant experience or
knowledge on Skid.
Were the offworlders were more complex than had been realized? Sideshow quickly dismissed
the idea.
"How would you explain plants and growth Sue?"
"The obvious way would be to show her, but I don't," he voice trailed off hesitantly as Bruce
walked over to the window.
"Leave it to me. Sideshow how do I get outside?"
This new direction confused Sideshow even further. Why, on Skid, would anyone want to go
outside and into the wilderness? Sideshow had never been out there and did not know anyone
that had been. Still the male did appear to have an affinity for the wilderness.
"Here we are," Bruce muttered, finding a depression that made the window swing open wide
enough for him to jump out. Before Sideshow realized what was happening, Bruce had vaulted
out of the window.
The sticky sea of grass seed heads swaying in the breeze reminded Bruce of paspalum. He
picked off a couple of the more mature looking seed heads and turned back to the window.
"Chuck us a couple of those empty bowls will ya Sue."
Bruce scraped dirt into the bowls, then clambered back through the window.
"Right, Sideshow, have a look at this." Bruce placed the two bowls of soil on the table and held
up the seed heads.
"That green stuff out there is grass. Right?" Bruce pointed out the window and Sideshow
nodded, wondering what sort of madness this was.
"Good. This," Bruce waved the seed head in Sideshow's face, "is a grass seed head and these
little things are the seeds." He carefully picked off a few of the seeds. "From these the grass
will grow."
These seeds develop into that organic material?" Sideshow asked in disbelief. "That is not
possible."
"I'll prove it to you, though it will take a while." Bruce poked several small holes with his
finger in each bowl of earth, wiped several seeds off into each one, swept a little soil over each
depression, and triumphantly handed the bowls to Sideshow.
Sideshow took the two bowls from Bruce and stared at them dubiously.
"Take the bowls, and put them somewhere in the light, and water them regularly. Like this."
Bruce dipped a spoon into some water and sprinkled it over the bowls. "About this much every
couple of days."
What exactly Sideshow might learn from this exercise he wasn't sure. Hopefully she would
learn something, as any further explanation he might have provided would probably be met with
the same impenetrable blankness he had encountered in the last few minutes. She obviously
didn't like being told anything, either, arrogantly believing too much in her own intelligence.
Surely, being a doctor type, she was interested in learning new things she must have some
understanding of growth and development?
Perhaps not. One never knew with people who thought they had all the answers.
Bruce turned to the window, gazing out longingly. Yearning to be able to stroll out there with
some degree of freedom.
"I want to go for a walk out there," Bruce demanded with the simple single mindedness of a
small demanding lollies and gestured towards the window.
"It is not done," Sideshow replied sharply.
Bruce would have argued the point, but the look on Sideshow's face convinced him arguing with
her wasn't worth the effort. Her lips were set in a grim line, her eyes hard and uncompromising.
A formidable sight in anybody's language. An angry fat lady was not someone you would want
sitting on you.
Sideshow struggled out of her chair and waddled over to the window, slamming it shut,
muttering to herself. "Why me?"
Puffing from her exertion, her jowls now the color of a rooster's hackles, she lowered herself
back into her chair. It is so unfair being a nursemaid to the offworlders she thought bitterly.
Unconcerned because he knew that if he really wanted to he could be out the window before
Sideshow had dragged herself out of the chair, Bruce paced up and down the room with his
hands clasped behind his back.
"Tell me something," Sue, asked conversationally, "why is the agbar in short supply? I
thought you said it was made in a factory?"
Bruce stopped his pacing, to await Sideshow's reply with interest.
Sideshow hesitated long enough for Bruce and Sue to realize that she was trying to hide
something.
"Short supply? I know little of these things," she answered with a dismissive shrug, in much
the same way Mulgoon had dismissed a similar question back on the space ship.
Suddenly the apparently unconnected pieces of a puzzle slipped into place for Bruce. "But it
has something to do with us being here. Yes?"
On the ship Mulgoon or Cyprus, or had it been Myfair, had implied that they were to be guests
on Skid to help the Skidians in some undefined way. Did the apparent shortage of agbar have
something to do with this?
"Don't be silly, Bruce. How can we help these people?" Sue clearly thought that Bruce's idea
was preposterous. "These spacemen are far too sophisticated to need our help."
"How the hell would I know, woman? Nobody's told me, have they? It's just that, um." Bruce
was sorry he'd said anything now. He might be wrong. He searched Sideshow's face for any
sign he could have been on the right track.
"Well," Bruce insisted, trying another line of attack, "can you tell us why we're here then Big
Girl?"
"Big Girl?" The insult was over Sideshow's head and she procrastinated silently, trying to
think of a way to change the subject.
"I don't know," she admitted lamely.
Bruce was sure she was lying. Before he could speak again, Sue had jumped up and stood over
Sideshow, jabbing a finger into her face.
"It's not on to hold us here against our will. I'm an American citizen you know!" She added in
her agitation, forgetting that this meant absolutely nothing on Skid.
Bruce grinned, thinking she was going to demand another audience with the American
ambassador.
"I want to go home," Sue sobbed collapsing back into her chair.
Sideshow's eyes bulged and her face became even redder until Bruce thought her head might
explode like a ripe tomato. However, when she spoke, after a few moments, her voice sounded
normal enough, though a little hostile.
"It is against Skidian etiquette to confront another as you are doing so now." As far as
Sideshow was concerned the discussion was becoming tiresome, and the offworlders were
becoming most uncouth. It was time to put them in their places.
"If you weren't so ignorant of our customs," Sideshow conveyed the impression that this
deficiency was all Bruce and Sue's fault, "I would have you severely disciplined in a social
re-education center. I certainly will if you continue to behave in such an outrageous manner."
Sounds a bit ominous thought Bruce, watching the two women with amusement. Sue, to his
surprise, came out fighting.
"I don't care for your customs. What do you care for ours? People aren't usually kidnapped
where we come from, it's against the law!"
"What about the Red Indians?" Bruce interjected.
"Shut up, you. Whose side are you on, anyway?"
Sideshow rose ponderously from her chair, holding up a hand, halting Sue in mid flight.
"As you are ignorant of our customs, I will ignore these insults this time. Seat yourself!"
Sideshow shoved Sue unceremoniously back into a chair. "Since you are now on Skid, you must
do as Skidians do. Life here will be much more pleasant if you learn and understand our ways."
She paused to catch her breath and added almost maliciously. "You realize, of course, that you
can never be allowed to return to your own planet."
"Why not?" Bruce demanded.
"Isn't it obvious? You cannot be allowed to return, with news or evidence of our existence."
"And just who do you think would believe us?" Bruce inquired angrily. "Don't you realize that
if we went back home with a story about being kidnapped by aliens, from a planet called Skid
for heaven's sake, they'd think we were nuts?" Bruce pointed a finger at his head and rotated
it.
Sideshow responded with a malicious grin. "You will never return. You will stay forever on
Skid."
"Bugger that for a joke." It occurred to Bruce that for all their outward pleasantry, the
Skidians didn't give a shit about them at all. However, that still did not answer the important
question of why they were there in the first place. What was so secret about it that Sideshow
wouldn't say? It gnawed at Bruce like a hunger pang. Truthfully he wasn't sure he wanted to
know.
"I suppose when you've finished checking us over, you'll knock us off in case we contaminate
your precious Skid any more," Bruce turned on Sideshow, tersely, forgetting his recent lesson
on Skidian etiquette.
Sideshow squirmed in her seat, attempting to admonish him for his rudeness. But he gave her
no chance.
"Don't give me that rubbish! Leave us alone!" He had suddenly had enough Skid, and of this
Skidian in particular. He knew it was being childish, like a kid throwing his toys out of his cot.
Skid wasn't about to go away, but he had to lash out now. There would be time enough later to
come to terms with Skid and whatever the future might hold.
Fleetingly, he recalled an image of a place from his past where he might never walk again, the
place where he felt most secure and comfortable, even if he didn't get there too often these
days. A metal road leading to the sea, the dusty oily smell of a hot car at the end of a long trip,
the sharp odor of fennel, mingling in his nostrils. Sideshow became a focus for his anger.
"Get lost, bitch. I'll not tell you again!" Bruce grabbed the neck of her robe and with difficulty
pulled her to her feet. Grunting at the effort he propelled her to the door and bundled her out
into the corridor where she collapsed in an untidy heap on the floor. Bruce shut the door behind
her and lay back against it, breathing heavily. No worries he thought. Now what?
"Wonderful macho man, what makes you think that you can get away with roughing these
people up?"
The door started to open. Bruce aimed a kick through the gap, had the satisfaction of hearing a
grunt of pain, and the door slid shut again.
"Piss off bugger ya! Look Sue, I don't really care one way or the other at the moment." And
Bruce realized that he didn't. "It's not going to make any difference in the long run, so don't
worry about it."
"How can you say that?" Sue was petrified the Skidians would retaliate in kind.
Bruce shrugged off her fears. "I'm going to have a look around," he said, harboring a faint
hope of being able to escape into the countryside and maybe live off the land for a while. He
strode over to the window, opened it, and vaulted out.
"What about me?" While Sue feared to face the Skidians alone, she was unwilling to follow
Bruce and attract even more trouble in the process.
Bruce looked back over his shoulder. His first thought had been to ignore her.
"You can't just leave me here alone," she pleaded. "I'll have to take the blame for
everything."
"Well, come on then." He extended his hand to help her out, which was not what Sue had
intended and she hesitated for a moment.
"Ok, suit yourself. I'm off." Her fear of being left behind overrode Sue's misgivings about
escaping and she started for the window.
"Wait a minute, where are we going?"
Bruce hadn't thought that far ahead yet. "That way," he waved vaguely in the direction of the
river and strode away leaving Sue rooted to the spot, still trying to decide whether it had been
such a good idea to follow him.
A moment later she ran after him and did not catch up until Bruce stopped in the shade of a
tree to look back at the building they had escaped from.
"Look at that, will you?" Sideshow was leaning out of the window obviously looking to see
where they had gone. Bruce gave her a cheery wave and wandered off through the trees.
The meadow rolled gently away into the distance and was dotted with small groups of trees. It
reminded Bruce of the some parts of the English countryside; an artificial scene that had
evolved over thousands of years of mans influence on the landscape, but nevertheless an easy
one on the eye. Except that there was no sign of any habitation, no sign of life at all, which
made the scene somehow intimidating, as if they were trespassing into an area off limits. On
the other hand, Bruce thought with a shudder, where all wildlife had been purged by a nuclear
accident, toxic chemical spill, or some other disaster.
Bruce was a little relieved when a bird, winging its way overhead alighted on a branch to regard
them, cocking its head as if to say: 'what is this passing below? '
"You know," he mused, "for a place so rich in plant life there aren't many animals about.
"I hadn't really noticed," replied Sue, who turned around every few moments to check for signs
of pursuit. "What do you mean?"
"Well on earth a place like this would be teeming with life. Anything from birds to insects,
rabbits, to farm animals." They walked on while Sue considered this observation.
"Oh," was all she could think of to say.
By the time they reached the river about fifteen minutes later, Bruce had done enough walking.
He didn't mind walking as a rule, but not just for something to do.
"This'll do," he said, sitting and watching the water with interest, after catching a glimpse of
something that could have been a fish. "Someone's bound to catch up with us at some stage. I
suppose we shouldn't make it too difficult to find us."
There wasn't really anywhere to go, and he had made his point. Sue pouted as Bruce rolled
another smoke, but sat beside him anyway, dangling her feet in the water.
A series of ripples spread from the point where something had disturbed the surface of the
water.
"Hey look, there's a fish. Thought I saw one before!" Bruce pointed to another set of ripples
and even Sue thought she might have seen it.
"What are they going to do when they catch up with us?" Sue asked, as she watched the
widening ripples and tried not to let the acrid cigarette smoke upset her too much.
"Dunno. Wouldn't worry about it too much though. You see I've formed this theory." he
responded with some confidence. "I reckon this place is a few cents short of the quid, know
what I mean?"
Sue shook her head. Sometimes Bruce seemed to speak a language all of his own.
"Can't you explain in a language I can understand?"
"Ok deary," he replied tiredly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but there's a feeling of." The word
he sought remained elusive. "Put it this way: you'd think a group of people who could fly
through space and snatch four people and three dogs from earth would have no problems
making tobacco, wouldn't you?"
"Don't forget those dogs of yours," Sue reminded him, changing the subject just as he started
to get his thoughts together.
"I wonder where they are?" Bruce considered their plight momentarily. "The Skidians must be
having all sorts of problems trying to analyze them."
"Aren't you worried about them?"
"Nah. They can look after themselves. I know for sure that one of them's ok, anyway. Look
we're getting off the subject. Don't you get the impression that there's something terribly
wrong with this place, and that there might be some connection between whatever's wrong, and
us being here?"
"But what have we got to offer them?"
"Not a lot, really, unless they're planning to run a farm or need someone to organize a holiday.
Which, given Sideshow's earlier statements, is unlikely." His voice trailed away for a moment.
"That's it!" He exclaimed. "You know what I think? I reckon they're having trouble producing
food, and they want us to sort everything out for them. What a joke!"
"I've never heard anything so idiotic. They must be able to get what they need from
somewhere else. One of those other planets they talked about." Sue decided Bruce was losing
his marbles.
"But doesn't Skid produce food for other planets as well? Or most of it."
"Oh," Sue clapped a hand over her mouth. "Remember what they said? About the people on
earth being such efficient producers of food because our population is so large and still
growing?" Sue was belatedly catching on. "They can't have done their homework very well
though, eh? That's if we're right, of course."
"Yeah." Bruce grunted.
"Do you really think so Bruce?"
"Well it's the most attractive idea I've had so far," he flicked his cigarette butt into the water.
"But I reckon we'll find out soon enough. When they do find us and they're all smiles, I'll bet
you anything you like I'm on the right track. If not, then we might be stuffed. But I reckon the
Skidians, technological master race or not, have made a bit of a cock up somewhere along the
line."
"Cock up?"
"A mistake."
"Oh right, a screw up!" Sue felt happier than she had been since finding herself flung together
with this oaf from down under.
Suddenly deciding she looked almost spunky when she smiled, Bruce leaned across and gave
Sue a platonic peck on the cheek.
"Watch it, sonny," she whispered, giving Bruce a queer look and wondering why her stomach
seemed to have tumbled over all of a sudden.
     Bruce reddened, wondering what sort of worm had entered his brain this time. "Imagine,"
he began, trying to cover his embarrassment, "if they'd picked up some peasants from outback
India or Peru or somewhere else poor and primitive. They should count themselves lucky that
they've at least got us."
Sue sighed and rested her head on Bruce's shoulder. "I hope you're right."
"Yeah," was all Bruce managed. Both lapsed into a silence punctuated by deep sighs as they
contemplated the darker side of their prospective futures and the sudden emotional tension
that had developed between them.
"It's nice and quiet here isn't it?" Sue suggested at last breaking the silence.
"Unnatural, I'd say. There's hardly any birds or insects, and no big animals."
"We saw a fish before."
"Yeah, but only one. Which brings me to another question: Why don't they grow food rather
than make it?" Bruce tried to sort out his confusion, and for the moment missed the nub of the
Skidian's problem.
Sue bounced up and down like a child with her hand up in class. "I know! You are right. They
are having problems with their synthetic food production systems, and they need us because it
has been so long since they have had to that they do not know how to grow food. That is why
they need us! For some reason they want to learn how to grow food."
The drone of some large insect began to invade the peace of the riverbank, and was increasing
in intensity. When it sounded like a swarm of angry bees Bruce looked around to find the
source of the noise so he could get out of the way.
"Over there," Sue pointed to an object coming into view over the trees.
"Well that didn't take long, did it?" Bruce got to his feet and watched the aircraft approach.
Sue rose and hung onto his arm. "Don't worry," Bruce tried to reassure her, feeling her fear
like a bitter metallic taste in his own mouth. "Don't worry. They need us, remember?" Bruce
repeated, as much for Sue's benefit as his own.
Homecoming

The aircraft hovered for a moment overhead then landed a few feet away, its under carriage
jutting from its elongated ovoid body from just behind a pair of stubby wings. As the whine of
whatever propulsion system powered the aircraft ran down, a ramp fell out of the fuselage and
two familiar figures emerged.
Bruce heaved a sigh of relief, Mulgoon, and Cyprus stood cautiously at the entrance, though
they didn't appear too happy about something. He'd half expected a squad of storm troopers to
appear at the door
"Greetings, friends!" Mulgoon called with a hint of a frown, as he walked towards them.
Bruce turned to Sue, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged his shoulders.
Mulgoon continued forward until he stood in front of Bruce, while Cyprus, managing to hold his
smile, kept a little further back.
"If we had known you wished to travel in the wilderness we would have taken you ourselves."
"Aw, thanks mate," replied Bruce, trying to make light of the situation. "We was just going for
a bit of a wander."
"Pardon?" Mulgoon glanced at Cyprus, who shrugged his shoulders un-helpfully.
"We have been for a walk," Sue translated for their benefit.
"Greaser," Bruce whispered sourly.
"Thank you. If you would care to accompany us, we will conduct you on a local tour."
"Fine." Bruce said, sensing they had little option. "Come on, Sue."
Mulgoon indicated two rear seats in the cabin and Cyprus joined Mulgoon in seats facing the
offworlders as the craft climbed into the sky.
"We didn't get far, did we?" Bruce peered out of the window. "That's where we started." He
said pointing out a long low building. "At least we're not going back to the medical facility."
The medical facility lay at the edge of a vast built up area which stretched away as far as the
eye could see.
"Wow!" Sue exclaimed. "It's enormous! How many people live here?"
"Sietnuoc has a population of 102,631,987 inhabitants as of yesterday," Cyprus answered.
"That's incredible. Is Sietnuoc the biggest city on Skid?" Bruce wrapped his tongue around the
name with difficulty.
"Oh no, Sietnuoc is the smallest of our cities. Ndgar is the biggest, with approximately
651,000,000 inhabitants.
"That's almost incomprehensible. Can you imagine a city that size, Bruce?"
Bruce shook his head. "Nah. The biggest one I've ever seen wasn't a patch on this."
On the other hand what he could see of the city did vaguely resemble a suburb of any New
Zealand city. What he assumed were houses were scattered in neat patterns along streets.
However, unlike any terrestrial city, there seemed to be no towering skyscrapers or tall
industrial chimneys spewing smoke into the air. Nor did there appear to be motorways clogged
with vehicles. In fact, few vehicles of any sort were in evidence on the streets.
Bruce was about to comment on this when a vast empty area, that looked as though it could
once have been an enormous car park, came into view, surrounding a structure that could only
be some sort of sports or entertainment arena. Unless it was some kind of Skidian factory of
course.
"See, there Sue. Looks like a rugby ground, or a football stadium, eh? Wonder what it's for?"
Cyprus ignored the question, and began to point out various landmarks and other points of
Skidian interest. "The large open area below us is our senate."
Bruce recognized it as the place where they had first arrived on Skid.
"We call it the Onofeti. Myfair, fly towards Smrakra," Mulgoon instructed. "We might be able
to give our guests a glimpse of a Stim event. Stim is one of our major cultural events," he
explained proudly. "As part of your introduction to Skid we must take you to one soon."
The craft circled the large stadium but they were at such a height that neither Sue nor Bruce
could see much.
"Can you see what's going on Bruce?"
"No they could be playing anything from bull rush to tiddly winks. Some kind of ball game,
though, by the look of it."
After circling the stadium several times, Myfair swung the craft back onto its original course.
"How big is the city?"
Mulgoon gave Cyprus a significant look. Already they had both tired of fielding questions from
the almost offensively curious offworlders. Why could they not just accept things, without this
ceaseless search for answers about matters of no great importance?
"Here," said Cyprus curtly. He produced two gadgets each about the size of a Walkman from
under his seat and handed them one each.
Bruce turned his over, wondering what it was.
"Anything you might wish to know about Skid has been programmed into this appliance that we
call a book, it has full access Skid's data networks." He did not add, 'within reasonable
bounds.'
"How does it work?" Sue asked.
The book had a dial on one face, reinforcing its walkman-like appearance, and one corner was
perforated, as if it were a speaker.
An impatient expression flitted across Cyprus's face: primitives had trouble with even the
simplest device. He snatched it roughly from Sue's grasp and pressed his thumb into a
coin-sized depression below the dial.
"Once you have activated the book, you simply ask your question or relay your request."
"You call these books?" Bruce asked.
"Yes, of course," replied Mulgoon. Again he imparted this information so proudly that Bruce
wondered if he had a major role in the book's development. He had not. He simply took much
pride in what some Skidian generations ago had developed.
Bruce grinned at the similarity between these devices and the books he was familiar with.
Perhaps the name was not as silly as it sounded.
Bruce looked at his book, feeling a little self-conscious about asking an apparently inanimate
object a question.
"How big is this city?" Sue beat him to the draw anyhow.
"The city known as Sietnuoc has a population of 102,631,987 persons and covers an area of
almost fourteen million hectares." Answered a melodic female, though obviously artificial
voice.
"You can also use the books to deliver instructions to your assistants. They are also
programmed to supply anything you may require during your stay here."
"Assistants?" This was something new."
"Yes," Mulgoon continued." Now that you have been allocated individual living quarters, you
must have assistants to see about your business."
"Oh that's nice." Bruce digested this interesting bit of news. His very own servant?
"Let's see how useful this thing really is." Bruce racked his mind for an obscure request. "I
want a couple of pairs of short strides and some 't' shirts. I'm sick of walking round in a dress,"
he explained to nobody," and oh, some jandals too."
Mulgoon's nose wrinkled. "What are you saying? You are most difficult to understand at
times."
"It's not my fault if you can't talk proper, is it?"
"Don't worry, I can't understand him most of the time, either," Sue said, trying to diffuse the
tension and ingratiate herself with the Skidians at the same time.
Mulgoon and Cyprus sounded a little edgy because they felt, correctly, that Bruce was
insulting their intelligence somehow. Bruce ignored the Skidians and shoved his book into a
pocket he'd just discovered in the voluminous sleeve of his robe.
"Big, eh?" He said to Sue who was staring moodily at the city still passing below.
"A bit disappointing, really. Looks like any other big city. The suburbs, I mean. Not spacey at
all."
"Funny, but I haven't seen any big buildings except for the senate, the medical center and the
sports arena. No factories, shops, or anything."
These observations were not appreciated by the Skidians. "Our people live in ordered
communities, not spread haphazardly over the planet like your own," Cyprus informed them
defensively.
"Yeah, but look here." Bruce tried to explain himself without offending the Skidians any
further. "Some of the cities on earth, especially where I come from, look a lot like this one."
"But they're not very big," Mulgoon insisted.
"No," said Bruce sharply, impatient with the pedantic attitudes of his hosts although the
disagreement wasn't worth getting hostile about. Size and appearance evidently meant
everything to the Skidians. The bigger the city, the better it was, and it seemed nothing else
mattered.
He watched from the window as the cityscape was abruptly replaced by the open, empty
countryside, as if some town planner had drawn a line in the sand that could never be crossed.
"We are conveying you to an archaeological site which you may find interesting." Mulgoon
said after a few minutes of silence.
"What sort of site is that?" Sue asked. Bruce couldn't have cared less. Archaeology, like
architecture, wasn't on his list of interests.
"We were hoping you," Mulgoon indicated both of them and cleared his throat loudly, "might
be able to help us in analyzing the importance of the site and the artifacts contained there."
"The plot thickens," Bruce chuckled. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd expected. But what did he
expect? He no longer knew.
"The site was discovered recently while technical staff recovered an expired weather satellite.
The crater made by the satellite's impact uncovered the ancient structure we are going to
visit." Mulgoon cleared his throat again, as if embarrassed by this admission of a failure of
Skidian technology.
"Do your satellites often fall out of the sky? Sue asked maliciously. "Are we safe in this
aircraft?" Neither Skidian chose to respond to Sue's question and Mulgoon continued,
unabashed.
"Our historians have discovered many sites of antiquity which give us some insight into ancient
life on Skid.
"What part of the planet are we crossing now?" Bruce asked his book.
"Sietnuoc is situated in the warmer temperate latitudes of Skid. The archaeological site you
are approaching is in an area of grassland which extends over much of the continent of
Noltrac."
"What sort of wildlife does this region support?" Bruce hadn't seen any large animals, or small
ones for that matter, so the answer came as a surprise.
"Untold millions of large, four-legged creatures, inhabit this region in enormous groups. Little
is understood about their nutritional requirements and habits."
      "What they eat, you mean."
      "That is so."
"Do you know anything useful about these creatures?"
"No," the book answered as Bruce noticed a cloud of dust rising high into the sky ahead of the
aircraft. As they came closer, a great herd of animals emerged from under the dust cloud
plodding slowly across the plain.
"Can we have a look at them?" Bruce pointed downwards. Myfair banked the craft and
swooped low over the herd. A few of the animals looked up, watched them curiously, and then
placidly resumed their grazing. They looked much like ordinary cattle except for the single
horn that protruded rhinoceroses like from their noses. There must have been thousands
spread out across the plain.
"What are these animals called?"
"We have no name for them. Few Skidians have ever seen one, for they stay away from the
cities." Cyprus said. Brilliant thought Bruce.
"Ivops." The book contradicted Cyprus. After several more turns and low passes, the craft
returned to its earlier course, quickly leaving the herd far behind.
"They don't need us to find them food," Bruce said. "There's heaps on the hoof down there.
We're going to be historians instead. Neat, eh?"
"Are you sure we could eat those things?"
"Oh, probably. I'd like to take a closer look at them though."
Almost immediately the aircraft began to lose height again. It swooped over a low hill, banked
steeply, and landed beside what looked like a wide impact crater of some kind. Peering out the
window Bruce saw a large building that seemed to have been built in the bottom of the crater
surrounded by a cluster of smaller structures, a little like port-a-loos, of more recent
construction. Closer inspection revealed that the larger building was well below ground level
and at some stage must have been covered by several meters of earth.
After fumbling with the door catch, Mulgoon led them off the aircraft, down a flight of steps,
and into the exhumed building.
"Are there any other buried buildings around here?" Bruce asked Yarad, the only Skidian to
inhabit the site, after they had been introduced.
"We have not discovered any yet," replied Yarad apologetically. "We haven't yet made a full
survey of the immediate area."
      He could have added that this was because Skidians had no interest in their history and
never had. As far as the average Skidian was concerned Skid had always been as it was and
always would be, there was no past or future, only Skid as it had been since time immemorial.
Still history was a passion that gripped Yarad, at least.
"It might be interesting if you did," Sue suggested. "There's no telling what you might find."
Yarad made no reply so Sue continued. "On our planet archaeologists have been able to
discover how our ancestors lived."
"It is an odd building. Most of it was built below the original ground level and it is full of many
artifacts that mystify us," said Cyprus.
"What kind?"
"These things are difficult to explain," Cyprus replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "Best that
you look for yourself." He led them down a polished corridor and into what could once have
been a reception area or an office of some kind lined with real books; the first and only books
made of paper or some kind of laminated plastic that Bruce would ever see on Skid.
Was it an ancient library then? Four or five books were strewn haphazardly across a table that
Yarad had obviously been working at. Against one wall stood a large cabinet with many small
drawers in it, that on closer inspection contained thousands of reference cards. Bruce flicked
through a few drawers and realized that not only were the cards a record of books stored
elsewhere in the building, but also a catalogue for a number of other things also possibly stored
there.
"What do you make of this, Sue?" Bruce had never spent much time in a library, and could
make little sense of the catalogue.
      "Maybe this will help," Yarad suggested, offering Bruce a heavy ledger from the table.
      "Hey, this looks interesting. Register of Agriculturally Important Arable Crops and Seed
Stocks, Central Disaster Recovery Center Eight," Bruce read the title aloud, opening the book
at random. Sue peered over his shoulder as he ran a finger down a page.
      "What is it?"
      "A list of seeds or something. Look, I don't believe this. C, cabbage, carrot. Vegetable
seeds."
      "Incredible!" Sue breathed, flicking over some more pages to reveal further lists. "I don't
believe it! How can this be possible?"
      "I have no idea," Bruce replied, He wasn't about to dwell on the fact either. Skid was one
weird place, but perhaps no weirder than earth might be after a few more thousand years of
development. "But they must be stored in here somewhere, don't you reckon?"
      The Skidians looked on silently until Mulgoon asked, "Do you have any understanding of
this information?"
   1. "Oh yes, it's a register of seeds which must be stored around here somewhere."

   2. "Seeds. What are these seeds? We have not been able to figure this out at all. Could

   3. possibly be weapons of some description?"

   4. Bruce and Sue looked at each other in astonishment. "No, no." Bruce had a

   5. sudden thought. "You know what seeds are for. This is a setup, isn't it?"
     "Setup? Please, I do not understand," Cyprus replied inscrutably.
     Bruce turned on him angrily. "Don't play games with me, you brought us here for a
reason." Bruce breathed heavily, collecting his thoughts. "Whether you want to or not,
I demand you tell us the full story." He moved towards Yarad in a manner that could
only be described as intimidating, although Yarad was somewhat bigger than Bruce was.
     "What are seeds?" he asked Yarad, who was visibly shaken by the force of his outburst.
"I'm sure you know."
     Yarad looked nervously at Mulgoon and Cyprus."
     "Ok, look it doesn't worry me if you want to play your little games," Bruce took a stab at
what he guessed was the heart of the matter. "I don't care if you're running out of food,
because I won't be going hungry."
     "So you understand our crisis Bruce, or have some understanding of it at least." Cyprus
said after long silence. It was the first time he had called Bruce by name. "We have continually
underestimated your abilities, it seems."
     "Have a good look around. Take all the time you need," Cyprus said generously. "When
you are ready, we will take you to Toytoo, the leader of our group, who will answer any
questions you might have."
The road to recovery

     It was all so easy, Bruce decided. Too easy? It seemed all too much of a coincidence to
him that in the space of half an hour he had found an inexhaustible supply of meat on the hoof
and a supposedly lost archive that appeared to have been set up with some future ecological
disaster in mind.
     Bruce wasn't about to dwell on the matter, he was more worried about how he was going to
achieve what they wanted, and more than a little annoyed that the Skidians seemed to think he
was some kind of idiot. He turned to Sue, ignoring the Skidians.
     "C'mon let's have a look round." He stopped in mid stride and asked: "What are seeds,
Yarad?"
     Yarad glanced at Cyprus, who nodded. "We think seeds might develop into a form of
organic material that we might be able to consume. Unfortunately we have not been able to
establish the mechanics of this process."
     In the process of establishing the archive to preserve seeds in case of some future
disaster, the founders had not thought to include basic information on how to plant, nurture,
harvest, and utilize crops. As animal husbandry was a forgotten science on Skid, so was the
husbandry of plants and their preparation for Skidian consumption.
     "So the discovery of this site must raise some interesting issues for you people?"
     Cyprus restrained Mulgoon who might have answered and told the offworlders something
they did not need to know, there were, after all many matters they did not need to be privy to.
     "Few Skidians know of this place, and as Yarad has mentioned, even fewer would be ever
be interested." Cyprus played with his ear lobe distractedly. "As a race we do not plan for the
future, for we have all we desire, or learn from the mistakes of our past, for they were
overcome generations ago. Our culture has evolved in this fashion because we want for
nothing. What can we learn from history? Nothing." If Cyprus was aware that his comments
were totally contradictory he did not show it.
      "But that doesn't make any sense at all." Sue looked up from the book she had been
leafing through. "Do Skidians think about anything?"
     "It does not pay to think about anything, except how to spend the day. The high council
makes all of the important decisions on Skid," he said piously.
     Who does he think he is kidding? Thought Sue. She could see Cyprus did not like that
state of affairs, even if he believed it true.
     "Oh yes, that sounds familiar," Sue whispered to Bruce grabbing his arm and leading him
off. "They're just like the three monkeys. See no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil, the
system is always right."
      Bruce didn't really understand what she was on about. "Sounds like some medieval feudal
kingdom," she continued. "Serfs touching their forelocks to the lord of the manor and that sort
of thing."
      "That's exactly how it seems. But they're not peasants. Look at their technology. It's
more like a high tech slavery."
     Sue looked thoughtful for a moment. "I always thought technological development was
supposed to set people free from life's drudgery. The Skidians might be free from the drudgery
of work and the struggle to survive. But they are not free from anything else it seems. This
place is a total dictatorship and if anybody steps out of line they get the chop."
     "Not our problem," Bruce said, pushing open a door and peering in. "This looks a lot
more interesting." Packets of all shapes and sizes filled the room, neatly stacked on shelves,
along with canisters of fertilizer and other chemicals. Bruce wished he'd paid more attention to
his chemistry lectures so he could work out what to do with the stuff.
      "Geez, these Skidians must be thick if they can't make anything of this lot." Bruce waved
around the walls of another tightly packed room. "It's a bloody gold mine."
     "For you, maybe," Sue muttered. She knew little more than the Skidians when it came to
growing things. "Don't you think that there's something strange about this place? All the
information is in a form we can easily understand. Everything?"
      "It had struck me. It's almost as if everything here had been designed with the likes of us
in mind," mused Bruce. "It's incredible, almost preordained, do you think? It's enough to make
a man think that there might be a god after all." Bruce didn't really think so, saying god did it
was just a way of explaining what he didn't understand. It was merely a coincidence, a one in a
million coincidence, that he was in the right place at the right time. He still felt a little uneasy,
despite his flippancy. Too many things about Skid were simply inexplicable. Was it indeed
coincidence, or evidence of some supernatural intelligence inhabiting the universe? Or just
prudent planning by a society that since seemed to have lost that art?
      At the end of a short corridor was a set of double doors. He pushed through them and
found himself in large room filled with machinery and all kinds of tools displayed like artifacts
in a pioneer museum.
     "Where are you?" Sue called, following him in a few minutes later.
      Bruce poked his head up from behind the harvester he had been climbing over, trying to
figure out what made it go.
      "Over here. Look at this stuff, will you?" he said, excitedly. "There's all sorts here." He
led her around explaining what everything was for, baffling her with bullshit when he wasn't
sure. After half an hour or so, Sue was thoroughly bored and forced him back upstairs to where
the Skidians were waiting for them impatiently. On his way out of the building, Bruce picked up
the ledger he'd been looking at earlier and took it with him. He didn't think Yarad would miss it,
and didn't really care if he did.
      Mulgoon and Cyprus were eager to depart the scene and all but herded the two
offworlders onto the aircraft when Bruce stopped to have a poke around outside.
      "What about a feed then?" Bruce demanded once they were aboard and the craft was
lifting off. "I'm ravenous. What about you, Sue?"
      "Eating is not be possible at this time. It is against Skidian custom to consume food while
in a moving vehicle, except on long journeys."
      "Well, let's land then." Bruce thought the solution was obvious.
      "But we are running late," Mulgoon said to silence him. Who in their right mind would
want to land in the middle of nowhere to eat? "There will be ample time for eating later."
      After a short flight the aircraft landed beside a scruffy looking building, the size of an
average house, on the city fringe. The place wasn't untidy in the sense that rubbish lay about
outside or that half the windows were broken. It appeared shabby because the grass and
shrubbery outside grew unchecked and the building looked as if it could do with a good paint or
water blast. It was as if whoever lived there or owned it didn't really care for it.
      Toytoo met the offworlders at the door of what Bruce decided was probably a house and
ushered them inside. Bruce flopped onto a large cushion placed against the wall of a room that
they were ushered into without being invited. He fidgeted about until he felt comfortable, taking
much longer than necessary to do so after catching the impatient scowl on Toytoo's face.
Toytoo seemed uptight about something. However, Bruce was in no mood to be polite.
      After several moments of hesitation, not wishing to commit any cultural indiscretions of
her own, Sue sat beside him on the floor.
      "Before we begin our fellowship we will observe the ritual of dipping," Toytoo explained,
as Myfair entered the room bearing a bowl of liquid in one hand and a small saucer shaped
scoop in the other. He placed the bowl on the table.
   1. Solemnly Myfair dipped the scoop into the larger bowl and passed it to Toytoo, who

   2. slurped noisily from the scoop and handed it back to Myfair. Myfair refilled the

   3. and passed it to Bruce, who drank the liquid without hesitation. It tasted faintly

   4. cinnamon and must have contained some kind of stimulant, because he felt a fleeting

   5. which left him with an insatiable desire for a smoke. He managed to suppress this

   6. until Sue, with a barely disguised grimace of distaste, and then Myfair, had drunk

   7. the scoop. When the bowl was empty after several circuits of the room,

   8. Myfair pulled out a pouch of agbar and offered it to each of them in turn.
     "I don't, thank you," Sue said.
     "If you are offered agbar it is rude of you to refuse, an offence in our culture. Taking
agbar is also an intrinsic part of the dipping ceremony." The ignorant savage, Toytoo thought.
Did they not know anything?
     Nevertheless, Sue was not to be shaken from her stand. "I'm sorry but I don't smoke and
what's more I find it offensive that you insist."
     "You must," Toytoo insisted, growing angry at the stubborn female.
     "Where I come from it is most impolite to force alcohol or cigarettes on anyone."
     "You are on Skid now and so you must conform to our practices and traditions." Toytoo
insisted growing angry with Sue.
     "Not by choice, though." Sue replied as if that gave her an excuse to be rude.
      Toytoo was about to say something further, shook his head instead, and from then on
steadfastly ignored her. Sue, on the other hand, preened herself at this small victory.
      Talk about not trying to antagonize them Bruce thought keeping a hold of the agbar pouch
as it was passed to him.
      "Recently we discovered a viral infection in the plants that produce our food and most of
our other consumables." Toytoo began without preliminaries.
      Hearing this, Bruce allowed himself a satisfied smirk and crowed to Sue, "I told you so."
      "This virus has been isolated and identified, but up until the present time we have not
been able to develop a strategy to combat it." Toytoo frowned as though embarrassed that the
might of Skidian technology had been crippled by something as insignificant as a virus. "The
virus affects 70 percent of our synthetic plants, reducing their output to almost nothing. This
means our ability to feed ourselves is extremely impeded," he continued. He paused to take
another cigarette from Myfair. "Our scientists are working on treatments." He inhaled deeply
and then removed the cigarette from his nostril and tapped a little ash on the floor. "Despite
intensive research, we are no further forward in our understanding of the virus or of possible
control measures than when we first discovered it. Needless to say, our food stocks are rapidly
declining."
      Bruce started to ask one of the many questions that quickly occurred to him, but Toytoo
stalled him with a raised hand.
      "With no forthcoming solution or any likely in the immediate future, we are facing a
severe crisis. For months now we have been discussing strategies to combat this crisis."
Toytoo surprised Bruce and Sue by spitting on the floor in disgust. "Talk. So much talk. They
would talk forever, until our deaths by starvation became fact."
      "But you've got any amount of food available to you," Bruce tried to tell him.
      Toytoo seemed not to hear and continued in a strangely offhand fashion as though he were
reading from a prepared script, the contents of which he clearly did not agree with.
      "Recently a small group of us decided to take some positive action in an attempt to
combat this crisis. For many generations the existence of your planet has been well known to
us."
       If only the UFO expert's back home could see how right they have been all these years,
Bruce thought, amused at the idea.
      "Our observations have told us that despite your generally low level of technological
sophistication, the population of your planet has increased rapidly over the last few decades.
Therefore we concluded that somehow, for such a primitive planet, you must have very efficient
food production systems." Bruce couldn't stop the laughter that welled up in his chest. Toytoo's
discourse sounded even more farfetched the second time around.
      "Please let me finish," demanded Toytoo. "Our group decided to travel to your planet and
enlist the support of experts in organic food production. Do you think you can help us?"
      "Oh yeah, mate, no problems," replied Bruce, though he was still not exactly sure what
Toytoo wanted him to do. Organic food production was obviously an abstract concept for
Toytoo. He knew there was merit in the concept but he did not understand it.
      "Good." The briefing was suddenly at an end, as Toytoo, without another word, turned on
his heel and left the room.
"Hang on a minute mate!" But Toytoo had gone, leaving a lot of unanswered
questions hanging in the air.
      "You know Sue, if this is an example of their attitude I'm not surprised they're in the
shit." Toytoo's indifference amazed him. In fact Toytoo had shown no apparent concern at all.
Rather than outlining a potentially planet-saving operation, he acted as though he was
dispensing with an unwanted chore.
      Bruce looked at Myfair. Weren't they even going to discuss the hows, whys, and
wherefores of what they wanted him to do for them? Obviously not by the look of things.
      "Come!" Myfair instructed Sue. "I will accompany you to your quarters," he said as
Cyprus reappeared from somewhere and started to talk to Bruce. Sue looked fearfully over her
shoulder at Bruce's retreating back, wanting him to call out to him. Despite the fact that she
found him an offensive, insensitive oaf, the last thing Sue wanted was to be left on her own with
any Skidians. Bruce seemed unconcerned with her plight and Sue felt as if an umbilical cord
binding them together had been severed. She was on her own, now, and she wondered if she
could handle it.
     "Where are me dogs?" she heard Bruce ask Cyprus as they walked out of the building
and down the street.
     "Dogs!" she almost cried. Bruce was more interested in his dogs than her.
                                                "Dogs?"
     "Yeah, the dogs that came with me."
     "Oh, them. Dogs? Is that what you call them? They have given our research staff a most
difficult time, they are most perplexing creatures." Bruce chuckled at the idea of the Skidians
trying to talk to the dogs.
     "They await you at your quarters. Here." Cyprus indicated a house several doors along
from the one they had just left.
     Once again, Bruce was struck by the unkempt nature of the place. As if nobody really
cared about it. Like houses in a state rental suburb, all the houses around this one seemed to
be modules built on the same pattern. Each had different shrubbery planted outside, and each
house was oriented slightly differently to break the monotony.
     The interior was the real surprise, an identical copy of the house he'd lived in back at the
farm. Right down to the positioning of the chairs in the lounge, the color of the toilet seat, and
the carpet. There was even a television in the corner of the lounge.
     "We arranged your quarters using data taken from your brain scans, deciding that the
similarity would make you more comfortable," Cyprus told Bruce proudly.
     "Nice touch." Bruce said by way of thanks, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of
homesickness. What else had they found out about him? How much did the Skidians know?
The sort of things a man never wanted to recognize in himself, let alone reveal to others?
     "I will leave you now," said Cyprus, for which Bruce was grateful. He could feel his eyes
beginning to water and didn't want to break down in front of this alien.
     The dogs must have sensed that he was around because Bruce could hear them barking
somewhere outside as Cyprus opened the door to leave. He thought he'd better have a look to
see how they were.
     Bruce found the dogs in the most luxurious accommodations that they could ever have
experienced let alone imagined.
     "How the hell did the Skidians dream this one up?" Bruce asked Cop as he inspected the
kennels. The dogs had started barking and pawing furiously at the doors as soon as he
approached, demanding to be released. But it took Bruce a few minutes to suss out how to open
the doors.
      Finally released the dogs leapt up at Bruce as if to say: "Hello, is it really you?" Then
they were off investigating their new home, sniffing and cocking their legs on everything in
sight, or squatting in Can's case, while Bruce made a closer inspection of the kennels.
     The padded hutches, which were already liberally covered in stiff dark hairs, were some
kind of dog heaven by the looks of things. Which left Bruce wondering how the Skidians had
decided on the plan for the kennels and the continuous food supply system that would have
been an integral feature of any canine conception.
     The eerie perfection of the dog kennels, well probably, as far as the dogs were concerned
made Bruce wonder what the house was like, so he wandered inside.
     Laying on the bed in what he assumed was his bedroom he found the conventional clothing
he had ordered earlier, along with a pair of jandals. Cyprus was not lying about the books then.
Bouncing up and down on the bed, Bruce wondered what else was true of Skid and what was
merely wishful thinking, the result of generations of conditioning on the part of the Skidians.
    Stretching himself out to see if the bed was as comfortable as it looked, Bruce decided he
was tired and before he knew it, fell asleep.
A game called Stim

      Bruce woke with a start, wondering how long he'd been asleep and in the same instant
remembering he'd left the dogs off.
      "Shit! I hope they haven't buggered off," he said to the pillow. And then he remembered
he was hungry. When had he last eaten?
      "How am I supposed to feed myself? Cyprus had neglected to make that important fact
clear. Bruce rubbed his stomach and wondered, was it really only that morning that he had
woken to find the large form of Sideshow bending over him?
      Somewhere the dogs were barking furiously. Bruce rose stiffly from his bed and went in
search of the source of the uproar. He found Cyprus eyeing the dogs nervously as they bailed,
him and a tall slim female Skidian, up at the front door.
       "May we enter Bruce?" Cyprus asked, eyeing the dogs nervously.
       "Sure, come on in," Bruce stood aside. "Siddown you noisy buggers!"
      "Everything is to your satisfaction?" Cyprus inquired, without bothering to wait for an
answer. "Good. This is Leaf, your assistant." Cyprus indicated his female companion. "She is
here to satisfy your every requirement."
      Cyprus placed a lot of emphasis on the word 'every' and Bruce wondered what he was
trying to say. He appraised Leaf with interest. Leaf seeing the intensity of his look, bowed her
head demurely. However the long loose robe she wore, the standard dress for all Skidians,
failed to hide the pleasant curves of her body.
       "I was planning on having something to eat, Cyprus. Care to join me?" Bruce was
famished and couldn't put off eating any longer. By the look of most of them, he was sure no
Skidian ever passed up the chance to eat.
      "Inform Leaf of your requirements and she will ensure we are provided for." Bruce turned
to yell over his shoulder,
      "Beer?" Cyprus nodded. "Two beers and a feed as quickly as you can, please, Leaf,"
Bruce bellowed a little uncomfortably. Having a servant would take some getting used to.
      Bruce and Cyprus moved outside and sat in the sun on the patio around a small table.
Within minutes Bruce was sweltering under the hot Skidian sun and gratefully took the cold
beer Leaf brought him.
      "Thanks," he said offhandedly as she put them down on the table. "Cheers!" He said
raising the glass to his lips.
      "Cheers!" Cyprus repeated, finishing off the glass in one gulp and holding it out to be
refilled.
      Bruce stretched comfortably in his chair and rolled himself a smoke. "Tell me something.
One important question has just occurred to me. This virus that's troubling you. Do you know
where it comes from?"
      "Why do you ask?"
      "Because it occurs to me that if you knew where it came from, how it evolved, it might
help you control it. Right?" Bruce wasn't sure he was, but it seemed logical, especially if
someone had purposely-infected Skid. Maybe there was an antidote somewhere.
      "We do not know the origin of the virus. At one time intelligence reports suggested
outside agents may have placed it in our plants." Cyprus shook his head, discounting the
notion. "The problem with that theory is that all planets in this system rely on us for most of
their food supplies. Therefore in destroying our ability to produce food, a potential attacker
would also deny himself food."
     "Fair enough," mused Bruce. "But what if somebody else has worked out how to produce
enough food to feed themselves."
     "Never. It is not possible. We would surely know." Cyprus declared with insisted with
typical Skidian conceit, unaware that this was precisely what was happening on nearby Celcious
B.
      Bruce, deciding he wouldn't get much further on that tack, tried another. The Skidians
seemed unable to believe anybody else in the universe was as sophisticated or as capable as
they were. Alternatively, were they more worried that someone might be?
     "What about research into the virus?"
     "We are. Um." Cyprus remembered at the last moment that Skidians could do anything.
"Our scientists are continuing their investigations and we are still confident that they will
develop a cure for this viral infection."
     "So you just need me to develop a temporary solution. Maybe you've also decided that
you need to develop some alternative to your synthetic production even if you do cure the
virus."
     Cyprus frowned at Bruce as if the thought had not occurred to him or anybody else.
"Of course you realize that any system I set up will take time to come to develop." "We are
confident you can work miracles," Cyprus' replied unexpectedly.
Bruce was astounded by the reply. Surely he hadn't heard right. "What if I can't
help?"
     "If you won't or can't assist us, you will be disposed of. Another expedition will be
dispatched to your planet to obtain more suitable assistance."
     "Wonderful." Bruce thought the combined might of earth's agribusiness industry would
merely beat its head against a brick wall on Skid.
     "But I am sure you won't let us down," Cyprus added pleasantly.
     "Another thing interests me, Cyprus: how did you come to select me for your purposes?"
     "Simple, my friend. We chose you because you were traversing a zone of organic
material," Cyprus replied defying any logic Bruce understood. "Based on previous
observations, it was probable you were involved in some form of organic food production."
     Bruce never did really understand how the Skidians came to this conclusion, for none of
them seemed to know what organic material was. Organic material was just an indicator on
their sensors which they could not relate to anything on their own planet.
     "Sue was selected using the same criterion?"
     "Obviously." Cyprus's voice carried a hint of irritation at Bruce stating the obvious. "She
was inhabiting an area of large organic structures. We therefore concluded that she would be
an expert on their production." It obviously had not occurred to the Skidians that just because
it was organic did not mean you could eat it.
      "Geez Wayne. No wonder this place is stuffed," Bruce muttered in exasperation, not
bothering to mention Sue had simply been lost in a forest.
     "We were also careful to select candidates who were isolated from their fellows, so they
wouldn't be missed easily," Cyprus said untruthfully. Myfair had simply beamed the
offworlders aboard while the rest of them were arguing how to select them and would still be
arguing if he had not.
     Bruce suddenly realized the Skidians didn't just want him to show them how to produce
food organically. They wanted him to do it for them as well. "I can help you, but have you got
any idea how much work will be involved in producing enough food to feed all Skid's people?"
He asked.
     "We will work things out," replied Cyprus smugly. Relieved that the appearance of Leaf
and a trolley load of food interrupted the conversation. While Bruce devoured his unappetizing
meal as fast as he could. He might as well have taken a pill from all the enjoyment the meal
gave him, Cyprus ate more circumspectly, as Skidians were wont to do, scooping the
synthofood up with his fingers rather than the spoon that he held in his free hand.
      "Forget our problems for the present, Bruce," Cyprus suggested as he ate, as if an
imminent famine was a trivial matter. "Would you like to attend one of our festivals, Skids
major cultural event?"
      "Sure." Why not? Bruce thought. He had nothing better to do, after all.
      "Perfect." Cyprus sounded pleased with himself. "Then I will give you a few moments to
prepare yourself and then we shall depart."
      What's to prepare? Bruce wondered. The dogs? Maybe I'd better lock them up. Unless
Cyprus was suggesting he have a wash. Bruce sniffed his armpit surreptitiously and decided he
needn't bother. It'll be this Stim thing we're off to Bruce decided as he locked the dogs up. I
wonder if it's worth watching?
      "Ok so how do we get there?" Bruce asked as the two of them stood outside the house a
few minutes later.
      "We ride if we are ready?"
      "I am if you are." Bruce replied as the ground opened up beneath him. Before he had time
to be surprised, he found himself crouching on some kind of subterranean beltway with Cyprus
just in front of him clinging to a support pole as they were whisked away along a tunnel.
      It must have been a feeder tunnel. In a matter of seconds Bruce found he had to step off
the beltway he was standing on, and onto another, wider faster one, as they entered a vast
cavern full of Skidians going this way and that on similar beltways set in the floor. Before he
even had time to enjoy the ride Bruce was following Cyprus off the beltway and onto a small
unmarked platform. Then the two of them somehow popped up out of the ground outside one of
the vast stadiums Bruce had noticed earlier. They were ascending a massive flight of concrete
stairs up the rear of the stadium before he was really aware of what was going on.
       As they stepped into the sunlight and looked down on the playing surface a great cheer
rang out in response to an announcement over the public address system. Bruce stood there for
a moment, trying to work out was said and stared around the immense stadium that looked
about three quarters full of mostly hideously obese, white-robed Skidians, chanting, waving
their hands about, and cheering madly, obviously in a state of excitement.
      It was a scene typical of any large sports ground Bruce had ever visited. Like Eden Park
when the All Blacks were giving somebody a whopping, the MCG at a one-day cricket final.
Somehow he hadn't been able to picture a crowd of Skidians, who seemed to be so reserved
and dignified acting the same way. Maybe whatever cultural event he was about to see was to
Skidians what bread and circuses had been to the ancient Romans.
      Gridiron-type poles at each end of the field caught Bruce's attention as he gazed about the
stadium, awed by the mass of people and the infectious sense of anticipation coursing through
them, though the field itself was empty. So what had the Skidians been cheering about?
      Some sort of usher docked his book with Cyprus's and pointed to their seats, giving Bruce
a furtive, curious glance. He seemed about to make some comment when another roar rose
from the crowd. Bruce craned his neck around the usher to see what was going on, and caught
sight of two teams of Skidians jogging onto the field.
      Bruce expected Cyprus to tell him what was going on, though it was typically Skidian not
to tell him what was happening. As Cyprus was jumping up and down on his seat yelling and
screaming along with the rest of them in a state of uninhibited excitement, Bruce realized
Cyprus probably wouldn't make sense of anything at the moment even if he tried. After all
despite all the excitement, as far as Bruce could see, nothing had even happened yet.
      As it transpired explanations were largely superfluous, for after the opening stanzas of the
event, Bruce was left wondering how the Skidians could be playing a game which bore such a
remarkable resemblance to a relatively obscure game played on earth. A game Bruce knew
well.
      A member of the team who's uniform consisted of white shorts and red, black, and yellow,
hooped jerseys placed a white oval ball on a plastic tee. After checking the positions of his
team members he retired a few paces then kicked the ball towards the stand where Bruce and
Cyprus sat.
      The ball scribed a neat arc through the air, dropping into a space just inside the touchline.
A space being invaded by about half the players on the field, one of whom fumbled the ball on
his fingertips and it knocked it forward.
      "Butterfingers!" Bruce screamed, getting into the swing of things.
      As the players formed a scrum, Cyprus remembered he had a guest and turned to Bruce,
intending to explain the finer points of the event to Bruce.
      "After the kickoff the ball was knocked on and now a scrum has been formed to restart
play. Watch how the halfback feeds the ball to the scrum where it is raked back by the hooker.
See?"
      If Bruce had not been familiar with the game he would still have been none the wiser about
how it was played after Cyprus's explanation. None of the Skidians seemed particularly adept
at explaining anything, they took things for granted and assumed that whatever they said was
always fully understood.
      "Yeah, I know." Bruce replied watching the halfback fumble the ball from the base of the
scrum. "Useless!" he screamed.
      The scrum reformed and it was the opposing halfback's turn to feed it. His number eight
was not taking any chances. He picked up the ball and with his fellow forwards supporting him,
formed a slow moving maul that rumbled ponderously down the field. Suddenly the ball popped
out of the tangle of bodies to the halfback. The halfback passed the ball on to his first five, who
in turn flipped it onto the fullback bursting through outside him, exploiting a sudden gap that
had formed in the opposition back line.
      "Go, go!" shouted Bruce, leaping to his feet, groaning as he saw that the fullback lacked
the pace to exploit his break and nobody else was supporting him. The cover defense caught
him and dragged him to the ground, much to Bruce's disgust.
      "You know this event?" Cyprus asked incredulously.
      "Sure. Rugby, isn't it?"
      "We call it Stim," replied Cyprus stiffly.
      "Oh well, it's a lot like rugby, a game we play where I come from."
      "Are you sure?" Cyprus did not really believe Bruce. How could the inhabitants of such a
primitive planet develop an event of such complexity and finesse, and then call it a game? Why
had the medical team's analysis of Bruce failed to mention that he competed in Stim events or
something similar at least? Cyprus was appalled at the growing realization that some of his
fellow Skidians might not have been as thorough in their work as they should have been.
      "Yeah, play myself, mate," said Bruce proudly. The game was played at a fairly leisurely
pace, which allowed Bruce and Cyprus plenty of time to discuss the similarities between rugby
and Stim. Marveling at the lack of major differences between the two games and a shared
passion bordering on the fanatic for it.
      Half time was a bit of an education for Bruce. As the spectators chatted among
themselves and stood to stretch, or call for refreshments from the drones that circulated
between the aisles, the two teams went into their huddles at either end of the field to drink their
magic water and eat whatever passed for oranges on Skid.
      Nothing unusual in that. However, while they drank their respective coaches showed them
videos in order to rectify the shortcomings of the first half. Which was an interesting innovation
Bruce decided. Sadly, as far as he was concerned, the game as a spectacle was a
disappointment. Both teams were lethargic, to say the least, in their approach, with one team
totally outclassed by the other. So much so that Bruce thought the result might have been fixed
by some crooked players and bookies.
      At the end of the game Cyprus led Bruce from the stadium, though Bruce noticed the rest
of the crowd was in no hurry to leave.
     "Do you think I could get to play a game at some stage, Cyprus?" Bruce asked eagerly,
as they popped up out of the beltway outside his new home.
     "I'm sure it could be arranged," said Cyprus, wondering how this primitive being thought
he could compete with the specially trained and conditioned Skidian athletes. It would give
Cyprus great personal satisfaction to see the offworlder's ego shattered, to see him totally
demoralized by some of Skid's best athletes.
     "Leave it with me, Bruce." Cyprus would personally see to it. "Tomorrow I will take you
on a further familiarization trip around Skid, if that suits your plans?"
     "Sure," replied Bruce, he didn't have any plans as far as he knew, "and you won't forget
about getting me a game, will you?"
     "Tomorrow then."
     "Yeah. See ya later, Cyprus." Bruce said as he headed for his front door and Cyprus
dropped from sight again.
     Leaf met him on the front porch, holding the door open with the dignity of a well-trained
butler.
     "Good evening, sir. I trust the event was to your liking." There was no emotion in her
voice; Leaf had merely made an obligatory, pleasantry.
     "Wonderful," Bruce replied, wondering what he should say.
     "Is there anything that I can do for you sir?" Leaf asked as if Bruce had not said a word.
     "A drink of something." Bruce's throat felt as dry and rough as a piece of sandpaper.
"Hi!" he said to Sue, who was sitting in the lounge. "What's the story?" He did not wait for an
answer as he made for the bedroom and his 'proper' clothes. Leaf wasn't as efficient as she
probably thought she was. Anybody with his best interests at heart would have told him Sue
was inside.
     "That's more comfy." Bruce said to himself as he wandered back into the lounge after
swapping his long white robe for a pair of shorts and a singlet. "Thanks, Leaf," Bruce drained
the glass and handed it back for a refill while Sue waited expectantly and with some
apprehension for his reaction to her being there. He wasn't even aware of Leaf almost dropping
the glass she was carrying and her stunned look as she took in the sight of his limbs. She had
never seen anybody, let alone a male, practically nude before
     "Are you ok?" Bruce asked Sue, noting her strained look.
     "No, not really."
     "Tell me about it," Bruce suggested, surprised at himself. "Come over here and sit by
me." Bruce made a space for her on the couch. Sue ignored the space and instead sat on his
knee and wrapped her hands around his neck. At another time Bruce might have welcomed
such a direct approach, for the moment though, her attentions made him uncomfortable.
Against his will he felt an erection grow. Surely Sue must feel it pressing against her backside?
If she did, she made no comment about it. Or maybe she did because she seemed to wriggle
around in his lap for far longer than it should have taken her to get comfortable.
     "Let me go will ya? I can't breathe." Bruce peeled her arms away. "Now, tell me, what's
the problem?"
     "I feel so lonely," she whimpered. "Please let me stay here with you for a while."
     "Woman!" Bruce, who wasn't feeling lonely at all, grunted under his breath.
     "And there's this creepy man over there who tells me he is my assistant and keeps giving
me strange looks."
     "He's there to look after you. I have one here too, an assistant I mean, well, you've
obviously met Leaf. So what's the problem?"
     Sue sighed. "I just don't like it, him. Please can I stay here just for a few days until I settle
down?"
     "For how long?" Bruce really wanted to be shot of her, but he weakened despite himself.
     "Oh I suppose so," he agreed gruffly, "as long as you keep out of my way."
      "Thanks Bruce." Sue immediately brightened, gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek,
and then untwined her arms from around his neck, having achieved what she wanted.
     "Make yourself at home," he grunted sardonically, rising from the couch and walking out
to the patio. Bruce set his second beer on the table, slumped into one of the chairs and rolled
himself another smoke. Sue's presence was unsettling him for no good reason that he could
discover; his former buoyancy had dissipated. He barely noticed Sue come out and sit beside
him.
     "Do you recognize any of the star's Bruce?" He gazed moodily into the sky. Darkness
was falling and the first stars were twinkling overhead.
     "Shit, woman," he said roughly. "We're probably in the stars we can see from home and
we must be millions of miles from there."
     "Do you think we'll ever make it home?" Sue gripped his arm tightly. Bruce felt in his
heart there was always a chance. Nevertheless, his brain suggested that it was unlikely he
would ever see home again. Sensing that Sue needed to be assured of the possibility, no matter
how remote he said: "There's always a chance." Not in my lifetime, he didn't add.
     He got up suddenly, drained his beer, and announced he was off to check the dogs. He
found Sue's depression was contagious. Just as he thought, even at this early stage, he might
be coming to grips with having to stay on the planet for the rest of his days he suddenly felt
totally despondent about the whole thing.
     The dogs started barking as soon as he approached their kennels; at least they seemed to
have no worries. As far as they were probably concerned, Bruce had just moved again.
     "Get in Cop." Cop being the leader of the pack, and having certain duties and assumed
privileges, had taken it upon himself to investigate the boss's new place as soon as he was let
out of his kennel. Bruce wasn't about to encourage that sort of behavior.
      "Nice doggie!" Sue had followed Bruce outside and met Cop who wasn't slow in coming
forward when it came to a bit of attention. After a few pats he jumped up to lick her face by way
of appreciation.
     "Cop, you bastard!" Bruce hissed, and the dog trotted away with his tail wagging jauntily.
     "Get up." Enjoying their brief romp, the dogs pretended not to hear Bruce. But after
another terse command they leapt into their kennels rather than expose themselves to a well
aimed kick in the ribs.
An intermission

     Without a watch Bruce had no idea what time it was, but with daylight streaming through
the un-curtained window he presumed it must be morning. He hated getting out of bed at the
best of times, but eventually, after much procrastination he thought he'd better get up and see
what was going on.
     His first port of call was the toilet and his first cigarette of the day while he wondered what
he was going to do with himself. Much pushing and straining produced no result which worried
Bruce, for usually his bowels were as regular as clockwork. From memory he hadn't had a
movement the day before either. It was only much later that Bruce discovered that bowel
movements on Skid, because of the structure and consistency of the diet, were few and far
between. So much for the simple pleasures of life.
     After it became obvious that nothing was going to happen for the moment, Bruce flicked
the cigarette butt into the bowl and went to check out the bathroom. He found a disposable
razor, but it was blunt, so shaving was obviously out.
     A toothbrush stood in a glass along with a tube of paste that almost tasted like toothpaste,
although the brush itself was a bit soft for Bruce's liking.
     "You've got to hand to them. At least they try sometimes, even if they aren't always
successful," Bruce mused as he brushed his teeth vigorously.
      After he'd had a shower Bruce tramped around the house looking for something to do and
bumped into Leaf who was carrying what was looked like his breakfast out to the patio.
      Bruce sat on the patio and began to eat what there was of it. Not exactly bacon and eggs
with last nights left over spud. More like cold porridge or stale weetbix.
      "Get my book, Leaf." Bruce felt that saying 'please' to his servant didn't seem to have
the right ring about it to him.
      Unknown to Bruce, he thought she was merely a servant with no other useful skills, Leaf
was a privileged person on Skid. Not only was she a daughter of one of Skid's more important
families, she also had an occupation. Though she did not exactly see things in that light, waiting
on an ignorant offworlder was not what she had in mind when her cousin Toytoo asked if she
wanted to join him on working on a secret project for the senate.
      Aware that Toytoo had just returned from a journey to the far reaches of the universe,
Leaf had imagined that her years of training as a pilot might be useful to him in some
unspecified capacity. Instead she found herself being treated like a domestic drone by a being
she considered her intellectual inferior. Leaf seethed with resentment at this treatment, not
only in the offworlders casual abuse of her social status, but at the thoughtless behavior of one
of her peers by placing her in this almost untenable position. Even in this emancipated age she
could not even begin to object about Toytoo's insensitive behavior. One word out of place, the
slightest hint of dissatisfaction or insubordination about her role, and without a second thought
he would simply have her shipped off to a social re-education center, from which there was no
return.
      The book duly appeared, presented with an almost mocking bow which Bruce did not
notice. However unwillingly, Leaf had to attend to the offworlder. This did not mean she had to
be polite in doing so. Indeed the only culturally correct means she had available to her to
respond to the situation was by being extremely impolite. Unfortunately the offworlder was
completely ignorant of Skidian culture and the elaborate courtesies which were an instinctive
part of any interaction between Skidians. The offworlder was totally oblivious of her calculated
insults.
      Bruce was looking for the news, but providing a news service didn't appear to be one of
the book's functions. The big television like system in the corner of the lounge had nothing
either and all he could get off the radio was some really weird music.
      The book did tell him that newspapers were unknown on Skid. There was no news, no
current events, not even a sports news services. How did anybody find out what was going on in
this place if there were no news broadcasts?
      Sue did not seem to care one way or the other. She had joined him on the patio,
complained about the cigarette butt in the toilet, told him off for smoking while she ate, and
then asked him what he was going to do for the day. Maybe the Skidians were like Sue, not at
all interested in what was going on in the world around them.
      "We aren't exactly tourists, you know," he said after hearing the list of things she had
planned. He would be quite happy sitting around the place, resting. Besides, Bruce thought,
he'd better stay put and wait for Cyprus.
      Rather that than let Sue drag him around bored rigid while she searched out places of
'interest', Bruce passed the time asking questions of his book.
      Then he remembered the large conventional book he had taken from the archeological
site the previous day and decided to have a browse through that while he was waiting for
Cyprus.
      On the opening pages he found an introduction and brief history of the center.

Articles Of Establishment 18963. By order of the Minister for the Department of Agriculture
this Disaster Recovery Center has been established to ensure the availability of pure stock for
the replanting of food crops after unspecified destruction of common stocks. Said stocks will be
under the control of the Director of Agriculture and dispensed at his discretion at a time(s) he
may deem appropriate. This center contains sufficient seed stocks for the provision of three
seasons' plantings at 18963 population requirements without replenishment.

     The introduction continued in the same vein for several pages. Bruce flicked through the
inventory, wondering what sort of disaster they had been preparing for and why the stocks
hadn't been used. Surely the Skidian's technology and sophistication would have prevented any
major disasters befalling them? And then Bruce thought about that properly. Nah! As they
were in the process of finding out increasing reliance on their technology had just made them
more vulnerable to a really sophisticated attack or major disaster.
      Bruce was about to set the ledger aside when several creased pages caught his eye,
offending his sense of neatness. He flipped over to the pages and found several loose pieces of
paper tucked in between the pages. Bruce flattened them out on the table and read.
     Sometime not long after the establishment of the center two events had occurred which
rendered it virtually obsolete. Until today, Bruce observed wryly. The first was that synthetic
food plants were established beneath the oceans at various points around the planet.
     As prototype units proved their worth, the planet's reliance on organically produced food
decreased until in a few years everyone ate synthofood. At about the time the synthofood
plants were reaching their full productive capacity, Skid underwent a surprise attack from the
inhabitants of Celcious B, a warlike race from a nearby planet.
     For generations Skid had held a stranglehold on universal food and industrial
production, thereby keeping the rest of the system firmly under its control. This attack was
retaliation for centuries of oppression, and it nearly succeeded. Skid's population had been
decimated in the attack, its cities reduced to smoking ruins, its landscape completely
rearranged by weapons too awesome to contemplate.
     Luckily for what remained of Skid after the attack. In what had been a belated attempt to
protect what was left of their environment after aeons of ecological rape, all industry had been
relocated to sites below the oceans and was largely untouched during the assault and the
population had been confined to several enormous urban areas.
     The Celcions may have wreaked havoc on the planet's surface, but Skid's industrial and
military might remained virtually intact. The Skidian survivors retaliated by completely
decimating Celcious B. Industrial areas were flattened, intellectuals hounded and executed,
schools and hospitals closed, books burned, until the Celcions were reduced from a once proud
people to beggars existing on handouts from Skid. Stripped of potential leaders and
technocrats, the Celcions were reduced to squatting about staging zones like a planet of cargo
cultists or welfare beneficiaries waiting for the next handout.
      Bruce wondered how super efficient the super efficient Skidians had really been on
Celcious B. How long ago did all this happen? The date on the notes was meaningless to Bruce,
and his book couldn't or wouldn't say. It was as though a block had been put on any historical
information. All he had was this minute fragment and heaps of questions.
     Why weren't the Skidians interested in history? Bruce recalled Yarad's observations and
realized that such interest must be actively discouraged, as if a call had gone out from
somewhere at some point in time that the past had ceased to exist. Didn't they ever question
their origins; wonder where it was they came from? Maybe a Skidian religion provided some
kind of psychological buffer against the unknown and incomprehensible? The book was
disappointingly mute on this subject as well, saying only that the incumbent leader, in this case
Inel, was the spiritual and secular leader of the planet. In other words, he's the god, thought
Bruce.
     It was sobering thought to realize that while on earth advances in technology were being
greeted as a means of freeing whole populations from the drudgery of work and to enhance
democracy and nationalistic objectives, here on Skid the exact opposite was happening. Skid
was a technological dictatorship; it was almost a wonder that computers or robots had not taken
over completely because the place could obviously tick over without any Skidian involvement.
     Bruce's thoughts strayed again to the unknown author of the account he had read, which
ended by saying that Skid had paid an extraordinary high price for its victory. The planet's
surface was covered with ash and other debris, barely a building was left standing, or a living
organism remained. On this note the account finished. Unsigned. Had its anonymous author
survived?
     As the center had been interred, Bruce thought it was likely the person had died there
somewhere. "What away to go," Bruce muttered, his own fate paling into insignificance. At
least he was still alive.
     As Bruce finished reading Sue reappeared from wherever she had taken herself off to.
"Here have a look at this." He shoved the notes across to her. Moodily he rose from the table
and leaned against the rail surrounding the patio, gazing out over jumble of houses that
surrounded them. After several minutes, he turned to the table, poured himself some more
coffee, and rolled himself a cigarette.
     "Do you mind?" Sue snapped.
     "Look, if you don't like my habits then you can just bugger off. This is my space." Bruce
wasn't about to take any shit from Sue.
     Sue bowed her head, and made a big issue out of waving the smoke away, as fat, silent
tears rolled off her chin and made little pools of moisture on the table that Bruce did not even
notice.
A scenic tour

     The rest of the day passed excruciatingly slowly for the both of them. Sue failed to
convince Bruce that a walk around the neighborhood might be a good idea. She finally trotted
off by herself, only to return quickly, remarking that she did not feel safe out alone.
     Bruce did not take the hint, which left Sue wondering why he was being so unreasonable.
For his part, he did not see why he should do something just because Sue wanted him to. Would
she jump into bed with him just because he thought it was a good idea?
     Cyprus did not appear, so Bruce spent his time, drinking too much coffee, smoking too
many cigarettes, and becoming more irritable as time went on. At length it occurred to him to
watch TV and he spent a few happy hours watching Stim games, amply supplied by Leaf with
beer. However, after a few hours of continuous games the novelty had mostly worn off.
     Sue showed some interest in Stim and Bruce tried to explain the game to her,
unsuccessfully. It soon became apparent she was just as bored as he was. Her references to
the fact that Stim, rugby, or whatever the game was called looked like a bastardized form of
American football, and Bruce's towering rage at this comment, undoubtedly contributed to her
making herself scarce for a while.
     While she tentatively began to explore the surrounding area, Bruce was content to remain
slothful. Why worry? There was plenty of time. All the time in the world to look around the city.
The whole planet, for that matter.
                                                 Sue took the dogs with her, or once they
                                                 were off, the dogs took her on a search and
                                                 snuffle mission. For protection, she said,
                                                 though the only Skidian that they came into
                                                 contact with, was Leaf. The surrounding
                                                 area was empty of Skidians, as if they were
                                                 in quarantine. Bruce suspected that they
                                                 weren't in quarantine at all, it was just that
                                                 the Skidians probably spent most of their
                                                 time roaming the beltway tunnels beneath
                                                 their homes looking for something to do all
                                                 day.
     After a day's inactivity, when Cyprus had not shown up for the second morning in a row as
he had promised, Bruce decided he'd had enough. Spurring himself into gear he announced
after a late breakfast that he was off for a wander around. His only problem was, was that he
didn't really want to go off by himself.
     Rather than admit this to Sue, he intimated instead that she might like to accompany him
while he exercised the dogs.
      They had barely left the house when an aircraft landed noiselessly beside them and the
large, shambling figure of Sideshow emerged and waddled over.
     "Hello," Bruce greeted her politely enough. "What are you up to? Are your plants
growing yet?" Sideshow halted in her tracks and Bruce continued to snipe at her.
      "Going for a walk eh? Do you good. Nice day for it, eh?" Let her catch up if she could. He
was off.
      "Where are you going?" Sideshow wheezed, as she chased after him.
      "There and back to see how far it is," Bruce chuckled facetiously, increasing his pace and
leaving the two women behind.
      "I think she wants to talk to us," Sue bleated. "Do you have to walk so fast?" Sue had an
irritating habit of pointing out the obvious which got right up his nose.
     "Geesh woman, you've been on at me to go for a walk, and just when we get started you
want to stop. Make your bloody mind up, will you?" Sideshow gawped at the offworlders and
wondered what had upset them now.
      "Come on."
     "Bruce!" Sue shrieked worried that Sideshow might take offence.
     "What?" he asked innocently. "Oh all right. Don't wet your pants about it." Bruce
thought he had made his point whatever it was. Sideshow waddled up to them and took a minute
or so to get her breathing under control. She was not used to any form of exercise and the brief
chase had left her quite breathless.
     "I have been instructed by Toytoo to conduct you on a tour of Skid today," she wheezed
unhappily. Toytoo should have sent someone else; this sort of errand was an indignity for one
of her seniority.
     "Sounds ok to me. What do you think, Sue?" Bruce thought Cyprus should have been
taking him on a tour, "mind you he also said he'd do that yesterday," he muttered. Sue
shrugged her shoulders as if she could not care less. Well, she probably didn't have to come if
she didn't want to Bruce decided.
     "Ok Sideshow, I'll come, but I don't know about Sue. Come on Punch, get up." Bruce
grabbed Punch by the scruff of his neck and threw him onto the floor of the aircraft where he
cowered until it lifted off. The other two jumped in behind Bruce looking quite pleased with
themselves. Like their boss, they did not believe in walking where they could ride. Sue did not
really want to get in the aircraft, but given a choice between being left alone on the street and
having some company, no matter how unfriendly, she decided on the latter.
      "Are we going to pick up Toytoo or Cyprus?" Bruce asked as the aircraft left Sietnuoc
behind and headed out over the 'wilderness.' "Get out of it, Cop." Cop propped his front paws
up on the rear of Bruce's seat to get a better view and was slobbering into his ear. Bruce
twisted in his seat and slapped the dog away. Cop was nothing if not a persistent fellow, he
simply moved across to the pilot's side of the cockpit where the window was partially open.
Slobbering over Myfair's neck, who was again their pilot, while poking his head out into the
slipstream was doggy bliss for Cop.
     Neither Sideshow nor Myfair deigned to answer Bruce's question. Myfair had been
detailed to fly the offworlders about, and that's what he intended to do, Sideshow felt pretty
much the same and was soon snoring loudly on a couch at the rear of the aircraft.
      Nobody had told Myfair where to fly, so he just flew away in the direction he had started.
When he reached the limit the aircraft's range he would simply turn around and fly back again.
That was the Skidian way and Myfair could not take it upon himself to do anything else,
despite being considered a bit of a rebel.
     The whole exercise was undertaken with a lethargic disinterest which disconcerted Bruce.
Didn't these people have any concern for the future of their planet, their own futures? Or was
this air of detachment studied, a cover for some other emotion that he was too insensitive to
discern?
     "Can we go down for a closer look? Land, maybe?" Bruce pointed down as they flew over
a great herd of ivops. With a shrug of his shoulders, as if it were a great imposition, Myfair
landed the craft amongst the great herd of ivops.
      The ivops meandered out of the way quite unconcerned at the intruder dropping into their
midst. A few of them glanced up without curiosity as Bruce disembarked, and then resumed
their grazing like a herd of satisfied dairy cows. Bruce stroked the nose of the nearest ivop,
which after initially shying away, submitted to the caresses and then began to lick at his fingers
with its rasp like tongue. The rough massaging of his fingers sent a sensual tingle up Bruce's
spine that made him shiver.
     If these animals had endured whatever holocaust had befallen Skid in the past, then Bruce
decided they must be incredibly tough creatures. This massive herd alone must have contained
thousands if not hundreds of thousands of members. Perhaps the great herds of bison that had
once roamed the American west were of a similar imposing size. It was a huge untapped source
of food if the Skidians wanted to harvest it.
     Bruce called the dogs out and set them about the ivops. In response to the barking and
nipping at their heels, the ivops began to move, slowly rising to a trot, then suddenly stopping in
their tracks as if they had decided there was no need to panic and that the dogs could not hurt
them.
     "Plenty of feed here," Bruce said, mostly to himself. "Plenty for you to eat as well," he
told Myfair as he retook his seat.
     Neither Myfair nor Sideshow showed any interest in what he had to say, preferring
instead to gaze haughtily from their respective windows. Sideshow because she still considered
that showing the offworlders around Skid was a task beneath her and an unnecessary one to
boot. Myfair was far more interested in his next patrol mission to the far reaches of the
universe. By the time he was scheduled to return Skid's fate would be sealed one way or
another.
     "But they're alive, Bruce," Sue pointed out, "and anyway, how do you know we can eat
them?" Apparently Sue wasn't keen on the idea of ivop meat either.
     "No worries. I'll try it out on the dogs first." Bruce regarded them for a moment,
picking his nose thoughtfully, unaware that Sue did not find his logic reassuring.
      Still neither of the Skidians made any comment, though Bruce thought the disapproving
look on Sideshow's face meant that there was no way she would eat any part of an Ivop either,
no matter how hungry she got. Well she'd learn Bruce thought either that or she'd fade away to
a shadow.
                                                                "Is that it?" Bruce wanted
                                                                to know, soon after as
                                                                Myfair landed outside the
                                                                house. All they'd been shown
                                                                was a vast herd of ivops that
                                                                they accidentally stumbled
                                                                on and very little else.
     "Yes," Sideshow replied before they got off the aircraft, "and now we expect you to go to
work and provide us with food."
     "I don't get it." Bruce was more than a little confused; it didn't seem to have occurred to
the Skidians to let him know exactly what they wanted from him, unless that was also up to him.
So without even recognizing it, Bruce and the Skidians were at cross-purposes right from the
beginning. Bruce waited for some operational guidelines, while the Skidians waited for him to
do whatever he was going to do. That was the way of things on Skid.
     "You know Sue, I get the impression these people don't really give a shit about their
problems. It's as if they expect someone else, meaning us, I suppose, to sort things out for
them."
     Sue shrugged her shoulders apathetically. "I'm sure you're right." Sue was just trying to
be agreeable; she was not showing much enthusiasm either.
     What's really going on here? Bruce asked himself, reviewing what he knew about Skid,
which wasn't much. Nobody appeared to do a hell of a lot of work, or anything for that matter.
Even Leaf had a variety of drones that did most of the work around the house. The washing,
cleaning, and carting food and drink around. An entire society that had done away with work
appeared quite attractive, yet the Skidians had been programmed to live in great cities,
apparently doing virtually nothing with themselves.
     "I suppose there's not a lot of point living in the country if there's no food to grow," Bruce
mused. So why wasn't the wilderness used for fishing, hunting, tramping, and other outdoor
pursuits? Surely there were better things to do than sit under a shady tree, wander around the
beltway all day in case an accident happened, or watch Stim games.
     Bruce started to wonder how the hell was he going to hack the place. The thought of
spending the rest of his days here simply doing nothing wasn't exactly enthralling. The future
loomed before him, like a long, dark tunnel with no light at the end. At least I'm still alive. Got
to be thankful for something, I suppose Bruce thought as he walked into the house.
     "Beer," he yelled hard enough for Leaf to hear in the kitchen as he collapsed into a chair.
It was not really a kitchen, more of a food reception room really, for nothing was cooked or
prepared there. All food and drink was reticulated to the house through a series of pipes, like
town supply water was at home. You only had to press a button and food was ejaculated from a
dispenser like toothpaste from the tap.
     Leaf appeared with a large jug and carefully poured out two glasses, handing one to
Bruce. He gulped most of the glass in one mouthful and belched contentedly.
     "Ah, that was good," he sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes.
     "Cheers!" Sue said, slipping into the chair alongside.
     "Up yours. Transport, how and what?" he demanded of his book. It suddenly seemed
imperative to him to have his own wheels so he could just bugger off when he felt like it, giving
him an illusion of independence at least.
     "Personal transportation is available on request."
     "What sort?"
     "Ground vehicles or aircraft?"
"Describe a ground vehicle for me." The book regurgitated a mass of technical
data that lost Bruce after the first sentence. "Can I have one? " Was all he wanted to
know.
     "Certainly sir. I will see one is supplied forthwith." It was apparently as easy as that.
     "You know, Sue, this place really baffles me." Bruce considered the book. "You can't get
any sense at all out of the Skidians, but this book thing is a real mine of info." He took another
swig from the glass that Leaf had replenished. "It baffles me, you know," he repeated inanely,
unruffled by Leaf's presence. He paused and Sue had to wait several moments for his next gem
of insight. "I know we haven't been here long, and for sure we don't know even a small part of
what goes on here. But there's something really weird going on"
     "How do you mean?" Sue asked, groaning inwardly. Not this again.
     "Well, for instance, if you were faced by the prospect of famine, wouldn't you be trying to
do something about it?"
"Yeah. I suppose so," Sue conceded, not having given the matter much thought. "Right, so the
Skidians," Bruce was warming himself up, " race off down to
Earth in their spaceship, pick us up, tell us they need our help, and then practically abandon us.
Interesting, eh?"
      "But at least they have tried, even if they don't know what they're trying to do. You have
got to give them that much credit. Perhaps they don't know what sort of help they want from
us."
"What? So why bother us in the first place? Shit for brains, that's all I can
say. What are we doing here, then?"
     "I'm not sure, yet," Sue replied thoughtfully. "But one thing's for certain, I'm not going to
sit on my backside and feel sorry for myself." Bruce realized Sue was pretending to be
assertive. Occasionally she gave the impression she was going to be her own woman. However,
Bruce could see right through her. If she was so tough why couldn't she cope with living by
herself? He yawned and decided that he'd rather watch television, even Skidian television, than
talk to Sue.

Games people play

     Before Bruce had managed to get comfortable in front of the television Leaf ushered
Cyprus into the room.
     "Hrrmph!" Cyprus cleared his throat to attract Bruce's attention, who, thinking it was
only Sue, ignored him. "Bruce." Cyprus tried again.
     "Yes," said Bruce, turning his head.
     "Are you serious about wishing to be involved in a Stim event?" He asked.
     "Sure. When? Now?"
     "The Murd organization with which I have an association is having a trial today and have
agreed to let you be involved."
     "Yep, certainly."
     "May I come too?" Sue asked diffidently. Bruce couldn't think why she would want to,
given her obvious lack of interest in the game. It did not occur to Bruce that although Sue
thought he was an ill-mannered, insensitive, oaf, she might be terrified at the prospect of letting
him out of her sight. She was scared to death at the prospect of being left by herself at the
mercy of the Skidians.
     "If it pleases you." Cyprus did not seem to care what Sue did either way.
     To Bruce's surprise the stadium was almost full for the game, which he hadn't expected
seeing as though it was just a trial match.
     Bruce met the team he was to play for and their coach in the dressing room. Nobody said
much to him, though the coach did wish him well and pointed him in the direction of a locker.
Maybe they were just shy or something Bruce thought. Inside the locker hung a jersey with a
number nine on the back. How can they have known that? Bruce wondered, pulling it over his
head.
      The team talk wasn't stirring, nor was the team plan revealed to him. Bruce thought the
others must have it down pat and had simply omitted to tell him, that seemed to be the Skidian
way. There were no last minute dissemination of the opposition's known strengths and
weaknesses. Nothing.
      Nor did the coach bring the team to a fever pitch of excitement, incite them to go out and
take the opposition apart or give them license to commit mayhem or murder, as some of
Bruce's earthbound coaches had been prone to do for motivational purposes.
       It struck Bruce that the team was just going to go through the motions. There wasn't any
tension or pent up excitement apparent in the men around him. None of them looked
particularly fit, or athletic for that matter either, and the opposition team, when they trotted out
onto the field, looked equally unimpressive, though they were certainly big. Still, he felt the
adrenaline pumping through his own veins, and was looking forward to working out some of his
pent up frustrations and anger on the field.
      Bruce's team had apparently lost the toss, and after a brief discussion that he couldn't
follow the ball was thrown in his direction, apparently so that he could kick off and start the
game.
      Bruce placed the ball on a plastic tee and kicked out to where his forwards were grouped.
The ball rose into the air and dropped neatly into the hands of one of the charging opposition
players, who promptly stopped in surprise, as if someone had dropped a bomb in his lap.
      Bruce raced across the field to the maul that formed, arriving as the ball popped out and
rolled across the ground towards him. His first pass was a real ripper, missing out the stunned
first five, landing in the hands of an equally stunned center, who then spoilt a wonderful
attacking chance by running straight into the arms of his opposite number.
      The two sets of forwards lumbered across the field to the breakdown, while the backs
struggled with each other on the ground.
      "Bloody hell, get in there, use your feet!" Bruce shouted frantically and was about to ruck
the ball out with his foot when the referee blew his whistle.
"Scrum it. You. Watch your language!" He pointed a finger at Bruce. "Black ball." "Eh?"

      This wasn't a game of rugby. It was a joke. Bruce fed the scrum which had formed midway
between the opposition twenty two and halfway, calling, "weight," as he rolled the ball beneath
the hooker's feet. The scrum didn't move an inch. Bruce skipped around the base of it as his
number eight picked up the cleanly hooked ball and ran forward. As the opposition loosies went
to tackle him, he turned his back in copybook fashion for his own forwards to group on him and
drive. The slow motion dance disgusted Bruce. He leapt into the collapsing maul, wrenched out
the ball, feinted to the left, ran right over two or three players, and then sprinted for the try
line, touching down between the posts.
      "Peep!" went the ref's whistle as Bruce trotted back with the ball to kick the conversion,
just as the ref ordered a penalty where the scrum had been.
      "What the hell?" Bruce couldn't believe it, and kicked the ball away in disgust. Penalized
for over vigorous play! What a load of shit! These Skidians were just a bunch of big girls.
Bruce stopped in his tracks, realizing the players from both teams were staring at him. Bruce
was even more disconcerted to see that a complete hush had fallen over the crowd, and he felt
as if every eye in the place were upon him, thousands of them.
      He shrugged in the uneasy silence, half-afraid the spectators might pour onto the field and
rip him apart in response to his misdemeanor. When they didn't he relaxed, failing to register
the excited buzz that spread around the stadium like a Mexican wave.
      Bruce continued his aggressive approach to the game with each of his runs or tackles
greeted by a huge roar from the crowd. Just before half time the referee gave Bruce another
warning for over vigorous play after he punched an opponent who had the misfortune to try to
tackle him when he didn't have the ball.
      "One more warning and you're off," the referee informed him in no uncertain terms.
      None of his fellow team members looked at Bruce, let alone spoke to him at half time and
he was left wondering what he had done wrong. After all he'd scored two tries, set up several
others, and tackled like a man possessed.
      To his disgust, just minutes into the second half, the referee sent him off. The sending off
was especially perplexing as he had just made a try saving tackle.
      The opposition had won the ball from a scrum and the ball had been passed out to the
backs. The fullback had lumbered up inside the wing to make an extra man, had received the
ball, and plodded on in the general direction of the goal line. Bruce couldn't believe it when his
team just watched the man run. He sprinted across the field, felling the fullback just short of
the try line. The ball spilled forward from the fullback's arms and Bruce pounced on it, got to
his feet, and booted it up field.
      A brilliant save, Bruce congratulated himself as the crowd roared. The referee ran up and
ordered him from the field with an unmistakable gesture towards the stand that Bruce didn't
even bother to argue with.
      "You're just a dork!" Bruce told him in no uncertain terms.
      As he made his way across the field the crowd began to boo loudly and various missiles
began to rain down from the stands. They sounded like a circus crowd that had been deprived
of a new and bloody spectacle. Bruce started to run, hoping to make the comparative safety of
the changing rooms before he got lynched. At the entrance of the tunnel that led under the
stand, Bruce turned to give the ref the fingers. However, the referee had been struck by a
missile was being carried from the field on a stretcher.
      Bruce counted his lucky stars that he'd got away, unaware that his dismissal from the
game had incited the sort of diversionary riot that Stim had been originally designed to create
by long forgotten Skidian social engineers .
      Unwittingly Bruce had achieved this by playing Stim in the fashion intended by its
creators, a fashion that had been absent from the game for more years than could be
remembered. Thanks to Bruce and the baying of the crowd, it was now back in style.
      Bruce didn't stick around to watch the remainder of the game, he wasn't interested in just
watching.
      Cyprus eased his disappointment by saying his dismissal had been unjustified and that he
was most embarrassed it had happened. The problem was, he explained, that Tutsi, Inel's
youngest son was playing for the opposition side hoping to regain his place in the senior team
after recovering from an injury.
      "And I tackled him."
      "That is correct."
      Bruce wondered, as Cyprus apologized profusely at the indignity of his being sent off,
whether he had been tested in some fashion, and whether he had passed.
      Cyprus, on the other hand, was more than a little disconcerted by Bruce's performance.
He had expected Bruce to be easily contained by the admittedly second rate players, and
chopped down to size. It was an awed Skidian that witnessed Bruce take over the Stim event
virtually single-handed. Cyprus hoped Bruce would accept his feeble attempt to save face, and
resolved to keep him from the Stim field in future so that the flower of Skidian manhood could
not be so embarrassed again. The event adjudicator would have to be rewarded for his
unwitting cooperation in removing Bruce from the event, if he ever recovered from the injuries
inflicted by the crowd.
      Sue didn't hide the fact that she was impressed with Bruce's athletic prowess, commenting
more than once on the short journey home that he'd do much better if he didn't smoke and
drink so much. Bruce smiled modestly as Sue's admiration caught him off guard.
      "I'm not very good really. Those other jokers were just bloody useless, that's all."
      "You were impressive. I am sure the Murd coach will want to talk to you soon about
playing for them," Cyprus lied before turning to Sue for a second opinion.
      "Is that how you play Stim on your planet?"
       "I've never seen this game before. It looks to me like a perverted version of……." Sue
knew she had said the wrong thing as soon as the words left her mouth.
      "I have already explained to you once, you stupid bitch!" Bruce hissed, not wanting to
make a scene in front of Cyprus. "That's what pisses me off about you insular, ignorant
bastards. American football is a perverted form of rugby," he snarled.
      "There's no need to be nasty about it!" Sue ran off unsteadily along the beltway to put as
much distance between herself and Bruce as possible.
      "It's difficult to explain, Cyprus," Bruce replied struggling to regain his composure.
"Where I come from, like Skid, it's the most important game we play. However, it's not a major
sport on our planet. We also generally play it with a lot more vigor than you seem to."
       Cyprus assimilated this unlikely explanation and then asked: "Then what is the most
important event on your planet?" For Skidians, Stim was not a game, it was more a religious
celebration.
      "Soccer."
      "Explain this soccer to me," Cyprus demanded, becoming confused.
      "It's a game played with a round ball," Bruce traced the shape in the air with a finger.
"Instead of holding the ball or carrying it, you play it with the feet and kick it. The game is
played on a field roughly the size of a Stim field and the aim is to get the ball through the area
below the crossbar on a set of Stim goal posts. Understand?"
      "Yes," Cyprus nodded. "It sounds like a very complex game to play, "he added, trying to
picture what the event would look like. " How did Stim develop from this event?" Cyprus
wondered how some unwitting Skidian had introduced the game to the offowrlder's planet. That
was the only explanation he could think of for the event developing anywhere else.
       "Oh, easy." Bruce was sure of his folklore. "One day at a school called Rugby a boy
called William Webb Ellis picked up a soccer ball and ran with it, so the game was called
rugby."
"How did Stim develop on Skid?" Bruce asked, but he should have known
better.
      "Oh, I don't know," Cyprus frowned and shook his head, changing the subject. "We must
be going."
      What a moody shit, thought Bruce as they popped up in front of the house again.
      Bruce couldn't really have cared less about Stim, Sue, Cyprus, or anything else on Skid
for that matter, especially when they got back home and found a set of wheels parked by the
house. He wasn't surprised that it looked like a very close copy of the ute probably still parked
in the shed back home.
      Bruce walked around the vehicle, nudging the tires experimentally with his big toe,
peering into the cab and then finally sliding in behind the wheel. He turned the ignition key, but
the only indication that anything was happening was the ignition light going out.
      He depressed the clutch, engaged first gear, and released the clutch. To his surprise the
utility moved forward. Bruce had wondered for a moment if the Skidians had thought to put an
engine under the hood or whether they expected him to paddle it along like a Fred Flintstones
type car.
      "Hmm." Bruce pulled the gear lever into neutral and pulled the bonnet catch so he could
check out the engine.
      "Hello!" He found too his surprise there wasn't one.
      Instead, suspended by several struts in the large engine bay, designed millions of miles
away, and usually occupied by a six or eight cylinder donk, was a small cylinder, the shape and
size of a half gallon beer flagon. A shaft ran from the neck of the cylinder back to what Bruce
supposed was some form of transmission system. He crawled underneath the ute and had a
look there. No exhaust, no gearbox, no fuel line. Nothing. Just a shaft running back to the rear
differential.
     Oh well, Bruce decided, I don't need to know how it works as long as it does. He could
hear his father's voice roaring at him. "If you don't understand it leave the bloody thing alone,
boy!" Bruce had always had the knack of pulling things apart, but was not as clever at putting
them back together again.
     "Want to come for a test run?" Bruce asked Sue, whose inquisitiveness had got the better
of her, though she would rather not have had anything to do with Bruce for a while.
     "As long as you promise to drive carefully. Where shall we go?"
     "Oh, I don't know, let's just go," Bruce replied, wondering why he put up with the stupid
woman. How did he know where he was going?
     "What if you get lost?"
     "Don't worry about it. Look, are you coming or not? Because I'm off now!"
     "Hang on!" Sue rushed into the house while Bruce drummed his fingers impatiently on the
steering wheel. "Come on, come on!" He muttered under his breath and was just about to take
off without her when he decided he might as well let the dogs off for a run.
     Travel was one of the dog's favorite pastimes. Cop paused to cock his leg on the driver's
side to show the world who really owned the ute before joining Can and Punch on the back. Can
and Punch impatiently barked, 'Come on, we're ready to go! '
     Sue skipped down the steps at last and went round to open up the driver's side door.
     "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
     "Oh." Sue peered into the cab. "The steering wheel's on the wrong side."
     "Rubbish, you're just used to driving on the wrong side of the road." Bruce pushed her out
of the way, banging on the roof in an attempt to quiet the dogs. Then he slid behind the wheel
again, started the motor, engaged reverse gear, and roared backwards onto the street. Well it
would have been a roar except that this ute didn't have an internal combustion engine or a
leaky muffler.
     Once on the road, Bruce shifted into first gear and dropped the clutch while pressing
firmly on the throttle with his right foot. The ute's rear fishtailed as the tires spun and then
caught on the road's surface, throwing Sue around and forcing her to grab the door handle for
support.
     On the back the dogs barked their approval.
     "Be careful," Sue gasped, as Bruce accelerated off down the left hand side of the road.
"You're on the wrong side of the road!" She screamed, throwing her hands up in an effort to
protect herself from the accident that was surely about to happen at any moment.
     "No I'm not."
     "How do you know?"
     "Dunno. Ask your book. I presume you brought it?" snapped Bruce. Why couldn't she
just keep her mouth shut?
     "Very good Bruce. Start driving and then find out about the road rules. Real bright."
     "Do you want to come with me or not?" Bruce demanded, slowing and pulling to the side
of the road, prepared to let her out if that's what she wanted.
     "Pedestrians have the right of way at all times," was the extent of Skid's road rules
leaving Bruce none the wiser about what side of the road to drive on.
      In an instant the road suddenly became alive with Skidians as if they'd all poured out from
their homes on cue to catch the greatest show in town, to stare at the strange looking vehicle
driving past.
     Skidians everywhere, more than Bruce or Sue had seen at anyone time except at the Stim
stadium. Walking along the footpath, all over the road, sitting under trees, on chairs in little
groups, young Skidians chasing each other around, all wearing the uniform long white robes.
     All of them stopped whatever they had suddenly found to do to watch the ute roll past.
Following it with their eyes, faces devoid of any expression. Nobody smiled or waved, and a
sinister hostility pervaded the atmosphere, as if the two offworlders had stumbled into some
forbidden zone. They would be unknown here. The Skidians they had met, Cyprus and the
others, hadn't said anything about not showing themselves, but Bruce reckoned they wouldn't
have let on about their presence either.
     "Bugger this," Bruce decided aloud. "How do we get out of this place?" The book on the
seat regurgitated directions and soon they had stopped circling through the streets and were
headed back past the house into the countryside.
     "What about a trip to that resource center?" The book spat out directions, travel times
and an ETA. "Better leave it for tomorrow," suggested Bruce, realizing that the trip would
take several hours and it was getting late in the day. Without further consultation he swung the
ute around and headed back home, much to the disgust of Sue, who wanted to continue to look
around. At what she would not say, so not surprisingly Bruce didn't feel particularly helpful.
     They found the house surrounded by hundreds of Skidians, sitting, lying, or standing about
the lawn, chattering in small groups on the road. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for
this activity. They could have been just inquisitive, or perhaps rent a mob. None of them batted
an eyelid as the ute drew up outside the house and the two offworlders got out.
     The Skidians hung around for ages, the more adventurous of them peering through the
windows or knocking on the door before running off quickly as if to irritate the offworlders. If
Bruce found this sort of behavior disconcerting, Sue was absolutely terrified by it.
     "I can't handle this, Bruce. They're driving me crazy!" She was worried that the crowd
might turn into something more ugly and had conjured up visions of a lynch mob.
     "I hate it as well, all these people moping around with nothing to do. The first thing I'm
going to do is organize a place to stay, out in the country somewhere." He did not make it plain
to Sue whether she was welcome to join him.
     "Bugger off, ya bastards!" He finally yelled out the door feeling uncomfortably like a
goldfish, "can't a man have any bloody privacy round here?"
     The Skidians seemed to get the message, for they slowly dispersed.
     "I've always harbored this dream of being a pioneer, braving the wilds, hacking a farm out
of the bush," Bruce mused, as he watched them leave in ones and twos, "and here, millions of
miles from home it looks as if I might get my chance."
     "Oh that sounds so romantic. A man and a woman against the land!" Sue gushed, in the
mistaken belief that Bruce might have included her in his fantasy. Another thought struck
Bruce. A thunderbolt, so obvious that he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. "You
know, that could be just what the Skidians want."
     "Eh? How do you mean?"
     "The Skidians want us to help them, but for some reason best known to themselves they
aren't comfortable with coming out and pointing us in the right direction. Right?"
     "Yeah, Bruce, we've gone over all that before and couldn't work out what we should be
doing," Sue yawned. "So you reckon you've worked out what they want?"
     "Not really," he confessed, "but we've got to come up with a solution to help them out
with their famine, or." He drew his hand dramatically across his throat.
      "What really gets me, though, is why they just don't come out and tell us what they want,"
said Sue. "Maybe it's to difficult for them to admit they are in trouble, perhaps impossible for
them to admit they're in trouble."
     "Things aren't always as clear cut as you'd like to think Sue. It might just be some sort of
cultural trait." Bruce scratched his nose. "Anyway, I reckon if I want to build myself a house
out in the country, and start off a bit of a farm, the Skidians will let me, even encourage me to
go ahead." It was more a hunch than a reasoned conclusion, but Bruce was sure he was right. It
was what he thought he should be doing anyway.
     "Tomorrow I'm going to look for a house site, maybe after visiting the research center
again." With that Bruce went off in search of Leaf.
     Left alone, Sue tried to work out if she figured in Bruce's plans, and considered her
options if she were not. With a sob she curled up in the chair and hid her face in her hands,
bemoaning her fate and trying to work out why life always seemed to be so unfair to her.
The pioneering spirit

     Much to her distress, Leaf was rudely awakened at the crack of dawn to provide what
passed for breakfast on Skid and then prepared a lunch that she couldn't believe the
offworlders really wanted. Who had ever heard of taking food out into the wilderness let alone
eating out there?
     Bruce had hoped they could be away before any of the Skidians turned up to annoy them,
like Sideshow or Cyprus. However, the women conspired separately to delay him.
      "C'mon, lets get a wriggle on!" Bruce yelled at Sue, who was still half-asleep and
dawdling. He presumed she wanted to come with him.
     "Bloody typical!" Bruce cursed under his breath "I'll bugger off without you if you don't
hurry up."
     The dogs had started barking as soon as the house lights came on, sensing that an early
start to the day meant that something interesting was on. Mad with excitement they tore
around the yard a few times after Bruce let them out of their kennels, then completed their
morning ablutions on the wheels and the deck of the ute.
     "You grubby bastards," Bruce scolded them to little effect, ripping a branch off the
nearest shrub to wipe the deck clean. Then he walked back inside, picked up the hamper that
Leaf had packed, and stuck on the back of the ute hoping it was dog proof.
      Sue finally deigned to make an appearance just as the sun peeped over the horizon. She
had spent a fairly long time debating just how one should prepare oneself for a foray into the
unknown, collecting, with the help of her book, a pile of essential survival equipment.
Contemplating the heap on her bedroom floor that had appeared out of nowhere she realized
that Bruce would not be impressed. She decided to live dangerously for once, copying his
studied casualness and skipped out doors with her book, wearing one of the Skidian robes over
her shorts and 't' shirt for fear of offending any Skidians that might be about, and a hat to keep
the sun off her.
     The streets of Sietnuoc were empty at this time of the morning, and it was only as they left
the city that an inquisitive head popped up from behind a hedge, betraying any sign of life.
     Bruce drove slowly through the long grass once the road petered out at the city boundary,
expecting to encounter rocks, logs, or other hidden obstacles at any moment that would impede
their progress.
     After hitting nothing after half an hour's travel, Bruce decided it was safe enough to
increase speed through the bonnet-high grass that rolled away to the horizon and beyond.
     Bruce imagined that the great plains of earth must have looked like the Skidian one they
were rolling over until man ploughed them under, replacing the native grasses with more
productive species and arable crops. Before the soil was blown away because of his
mismanagement. Until man had slaughtered the animals that had once roamed free across
them and built his fences and buildings, marring and changing the plains forever in his eternal
quest for wealth, land, and power.
     Beside him Sue was almost silent on the outward journey. Bruce thought he must have
offended her again, and being the sensitive chap that he was, tried to be companionable.
     "Does the wild west look a bit like this, Sue? You know, where the buffalo don't roam and
the skies are cloudy all day."
     Sue pondered the question for a moment. "Parts of it might, but I haven't seen much of it,
so I can't really say. But it's beautiful isn't it?"
      Like most things about Skid, Bruce didn't really appreciate the view. As far as he was
concerned, Skid compared unfavorably with what he was used to. Forest-clad hills,
sheep-dotted paddocks, the influence of man and the raw beauty of the Kiwi countryside.
      After a while they passed through the fringes of a vast ivop herd. Bruce yelled, tooted the
horn, nudged them in the backside with the ute's front bumper, and slapped his hand on the
door. Nevertheless, none of them bothered to move themselves. Only when he set the dogs on
them did they reluctantly move enough to let the ute through.
      "Piss poor bloody country really, there's no hills for a start, and it all looks the same,"
Bruce muttered, as he eased through the gaps left by the ivops.
     "Oh, I think it's simply wonderful," Sue gushed enthusiastically.
      "Really?" Bruce raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. "Bugger that!" he muttered
as he stopped to let the dogs up. Punch scrambled up onto the bonnet and scratched his way
over the windscreen and roof to the deck, leaving long claw marks on the paintwork. "Ya
bloody idiot Punch!" Bruce didn't bother to get out and give him a whack over the head for
scratching the paintwork. Despite his immense size, Punch was really only a pup and didn't
know any better. Besides the ute would get knocked about pretty quickly, it was only the first
scratch or ding that hurt.
     "The scenery can't be up to much around your way, then," Bruce said derisively.
Forgetting that he was supposed to be nice to Sue who responded to the comment by starting to
cry again.
     Suddenly, after breasting a low hill, they were looking down upon the resource center. As
they drew up, Yarad was waiting to greet them, as if he had been expecting their arrival. Was
nothing secret here? Bruce wondered.
      "Greetings sir," Yarad said, ignoring Sue completely. "It is a rare occasion that I receive
visitors."
     "Gidday," replied Bruce sympathetically, knowing what it was like to live in the middle of
nowhere, supposedly too far out in the sticks for visitors. Although he was still expected to
drive hours to go and visit someone lest he be castigated for becoming a hermit.
      "How is it?"
     Yarad shrugged his shoulders. "I make slow progress, I'm afraid. The relics and archives
I have found here, while in good condition, are over five thousand years old, so I have much
difficulty in discerning their meaning and significance." Yarad sighed as though he carried the
weight of the planet's woes firmly on his shoulders. Which in a way he did. "And of course
there is little interest taken in my work by our leaders, so." He sighed again, and blinked as if
he might have said too much. "Nobody else is much interested in my work."
      "Maybe we can help you," Sue suggested, feeling sorry for him.
      "Any assistance you could provide would be most gratefully appreciated, sir." In the face
of this obvious snub, Sue looked like she might break down and cry again. The whole world
seemed to be against her at the moment. She pushed past Yarad and went down the stairs and
into the building.
      "Yeah, no worries mate. Let's have a look around." Bruce made to follow Sue. "I'll see
what I can do for you later." Yarad followed Bruce down the steps chattering away as if he
spent a lot of time by himself, but not saying much of substance. But then what Skidian did?
     "Unfortunately it will require greater understanding than I possess to unravel more than a
few of the mysteries." Yarad wrung his hands modestly, pleading for help or a little company
with his eyes.
      "Seems straightforward to me, mate," said Bruce, prepared to answer a few questions if
that would get Yarad off his back. Bruce picked up a small sachet from a box someone, Yarad
probably, had brought into the reception area. The sachet was still sealed and marked 'peas'.
Bruce ripped it open and tipped some of the seeds into his palm. The contents did indeed
resemble pea seeds. Bruce dropped them back into the sachet and handed it to Yarad.
      "Take these, mate. Push them into the soil, about this deep and this far apart." Bruce
suggested with his hands. "With each of these objects we call seeds place a marker so you
know where they are. Ok?" Yarad nodded, eyeing the sachet and seeds in his hand
suspiciously.
      What sort of insanity was this? Was Bruce making a mockery of him?
      "Each day sprinkle a few spoonfuls of water over each seed." Yarad nodded again,
wondering what a spoonful was. Bruce grinned encouragingly. "Good, I'm sure that in time this
little exercise will help you towards greater understanding." Bruce was sure he had explained
thoroughly how to plant the seeds. Yarad was now more confused than he had ever been, and
was even more incredulous when Bruce said that he would be able to eat the seeds at a later
date.
      "Do the offworlders think we're stupid?" Yarad muttered, as Bruce walked away, leaving
him holding the seeds. Yarad flung the sachet into a corner sending peas rolling across the floor
like miniature runaway cannonballs, and stomped off towards his living quarters.
      Bruce plodded around the storerooms poking, prodding, and turning over vaguely familiar
objects in his hands. He checked sharpened edges, hefted others for weight or balance, turned
knobs, and peered into large open spaces where an engine might normally be positioned.
      He mentioned this to Sue, who had wandered in from wherever she had been scratching
around. "Real frontier stuff," she agreed, trying to sound intelligent.
      "It must have been a tough existence on this planet in the old days."
      "Geez Wayne!" Bruce muttered pityingly. Sue wasn't going to be much help to him at all.
He wondered what her cooking was like.
      "How are we going to get what equipment we need out of this place to where we want to
use it?" Sue asked, attempting to sound interested, knowledgeable, and failing miserably on
both counts.
      "No worries. Leave that to me and my book." Exactly how the book would provide what
he wanted was still a mystery to Bruce. Still it hadn't failed him yet, the appearance of the ute
and the clothes he stood in were proof of that. Even if the Skidians weren't able or willing to
help him directly, they'd certainly provided him, however unwittingly, with a tool that was
quickly becoming indispensable.
      "Seen enough?" Sue hinted, bored and impatient to leave.
      "Yeah, I think so." Bruce grudgingly replied. Next time he'd come by himself and spend
all day pottering about. "Let's buzz off eh?"
      "What?"
      "Let's go."
      Bruce and Sue found Yarad outside where he proudly showed off his efforts after
retrieving the seeds from the floor where he'd earlier flung them in disgust. Despite his doubts
about Bruce's claim that the 'seeds' would grow into something he could eat Yarad felt bound to
investigate Bruce's allegations. After all he prided himself on being one of the few real
researchers of any kind left on Skid.
      "Where are the seeds Yarad?"
      "Underneath here," Yarad showed off his handiwork, lifting one of the discs he had used
as markers revealing a damp patch of soil.
      "Don't cover the seeds like that, Yarad. They'll need sunlight when they emerge from the
soil." Bruce supposed normal photosynthesis would occur here. Or something similar, Skidian
vegetation was green after all. Bruce's only worry was that the seeds might not germinate.
Four or five thousand years stuffed in a plastic sachet was a long time for them to remain
viable. "Let me know when the seedlings poke through the soil. Ok?"
      Yarad cursed Bruce for his inadequate instructions, still not sure of the purpose of his
efforts of the past hour, wondering if he would ever know.
     Back at the ute Sue started to take the food box down and set out their picnic lunch.
     "Let's drive for a while before we eat, towards the river," Bruce suggested. Yarad would
probably expect to be invited to share the meal with them and Bruce was not keen on that idea.
If they went off elsewhere that possibility wouldn't arise.
     "Ok," Sue agreed brightly. "That sounds like a nice idea."
     "Yeah, just lovely," Bruce grunted, suddenly desperate for a bit of personal space.
     Bruce started driving towards the river that snaked off across the plain in the distance. He
couldn't really have cared less where they ate their lunch. As long as it was a place where some
Skidian wouldn't annoy him. Besides he'd need a supply of water close to where he built his
house and he reasoned that the best place to find an easily accessible supply of water was close
to the river.
     "Do you think it rains here? I like walking in the rain, jumping in puddles." Sue asked
inanely as if she needed to be reassured by the sound of her own voice for some reason and
said the first thing that came into her head.
     Bruce shook his head sadly, the best place to be when it rained was inside.
     "Ask your book. How the hell should I know?" He regretted the moment of weakness that
made him ask her along for the ride, she was getting on his nerves with her incessant chatter
and dumb questions. Her very proximity in the cab was irritating him unreasonably. Once he'd
found the right place to site a house and organized a roof over his head, he could make it plain
that he wanted to be left to his own devices. He hoped.
     "Ok," she said, more than a little hurt at Bruce's unwarranted outburst. She had only
been trying to make conversation. However, Bruce seemed to take every opportunity to put
her down and be generally nasty. For the life of her she could not think why. After all, she had
always considered herself reasonably popular with men and knew for a fact she looked ok. A
strict diet and work outs three or four times a week in the gym saw to that. Maybe it was time
she struck out on her own she thought regretfully. She did not really want to cut herself off
from Bruce, to face life alone on this strange and sometimes frightening planet.
     In the background the book informed them that the climate of Skid was controlled by a
series of satellites and that rain was conveniently programmed to fall in the early morning,
causing minor disruption to Skidian life.
     "Not that I'm complaining at the moment, but that sort of weather might get a bit tedious
after a while."
     "Yeah, I kind of like skiing the snow in winter time. Have you ever been skiing?" Sue
asked, in an effort to pre-empt the wall of silence that she knew would soon fall between them.
Bruce did not seem to need to talk or have the company that she required in abundance. Her
decision to break away from him had been made, but she did not want to withdraw completely.
     "Nah, never really been interested."
     "I'll take you one day," she promised rashly, wondering immediately why she had
bothered.
     "Don't even think about it. Whether we like it or not, we're stuck here forever," Bruce
snapped, more harshly than he had intended, not wanting to be reminded continuously of home
and what he could be doing there. He racked his mind to think up something positive to say,
something to console Sue with, regretting his obnoxious outburst.
      "I know it sounds a bit absurd, but look on the bright side. What a great experience we're
going to have here." Bruce gave Sue a platonic pat on the knee but she started sobbing again
and turned away. Bruce clamped his mouth shut, stung by her reaction. He had only been trying
to help! Didn't she realize he had his own problems to deal with?
     Suddenly Bruce was overcome by a feeling of total helplessness. What was the point of
doing anything? He wondered, suddenly nauseous with fear and worry. Why bother at all? It
looked as if it would be quite easy to while away what time he had, drinking, and generally
doing bugger all.
      Snap out of it! He told himself, trying unsuccessfully to shut out Sue's sobs, and the
gloominess that seemed to have settled on them like a shroud.
      "Nothing ever goes right for me," Sue moaned inaudibly, clenching her fists and sniffing.
Eventually the sobbing ceased and Bruce relaxed a little, but he didn't say anything more for
fear of starting her off again.
      Sue for her part now stared steadfastly straight ahead, trying to ignore Bruce, loudly
sniffing every few moments, which grated on his nerves more than anything else she had done.
Why couldn't she use a handkerchief? He wondered unreasonably.
       By the time they reached the top of a low ridge overlooking the river, Bruce was
absolutely famished, and was relieved when Sue pointed to a small grove of trees and
suggested they stop. Obediently he drove down and pulled up under a large tree beside the
riverbank. He switched off the engine and climbed stiffly out of the ute.
       "Not a bad spot," he decided aloud looking around. He lifted the tucker box off the deck
of the ute and dropped it on the ground, grateful the dogs hadn't managed to get into it.
      "We didn't bring a blanket to sit on," Sue wailed. The prospect of having to sit on the
ground did not appeal to her.
      "Oh shit, woman, don't worry about it. Nothing's going to bite you." Bruce got up, grabbed
the robe he'd put into service as a rag from behind the ute's seat, and thrust it at her. "If you
want to be a big girl about it, sit on this."
      Punch jumped off the ute, lumbered in his puppyish uncoordinated fashion down to the
river's edge, and lapped at the water. Cop and Can, deciding that was not a bad idea, followed
suit.
      Bruce stood and watched them, the water looked invitingly cool and pleasant.
      "What about a swim?
      "Do you think it's safe?" Sue asked dubiously. Bruce picked Can up by the scruff of her
neck and threw her into the water. She landed with an almighty whelp of fear, found her
bearings, paddled back to the bank and hauled herself out of the water. Then she vigorously
shook herself dry over Bruce and Sue as if to say; 'it served Bruce right for throwing her in.'
       "Looks ok to me." He said pushing the wet dog away with his foot. "Whatever's in there
doesn't like dogs anyway."
       "It's a wonder to me why those dogs stay with you, the way you treat them."
       "You can look after them if you want." That'd be a shock to her system, Bruce thought.
      "Here boy, here Can!" Sue called the dog over to pat her. He's a horrible man, isn't he?"
      "He's a she, can't you tell?" Bruce laughed as Can jumped up at Sue's chest, almost
knocking her over in her excitement at receiving some affection. Not wanting to miss out on
the action, Punch and Cop were not far behind and overwhelmed her.
       "Oh, you horrible things," she bleated weakly, pushing the dogs away.
      While Sue was occupied, Bruce got up and walked into the river. Once the water lapped
around his waist he leant forward and struck out across the sluggish current.
       "Shit, it's cold!" Bruce exclaimed as he stopped half way across and trod water, goose
pimples breaking out over his body. Still the chilly water was a pleasant respite from the almost
oppressive heat of the Skidian day. "Jump in Sue, it's great!" he called, as she tentatively
dipped a toe into the water and withdrew it quickly.
      "It's too cold!"
       "Balls!" Bruce replied, trying not to let his teeth chatter too loudly.
      "Oh all right." Sue half turned, drawing her robe over her head. Slightly embarrassed and
not knowing where he should be looking, Bruce looked away. Needlessly, as it turned out, for
underneath Sue wore a tee shirt and bikini style pants.
      "Is it deep enough to dive?" She asked from the bank.
      "Yeah, no worries. Look." Bruce stood on the bottom and the water lapped at his chin.
     Sue dived, her olive colored body contrasting with her light clothing as it gracefully arced
through the air.
      Bruce flipped over and tried floating on his back, but as the sluggish current tugged him
down river, he flopped over again and swam underwater to where Sue trod water. He surfaced
directly below her unsuspecting form and threw her out of the water.
      "Jaws!"
     "You pig!" Sue squealed and laughed for the first time that Bruce could remember, her
unhappy mood vanishing in an instant. "Leave me alone."
      Bruce moved away a little, turning his back to her so she could try to dunk him. She failed
dismally, and Bruce held her down underwater for a moment to prove who was the strongest.
When she emerged spluttering, they wrestled, trying to dunk each other. He grabbed her
around the waist, his fingers making contact with the skin of her lower back. He froze, his body
tingling and his groin suddenly warm and throbbing.
     Bruce felt as though a light had been switched on somewhere in his head. Slowly he leaned
forward to kiss Sue on the lips, asking himself why he hadn't thought of doing that before.
     "No!" Sue wriggled from his embrace and swam quickly to the bank. Sheepishly Bruce
followed, berating himself for getting out of line.
     "Sorry," he said, climbing out of the water and sitting awkwardly by the chilly bin. "I don't
know what came over me," he added untruthfully. Good old-fashioned lust, that's what. He
wiped his face dry with the edge of the robe he had spread on the ground earlier, and stared
moodily at the river while Sue busied herself behind him.
     "Don't turn around," she said. Bruce could hear the rustle of cloth, the soggy slap as
waterlogged garments hit the ground. More rustles, then another, and a grunt as she finally
tugged a dry robe over her head. Outwardly composed, but apparently keeping her distance
from Bruce, Sue sat on the other side of the chilly bin.
     "Have you ever been married?" she asked, delving into the bin and setting out various
containers on the ground. "Are you now? No, of course you are not. I remember." Bruce was
startled by the question and winced as an old wound reopened in his heart.
     "Almost," he replied, after a moment's pain.
     "Oh, what happened?" Bruce wasn't used to this sort of openness with strangers or with
people who were almost strangers; Sue's forwardness made him uncomfortable. Should I tell
her? He wondered.
      "I don't really want to talk about it," he grunted.
     "Sorry." Sue dropped the subject, wishing she could discuss Bruce with her mother. She
handed him a spoon and a bowl of synthofood. "Thanks."
      "Beer?"
     "Yeah." Bruce took a healthy swig and addressed himself to the synthofood with little
enthusiasm. "Stuff this." In disgust he tossed the bowl and the spoon as far out into the river
as he could.
      "That's all there is to eat. I am sorry. I can't help it." Sue said defensively.
      "Rubbish! Bruce declared, "there's heaps of food here. We just have to get off our asses
and get it."
     Bruce stood and peered into the river. A couple of fish flitted in and out of the weed along
the bank. Bruce figured that if the river hadn't been fished for several thousand years it ought
to be teeming with unsuspecting fish. He grabbed his agbar from the ute's dashboard, rolled a
cigarette, and thoughtfully resumed his appraisal of the river.
     "Right!" Bruce flicked the butt away decisively. "Grab some wood for a fire, woman. I'll
have a go at trying to catch some fish."
      "How are you going to do that? Where's your rod?"
      "I'm going to tickle them."
      "I don't believe you."
      Bruce shrugged. "Watch this, then." Sue's skepticism didn't faze him. He hadn't actually
tickled trout before but he'd seen it done on the television. Bruce lay on his stomach, head, and
shoulders hanging out over the water. As luck would have it, two fish hovered directly below
him, their tails moving with just enough power to hold them against the sluggish current.
Carefully Bruce dipped his right arm into the water, reaching out as far as he could so that his
hand would come up beneath the so far unsuspecting fish. To his surprise the fish seemed to
view the descending arm with curiosity rather than apprehension and moved closer to
investigate. He positioned his cupped hand below the rearmost fish, stretching out his
forefinger and running it along the fish's underbelly.
       As it settled onto his fingers, Bruce firmly grasped it behind the gills and scooped it out of
the water in one rapid movement. "Grab it!" He yelled as the fish landed momentarily stunned
beside Sue.
     "Ooh, how?" Sue finally managed to pick up the slimy creature with the help of a bowl,
and tipped it into the food bin.
      "Put the bloody lid on so the dogs don't get at it." Bruce could hear the fish flapping
around as he turned back to the water for its mate. To his astonishment it was still there, totally
unconcerned about its companion's sudden departure.
      "How'd you do that?" Sue asked incredulously. "I thought you were kidding me."
      "Years of practice." Bruce said, privately amazed at how easy it had been. In quick
succession the first fish was joined in the bin by its mate. And then two more, within five
minutes of moving a little way down the bank.
      "That's enough," he said looking at the fish flapping around the bottom of the chilly bin.
They were quite small and looked like small, speckled, mullet.
      "Ok. I caught them. While I organize a fire, seeing you haven't bothered, you can gut
them."
      "I don't know how." Sue regarded the fish with disgust. Bruce did not actually mean to eat
them did he?
      "Let's have a look then." Bruce prodded one of the fish and looking around for something
he could use as a knife, his gaze settled on the ute's wing mirror. Bruce picked up a rock,
smashed the mirror, and carefully picked out several large slivers of glass. He used cloth
ripped from the robe they'd been sitting on to make a makeshift handle for his crude knife,
then he gutted each fish and laid them carefully on the chilly bin lid. Bruce sniffed and decided
they smelt, well, fishy. What did he expect?
      "Got the fire organized yet, woman?" He called over his shoulder. Sue had not, she had
been too engrossed in Bruce's preparation of the fish, and trying not to be sick in the process,
to find any firewood. Bruce quickly collected an armful of dry leaves and twigs from among the
trees, and built a fire.
      "Lucky one of us smokes, eh," he commented as the fire started. "Otherwise you'd have
had to rub some sticks together."
       Sue ignored the attempted sarcasm, marveling at Bruce's survival skills as he quickly
conjured up rotisserie using a few sticks, threaded the fish on one of the sticks, and then
squatted contentedly beside the fire, happily sipping a beer.
A man isn't meant to live on food alone

    Bruce picked a little flesh from one of the fish and threw it over to Can who quickly
snapped up the dirt-soiled morsel. After watching the dog carefully for several minutes, Bruce
picked off another sliver of flesh and popped it into his mouth.
    "You're not going to eat that are you?" Sue asked incredulously.
    "Yummy," Bruce replied, pretty certain that he wasn't about to poison himself. "Try,
some. It's good!" It wasn't particularly, but that was neither here nor there, the bland flesh was
hardly more to his taste than the synthofood. But at least it was real food.
      Sue looked at the fish, wondering if Bruce really expected her to eat some of it.
     "A bit bland, perhaps," he began, "but aggh" Bruce clutched his neck, rolled over onto
his side, and began to throw a fit.
     Sue, about to reach tentatively for a small piece of fish quickly withdrew her hand and
screamed. "Bruce! What's the matter?" She panicked as he writhed and moaned on the
ground, frothing at the mouth. Visions of a life without Bruce on Skid flashed through her mind
and she knew she was lost. She would never survive long by herself.
      "Nothing. Just testing!" said Bruce sitting up with a stupid grin, in time to catch the fish
before they fell into the fire as Sue stepped back and dislodged one of the forked sticks that
formed part of his rotisserie.
      "You bastard!" Sue screamed at him. "What a stupid thing to do. I was so worried."
      "Why?" Bruce asked ingenuously. "You should have seen the look on your face. Wish I
had a camera."
      "I, I." Sue hesitated. "I can't handle the idea of living here on this godforsaken planet by
myself. So don't ever scare me like that again!" She shook angrily. Or thought she did, as she
suddenly discovered her feelings towards him were not all that she had imagined previously.
      "No worries. Here, have a piece of fish. It's not that bad, really."
      "Oh, ok."
      "Now that's what I call a halfway decent feed," he said polishing off the last of the fish
and throwing the scraps into the river. "Not that I've ever been partial to fish, and we didn't
have any chips." Bruce said as he watched the plate float slowly away.
      "This is a nice spot, don't you think, Bruce? So green and peaceful. Is this the sort of
place you'd build a house in?" Sue asked wistfully.
      "Not right here, exactly. It might flood, and then we'd be in the shit. Up the hill there
maybe."
      Sue swiveled round and stared where Bruce pointed casually, not having given it much
thought.
     "I'm going up to have a look." Sue continued to stare at the low ridge. "Coming?"
      "Oh yeah, I suppose so." He got to his feet slowly and followed her, rolling a cigarette as
he went.
     Bruce had to admit the view was fairly impressive from the ridge. A slash of green foliage
contrasting with the drier, lighter, hue of the surrounding grassland marked the meandering
course of the river as far as the eye could see in both directions.
      "Hey look, there's a herd of ivops." Far out on the plain, accompanied by a cloud of dust,
the herd moved steadily across their line of vision. "Nice and handy," he muttered, deciding
that this place would be as good as any.
     "I beg your pardon?"
     "Are you blind as well as deaf, woman? I was just saying to myself this would be as good a
place as any to knock up some kind of house."
      "Yes," Sue sighed. "It's so nice here," she repeated dreamily for what seemed to be the
umpteenth time, which made Bruce decide once and for all that the scenery back home couldn't
be up to much.
     Bruce sat on the ground, gazed down at the sea of grass that stretched away towards the
horizon, and conjured up an image of a homestead. A garden, close to the water, a set of yards
down the other side of the hill below them. Paddocks, Bruce could already picture ivops grazing
contentedly down on the plain. Lost in his thoughts, he hardly registered it when Sue sat beside
him and rested her head on his shoulder. He hung his arm loosely around her neck and for a
while they sat in silence.
     After a few minutes Bruce began to wonder what Sue was expecting from him. He
suddenly sensed their relationship, whatever there was of one, had undergone a fundamental
change. It was as if they had been totally oblivious to an entire courtship and formal marriage
ritual that had taken place in the space of a few minutes and suddenly here they were
nervously contemplating the next step. Well it wasn't quite like that Bruce thought. It wasn't as
if they had actually come out and said anything, either of them. Maybe all he felt was just good
old-fashioned lust after all.
      Sue waited with a strange expectancy and nervousness for Bruce's next move. She did not
really know what she wanted, except for some strange reason she suddenly needed to be with
him. Always and forever. Well as long as they were on Skid together and that was going to be
forever. She could not face another moment facing the prospect of being alone whatever it
took.
     "You've heard all the stories, fantasies really, where a man and a woman are marooned
together on an idyllic island somewhere in the south seas?" Bruce asked unexpectedly.
     "Yes," Sue nodded warily. "I'd like to have had my choice of man though. Di Caprio,
Pierce Brosnan, Brad Pitt, a hunk like that."
     "Huh," grunted Bruce, a little hurt. "That's nice."
     "Oh, I'm sorry," Sue gasped, remembering where she was and whom she was with. "I
didn't mean it," she turned, squeezed the hand draped across her shoulder, and stared frankly
into his eyes, "to sound that way. You know what I mean. I have fantasized about such things,
you know, with certain men in mind. Just like men do, I imagine?"
      "Yeah, me and Raquel Welch as she was about twenty years ago." Bruce held her gaze
for a moment, and then looked away.
      "I am sorry, Bruce." Sue realized to her surprise that she meant it.
     "Though never in my wildest dreams did I ever think it would happen."
     "So now it has, what do you think? Is it like you imagined?"
     "No, not really, not at all. Ya know, apart from all the sexual fantasy stuff, what really
used to interest me was the practical side of things, you know?" Bruce lied. "Do you know how
hard it is to climb a coconut tree for instance? What about clothes and food? All that sort of
stuff." His voice trailed away. If the truth were known, all he had really fantasized about was
the lurid and erotic. Alone with a beautiful woman, she couldn't help but fall for him. For
comfort and protection, if nothing else. The funny part about it was, that here he was alone with
a good-looking woman and sex hadn't really entered his mind until a few seconds ago. If he was
being honest with himself, sex on tap was all he really wanted from Sue.
     Bruce knew he shouldn't say anything about that to Sue, she wouldn't appreciate it. Not
yet, anyway. It was just as well, because Sue still sought from his impassive face some
indication of his feelings towards her as he gazed into the distance.
     Guiltily Bruce shook himself, as if that would dislodge the sudden erotic image of himself
and Sue, all bare limbs and breasts, from his brain and stood up.
       "Come on. Let's POR."
       "POR?"
       "Press on regardless." Sue sensed a sudden change in Bruce, as if he had changed
another mental gear. She could almost see his brain moving off on some new tack, which she
feared momentarily might not include her. She really had no desire to be cast off and forgotten
like a piece of driftwood washed up on some foreign shore and felt prepared for almost
anything to ensure he did not run off on her.
Bruce took her hand, tugged her to her feet, and strode quickly down the hill.
      "Slow down a minute, please." Bruce was deaf to her plea and she had to skip to keep up.
Sue broke Bruce's grip and circled his waist with her arm which caused him to frown, but he
slowed nonetheless.
      Hips and thighs touching, a warm, pleasant sensation overcame Bruce. He reveled in the
closeness of her body, as he draped an arm across Sue's shoulder, not wanting the walk to ever
stop. Lacking the confidence to tell her what he suddenly felt about her, what he wanted from
her.
     Surely she would soon notice something. What was she after? Sue leaned on him even
more heavily, further slowing their pace. The ute was only meters away now. He wished it were
a mile off so he had more time to think.
     With her free hand, Sue flicked the hair from his forehead, and then as Bruce tensed, ran
a finger down the center of his forehead, and onto his nose and chin. She paused, then the
finger dropped to Bruce's bare chest, lingered for a moment, and then continued downwards
almost casually caressing the flat plane of his lower belly before returning to twine itself in the
hairs of his chest.
     They stood beside the ute, which stood there like a full stop at the end of a sentence. Once
the present spell was broken, Bruce knew the moment might never be repeated. Was she? Did
she? There was only one way to find out.
     "Here!" he said tenderly, swinging Sue around so that she was facing him, her backside
resting on the bonnet of the ute.
     Sue started to lean forward, eyes closed, willing that which she knew was coming, but still
not sure she wanted it. She gasped as Bruce thrust his tongue between her lips and began to
probe her mouth, not expecting such a direct challenge. She ignored the stale taste of
cigarettes and beer on his breath, his hands on her body, and pushed against him, thrusting her
own tongue into his mouth.
     "No!" she decided at the last moment, half-heartedly struggling to escape Bruce's
embrace. She had vowed never to have anything to do with anyone that smoked. What was she
doing? Then hugging him tightly she relaxed and allowed Bruce to lower her to the ground, his
face buried in her neck.
     Afterwards as they silently lay side by side on the ground in a tangle of hastily discarded
clothing , Bruce tried to work out what had just happened. One moment they were two
individuals thrown together, not totally enjoying each other's company, and the next?
     Was it merely a mutual need for comfort that had brought them together or had it been
something far more profound? Whatever. But now what? The landscape had changed. Bruce
carefully disentangled himself from Sue, who was apparently asleep or dozing, and went to sit
by the river.
     "Piss off, dog!" He slapped away Punch, who had arrived to investigate the irresistible
odor of recent sex. "Ya dirty old goat." He looked over his shoulder, sensing another
presence, prepared to give one of the dogs a whack.
     "Do you mean me?" Sue touched his arm lightly, playfully.
     "No, of course not." A flush spread across his face. "It's a nice spot here," he added
meaning something far more romantic. However, Sue had the measure of him now, she knew
which of his buttons to push. Under the rough, taciturn, exterior there lurked a pussycat that
needed its belly tickled like everybody else.
     "Could you build a decent house here, Bruce?"
     "Yeah, not a problem. It'll take no time at all." He was glad to be on more practical
ground, undaunted that he had never tackled anything that complex before.
     "Here, you reckon?"
     "Yes, any reason why not?" she squeezed his arm and pecked his cheek impulsively.
     "Come on. Let's get back to town before anyone decides to check up on us."
     "Can we have a barn?" Sue asked. "I've always thought it would be nice to live on a farm
and have a barn full of hay, chickens and horses, a cow to milk, perhaps."
     "Yeah." Bruce was not sure they'd need hay. A place to store tools and stuff, yes. Sue, he
realized, saw farming or ranching as a romantic pastime where cowboys rode around on horses
and the woman baked biscuits or something all day, while all the boring monotonous work that
was involved in farming was done by magic.
     She burbled on about the house they would build, that Bruce would build. A place to sleep
and wash. A comfortable place to have a quiet evening beer and to watch television summed up
Bruce's requirements. Left to his own devices he might have constructed a box surrounded by
a porch where he could sit, have a beer, and leave his boots on.
      He was beginning to realize what he might have let himself in for. There was no chance of
holding Sue at arm's length now, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to. It also occurred to him
that she seemed intent on organizing him. It was an amazing change in circumstance, domestic
bliss finally, a universe away from home. At least, he grinned to himself, he wouldn't have to
worry about cooking and cleaning for himself any longer.
      "You'd better come up with a house plan, we'll never agree otherwise. I'll be happy just as
long as there's somewhere to have a beer while the suns going down."
Sue smiled with a secret satisfaction. She had not really wanted to distance herself from Bruce,
and now she knew just what she had to do to keep him firmly under control. When in doubt
feminine wiles would win out, though she was beginning to realize she had not acted entirely
from self-interest. There had been real passion between them and for all his apparent
deficiencies she found she was beginning to see him in a new light. Was Bruce the partner she
had been vainly waiting all her adult life to find or was it just Skid? What would mom say about
that?
      Sue who had eventually nodded off to sleep, relieving Bruce of her incessant chatter, woke
with a jolt as the ute came to a stop back at the house in Sietnuoc. She gave Bruce a smile
which sent his heart pounding and climbed out. Loner that he was, Bruce realized that even he
needed some one who at least halfway understood where he was coming from occasionally. Or
did he? It was something neither of them would probably ever know.
      For the moment he didn't give stuff, wishing only that Sue was a little less demonstrative.
Her openness unsettled him, and the way she talked for the sake of hearing her own voice still
irritated him. Still, he thought he could probably live with that.
     When to Sue's disappointment, Bruce flopped down in front of the television and began to
watch one of the interminable Stim games, Sue realized she might have a bigger job on her
hands than she had thought.
     The change in the nature of their relationship did not make him suddenly more sensitive to
her needs or desires, or change over night, the habits of a lifetime.
      "I'm going to bed," Sue said provocatively walking past Bruce to his bedroom. Bruce was
a bit slow on the uptake. Instead he scrabbled around for his book. Fruitlessly, as it happened.
      "Hey Leaf!" he bellowed. "Where's my book?" Leaf silently materialized from
somewhere or other, with the book.
      Grasping the book tentatively Bruce began speaking at it self-consciously, looking up to
make sure nobody was watching him over his shoulder ready with a smart comment.
      "I've given Sue's book a list of things, can you organize to have all the stuff picked up?"
He neglected to say from where, and where the material was destined, but the book replied:
"As you wish, sir."
     "I also want to build a dwelling and other buildings where we stopped today. Please deliver
all the necessary materials to the site." Despite the lack of detail given, the book didn't seem
to require any further clarification. This, if Bruce had stopped to consider it, would have given
him a clue as to how the book collected and analyzed much of its data and followed instructions.
Its speech function was just to make the offworlders feel better.
      As he finished talking to the book, Bruce became aware that Leaf was still standing
silently beside him.
     "Yeah what?" For the first time Bruce could recall, Leaf smiled at him. In some ways it
was a quite attractive smile, though at second glance it was more of a leer. Still, the change in
her expression was a welcome one, for she usually seemed so sullen.
     In passing Bruce wondered if Skidian women were physically similar to the women of
earth. He wondered how he could find out, and then remembered that if he really wanted, Leaf
was probably his to do with as he wished.
     No, he decided. Well, not right now, anyway. Perhaps one day when Sue wasn't about.
      "Go away, will you please?" Her presence was discomforting, like a teacher leaning over
the shoulder of a child struggling futilely with some new mathematical concept.
     Leaf responded by running the tip of her tongue around her lips in a parody of a lascivious
leer. Not the sort of behavior Bruce expected from the usually pompous Skidians and he burst
out laughing.
     "What are you up to, Leaf?" Then to his horror, her sickly smile still fixed, but maybe
slipping now, Leaf sank slowly to the floor. First sitting, then reclining full length on her back,
then pulling up her robe so that the lower part of her body was exposed. He goggled at her long
slender legs and the wild thicket of black hair that grew where they met.
     "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, panicking that Sue might suddenly
appear at the doorway. "Get up! Come on, get up!" He pulled Leaf to her feet.
     "You'd better go," he said huskily before he decided otherwise. "What the hell's got into
you?"
A farm in the stars

      Leaf waited for Bruce's wrath to fall about her, aware she had failed in her quest for
greater understanding of the offworlders, somehow deeply offending Bruce in the process. She
both feared and yearned for the ultimate punishment that would now surely be her fate.
However, to her surprise Bruce merely seemed to be ordering her from his presence.
      Confused by the whole situation, she followed the direction of the pointing finger
wondering how she had failed.
      Leaf's main role was to be a part of the ongoing assessment program of the offworlders.
To monitor how successfully they coped with the sophisticated Skidian society which involved
some potentially distasteful activities, besides just having to live in close proximity with them.
      Earlier in the day Leaf had met with Sideshow, who ordered her to breed with the male
offworlder. Because their genetic material was remarkably compatible, viable progeny should
result from a successful mating. Like Mulgoon before them, this discovery had been a
disquieting one for the researchers, for it meant the offworlders had sprung from the same
ancestral stock as themselves. The coincidence of two similar populations evolving, separated
by hundreds of light-years was inconceivable. They were the same species, somehow separated
by space and time.
      The Skidian researchers theorized that some of their forebears must have traveled across
the universe to populate the offworlders home planet. There were no records of such a thing
happening and none of the Skidian researchers could think of a reason why anyone from Skid
would want to do such a thing. Nevertheless, they must have. The possibility that Skid might
have been populated from there was unthinkable. An identity crisis, which rivaled the impact of
impending famine, was developing among what passed for a Skidian intelligentsia. Were
Skidians really what they had always imagined themselves to be? And if they were not, who
were they?
      A major puzzle was also developing over the offworlders' reproductive behavior. Despite
evidence suggesting they indulged in multiple sexual acts, the female, especially, showed none
of the scars of having borne offspring. To the contrary, there were traces of a hormone in her
bloodstream that would render normal conception impossible. It meant that offworlders coupled
merely and often for pleasure, unlike the Skidians who mated perhaps once or twice in a
lifetime for the expressed purpose of producing offspring under strict clinical conditions.
      It had been theorized that the offworlders possibly had other means of producing
offspring. How else could the large and burgeoning population of their planet be explained?
      Sideshow had repeatedly analyzed various data, programming Leaf with the appropriate
information to enable her to 'seduce' Bruce. However, despite her precise instructions, Leaf's
first attempt had been a dismal failure. She was not, however, embarrassed by this failure,
quite the opposite, she felt as if she had gained a new insight into some of the mysteries of the
universe.
     She had experienced in those few minutes a whole new and thrilling range of emotions
which she was at a loss to explain but which excited her nonetheless. What had caused the
moist, exciting sensation between her legs, and her heart to start thumping in her chest? Now
those strange and exciting emotions were replaced by a feeling of vast emptiness. Why was
Bruce's response so negative towards her? Had Sideshow missed something vitally important
in her study of the offworlder's reproductive behavior? Leaf decided she must have, for her
own behavior had been above reproach or criticism.
Food on the table

     "What do you think Sue?" Bruce asked over breakfast the next morning," I don't think
we're going to achieve anything by sitting around here. Let's go out to the house site today, if
we have to we can sleep rough for a while."
     Bruce had already discovered that the mighty Skidian industrial complex had not been idle
overnight. A variety of useful materials and tools that would enable them to live in the wild
while he set about building a roof over their heads had appeared as if by magic in the living
room. Waking in the pre-dawn light and feeling a little uncomfortable about finding another
body in his bed, Bruce had stumbled into the living room and fallen over a pile of junk on the
floor.
     A more thorough inspection with the light turned on revealed an amazing pile of
equipment. He now had a decent knife for example, a rifle that as far as he could work out fired
projectiles that would kill, a roll of canvas from which to make a shelter if necessary and a few
other odds and ends.
                                                 "I don't see any reason why not," she said
                                                 after a moment. Sleeping or living rough did
                                                 not really appeal to her. On the other hand
                                                 she did not want to lose sight of, or her
                                                 tenuous physical connection with Bruce. If
                                                 he went off by himself, there was no telling
                                                 when he might bother, if ever, to return.
     Bruce decided to leave most of the pile of equipment where it was for the moment,
intending to collect it later. They'd probably return that night or tomorrow anyway, he couldn't
see Sue taking to the idea of living under canvas or in some kind of rough shack without any
amenities while he built them a house.
     He grabbed the rifle, made sure that he had plenty of bullets, and shoved the
butcher's knife in its sheath, into the waistband of his trousers, and was ready to leave.
     "What's that?" Bruce saw it first as they approached the spot by the river where they had
picnicked the previous day and stopped to let the dogs off for a run.
"That's funny," Sue said as the outline of a building emerged from behind the trees.
"What? That some other bugger has built right slap bang where I wanted to?
They've got the whole bloody planet to do it on and they do it right here."
"No Bruce, I've seen it or a house very like it before."
"Eh?"
"Oh, I know now." Sue was suddenly subdued. "It's exactly like a show home I
looked at. Uuh. The day before I got lost in the forest." Her voice trailed off into an awed
whisper. "But how did it come to be sitting here?"
     Bruce's gaze fell on the book sitting on the dashboard. "I wonder."
     "What?"
     "Well, hazarding a guess I'd say the house was intended for us. I told my book to consult
with you about the design and what not. Did it?"
      "No."
     "Which means?"
     "That we've got to be a bit careful what we think about."
"Yeah." Bruce stopped in front of the house and got out of the Ute. A bit late for
that!
     "Anybody there?" He pushed open the front door and walked inside. Beyond the door was
a short hallway with several rooms opening off it, including what appeared to be a kitchen.
      "This place is almost exactly like that show home I told you about," Sue said, hanging
onto Bruce's arm. Not sure whether to be horrified or delighted with the house.
     "Looks ok to me." He didn't notice her shudder, and would not have understood if he had.
     Bruce made his way around the house, leaving Sue alone in the lounge with her thoughts.
She was almost sure she did not want to stay in the house at all. Bruce turned taps on and off,
tasted the water, discovered how synthofood was delivered to the more isolated homes of Skid,
and checked to see the fridge and stove worked. The Skidians had even supplied a microwave
and a toaster.
      "Hey, look at this, Sue!" Bruce shouted, opening cupboard doors to discover cutlery,
frying pans, pots, and other utensils. "All the gear, everything that opens and shuts!" He
waved about the kitchen. "Pity we can't use most of it. This, for example." He picked up an
omelet dish. Eggs were unknown on Skid.
      Sue was much less enthusiastic. The house felt less like a potential home than a prison.
She walked to the lounge windows, looked down at the river, and saw another building, half
hidden by some trees down there.
     "Hey, what's that?" Bruce wandered up to her, wrapping his arms about her waist and
resting his chin upon her shoulder.
      "Dunno. Who cares?" But after a dismissive glance he looked more closely, recognizing
the outlines of a barn that had stood for longer than he could recall on his father's farm.
      "Let's go down and have a look, shall we?"
      "Nah, I'm off to get something decent to eat. Wanna come?"
      "Off to the supermarket are you? Don't forget to get some bread and milk!"
      "In a manner of speaking," he answered, unfazed by her sarcasm.
      "What do you mean?"
      "Come and find out."
      "Look I'm in no mood to play silly games." Sue freed herself from his embrace, annoyed
at his flippancy and his continual failure to explain himself, especially as she felt that her mind
had been invaded by the Skidians almost as if she had been raped. She thought that the least
Bruce could do was be a bit sensitive at a time like this. Nevertheless, he seemed totally
unfazed by the implications of the house and everything else suddenly materializing just
because they happened to think about them.
     "I'm going hunting. Satisfied?" He grinned mischievously. Sue sighed in exasperation.
When Bruce was up, he was really up. She tried to assess his mood and took it to be
somewhere between plodding along with no apparent concerns to acute depression, which was
hardly surprising, given their present predicament.
     On the other hand Sue considered herself particularly well adjusted, thanks to the efforts
of her therapist. However she was wide of the mark in mistaking Bruce's individualistic streak
for emotional problems that needed specialist attention. She stared at him until he became
uncomfortable and looked away. It was so difficult to work out what was going on behind the
depths of those impassive hazel eyes.
       "You make everything sound so easy, Bruce," she said at last.
      "What's the problem? I've got a gun, I see a herd of ivops, so I shoot one and see what
the meat tastes like. Ok?"
      "How do you know it's ok to eat?"
      "I'll toss a bit to the dogs and if they don't roll over and die we should be alright." Mind
you, Bruce told himself, there were many things the dogs probably found quite tasty that he
wouldn't touch with a forty-foot pole let alone consider eating. "Are you coming, then?"
      "I suppose so," Sue replied doubtfully. She found the idea of killing something
and then eating it slightly repugnant, it was enough to make her seriously consider becoming a
vegetarian or existing on synthofood alone.
      "Right. Let's get ready then." Bruce walked over to the ute, pulled the rifle out from
behind the seat, found the box of ammunition, and filled the rifle's magazine. Then he looked
around for a likely target to test his aim on.
      Bruce pulled the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the sight at a lone tree about a
hundred meters away. Bang! The rifle butt kicked into his shoulder and he worked the bolt
quickly and fired again. Bang!
      Can and Punch made a beeline for the underside of the ute, whining each time he fired.
Cop on the other hand almost leapt out of his skin in anticipation. He made little whining doggy
noises and began to drool. As far as Cop was concerned, shooting usually meant fresh meat.
Like his master Cop was not all that fussed with the tucker they had had to eat lately and was
looking forward to the change of diet. That guns occasionally meant the death of a dog, which
was why Can and Punch hid from Bruce, did not worry Cop. None of them was due for the chop
as far as he was aware.
       The first shot missed the tree completely but the second caused a few chips to fly from
the target area satisfying Bruce that the weapon was accurate. Not that he was a particularly
good shot, and not that he would admit this even to himself. Bang! Click, rattle. Bang! He
emptied the magazine and then went down to the tree to check out his aim, with Cop at his
heels. Bruce was rapt to find three holes fairly close together in the general area he'd aimed at,
and several gouges just behind the tree where several other bullets had ploughed into the
ground. Not bad!
      "Want a shot?"
       "No, thanks. Guns frighten me."
      "Ok. Here. Get up, you two." Can and Punch crept out from under the ute, shying away
from Bruce and his rifle. As if their lives depended on it they leapt onto the back of the vehicle
and cowered behind the cab.
       "They're scared of you carrying that thing. I bet you have shot dogs before. Right?"
      "Nah. They're just wimps. You should see them when we get a thunderstorm. See Cop's
not worried. Anyhow, you can talk, you had your fingers in your ears."
      "Are we walking?" Sue changed the subject to avoid further ridicule, attracted by the
chance to stretch her legs more than anything else.
      "Nah. We'll go in this." He patted the ute.
      "I thought when you went hunting you had to track your quarry like Daniel Boone or
somebody."
      "Huh?"
      "Sneak up on them."
      "Are you serious?"
      "Of course."
      "Really?" Bruce asked incredulously. Sue nodded, less assured than she had been
initially.
       "Geez Wayne!" Bruce laughed. "You've seen the ivops. We'll be able to drive right up to
them. So close I'll just about be able to stick the muzzle up to one's ear and blow its bloody
head off. Anyhow, how would we get the meat back here? Carry it on our shoulders?"
      The expedition was starting to look more dubious to Sue, but she climbed into the ute
anyway.
       On the fringes of the immense herd of ivops, that spread almost as far as the eye could
see in either direction, a few of the beasts looked up from their grazing as the red thing came to
a stop and disgorged two creatures that stood on their hind legs and three smaller four-legged
ones. None of the ivops flinched as Bruce raised his rifle and fired. This sort of noise came
from the sky from time to time, so was not a novelty. Besides the grazing was too good around
here to move on unnecessarily. One or two of the ivops started as one of their number
collapsed close to the new creatures, but none of the remaining beasts associated the arrival of
the strange creatures with the death of the ivop. While some of the ivops would soon learn
differently, for now the herd moved off completely unconcerned by the incident.
      As the young ivop, about the size of a small cow, hit the ground, Bruce handed the rifle to
Sue while he ran forward with his knife and expertly slit its throat lengthways from chin to
breast. Then reversing the knife he stabbed downwards at where he thought its heart should
be. A bright red spray of blood greeted this thrust and Bruce stood clear of this fountain and
the ivop's kicking legs, almost disappointed. He'd half expected the blood to be of a different
color, something really exotic.
       Can and Punch overcame their fear of guns and crept out from their hiding place under
the ute to join Cop, who was licking at the pool of blood forming by the ivop's head. Waiting for
the ivop to stop kicking, Bruce took the gun from Sue, who was beginning to look a little
bilious, and touched up his knife with the steel he took from the small pouch on the knife's
sheath.
      "Why do they kick like that?"
      "Just nerves." He gave the carcass an experimental prod with his foot as it gave a last
desultory jerk and ceased moving altogether. Bruce stood alongside the carcass, facing toward
its tail and pulled the left rear leg towards him, holding it between his knees. Carefully he made
a long incision from behind the hock to a point above the tail. Then reversing the knife he
sliced the skin away from the limb until it was bare. With a deft turn of the wrist he severed the
hock and cut the strip of skin that held the lower leg to the rest of the hide, tossing it to the
dogs to fight over. With a grunt he stepped over the carcass and repeated the process with the
other rear leg. Only this time the incision went below the tail, meeting the first just above the
udder.
      "Hey, noticed something? There's no flies, eh?" He commented as he decapitated the
beast and pushed its head under the front left quarter to prop it up. "At home they'd be buzzing
about at the first hint of blood." Once the front and rear legs had been opened up, Bruce
paused to touch up the knife on the steel and then slashed a strip of skin from the dead
animal's belly from the neck of the carcass down to where his two earlier cuts had met above
the udder. Then he began to knife the skin off the rest of the carcass.
      The whole operation took about twenty minutes and left the bare carcass lying on its skin
with only a few flecks of dirt and bits of grass marring its marbled surface. Pushing the carcass
onto its side Bruce began to gut it.
      "Hmm. Let's have a look here." He slashed between the last rib and the hips, dragging
out the offal and piling it on the ground. "Nothing particularly unusual here." He was still
hoping to discover something exotic about the ivops.
      "What's this?" Sue prodded the lungs with her bare toe, quickly withdrawing it from the
still warm organ.
      "Heart." Bruce pointed with his knife. "Lungs where you put your toe. Liver." He turned
over the mass of entrails. "Kidneys."
      "This. Is it pregnant?"
      "No, that's its rumen. The main stomach, if you like." Bruce slit the organ open. "Let's
see what it had for breakfast. Are you keen on tripe?"
      "I just love tripe. Which part's that?"
      "You're looking at it. See?" Bruce pulled back the flaps of the cut he had made; exposing
the rumens folded interior and its contents of partly digested vegetation.
      "Interesting, eh?" Bruce pulled out a few pieces of the mushy stuff, sniffed at it, and then
tossed it away, wiping his hands on his shorts. Sue turned away, covered her mouth with her
hand and dry retched.
      "Perhaps not, then." Bruce chuckled as he cut the heart and liver into large chunks and
tossed them to where the dogs were taking turns at ripping the ivop's head to shreds. Swiftly he
sliced the choice cuts of meat from the rump and shoulder, throwing them into the chilly bin
until he reckoned there was enough for both of them for a week or so. He then threw two
quarters onto the back of the ute for dog tucker.
      "How do you like your steak, Sue? Rare? Medium? Well done?" She gagged at the
prospect, turned away once more, and vomited into the grass.
      "Well, I'm going to enjoy the stuff anyway. Well-cooked, with eggs and
chips." Chance would be a fine thing. Still, he almost drooled at the thought of proper meat to
eat. He got in the ute, rolled a smoke, and waited for Sue to compose herself.
      Climbing in beside him, Sue wondered how Bruce could stand having all that blood and
guts sticking to his arms. The cloying smell of death upset her stomach further and she held her
head out of the window all the way back to the house.
      Bruce took a good look at the dogs who'd devoured the meat left on the back of the ute
when they got back to the house. They seemed to be ok.
      "Take this inside, will you Sue?" He handed her the chilly bin full of bloody meat which
had picked up a few more pieces of dirt and grass from somewhere.
       "But it's dirty, " Sue declared looking for a good reason to go hungry. " We can't eat
that!"
      "No worries. It'll brush off." He lifted the remains of the carcass off the back of the ute,
broke it up with the axe he'd brought with them from town, and threw the lot into the freezer by
the back door.
      Inside the house Bruce found the chilly bin full of meat in the kitchen, with Sue
conspicuously absent. At least she could have started to cook it!
      He worked his way through the cupboards, searching for plates and a frying pan. Finding
some plates, he dumped enough meat on them for a meal, and put the rest into the fridge,
kicking the chilly bin carelessly into a corner. He put the frying pan on one of the hot plates
and turned it on high, poured a little water into the bottom of the pan, then threw in the meat.
Scrabbling around in one of the drawers, he found a fork to turn the meat over as it cooked,
blissfully ignoring the globules of fatty water splattering everywhere.
       "I hope you will clean up the mess when you have finished," Sue said, looking over his
shoulder and hoping he was not going to suggest she eat any.
      "You sound just like my mother," he grunted, none too fondly. "I'll clean it up later," he
continued, having no intention of doing so.
      "Grab the eating gear will you and set the table. This looks about done." Bruce speared
the pieces of meat with his fork and dropped them onto the plate. He popped the last chunk of
meat into his mouth, suspiciously giving it a couple of chews before gulping it down. It tasted a
bit like venison. Definitely feral. But ok, an indescribable improvement on synthofood however
it tasted.
      He took the plate of meat out to the veranda where Sue waited unenthusiastically.
      "Here we are!" He set the plate on the table. "Real tucker at last. Could do with some
onions and spuds though," he added wistfully. From somewhere Sue had tracked down a
shaker of salt, a couple of glasses and a long necked bottle which Bruce picked up and sniffed.
      "Where's the beer? What's this?" He took a sip from the bottle. "Wine! Where on earth
did you get this from?"
      "At the local liquor store, silly!" Sue grinned facetiously. "Where do you think?"
      "Oh," he muttered sheepishly, momentarily lost for words. This sheila was catching on in
a hurry.
      "Well, pour some into a glass then, bright eyes, and wrap your molars around this," he
said unceremoniously dumping an unappetizing lump of meat onto her plate.
      "You're sure it's ok?" Bruce responded by nonchalantly pouring himself a glass of wine
and chasing a piece of meat down with a healthy swig. He smacked his lips contentedly.
      "Try a bit. It's good." He took another gulp of wine, slurping noisily.
Sue stabbed a small chunk with her fork. "Go on," he encouraged, thinking she might refuse to
eat it.
      "Ok." Sue put the fork into her mouth, pulled the meat off with her teeth, and prepared to
die. She tried not to recall the sight of the bloody carcass on the ground and the way her
stomach had churned at the thought of eating some of it. A few moments later, pleasantly
surprised that she had not at least been sick, she tried to size up the meat's flavor. "It's a bit
tough isn't it?"
      "Well, it's not exactly the grain-fed, prime beef, you're probably used to."
      "Definitely more interesting than synthofood."
      "That's for sure." Bruce took another piece for himself and another swig of wine. "Quite
a nice drop this. A little dry for my taste though." Bruce refilled his glass and held it up with the
air of a connoisseur. After polishing off the meat that Sue couldn't eat, he rolled himself his
first post meal cigarette and contemplated the view across the plain for several few minutes.
      "We've got company," said Bruce, noting a dark shape in the sky growing larger and
larger.
      "Where?"
      "Over there. Look." He pointed at the aircraft whose shiny fuselage reflected the last
rays of the sun.
      "I still can't see it." Bruce sighed and pointed to a grove of trees on the plain. "See that
clump of trees?"
      "Yes, but."
      "Look up and to the left of them."
      "I've got it now. Wonder who it is?"
      "Dunno, but I reckon we'll find out soon enough." He relit the stub of his smoke and
watched the aircraft land on the grassy slope below the house.
      The door flopped open and Cyprus popped out, looking as if he did not really want to be
there. He glanced around worriedly and then scuttled quickly up to the house, closely followed
by Leaf and a drone.
      Neither Bruce nor Sue felt sufficiently hospitable to rise and greet the Skidians, and
waited for Cyprus to climb the veranda steps.
      "Greetings, friends," he gasped as if he had run a long way to get there. "I hope I find
you well?" He asked without a hint of concern once he had regained his breath.
      "Sure," Bruce answered curtly. "What can we do you for?" Cyprus frowned, uncertain as
to how he should respond.
      "Please, could you speak more clearly. I do not understand." Cyprus demanded
suspecting correctly that Bruce was making a joke at his expense.
      "Sorry." Bruce tried to sound suitably chastened. "How are you?"
      "Very well. How are you?"
      "Not bad. All the better for a decent feed, mate."
      "Feed? What is this feed?" Cyprus craned his neck so he could look about the veranda,
past the offworlders and into their new quarters. He sought some strange offworld device used
for who knew what.
      "Yes, knocked off an ivop and we've just eaten some of it."
      "I beg your pardon?" Cyprus sounded shocked, as if he could not believe such a sacrilege
had been committed.
      "That is good?" Cyprus asked at length, reinforcing Bruce's impression that it might not
be.
     "Would you like some, Cyprus?" Sue asked.
     "Ah." Cyprus did not sound too keen to test the unknown today. He had not decided what
the offworlders had been doing yet.
     "Later perhaps. But first I wish to make sure that everything is satisfactory here." Bruce
followed Leaf's entrance into the house with his eyes, both a little angry that Cyprus had
brought her there and a little excited as he imagined her backside wiggling beneath her robe.
     "The house is wonderful, isn't it Bruce?" Sue said quickly. Her new feeling of security
threatened as she caught the direction of Bruce's gaze and the flicker of interest she saw in his
face.
      "Yeah, couldn't be better," he replied, not really caring as long as it had four walls, a roof
and a decent loo.
     Sue wished Leaf had not turned up. Maybe I can get rid of her somehow, she thought.
     "I haven't checked out the other shed yet, but I'm sure that everything's fine down there
as well."
     "Good." Cyprus nodded, accepting undeserved praise for a job well done.
      "I'll need some help out here soon with some of the work," said Bruce, as if the thought
had just occurred to him. "I imagine you already have people prepared who are interested in
learning the food production systems that you wish me to set up?"
     "Oh yes, most certainly. This work is well in hand." Cyprus lied easily; betraying the fact
that neither he nor anybody else had given any thought to the matter of who would learn all the
offworlders had to teach. Do not concern me with the details, he could have added. What the
offworlders required were a few drones and expert drone programmers, for it was beneath the
dignity of any Skidian to assist the uncouth creature in whatever primitive scheme he might be
planning. Besides how could they turn around and suddenly demand that Skidians had to learn
to fend for themselves after generations of not having to do so, even if they knew how.
     "Please tell me," Cyprus asked expressing his curiosity as to why the offworlders
should be eating the flesh of an ivop.
Bruce jerked upright, spilling wine down his shirt. "What are you on about Cyprus? The ivops
are a major source of readily accessible food for your people."
     "Oh." Cyprus was nonplussed. Did Bruce think Skidians were as stupid as his
own people? Advocating that Skidians eat ivops indeed! The very thought sickened him.
     "What the hell?" A crash came from the direction of the kitchen accompanied by a
scream. Sue leaped up from her chair and raced inside, closely followed by Bruce.
     "Ahhh!" Leaf screamed again, amid a pile of pots and pans scattered across the
kitchen floor. Bruce thought it a hell of a joke as Leaf shakily explained how she'd opened a
cupboard to discover what was inside and had then been attacked by the objects that now lay
around her. While Sue began to replace the pots, pans and other utensils in what she
considered were their rightful places, Bruce drew Leaf to her feet.
     "Don't worry, Leaf," he chuckled. "One of us will show you how to use this lot one day."
     He left her in the kitchen tearfully cursing the luck that had thrown her into contact with
these strange and uncivilized beings just when she thought she might have got rid of them.
Bruce returned to the veranda, just in time to see Cyprus climbing aboard his aircraft. He
dismissed him from his mind completely. The useless bugger wasn't worth worrying about.
      He dropped into a chair, skewed it round so he could prop his feet up on the veranda rail
and rolled another cigarette. What more could a man want? He asked himself. Many things
immediately sprang to mind. Nevertheless, for all that, on this night Skid didn't really seem to
be such a bad place.
     "Where's Cyprus?" asked Sue, emerging from the kitchen to sit on Bruce's lap, wriggling
her bottom about until she had made herself comfortable.
     "You're a weight, woman!" Bruce grunted. "I dunno. He buggered off while we were
inside."
     "Good riddance." Sue pouted distastefully. She did not like the way Skidian men looked
at her, and Cyprus was one of the worst. The latent contempt in his eyes beneath that polite
veneer, the way she felt them strip away her clothing with their eyes, the strange lack of sexual
interest in her. Rather, and more hurtful, she felt the Skidians were disgusted by her
appearance.
     "Funny though, don't you think? I mean, for him to take off like that without so much as a
by your leave."
     "Yeah, they're an odd bunch all right." Bruce flicked the cigarette butt over the rail. "And
you know what? I couldn't give a stuff about them, given the attitude of the likes of Cyprus,
even if they are getting hungry." He dropped his feet from the rail and stood with Sue in his
arms.
     "It's about time I carried you across the threshold, isn't it, dear?" Bruce placed a tender
and lingering kiss on her lips.
     "Oh, you're so cute sometimes, Bruce!" Sue giggled, as he carried her past an
open-mouthed Leaf, in search of a bedroom.
A kitchen garden

     Leaving Sue to sort out the house, Bruce wandered down to the eerily familiar barn like
structure by the river. Inside he found a treasure trove of farm equipment which reminded him
of an old farmer's shed containing odds and ends accumulated during a lifetime of collecting
stuff that just might be useful one day. Though not necessarily right at the moment. In fact
      Bruce picked through the piles spread across the floor, stacked in racks, on shelves. He
delved through bins, pulling open drawers, and cupboards. A tractor was parked just inside the
main door.
     "How the hell does this thing go?" He wondered aloud, fiddling with a series of knobs to
see if he could start it. Failing, he searched for a set of operating instructions and found a
booklet stuffed into the toolbox hanging off the inside of the mudguard as if it was an
afterthought. As if the Skidians had known that he would try to start the tractor before reading
the operating instructions. The instructions were quite simple: a series of schematic diagrams
and an easy-to-read guide for operation supplied by some kind of Skidian technician who
obviously doubted Bruce's level of intelligence. Booklet in one hand, he followed the starting
procedure and almost immediately a distinctive hum and a light on the dash indicated the motor
was indeed running.
      Tentatively he engaged what should have been a forward gear, released the clutch, and
the tractor lurched forward. Satisfied he switched the engine off; there would be plenty of time
to play on it later on.
     On one side of the barn there was an implement bay containing a mower, a rotary hoe, and
a plough. There were also some kind of harvester, a baler, and a front end loader just as there
was back in the shed on his father's farm, along with several large bins filled with bags of
seeds, some as large as a sugar bag, others just small, marked packets. Bruce tossed them
aside. Gardening wasn't his thing, that would be Sue's department, whether or not she knew it
yet. Hand tools adorned a workbench which ran the full length of the barn's rear wall;
hammers, saws, spanners and pliers.
     In a lean to outside the building he found wire and posts made of some kind of plastic and
many other things besides, some useful and some not. Bruce was really amused by the
discovery of three motorcycles parked in a partitioned bay with saddles slung over them. He
tried to imagine the Skidians trying to work out how to fit a saddle on the bikes.
      "What's so funny?" Bruce swung round to find that Sue had sneaked up on him again.
Come to find out what he was up to.
       "Look here, we've got stabling for horses, even saddles for them, and motorbikes parked
where the horses should be!"
     "It's like that up at the house, too. There is all sorts of cutlery in the drawers
but nothing as simple as a potato peeler. An electric jug but no cord to plug it in with."
     "You get that on the big jobs. No doubt we'll make out," he said, not sure he really felt so
confident. He looked speculatively at the seed bins. "I wonder? Potatoes," he muttered,
walking over to the bins and salivating at the idea of a few home comforts.
     He began to fossick through the bins, his earlier distaste at the thought of gardening cast
temporarily aside.
       "Though it seems crazy to me, I'm beginning to see some things from the Skidian angle.
We've obviously thought about or directly ordered or asked for all these things." Bruce paused
and emphasized his point by waving his hands round the barn. "You have to admit they've done
pretty well in a roundabout fashion to supply what we need. Because they do not understand
what we are asking for, they miss what is obvious to us. You know how they can't put two and
two together."
     "So we can't expect perfection?"
     "That's right, but in their own way they are trying. Here we are!" He lifted a large sack
out of the bottom of the bin.
     "Spuds."
     "Spuds?"
     "Potatoes."
     "What else is in there?" The remaining contents of the bin were spread over the floor.
Sorting through the strewn packages, Bruce discovered a range of earth-like vegetable staples,
peas, carrots and onions, lettuce, radish and cabbage seed.
      "Can you bake bread?" he asked, starting to rummage through another bin. Celery,
cauliflower. Yuk! He thought.
     "Lovely," Sue replied. "No, I can't. Why?"
     "Well, in this one here seems to be a lot of cereal seeds. "Wheat, corn, and a few I cannot
identify. Quite a range, eh? I wonder if any of this stuff will grow?" Bruce tipped some seeds
into his hand. "They must have been in these packets since before Christ was a cowboy."
     "What do you know about gardening, Bruce?"
     "Enough to know I don't want any part of it. What about you?"
     "I've always wanted a garden, even just a few boxes full of plants. Gardening is supposed
to be therapeutic you know? But I've never had time to do any," she added as if she had
always meant to give gardening a go.
     "Well, now's your chance." He patted her shoulder patronizingly. "I now pronounce you
Skid's chief horticulturist. At least you've got a start on the Skidians."
     "Do you think there's any point in going back to town tonight?" He asked a few moments
later.
     "I thought we were going to stay here?"
     "I just wish that bloody Leaf woman wasn't here," Bruce muttered darkly, wondering how
he might be able to get her on her own without Sue finding out. Ever since she'd wiggled her
butt at him earlier he couldn't shake the image of her long slim legs from his mind. He
wondered what the rest of her body looked like.
     "Bruce, you do surprise me. I thought you'd welcome a slave at your beck and call." Sue
hid her relief, in the mistaken belief Bruce had no interest in Leaf.
     "Look, I've never had any problems looking after myself in the past!" Bruce retorted. He
picked up a bag of seeds and threw it as hard as he could at the wall of the barn and stomped
off.
     Sue found herself trembling in shock at Bruce's violent outburst and wondered whether he
might just as easily have taken his anger out on her rather than the bag of seeds. Moody
bastard, she thought, wondering what raw nerve she had touched this time. Now what would she
do? She suddenly realized how little she knew Bruce. Normally pleasant enough, if a little
sarcastic at times, he had proven to be as unpredictable as a cornered wild animal in the past
few minutes.
     "Hey Sue!" His sudden call from the doorway startled her. She looked up to see him
standing there with a nervous grin. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. I'm just." he shrugged his
shoulders, "well, you know, pissed off with this whole bloody place and it's getting to me. You
know?"
     "Yes, I know," she replied evenly, wondering if he were telling the truth. But what did I do
wrong?
     "Where do you think we should plant the garden?" Sue changed the subject, walking over
to where he stood in the doorway.
      "Over there, on the flat. The vegetables and stuff anyway." Bruce gestured vaguely
towards the river.
     "What if it floods here?"
     "That's the least of our worries, I reckon. I don't think even the Skidians would have
plonked a building here if it was in danger of being washed away the first time it rained." Then
he decided that you could never be too sure about the Skidians' thinking.
     "People at home do that sort of thing all the time when they should know better. Los
Angeles is built on a fault line, or is it San Francisco?"
     "Yeah, but that's in America. They do things different here."
     "Are you trying to be funny or what? Because if you are it's not working!" Sue snapped.
Then, in the hope that he was, she relaxed. "You're just winding me up aren't you?"
     "Yes." Bruce grinned and grabbed her hand. "The soil will be better down here because
of all the silt deposits from old floods. I reckon that's probably a good enough reason. Don't
you?" Bruce sighed he hadn't intended to hurt her, the opportunity was just too good to miss.
"C'mon, it'll be getting dark soon. And I'm hungry again," he said taking Sue by the hand and
leading her towards the house.

     While waiting for Leaf to provide what passed for an evening meal on Skid, they whiled
the time away with a beer or two. Bruce stared vacantly out over the darkened plain, smoking,
enjoying the solitude. Sue looked up at the multitude of stars spread across the heavens like so
many twinkling lights.
     "So different from home," she murmured. "The stars, I mean."
     "What? Oh yeah. Less pollution I expect," Bruce grunted.
     "No, they're different. Different stars from the ones we see at home."
"Well, we're a long way from earth, you know," he reminded her unnecessarily. "They're not
likely to be familiar, are they?"
     "Where do you think earth might be?"
     "I dunno," Bruce replied wearily, turning to book that lay on the table and putting the
question.
      "The solar system in which your home planet is located is not visible from this region of
Skid at this time." There was a slight pause in the discourse, as though the book needed time
to search deeper into its memory for more information. "The planet is presently located at
forty two degrees below the horizon."
      "See anything there, Bruce?" she asked stupidly.
     "Get a grip woman. We might be able to see it later."
     "The planet is not visible from Skid without high definition telescopic assistance."
     "I often used to fantasize about space, you know, Sue." Bruce said, starting to feel
particularly philosophical after his second beer. "It's just so big. Goes on forever. Which, if you
stop to think about it, is quite incredible. You realize just how insignificant we are, eh?" He
took a swallow from his glass while Sue waited expectantly for his next pearl of wisdom. "When
you think about it, it's no wonder man invented religion to explain it eh?"
     "Do you think the Skidians have any religion?" Sue asked. Religion had always been a
part of her life, as much as eating and sleeping. Now she was beginning to question what faith
she had ever had, for it seemed to have failed her.
     "I don't think so. Maybe they've grown out of it or something, if that's the right way to
look at it." Not wanting a dissertation from the book to contradict him, Bruce reached over and
switched it off. "You know what they're like. They just are, and they don't have a need to
explain 'it' any more. I reckon if the head honcho here said get religion, everybody would, even
if only to appear to be doing the right thing." Bruce fell silent, lost the thread of his thought,
and returned to his original theme.
     "I always thought there must be some sort of life out here."
     "You?" Sue declared in mock astonishment. "I thought you were more down to earth than
that." She studied Bruce, who not for the first time had surprised her by revealing a new facet
of his character.
     "Look around you, Sue, and tell me I was wrong."
     "So tell me are you a happy man at having your wildest dreams realized?"
     "Shit yeah. I've always wanted to meet people from space. Though not under these
circumstances, that's for sure." Bruce's replied sullenly.
     "Look on the bright side, Bruce." Sue thought she could jolly Bruce out of the sullen mood
which seemed to be settling on him, imagining she was coming to terms with her enforced stay
on Skid. She was wrong on both counts. Sue only felt pumped up because Bruce appeared so
deflated.
     "Huh? Jeez, woman, where would you rather be? Here in this shit hole or at home doing
whatever it is you do? Hey Leaf! Another beer!" Bruce suddenly felt like lashing out again. He
restrained himself, but it disturbed him that he felt such an intense desire to wreck something.
     "I bet in your wildest dreams you never imagined you'd have a space woman to be your
slave."
     "No, but I have thought about doing other things to a spacewoman," he said
without thinking. Bruce, realizing he might have said the wrong thing, leaned across and
grasped Sue's wrist. "It was a silly thing to say. I'm sorry." Sue sensed he was not being totally
sincere, but she grasped at the lifeline he offered as Leaf arrived with their meal.
"Pretty horrible, eh?" Bruce probed the gooey mess on his plate, trying to ease the
tension. "Especially after today's dose of decent tucker. I reckon you should try and teach
Leaf how to cook meat."
     "You find her attractive, don't you? Leaf I mean. Or is she just a curiosity like me?"
Bruce almost choked on a spoonful of synthofood and tried to pretend it had just gone down the
wrong way, averting his eyes so Sue could not detect the guilt he was sure his face betrayed.
      Sue was not so much jealous that Bruce might go ahead and fulfil his fantasy, as fearful
that he might prefer Leaf to herself and leave her out in the cold. Sue decided she was
prepared to sacrifice almost anything, even her dignity, as long as she could stay close to him.
      Bruce supposed Leaf was attractive in a pale sort of way. However, he was more drawn to
her by the fact she was now almost a forbidden fruit for him. He snuck a furtive look at Sue
between chews.
     "She's not really my cup of tea at all," Bruce lied lamely, "and I'm horribly disappointed."
Sue would have to be well out of the way before he tried anything on with Leaf or she'd
probably shoot him, he decided.
Sue woke next morning and panicked when she discovered the other half of the
bed was empty. As she sat up she could hear someone banging things about in the kitchen.
     What on earth would he be doing at this time of the morning? It was still dark! The sudden
ugly prick of betrayal and despair that had swamped her disappeared almost as quickly as it
had begun.
      Sue had gone to bed early the previous evening, expecting Bruce to follow quickly,
believing that once they had made love everything would be all right. But Bruce had stumbled
in much later and cursing in the dark, then lay stiffly on the bed as if he was afraid to touch her
and when Sue at last decided to breach the gap between them, she found he had fallen asleep.
      In the kitchen Bruce hummed, blissfully unaware of the noise he was making, and ignorant
of Sue's fears that he would trade her in for a new model.
      "There's a da de da de da, da, oh yeah. Oh yeah," he hummed, wondering how to make
himself a hot drink while a few hunks of meat sizzled in the pan. After polishing off the hunks of
meat and enjoying a smoke and a cup of hot water Bruce stepped out into the dawn, pausing to
let the dogs off and wandered down the hill to the barn.
      The sliding doors of the shed screeched excruciatingly as Bruce tugged them open.
Enough to waken the dead he imagined, as he fumbled for a light switch so he could see what
he was doing. As the sun peeped over the hill and the few Skidian birds began their morning
chorus, Bruce drove the tractor out of the shed and dropped the rotary hoe into the ground.
      By the time Sue put in an appearance to see what was going on he had worked up almost a
hectare of ground and decided it was time for smoko. "What do you reckon? Pretty good, eh?"
Bruce asked from the tractor seat rolling a smoke.
      "It's pretty big, isn't it?" Sue had visualized a small garden filled with neat rows of plants.
The very size of the plot made her feel inadequate.
      Bruce regarded the plot of dirt proudly. "Nah. In a few months time we'll have heaps of
ground worked over and about ten Skidians caring for it." He wasn't yet so cynical about the
Skidians that he doubted this would happen. He jumped down, knelt to check the depth of the
cultivated soil with his fingers, and decided he should have adjusted the settings on the hoe
before he started.
      Feeling particularly energetic and eager to get results as quickly as possible, he bounded
off to the shed. Sue toddled along in his wake, wondering what had got into him this time and
what he thought she should be doing. "Hurry up, woman!" He called over his shoulder as he
disappeared into the shed. "We've got heaps to do."
      This sudden change in Bruce left Sue bewildered. He normally seemed, well, so
unexcitable. Now he was charging around like a small boy with a new bicycle. What had got to
him now? She found him pouring half a sack of dried up potatoes into a large plastic bucket,
which he topped up with various packets of seeds.
      "Take these, will you?" Where? Sue wondered as he began to chop some skinny poles
into short lengths with an axe.
      "What are those for?"
      "I'll show you in the minute." He replied impatiently and grabbing some tools led her
struggling with the heavy bucket, back to the plot of cultivated soil.
      "Slow down, Bruce," Sue pleaded, "and tell me what's going on. Surely we're not going to
plant all this today?"
      "Eh? Of course not, silly."
      "Bruce," she insisted, "please explain what you're doing. Otherwise you will become
horribly upset when I make a mistake. I've already told you I don't know anything about
gardening."
      "Ok, well it's like this." He pulled out his pouch of agbar and rolled himself a smoke. "I
plan," he paused to light the cigarette and put into simple terms the grand design he'd
conceived the night before, "to plant a few of these vegetables to get us started. That's if
they'll grow, of course. With me so far?"
      Sue nodded; resenting the patronizing attitude Bruce had adopted. Did he think that she
was thick or something?
      "So we plant a few seeds in here today. A lot of them should really be planted as seedlings
transplanted from boxes; we'll worry about that later. Ok?"
     "So far." Boxes. Now what's he talking about?
     "In a week or so we'll plant a few more, maybe as seedlings. That'll hopefully give us a
continual supply of veggies once we start picking them." He took another drag on his cigarette,
coughed as he inhaled some smoke down the wrong tube and looked at Sue for confirmation
that she understood.
     "I'm with you so far," she lied, still trying to work out how the vegetables would grow in
boxes set in the ground. She vaguely recalled seeing something on the TV once about growing
pumpkins or something in boxes so that they came out all nice and square, was that what he
was on about?
     "We'll use these to mark out the drills." Bruce clamped his smoke firmly between his lips
and picked up one of the sticks he had cut and pushed it into the ground.
     "What's a drill?"
     "Chuck me a packet of seeds. Any one will do!" he snapped impatiently, as Sue
deliberated about which to give him. "Hurry up!"
     "There's no need to shout at me, Bruce. I can hear you," she snapped back, tossing a
packet of seeds at him.
     "Thanks." He tore open the packet and tipped some of the contents into his hand.
"We plant these in a shallow groove in the soil, which we make with the edge of this thing."
Bruce said, deciding he would have made an excellent teacher.
     Sue picked up the hoe, eyed it dubiously, and then dragged it along with the blade
horizontal to the ground.
     Well, then again, maybe not. "Oh, give it here," he said, grabbing the hoe and flipping it
around with one hand and making a groove with the edge of the blade. "You make me tired just
watching you." Sue watched as Bruce extended the groove to about two meters in length, then
tossed the hoe aside and began to trickle seeds into the groove between his fingers. "Then we
cover the drill when we've finished, like this, and tamp it down. So. Got it?"
     "Yes, I think so."
     "Let's get cracking then." Once the packets were empty and staked on a marker peg to
identify what was in each row, Bruce dug a shallow trench into which he dropped the seed
potatoes, one by one. He was just finishing when Leaf arrived on the scene.
One small step
                                                                 With mounting confusion
                                                                 Leaf had observed the
                                                                 offworlder's activities from
                                                                 the safety of the house all
                                                                 morning. First Bruce had
                                                                 ridden around on a vehicle
                                                                 the like of which she had
                                "What can they be doing?"
                                                                 never seen, turning the
                                                                 ground upside down. Then
                                                                 with a rod which had some
                                                                 odd attachment on the end
                                                                 he had made lines in the
                                                                 ground and had appeared to
                                                                 drop something in them.
     It interested Leaf that Sue appeared totally ignorant about whatever Bruce was trying to
do, as he was continually stopping to show her what he wanted from her.
     "Why did they make the lines on the ground and then erase them?" Leaf thought it would
have been easier not to turn the ground over in the first place.
     Eventually, overcome by her curiosity, Leaf decided to brave the journey from the
accommodation quarters down to where the offworlders had turned the ground over.
      Leaf began her journey, half expecting never to cover the distance. This short trip of a
mere few hundred meters was further than Leaf, or any Skidian she had ever heard of for that
matter, had traveled on foot across the wilderness in generations. That the offworlders
obviously were not concerned about the situation gave her the confidence to continue when she
was ready to scamper back to the sanctuary of the accommodation quarters.
      As she got closer to the offworlders, Leaf realized no terrible monster was going to leap
out and grab her. However, this did not stop her covering the last fifty meters at a trot to gain
the relative safety of the offworlders' company.
      "What are you doing?" Leaf asked after taking a few moments to recover her composure.
     Bruce launched into a rambling and confusing explanation of his efforts of the past few
hours which she did not begin to understand, especially since Bruce concluded by saying that
he was making organic food. Leaf knew that was unlikely. Whatever Bruce was up to, it was
not producing organic food.
      "You'll see!" Bruce laughed rudely.
     Leaf ignored him and inspected the contents of one of the bags which had been tipped onto
the ground, fingering the tiny balls inside. How could this ever become food? Even Sue was
obviously dubious about that. Bruce stood up, rubbed his hands together, and brushed off some
of the dirt that clung to his skin and glanced around, apparently satisfied with his endeavors.
      How could they let themselves become so filthy? Leaf wondered as Bruce rolled himself a
cigarette. Leaf knew he did not follow the Skidian custom of sharing agbar. This was a pity, for
she figured that using agbar herself might at least give her a chance to collect her thoughts.
Leaf became even more confused when he told Sue to get something from the storage
structure.
     Sue wandered off with as much grace as she could muster, delivering a sharp comment to
Bruce as she walked away. Leaf did not catch what she said, but was sure that if she had
rebuked a Skidian male in such a manner, she would be quickly hustled off to be socially
rehabilitated.
      Sue returned several minutes later with three oddly assorted objects: a large container
like the one at the male's feet, a slim finger-length object with a sharp point at one end, and
another that defied description. This object consisted of a short handle, the length and width of
her forearm. Attached to one end of the handle was a two-headed fitting. One of the heads was
shaped like a ball cut in half, the other like two flattened, curled fingers, bent backwards
towards the handle.
     Bruce upended the large container at his feet, held his hand out for the other two objects,
and then used them to make holes in the container, hitting the slim piece of steel with the
double headed handle.
     Leaf was perplexed, for he was destroying the utility of the container. It would never hold
fluids again! Even more confusing was that this destructive behavior did not seem to be another
example of his primitive instincts getting the better of him. Rather, his actions seemed to be
premeditated, for he took great care in arranging the holes in a neat circular pattern.
      "Here!" he said, thrusting the other container at her. "Take this down to the
river." Leaf was astonished, for he seemed to be pointing to the moving water. "And fill it up."
Her bewilderment was total. Did he mean to wash in it? Why the water from the river when the
water in the accommodation quarters was specially shipped in from the synthoplant?
     Doubtfully she took the container and walked down to the river, too confused to
be afraid. After some experimentation she managed to fill the bucket by submerging it, hoping
this was what Bruce wanted. She looked down at the bucket and almost dropped it when she
saw that some hidden force had suddenly distorted its shape. Leaf almost let the bucket go a
second time as something else hiding in the water tried to tug it out of her grasp. She jumped
backwards, pulling the bucket out of the water, spilling half of it in the process. She stared at
the bucket expecting to find some live thing in it preparing to devour her. However, as far as
she could tell it contained only water.
     She trudged back to where the offworlders stood watching her, wondering how she should
report the events of the morning to Sideshow when the truth would simply get her into trouble.
Sideshow would never believe her observations, and would surely punish her for reporting
them, dismissing them as wild fantasies.
     Bruce took the bucket from her and peered inside at the water, dipping one of his fingers
into the liquid and then sucking the finger to see how it tasted. Leaf watched him intently,
expecting him to fall down dead at any moment, horrified that he could be so casual in handling
such dangerous substances.
      Bruce tipped about half the water into the bucket with the perforated base and then
walked along one of the freshly sown rows. Why would Bruce want to wash the ground? Leaf
wondered, and how would that help the buried particles grow into plants? An alternative food
production system indeed! Primitives might have such systems and eat all sorts of disgusting
material, but the Skidians could not. And would not.
     "What I want you to do, Leaf, is to water these rows of seeds exactly like I have shown
you, once a day." Leaf thought about disobeying this pointless instruction, but a part of her was
intrigued, despite her skepticism. There was always an outside chance the offworlders had
something useful to show them, however improbable that might seem.
     Leaf trudged along, carefully washing the ground with water as instructed, while the
offworlders collected their equipment. Incensed and increasingly bitter about being treated like
a drone, she quite forgot to concern herself about the moving water when she went to refill her
container. She dunked it into the water, half hoping, but still fearing that whatever was in there
might devour her and relieve her of the shame of her new existence.
     Suddenly the two offworlders sprinted towards the moving water, shedding their clothing
as they ran, leaping into the water as if escaping something so terrible that it threatened
certain death. Leaf had never seen such a sight; some unknown terror must have deranged
them she thought. Or perhaps it was just stress; maybe their minds had snapped like a brittle
bone.
     Sideshow had warned her of the danger signals: using too much agbar, drinking too much
alcohol, generally erratic behavior. But what was erratic for the offworlders? What was odd by
Skidian standards might be conventional behavior for them.
     Leaf watched the offworlders thrashing around in the water. She had seen archival footage
showing subversives being thrown to the creatures that lived in the great salty waters and
decided that some of their relatives must live here in the moving water.
      Leaf swayed, started to feel lightheaded, and almost collapsed as she realized the
offworlders were lost and that she had only just escaped their fate herself.
     The thrashing and squeals that Leaf had associated with terrible death throes ceased.
Replaced moments later by the sound of laughter, though it took Leaf a moment to recognize
what it was, for she had rarely heard the sound of people laughing. Leaf was surprised by the
sense of relief she felt as she realized that the offworlders were not in trouble after all.
     Unfortunately they were probably still doomed, if they were not already suffering from a
mental breakdown, they must now certainly succumb to one of the many pathogens surely
present in the moving water.
     Bruce stopped trying to drown Sue for a moment, when he saw Leaf watching them from
the riverbank. "I wonder if the Skidians like swimming Sue?"
     "Why don't you ask her?"
      "Hey, Leaf!" he called. "Why don't you jump in?" Leaf did nothing to suggest she had
heard him. Instead, tossing her head haughtily, she walked off towards the house, wondering
how she was going to explain the imminent demise of the offworlders to Sideshow.
    "Typical!" Bruce grunted. "She hasn't even finished yet."
     Leaf watched the offworlders closely from her quarters. After some time they left the
moving water, apparently unaffected by their experience. In the meantime she had contacted
Sideshow to inform her of the offworlders' peculiar conduct and felt a little resentful at the
cryptic reply she received.
    'Immersion in water was a normal activity for the offworlders!' Well, Leaf pouted, if they
had told me this previously, it would have saved a lot of unnecessary anxiety on my part!
An organic plant

      Over the days that followed Leaf continued to wash the ground as she had been instructed,
noting none of the changes the offworlder insisted would occur.
      Meanwhile Bruce occupied himself by fencing off the garden, and then turned his attention
to planning his model farm, deciding the first thing he required were some stock yards so he
could work with the ivops.
      This brought its own logistical problems. Offhand he couldn't remember the correct
dimensions of some of the integral parts, the races for instance. Besides the ivops were
generally a bit smaller than the average cattle beast The relevant data was stored somewhere
in his head, a most unreliable of repositories, useless to him because he was unable to extract
it.
      His book, however, was in some ways more in tune with Bruce's thoughts than he was
himself, and the information was soon forthcoming and a pile of material suddenly appeared on
the ground where he'd marked the dimensions for the yards out.
      Bruce reveled in the demanding physical exertion required to dig the large postholes, the
technical skill required to swing the gates, and putting the rails up just so. Well initially,
anyway.
      While there were numerous holes to dig, it never occurred to Bruce to get the yards built,
as if by magic, in the same fashion that that the house had been. So as he toiled, he became
increasingly resentful at the attitude of the Skidians because no assistance was forthcoming
from them. Not that he would have accepted any assistance in his present mood, even if were
offered.
      He stuck to his task until the last post was rammed firm, the last gate swung, and the last
rail fastened home, for the satisfaction of sitting back and announcing that he'd created his
very own monument. A monument that was essential to his plans to make the Skidians realize
he was indispensable to them.
      Sue had attempted to help early on, but gave up when she discovered what brutally hard
work it was. It did not help that Bruce seemed to be more touchy than usual, and snapped at
her when she got in the way or did something wrong.
      "I'm sorry, Bruce," she said, having found that digging a five foot deep post hole was a bit
beyond her. Which begged the question why Bruce was so intent on doing the work manually,
for certainly it was not necessary. It seemed to her, correctly as it happened, that he was trying
to prove to the Skidians that his presence was indispensable, to the extent of making his own
life and that of the others around him miserable.
      Then as if he were the celestial creator Bruce rested, rested for so long that Leaf
approved because it showed he was becoming attuned to the laid back, casual, Skidian
approach to life, not that Bruce would have appreciated this unflattering comparison. During
these restful days he planned the size and form of his model farm, not that this was crucial
given his the vastness of the resources available to him.
      From Sue's perspective he did little more than sit around the house, making
incomprehensible notes on numerous pieces of paper that he screwed up and dropped on the
floor. He drank steadily and devoured the food that she supplied in a misplaced effort to keep
him sober. Bruce's behavior perplexed Sue, for he suddenly seemed to have distanced himself
from her. It did not occur to her that he might simply be busy.
     Sue spent many worried hours trying to analyze her own behavior and find a reason for his
apparent withdrawal. While she whipped herself into a frenzy of self doubt, Bruce was reaching
the conclusion that life would be a lot happier if he worked on the premise that everything he
did should be for his own benefit. This brightened his outlook considerably. However, he soon
found that thinking positively was one thing, maintaining such an attitude in an environment
where all the signals were negative was quite another.
     Several mornings after the yards were complete Leaf returned from washing the ground
and informed Sue casually that something strange was happening in the garden.
      "This is fantastic!" Sue exclaimed as she kneeled to examine some of the bright green
shoots that had forced their way out of the soil in uneven rows. "These are plants. They're
growing, Leaf!" She tugged at Leaf's arm and pointed them out.
     Leaf nodded vaguely, wondering what Sue was so excited about. 'So what?' Sue dashed up
the hill to the house and shook Bruce awake.
      "What is it?" he asked, feigning sleepiness, nursing a low-level hangover as Sue told him
about some of the vegetable seeds germinating.
     "So what? I knew they would," Bruce grunted, feigning disinterest.
      "Come and have a look," she insisted.
      "Why on earth would I want to do that?" Bruce tugged the bed cover over his head and
tried to hide. Sue pulled it away. "Oh, all right! I'm coming!" he growled and ambled down to
the garden.
      "These seeds have a remarkably good germination rate, for having been in packets for
several thousand years," he commented, having nothing more to say. After a few moments he
grunted, then walked off to check out another pile of equipment that had arrived overnight.
     Amongst the additional plastic fence posts and other miscellaneous items, a multicolored
box caught his eye. He picked up the box, held it to his ear, and shook it listening for rattles,
turning it over in his hand, and searching for some clue as to its possible use. On the base of
the box he found the operating instructions that revealed it to be an electric fence energizer. All
he needed to do was hook it up to a fence. It must be a solar power job he reckoned, because
apparently no power input was required. Bang a couple of steel poles into the ground for an
earth, run a wire from the unit to a fence and hey presto, it ought to work.
     He decided to test the equipment by electrifying the fence around the garden. Bruce knew
he'd never hear the end of it if a mob of ivops blundered into the garden and he hadn't done
anything to stop them.
     Bruce found a hammer where Sue had dropped it carelessly on the ground days before in
front of the shed. Then he found a nail and hammered it into the wall beside the main doors
which he hung the power pack on.
     While he busied himself setting up the electric fence Leaf was absorbed with washing the
ground where the seedlings were haphazardly poking through the soil. She let her attention
wander occasionally as she observed Bruce's peculiar behavior, wondering what he was up to
this time. As usual there did not seem to be any discernable logic to his actions.
      First he had dug a hole with a giant spoon by the garden, and then threaded the end of a
metal string through the top of a long pole and placed the pole in the ground, so the metal string
was three meters off the ground. Then he pushed the ground back into the hole and beat it with
the end of his giant spoon. Then Bruce walked across the space between the wall around the
garden and the storage area he called a shed, pulling the free end of the metal string and
attached it to the wall. Walking back to the storage area he connected the metal string, which
was now strung tautly above the ground, to the device he had earlier attached to the wall.
     What was he doing? Leaf set her bucket down and went over to inspect the connection
that Bruce had made from the metal string to the fence. She prodded the joint with a finger just
as Bruce emerged from the shed.
     "Hey!" Bruce yelled running towards her.
     Bang! Leaf leapt backwards and sprawled untidily on the ground, feeling as if she would
just received an almighty kick in the ribs. Shakily she pulled herself to her feet, glancing
around fearfully for a glimpse of her attacker.
     "You must be careful of these wires now, Leaf, because they're alive," Bruce explained
un-helpfully.
     While he appreciated the usefulness of electric fences to control stock, Bruce lived in fear
of receiving electric shocks, an anxiety that dated from the days when his father thought the
same and used him as an unwitting human electric fence tester. While he preferred to employ a
suitable meter, Bruce thought a little more laterally than his father had, which was why the
dogs were loose. However, as it turned out, he need not have been concerned. Thanks to an
unwitting Leaf at least now he knew the electric fence worked.
     Leaf reached out to steady herself on the fence before he could stop her. Kerthump! This
time Leaf felt it even more severely. In a daze she followed Bruce's advice to get out of the
enclosure and retire to her quarters for a rest. She regarded the gate with suspicion; fearful of
being attacked again, until Bruce held it open for her. Either that part was not 'alive', she
thought, or Bruce was immune from the attacks that Leaf decided must come from the metal
string. However, how could such a material be alive?

     To the total confusion of the Skidians who scrutinized his every move, suddenly Bruce
began to drive posts into the ground at even spaces across the plain. Soon there were
intersecting lines of these posts extending over the plain creating more or less regular shaped
patterns who has utility completely baffled them.
     Once Bruce had completed a line of posts some five hundred meters in length, he started
another at right angles to the first, focusing on a preset mark so that this second line would
eventually become another section of a square paddock.
     Bruce relished the physical activity, ignoring his aching back and the sweat running into
his eyes. Each post was this Skidian or that and Bruce took great delight in smashing them as
hard and as he could, venting his anger and frustration at Skid and all things Skidian in the
process.
      He was enjoying himself so much that he didn't notice the aircraft land silently to one side
of him.
     "Greetings." Bruce snapped his head up and swung around, raising the hammer
menacingly, then recognizing the voice; he let the hammer slip from his grasp.
     "Oh. Hi, Cyprus, Toytoo." Bruce nodded at the third Skidian, trying to remember who he
was. Ah yes. One of the headmen, wasn't he?
     "What can I do you for?" Still coming to grips with the idiom of the offworlders, the three
Skidians were momentarily confused.
     "Bruce, let me introduce Inel, our esteemed ruler." Cyprus said regaining his composure.
     "Gidday!" Bruce automatically extended his hand, and then tried to withdraw it without
being too obvious. Maybe they didn't shake hands here he thought. Inel grabbed the proffered
hand, vigorously shaking it for much longer than Bruce thought necessary. Each time Bruce
tried to withdraw his hand Inel pumped it more vigorously, until Bruce wondered if he would
ever get it back.
     "Greetings!" Inel grinned vacantly, making Bruce wonder whether brains were a
prerequisite for the top job on Skid.
     "Inel wishes to inspect your progress."
     "Oh, that's nice, but I haven't really started yet." The Skidians seemed particularly
patronizing today Bruce decided. He wasn't in the mood to let them get away with that.
     "Everything is to your satisfaction, Bruce?" Cyprus asked.
     "Mostly," replied Bruce. Before he could outline his many and varied complaints, Inel
said somewhat pompously.
      "I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the good work you are doing here
on Skid."
      What work? Bruce hadn't even begun yet, but all he could manage under the gaze of the
great man was a muted; "Thank you."
     "Could you explain for us what you are doing here?" To Bruce's surprise, Inel sounded
almost interested. Whether it was just the politician in him or whether it was genuine curiosity,
Bruce neither knew nor cared. He was delighted that at last some Skidian was showing some
real interest in the work he was doing for them.
     "Well," Bruce scratched his nose reflectively, wondering whether the Skidians would
understand anything he said. "There are several sources of organic food that we can easily
exploit. However, they will take some time to develop to the extent you will be able to feed
many people."
     "Please, Bruce." Toytoo shook his head almost in disbelief. "Since you know that our
synthofood plants are almost inoperative, this cannot be so."
     Well what do you expect? Bruce asked himself silently. Bloody miracles? As it dawned on
him that they did. With a trace of exasperation in his voice, he asked, "Then what was the point
of bringing me here then? Your problems simply can't be solved overnight."
     "You are supposed to teach us about producing food in the fashion of our ancestors,
Toytoo replied pedantically."
     "To instruct us in the skills that have been lost over time," Cyprus added," to produce
food organically."
      "Look mate," said Bruce, controlling his temper with great difficulty, "as I've already
pointed out, there's heaps of food here. All you have to do is learn how to harvest it." Bruce
waited for a reaction to show that they had understood. Three heads nodded without
comprehension.
     "There are the ivops which you can butcher, which will provide you with meat. You know
what I mean?"
      "Yes?"
     "You can grow various crops, a bit like this grass here and you can probably harvest fish
from the sea."
      "The sea?"
     "Yeah, you know, the sea." Oh, what had Leaf called it when he had asked her about fish?
"Yes, the 'great salty waters.'"
     "Oh? Really?" Cyprus asked incredulously.
     "Yeah, really!" Bruce replied, hurrying on now that he had their attention. "I am going to
develop a model farm here, a prototype plant if you like, that your people can visit and learn
from before developing your own farms. Er organic plants."
     "Very good. I am pleased with your progress," announced Inel so gravely, that Bruce
almost laughed. Then he thought about crying. For that seemed about it, as far as the Skidians
were concerned. They began to edge nervously towards their aircraft as if their duty was done
and they could now depart the scene in satisfaction. Bruce decided from their collective
reaction, or lack of it, that since an instant solution to their problem was not forthcoming, they
had in fact lost interest.
     Well, what did they expect? He raged, trying to think of a way to rekindle their flagging
interest in what he was convinced was their only hope for survival, and for that matter, his own.
If they dispensed with the model farm before he had even got it organized, then there probably
wasn't much point in keeping him around.
     "Let me show you what I mean," he said hurriedly, before they had got close enough to
their aircraft to ignore him without being obvious about it. The Skidians stopped in their tracks
and Inel nodded slightly.
Of all Skidians, only Inel recognized the real extent of the crisis facing his planet
and his people and the constraints imposed by culture and tradition preventing then from
saving themselves.
     He was also well aware of the fact that Toytoo and his fellow traveler commoner upstart
Cyprus, saw the development of the synthofood crisis as a possible way to wrest control of Skid
away from him. Not only was he trying to ensure the survival of Skidian culture, he was also
having to defend himself from the insidious attacks of Toytoo and his untrustworthy lieutenant
Cyprus. Like all the other members of the senate they considered themselves somehow
immune from the worst effects of the impending famine and believed that Skid would somehow
continue as it had always been.
What they did not know was that unless an antidote was quickly found for the virus infecting
the synthoplants they would run out of food in a few short months. This was why he had
cultivated the creation of Committee 21 and programmed Myfair to arrange the trip to the
offworld planet. A planet whose inhabitants still subsisted in the manner of the ancient
Skidians, in the hope they could develop a solution to the synthofood crisis.
     Inel alone had access to the ancient archives detailing how his ancestors had lived and
outlining the philosophies of his ancestor who had established Skid as it was today.
     A planet whose population were virtually slaves, incapable of fending for themselves,
dependent on the state to provide all their comforts. That this uncouth specimen before him
might just have the ability to save them, was a depressing indictment of Skidian culture Inel
thought sadly.
     Though given the attitude of those closest to him. Cyprus and Toytoo for example, and
their misplaced complacency that the Skidian way was beyond reproach, Inel didn't hold out
much hope that even the remarkable offworlder could save his people from disaster. They just
did not have time to initiate the strategies Bruce would propose, to salvage more than a small
portion of Skid's population. Still if they could just salvage a small part of the population then
there was hope for the future.
     "Ok, in this area here I will enclose some ivops. This area will be an organic, er, factory.
Plant, if you like." Bruce hurried on, sensing a flicker of interest from Inel, if not from the
others who had assumed studied poses of boredom. "Here a number of the ivops will be
allowed to reproduce, while some of their number will be killed to provide meat for eating. A
renewable resource, if you like." Bruce was pleased with his explanation thus far, but he was
unprepared for the resultant indication of the Skidians' total ignorance in these matters.
     "You will build your plant here then? It won't be very large."
      "That would appear to be a sound idea," Inel added a little more knowledgeably.
Unfortunately the proposed plants would result in the undoing of generations of social
engineering on Skid by the devolution of people to small, self-reliant communities. Inel
wondered whether it was too high a price to pay for saving some of his people. That would be
the end of Skid as it had been at the peak of its power and influence and the continued
dominion of high caste Skidians like himself.
      "Let's go and kill an ivop." Bruce suggested hoping a practical demonstration might be
illuminating.
     The Skidians seemed almost as relieved as Bruce at this suggestion, vaguely
understanding about killing things, if not that ivop meat could readily be eaten.
      Bruce picked the hammer up from the grass at his feet and tossed it onto the ute. It
landed with a clang that made the Skidians jump in surprise, a signal to the dogs that it was
probably time to go.
     "Get up!" The dogs wriggled out from under the ute where they had been lying in the
shade and scrambled onto the deck. "Let's go then," Bruce said urging the reluctant Skidians.
     "On your vehicle. But where do we ride?" Cyprus asked, noting that there was room only
for Bruce and Inel in the cab.
     "No worries. You can ride on the back, and the old boy can sit with me in the front."
     "Hah!" Inel clapped his hands together with a satisfied grin. It would be pleasing to see
the two upstarts taken down a peg or two by the offworlder. Although he was virtually Skid's
dictator, he would never dare to speak to them in the fashion Bruce had.
     "Do it," Inel commanded, as he maneuvered his not inconsiderable bulk onto the front
seat of the ute. Bruce watched Toytoo and Cyprus climb awkwardly onto the deck and perch
themselves on the wheel arches facing each other.
     Inel remained silent throughout the short trip, holding his breath as best he could to shut
out the loathsome stench emanating from Bruce. He would have pegged his nose between his
fingers, but thought that would be too obviously rude and might upset the offworlder who was
known to be touchy.
      The last thing Inel wanted was to have his dignity challenged by an angry offworlder with
Cyprus and Toytoo as witnesses. After a few minutes they came upon the massive herd of
ivops, which still showed no sign of concern despite Bruce's having shot one of their number a
week or so earlier.
     "What is it that you intend to do?" Inel asked as the ute came to a stop. He knew that the
final product would be some kind of organic material that they should be able to consume in the
place of synthofood, but not how that product was arrived at, or what form it took.
     "Watch carefully and I'll show you," Bruce replied, forgetting that he was talking with a
head of state and had probably broken a thousand Skidian conventions on what was and what
was not acceptable behavior. Not that he was worried unduly about that.
     Despite his rudeness, which Inel recognized as simply an ignorance of Skidian custom,
Inel found Bruce's presence quite refreshing and followed him intently. He regarded Cyprus
and Toytoo, who had remained seated on the deck, with a jaundiced eye. Ever since their
return from the offworlder's planet, they had become full of their own importance and Inel knew
he would have to deal with them soon before they got too ambitious.
     Bruce strapped his knife around his waist and took the rifle down from the special
brackets he had made behind the front seat.
     "That one over there," he said, bringing the rifle up to his shoulders and aiming at a
medium sized ivop directly in front of the ute.
     Bang!
      Cyprus and Toytoo all but fell off their perches as the ivop hit the ground. Bruce dropped
the rifle and ran over to the fallen ivop, drawing the knife as he did so. As Bruce slit the
animal's throat, Inel grasped his own in sympathy, almost feeling the sharp blade cut his own
throat as a jet of bright red blood spurted from the wound.
     "Be careful in case it kicks," Bruce warned Inel as he approached for a closer look.
     "You'll probably want to develop a machine to do this eventually," Bruce commented as
he began to skin the carcass." In a plant where hundreds of animals could be processed at a
time rather than out here in the open where things get a little messy. You can also use the skins
for clothing if you want."
     Inel wrinkled his nose. Not likely he thought, wondering how anybody could eat any part of
the bloody mess before him. Bruce completed the evisceration of the carcass with a practiced
ease that Inel thought would be difficult to emulate.
     "Some of this stuff is edible." Bruce prodded the entrails with his knife, retrieving the
kidneys, heart, and liver.
     "Get lost, dog!" He kicked Cop out of the way as the dog tried to sneak one of the
kidneys he had laid out carefully on the skin.
     "Most of the carcass, except for the bones of course, can be eaten. For now, though, I'll
just chop off the choicest cuts." Bruce cut chunks of meat from the carcass, while Inel tried to
work out what was actually the edible material. As far as Inel was concerned, seeing the way it
was produced had put him right off trying to consume any of it.
     "Who would have ever thought it possible?" whispered Inel in awe, finding it difficult to
believe his ancestors had obtained their food in such a fashion.
                                                                The acrid whiff of vomit in
                                                                the air and the sound of
                                                                Cyprus's retching sparked a
                                                                sympathy effort from
                                 Cyprus decided to take an
                                                                Toytoo. Toytoo's composure
                                 interest in the proceedings,
                                                                was not helped by Can
                                 but after a moment he
                                                                tucking into the manna from
                                 vomited noisily beside the
                                                                the gods that he had
                                 ute.
                                                                stumbled on while waiting for
                                                                the boss to throw him
                                                                something a little more
                                                                substantial.
      "Are these skills that you have displayed difficult to learn?"
      "Nah, not really. Once you've got the general idea, all it takes is practice. You could start
feeding people right now by simply coming out here and slaughtering ivops, but you also need
to ensure a constant supply of ivops which is why I'm developing this farm. Er, organic plant."
      "Hmm. And you are sure we can consume this material?" Inel asked, miss-understanding
a critical part of Bruce's explanation. His ancestors had after all eaten this material, however
unappetizing it appeared in its present form.
      "The meat? Yeah, sure."
      "In this condition, what further preparation is required?"
      "Well, if you have to you can eat it raw, though it's more common to cook it. Come back
to the house and I'll show you." Now he had the full attention of the top Skidian, Bruce was
going to take full advantage of the situation. He cut out a section of the hide and wrapped up
what meat he wanted to take, dumping the load onto the back of the ute, while the Skidians
regarded the carcass dubiously until they realized that he meant to go.
     "Get out of it, you silly bugger," Bruce yelled at Punch. He had made the dogs run home
so that they didn't get into the meat on the way back. Punch decided the best place to run was
right in front of the ute. That was ok as far as things went. However, Punch was a runover dog
in the making, if he stopped suddenly for some reason.
     "Ya witless bloody animal!" Bruce yelled at him in exasperation after taking some
evasive action. "Geez Wayne!" he muttered under his breath at the dog.
     As if she had been forewarned about the immanent arrival of her leader, Leaf was waiting
as Bruce pulled up to the house. Leaf greeted Inel respectfully and led the Skidians onto the
verandah. Once the Skidians comfortably settled, Bruce went inside to have a wash. Once he'd
showered, pulled on a Skidian robe that he thought might be more appropriate attire
considering the status of their visitors than his usual shorts and singlet, he checked on the
cook, and joined the Skidians outside at the table.
      "Cheers!" He said, accepting a large glass of beer from Leaf and brought it to his lips. He
became uncomfortably aware of how four sets of eyes bored into him as if he'd committed some
great cultural sin. To cover his confusion and try to stop the hot red flush creeping up his face
under his whiskers he rolled up a cigarette, and was relieved to see the Skidians relax visibly.
Leaf came round and whispered in his ear.
      "You must ask for permission to be seated in the presence of Inel." Bruce tried to ignore
the warm tingle that began in his groin and moved up to settle in the pit of his stomach as he
felt Leaf's breast pressing against his shoulder. Then he became angry.
     This was his home and he'd do what he damn well pleased, Inel or no Inel. Leaf placed a
restraining hand on Bruce's shoulder, sensing his unreasonable indignation at being educated
about some basic Skidian customs.
     "If the others are taking agbar, your first action must be to join them in ceremony," she
added. Bruce nodded, smiled at the Skidians, and lit his smoke. Bloody bastards, he thought,
smoldering resentfully at their arrogance.
     "Thanks Leaf," he managed to whisper with some courtesy. Why did the Skidians just
assume he knew their customs? He ignored the sudden thought that if he were a little more
open minded he would set about learning a few Skidian customs himself. Bruce dismissed the
idea, they wanted him here; it was up to them to spell these things out.
     Nevertheless Bruce gradually relaxed. The beer and the cigarette made him feel more
mellow than he really wanted to be. On the other hand he'd had a fairly constructive day and
someone else was cooking his dinner. What else could a man really want at the end of the day?
Pity about the company though.
     One by one the Skidians flicked their butts over the veranda and settled back in their
chairs with audible sighs. As if Leaf had been waiting for this precise moment, she quietly
announced that dinner was ready to serve. Inel acknowledged her with an imperious wave of
his hand and pulled himself up to the table.
     Not a word had passed between them since Bruce had joined the happy little party. He
flicked his own butt away, took a last long swig of beer, feeling more like an outsider than a
host.
     A drone appeared, carrying several trays heaped with synthofood and meat on its shiny
metallic arms. Bruce looked at the plate Leaf set down before him, wondering if the Skidians
said grace or something before they ate.
      "On Skid we believe nothing should get in the way of consuming food, so we do not stand
on ceremony. Although it is customary for the host to begin to eat first, to show the food hasn't
been poisoned." Cyprus, Bruce's self-appointed mentor, and cultural adviser added, "it is
permitted to converse over a meal."
     Bruce considered the chunks of burnt meat on his plate and how unappetizing they must
appear to the Skidians. By now they must be wondering if these meager offerings were really a
part of the solution to their impending famine. Oh well, he shrugged, not really giving a shit one
way or the other.
     He skewered a piece of meat with his fork, dipped it into a pile of synthofood and with a
flourish he stuffed the forkful into his mouth. It was not that bad really.
     The Skidians watched him without making a move towards their own meals. It belatedly
occurred to Bruce they would be unfamiliar with solid food. At least, he grinned inwardly; they
had the teeth for the job even if they didn't know how to use them. Big white horse-like,
chompers.
     Inel looked at Cyprus and then Toytoo. He personally did not intend to consume any of
this organic food until it had been subjected to a battery of tests back in Sietnuoc and perhaps
not even then. For the other two it was a different story, one of them had to show Bruce that a
Skidian wasn't going to be outdone by a primitive from some backwater planet.
     Inel pushed his plate away and spoke in a strange guttural dialect Bruce could not follow.
Inconsiderate bastards, he thought. Bloody rude of them to speak as if he weren't there, as if
he were some lower form of life. He glanced from one to the other, saw Cyprus's jaw drop, and
heard him suddenly breathe in short, panicky gasps. What was going, on was he sick?
     Cyprus slowly composed himself and hesitantly speared a piece of meat with his fork,
regarding it suspiciously as if it might suddenly reach out and bite him. Something about
Cyprus's expression reminded Bruce of a dog contemplating a new and interesting morsel,
trying to decide whether to eat it, roll in it, or do something else on it.
     Cyprus held the charred chunk of meat up to his mouth. His nostrils twitched and flared,
and all he wanted was to be somewhere else so he would not have to face this moment.
Nevertheless, there was no avoiding it, Inel had spoken, and to defy him meant certain death.
      Cyprus had been panic stricken when Inel commanded him to consume some of the
organic material. Inel certainly was not about to endanger his own health unnecessarily. It also
seemed to Cyprus that he had been chosen rather than Toytoo because he was expendable,
which did nothing for his flagging confidence. He could not ignore Inel's direct command
without avoiding the threat of immediate disinfection, which was most likely or even worse,
permanent banishment to a social correction center away from his life in Sietnuoc.
      Staring at the organic material that Bruce called meat, Cyprus with a sudden clarity of
thought, realized that if this material proved incompatible with his digestive system then not
only was he a dead man, but so was Skid. Or was it? Cyprus was becoming a little confused on
this point. In ancient times, as far as any of them could discover, Skidians had consumed the
very material that Cyprus noticed with a start was now moving of its own volition to his mouth.
Could their digestive systems have altered that much over the intervening millennia?
      Cyprus glanced over at Bruce who was eating both synthofood and organic food and
showed no ill effects from either. Still, you could never be sure with these primitives he thought,
forgetting that Bruce's internal anatomy was the same as his own.
      The 'meat' as Cyprus as Bruce called the material, was perfectly safe for him to eat.
Though no amount of intellectual justification could ease the tension of the moment when he
had to put this knowledge to the test.
      He used his almost redundant olfactory sensors to assess the meat, and was surprised by
its aromatic nature. It might be a raw and unprocessed product, teeming with harmful
microorganisms. But the smell, the smell conjured up all sorts of visions in his mind and his
mouth began to feel moister than usual.
      Then the meat was inside his mouth. It was hot and he was trying to suck it off the fork.
Cyprus panicked momentarily and tried to pull the fork out of his mouth. However, in his panic
his jaws had almost clamped firmly shut and the meat caught on his teeth and fell off into his
mouth.
     Now what? He moved the chunk of meat around his mouth with his tongue, trying to work
out what to do next. He could not swallow a chunk of food this size, for he would surely choke.
Cyprus glanced across at Bruce whose jaws seemed to be trying to crush something, and
followed his example. Cyprus had always wondered what he had teeth for, and had considered,
as had many other Skidians, whether he should have them extracted or not for cosmetic
reasons. Now he was glad he had not.
      He closed his eyes and assumed a grim expression while savoring the taste of the meat
and the new and pleasurable sensations that flooded his brain. Even the memory of the bloody
carcass on the ground and the thought of how unhygienic the meat must be, failed to spoil his
enjoyment of this first mouthful of organic food.
      Now he understood what food really was as the first mouthful made its way down his
digestive tract. The meat had a flavor all of its own. If this was but one example of the offerings
the offworlders had, then Cyprus looked forward to trying the others, even if they only tasted
half as good as this first one.
      "Excellent," he managed to remark between mouthfuls. Although his obvious enjoyment
convinced neither Toytoo nor Inel to make a start on their own meals. Cyprus could be
pretending, after all, to try to lure them to a fate similar to his own. It was not beyond the
realms of possibility that he was stoically enduring extreme agony until he could lure them to
their own ends.
      When it became obvious to Inel that Cyprus was not likely to keel over on the spot, Inel
decided it was time to depart. He curtly ordered Cyprus to remain behind, since he seemed to
have some affinity with Bruce, as if eating the same food gave one man a greater feeling
towards another.
      He would remain to learn all there was to know about organic food production, so that the
offworlders could be disposed of. This turn of events irked Cyprus. It was not enough that he
had to associate closely with the offworlders; he must also remain in the wilderness. The
prospect of remaining in this isolated spot made him most uneasy for, as every Skidian knew,
inexplicable dangers lurked in the wilderness. Why else did they all live in cities?
    Cyprus wondered whether he would ever see Sietnuoc again. However, he lacked the
imagination to be really concerned, and accepted the role that had been allocated to him with
what little dignity he could muster.
On the job training

      As far as Bruce was concerned, the sooner the Skidians were learning to run farms and
process the ivops, and feeding themselves, the better off they'd be. There was no way he could
feed Skids one billion plus population by himself, which is what the Skidians seemed to want.
Rather he saw himself as an adviser, whose main aim should be to make himself redundant as
quickly as possible.
      He also had some definite ideas about teaching people things; he was a staunch believer in
the value of hands-on experience, which Cyprus was about to discover.
      Cyprus's general attitude didn't impress Bruce. God help the Skidians if they were all like
this lazy bastard, he decided as he toiled away on the fence lines under the hot Skidian sun.
      In keeping with his self-appointed role as would be leader of the entire organic movement
and the traditions that had made Skid strong, Cyprus was content to let somebody else look
after the basics. He did not follow how Bruce's effort was important to the development of the
organic plant, or 'farm' as Bruce called it. Nor was he really interested. Bruce's explanation
that the farm was vital to exploiting the ivop resource, that unless the ivops were properly
managed the resource would soon be exhausted fell on deaf ears.
      Cyprus knew this to be nonsense. Why not just kill the ivops and process them where they
stood out in the wilderness? The ivops were plentiful now and always would be. If this resource
were ever threatened, they would deal with it at the appropriate time and in the customary
manner.
     After several days of verbal wrangling with Cyprus and trying to get some work out of him
by gentle digs that Cyprus steadfastly ignored, Bruce finally lost patience with him. He wasn't
about to slog his guts out for Skid while Cyprus sat around, irritating him with his inane
comments.
      Bruce asked Cyprus to bring him some more posts from the back of the ute where the
Skidian had perched himself, legs crossed, on the tailgate. Initially Cyprus just played dumb,
pleading ignorance which was typical of Skidians when they wanted to avoid anything
unwelcome. On Skid this was acceptable behavior and always worked because nobody was
rude enough, unlike Bruce who was most persistent, to press the point beyond the first silent
clamping of the jaws.
     Bruce informed Cyprus bluntly that he, high and bloody mighty Cyprus, was here to learn
and one of the things he was going to learn was how to work, whether he liked it or not. Cyprus
continued to stare insolently at Bruce, which infuriated Bruce even further.
      "Right, ya bastard!" Bruce reached over and pulled him off the tailgate. "You can get
your fat arse off there for a start." Cyprus tried to catch his balance, but ended up in an untidy
heap on the ground. Cyprus's eyes bulged, almost popping out of his head as he tried to pick
himself up but Bruce held him down with a foot and handed him the hammer he had been using.
     For a moment Cyprus could not believe what was happening, nobody handled a Skidian
like this.
      "Here." Bruce let Cyprus scramble to his feet, made him take the hammer, and pushed
him over to the fence line. Cyprus was too stunned to do anything but comply as Bruce set him
alight knocking the slim posts into the ground. After standing over Cyprus until he was
satisfied he could be left alone for more than five minutes, Bruce walked off to where he had
dumped several coils of wire.
      Fifteen minutes later, trailing a wire behind him, Bruce came to where Cyprus was
working. In typical Skidian fashion, Cyprus believed if he proved incapable of doing what he
was told, he would be made to stop. However, Bruce was made of sterner stuff.
      Cyprus had knocked in a few posts at irregular intervals and varying depths, which
offended Bruce's sense of decorum. Muttering darkly, "He's just doing this to piss me off,"
Bruce corrected the faults that threatened to mar his rural art form and told Cyprus to get his
shit together before he whacked him one.
     Cyprus did not know what a whack was but suddenly fearing for his own safety he applied
himself a little more diligently; it was a simple task after all. However before long his lack of
physical stamina manifested itself, never before had he exerted himself so strenuously.
      After all of fifteen minutes he needed to stop for a rest. Painful bubbles had appeared on
the hand that grasped the hammer shaft, his limbs had became heavy and sore, and his robe
was drenched from the moisture that sprung alarmingly like little streams from his skin. When
Bruce wandered by on his way back running out another wire and saw Cyprus laying on the
ground he harangued him verbally and physically, forcing him to continue.
      Bruce thought Cyprus had got the idea, but when he turned after walking about fifty
meters he saw the Skidian had already stopped again. Bruce stomped back and revived him
with a few well-placed kicks.
      "Get up, you useless bastard." Cyprus whimpered at the unaccustomed pain as his
muscles tightened and cramped. To his surprise he found he could still stand and when Bruce
thrust the hammer at him, he grasped it limply in hands that had became a bloody mess as the
blisters burst, and started to hammer in another post.
      Somehow Cyprus managed to struggle through the rest of the day and those that followed.
He resented the way Bruce had bullied him so obscenely, and vowed he would get his revenge
somehow. Each afternoon Cyprus collapsed in his quarters once the day's work was completed
to Bruce's satisfaction, almost too tired to contemplate a wash or food, and cursed the day he
had ever set eyes on Bruce.
      With his body aching and still exhausted from the previous day, Cyprus faced each
morning with a hollow feeling of dread as if he wanted to be sick. So intense was this feeling
that for the first few days he could barely eat.
      "Not again," he groaned each morning, as Bruce turfed him out of bed before dawn. Then
he had to sit at the table and watch Bruce while he devoured his morning meal, drank his
coffee, and smoked, which made him feel more nauseous than ever. A small offering of
synthofood in the middle of the day and again in the evening was all Cyprus could manage for
days. He could not even bring himself to take agbar in the presence of another. Not that Bruce
ever thought of sharing his agbar with anyone.
      Despite his growing hatred for Bruce, Cyprus was grudgingly beginning to respect his
abilities. How did he manage to be so physically active and show such little fatigue? And unlike
any Skidian he had ever known, including Inel, Bruce was able to dominate by sheer force of
character, just as he had dominated the Stim event. No longer could Cyprus patronize Bruce as
a primitive being, not in his presence anyway.
      He began to wonder if all the males of his planet had similar characteristics. If they did
then the universe better look out when they eventually managed to get off their planet and
started to roam through space.
      After a few days, Cyprus also noticed to his horror a gradual change in the color of his
skin. He had quickly abandoned his usual robes for Bruce's style of dress. A singlet and shorts,
the robes were far too clumsy and hot to be wearing outside in the heat of the day, so for the
first time in his life his skin was exposed to the sun. Soon he would be as dark as Sue he
thought with distaste, as his normally pallid skin became red and hot and then turned the same
color as ivop meat when it was cooked.
      At first he thought the change in his skin color might have something to do with the
ever-increasing quantities of the meat he was eating. Its dark color might be somehow
changing the pigmentation of his skin. He almost worried himself to death over this dramatic
transformation. If the meat could do this to him, what else might it do?
      "You're getting quite a sun tan there, Cyprus," Bruce said one day, easing his mind.
Being burnt by the sun was not something he had thought of. Was that dangerous he
wondered?
     By the fourth day of Bruce's brutal regime Cyprus was becoming aware of other changes,
too. Though he was still stiff and sore, his veins pulsed with a new sense of vigor, and he
sensed that his body was strengthening. However, it was a relieved Cyprus who greeted the
arrival of the three 'trainees' promised by Inel. Cyprus was now able to assume a position more
in keeping with the dignity he thought he deserved, as he began to instruct the new arrivals in
the duties he had so recently learned himself.
     Having established himself in a supervisory role and assuming that Cyprus would be
motivated enough to do what he was told, Bruce realized he had to find something for himself to
do until all the fencing was finished before he went nuts.
     Bruce turned his hand to tidying things up and doing those little jobs that seemed to
escape everybody else's attention. That used up half a day. Consequently it didn't take long for
Bruce to get on everybody's nerves. In the manner of a man suddenly retired from an active
working life, he poked his nose in where it was not appreciated, in effect doing nothing
particularly useful and busying himself by getting in everybody's way.
     But only Sue dared tell him in no uncertain terms to get lost.
     After being told by Sue that his intrusions into her space were becoming intolerable Bruce
wandered off with the dogs for an aimless walk across the plain. He was gone most of a day and
half the night until his absence began to worry Sue. Had he taken her irritable snap to heart?
Sometimes he seemed bloody minded enough to simply disappear altogether. Cyprus seemed
to think so, and was prepared to ensure she was blamed for the loss of a semi precious
resource.
     Punch, Cop, and Can were delighted to be finally out and about. They were getting fat and
sassy, Bruce noted as he sent them on practice casts across the plain. At times the dogs would
trot along happily behind Bruce, then one or two, or all three of them, would scamper off to sniff
out some intriguing odor that could only appeal to a dog, piles of dried dung, or the odd
desiccated carcass.
     Bruce started to really look around the country he was passing across for the first time.
Among other things he noted that the sward he walked through seemed to comprise only one or
two species of grass, and there were no obvious weeds, which he though was rather odd. There
didn't seem to be many weeds in the garden either. There might be none, he realized, because
most of the 'weeds' were in fact vegetable plants that had sprung into life from carelessly
scattered seeds.
     It was almost as if the entire landscape had been purged of all that didn't have some sort
of productive use and the productive species were somehow invigorated.
     When it began to get dark he realized he must have been walking aimlessly for hours and
was starting to get a little peckish. He had to think for a moment which direction the house but
when he turned around, there it was shining like a lighthouse beacon.
     When he arrived back at the house Bruce was surprised by his reception, the relief on the
faces of both Cyprus and Sue, and the way Sue scolded him.
     "You might have told me you were going to be late. I've had your dinner ready for hours."
She sounded just like his mother again. Perish the thought.
     "It's probably burnt now." Sue had worried herself to the point of distraction that Bruce
might have taken her irritable snap to heart, his total lack of concern at the worry he had
caused didn't help her mood.
     Bruce just ignored Sue, oblivious of the turmoil he had caused, and waited for someone to
bring him something to eat and drink.
     Bruce headed off with the dogs in tow the next morning in the direction of where Cyprus
and his team should be working. Trainees. Huh! He thought. They were worse than useless,
spending most of their time lolling about, smoking, and, for all he knew, telling dirty stories.
Even after lowering his expectations to almost zero, they didn't seem to achieve very much.
     It was long past the time when he should have checked on their progress. In a way he
didn't really blame them for their attitude, for like himself they were here against their will. Not
that they were probably aware of Skid's increasingly desperate plight. Bruce wouldn't be
surprised about that either, just as he wouldn't be surprised if they did know and couldn't give a
stuff one way or the other. So what? He continued thinking somewhat irrationally.
     Still they were here to work and they had no choice in the matter, just as he himself had no
choice he raged, angrily surveying their efforts to date once he got to the fence line they were
supposed to be working on.
      In the days that had passed since their arrival, they had not done as much as Bruce had
done by himself in a day.
     "Useless bastards!" he growled with a twinge of guilt, knowing he should have kept a
better eye on them. "Cyprus, you useless!"
     Cyprus obviously enjoyed his supervisory role, strutting about and giving pointless orders
to show the world who was in charge. Nevertheless, he lacked control over his team, due,
Bruce was sure, to his reluctance to lead by example. He did not know this was not the Skidian
way, when a Skidian was in the company of Skidians who were lower on the social scale, they
did the work. Not he. They organized the meals, agbar, or whatever, while their peers sat
around and with a minimum of input, let them get on with it in their own inimitable fashion. The
problem was that the 'trainees,' all scions of the aristocracy, were not sufficiently subordinate
to Cyprus for him to have any authority over them.
     Time, he thought, to teach them a lesson they won't forget in a hurry.
     Bruce strode purposefully towards the four Skidians, coming up on them totally unawares
as they lolled comfortably in the shade of a handy tree.
     "What the bloody hell's going on?" He bellowed. The dogs, recognizing a tone of voice
that heralded trouble for somebody slunk into hiding under the ute as four heads swiveled in
surprise towards the source of this unwelcome and unintelligible outburst.
     After a moment or two of silence Cyprus rose shamefacedly to his feet. He knew enough
about Bruce to expect a tantrum of the sort his companions had never witnessed.
     "No excuses, Cyprus!" Bruce exploded, before Cyprus could get a word in to defend
himself. "I knew I couldn't rely on you useless shits to do anything." He glowered menacingly
at the three younger Skidians, who with the cockiness born of ignorance and youth pretended
that he was not there.
     Who did this primitive creature think he was? They were Skidians and were not going to
be ordered about by someone from one of the universe's more primitive regions. They grinned
and nudged one another. What could he do if they kept on ignoring him?
     "Get up on your feet," Cyprus demanded. However, none of them bothered moving.
Cyprus shrugged his shoulders sheepishly and the anger that Bruce had affected until then
welled up in his throat. Bruce reached over to the nearest Skidian, grabbed a handful of his
hair, and dragged his luckless victim to his feet.
      "Wha?" Oridor screamed, partly in outrage at such treatment and partly in pain as some
of his hair was ripped from his scalp. His two companions remained motionless stunned into
inaction by this unheard of act of physical violence.
     "Get a bloody move on," Bruce hissed, pulling Oridor towards him, neatly stepping aside,
and then releasing his grip so that Oridor stumbled and fell in a tangle of arms and legs. Bruce
gave him a kick up his exposed backside for good measure.
     "You there, hurry up man!" With an alacrity which surprised all of them, Iamot and Laeol,
closely followed by Oridor, scrambling to get out of Bruce's range, busied themselves on the
fence line, doing little more than getting in one another's way in their panic.
     "Bruce," Cyprus coughed, about to inform Bruce on some of the finer points of Skidian
etiquette. Seeing the look in Bruce's eyes he thought better of it and joined the others on the
fence instead. Bruce picked up one of the plastic fence posts from the back of the ute and sat
on the tailgate, swishing the rod viciously through the air.
     From time to time one of the Skidians would nervously look up from his work, twisting his
head around surreptitiously to see if Bruce was watching, with not a word passing between
them.
     While Bruce was around the Skidians worked reasonably well, even Cyprus pitched in and
gave the others the benefit of his limited experience. Actually, Bruce was quite impressed with
the speed in which Cyprus had picked up the essentials of the job. Not that it would ever occur
to Bruce to tell him this.
     However after a while Bruce got bored and frustrated watching the Skidians, their feeble
attempts at completing what he considered were simple tasks made him tired just watching
them.
     "Right!" he said, deciding to leave them to it. "I'm off now. When I come back I want to
see the wires up and strained on this stretch of fence and the posts in across the back of the
paddock. Ok Cyprus?"
     Cyprus seemed about to speak, but in the end he just nodded feeling totally humiliated by
Bruce.
     "If not, then." Bruce slashed the rod through the air above Laeol's head and the Skidians
redoubled their efforts, only succeeding in getting in each other's way even more. Bruce shook
his head sadly as he watched them. Useless, he thought. He didn't expect much to get done, but
at least he'd given them a reasonable target. Five minutes after he left, they would be sitting
under the tree, telling dirty stories or whatever else Skidian men talked about. I suppose, he
thought, I should stick around and supervise them properly. But he couldn't be stuffed. Bruce
strolled back towards the house wondering what he was going to do for the rest of the day.
     "Hey, I'm hungry!" Bruce yelled as he entered the house, fishing to see what sort of
reaction he could get. Fishing. Bruce was sick of fish too. In fact he was just about sick of
everything at the moment, and decided he'd better find something to spice up his life with. He
propped his feet up on the railing around the verandah and rolled himself a smoke.
     "How about a beer, eh?" he called, wondering why Leaf hadn't responded by now. Bloody
useless Skidians. Bruce slouched in the chair and closed his eyes. Bang! Crash! Bruce didn't
bother opening his eyes. Leaf was in the kitchen again. Then he sensed, rather than saw, a
figure standing above him.
     "What do you want?" Bruce flinched as he heard a plate being slammed down on the table
beside his arm.
     "There's the last of the meat. Cold. You'd better go and get some more, big white hunter."
Sue scowled derisively as Bruce opened his eyes, "and I don't approve of your drinking this
early in the day. It's only lunchtime."
     "Who asked you?" Bruce sat up and appraised the small chunk of cold meat on the plate
without a lot of excitement. "Yes mum, no mum, three bags full mum!" He muttered
sardonically.
     "Wait!" Sue grabbed his arm as he attempted to stab the meat with his fork. "We've got
something else."
     "Like what?" He didn't appreciate being mucked about by Sue, when she was in one of
these teasing moods that she seemed to think were fun. "Don't stuff me around, I'm not in the
mood. Ok?"
     "Leaf!" Leaf appeared carrying a large bowl.
     "Surprise!" Sue exclaimed happily. "Vegetables!"
      "Where?" Bruce asked, making a grab for the bowl.
     "Not so fast kiddo," Sue said, pushing him back down into his seat.
     "Geez, woman!" Bruce hated the way she made such a big fuss over everything. Fuming
silently he controlled his temper, not wanting to upset her. Bloody Americans.
     "What have you got in there?" he asked as sweetly as he could manage. Bloody woman!
     "These," said Sue, reaching into the bowl and withdrew a small purplish fruit. "I don't
know if they're ok. They are a bit bitter."
      "Radishes. Beauty!"
     "Carrots, cabbage and lettuce. We've made a bit of a salad with them." Sue shoveled
some of the salad onto Bruce's plate with a large spoon and then sat beside him.
      "I thought it would be ages before we would be eating this stuff," Bruce remarked. Shit it
grows quickly, he thought. They would be able to feed the people of Skid a hell of a lot quicker
than he had ever thought possible. Why it was only… Nah, it couldn't have been. Could it?
They'd only planted the stuff a week or so ago. So that's why Sue had wanted him out of the
garden. Bruce grinned; feeling amazingly happy at the effort Sue had gone to, to surprise him
like this. He kissed her on the cheek.
     "Great!" Bruce said after a few mouthfuls, cramming the salad into his mouth with his
fingers. "Pity there's no mayonnaise and stuff, cheese and the like," he added ungratefully.
     "Aren't you ever satisfied?" She cuffed him playfully.
     "Nah, not really. Hey, I reckon this calls for a celebration." He said after polishing off the
last of the salad. "I can't wait for things like the peas and potatoes to be ready, so we can have
a decent feed. You know once we have decent food a man could almost get used to this place."
Bruce told Sue wiping bits of salad from his whiskers.
     "What? You must be kidding!" Sue was startled by how this comment conflicted with
everything Bruce had said previously about Skid, and how it jarred with her own feelings.
     "Why not? The weathers ok, the tucker's getting better, we've got good job prospects."
Bruce chuckled. "Shit, we might as well get used to the idea that we're going to be here
forever."
     "Don't remind me, please Bruce." No, Sue promised herself. No.
     Bruce gazed at the low hills in the distance; they were no more than a ridge really. A sight
that reminded him of home every time he looked in that direction. Then wished he hadn't.
Rather, he wished that he could simply wake up from this nightmare he was living. He wished
that he could go to bed, wrap himself into a warm cocoon, and hide from the world. Or Skid.
However, he was old enough to realize things like that didn't happen. For better or worse he
was stuck here whether he liked it or not.
     "Nah, well anyway," he continued after the moments contemplation, here're the boys
back for lunch.
     The 'boys' were by now making their way back to the house in the ute for whatever they
had for lunch.
      Iamot, Laeol, and Oridor leapt off the back quickly and scuttled away to their quarters as
soon as it came to a stop outside the house, anxious to avoid Bruce. Cyprus who sat
majestically behind the steering wheel, climbed out ponderously, and approached the house,
prepared to admonish Bruce for his unacceptable behavior a little earlier in the day.
     It infuriated Cyprus since the offworlders had been brought to Skid in order to show
Skidians how to produce food organically that here they were instead, not only spending their
time drinking and using agbar, but they broke every other moral code that Cyprus could think
of as well. It was not fair!
      Cyprus felt betrayed by his own leader, by his own colleagues. Why was he left to do all
the work? Work of such importance that it was certainly beyond his comprehension to
understand why he was doing it in the first place. What the tasks he had been set had to do with
producing the organic food that Bruce insisted abounded in the wilderness was still unclear to
him. Cyprus still could not understand why they could not simply the harvest ivops as the
offworlders presently did to satisfy their needs.
     Cyprus was about to inform Bruce in no uncertain terms; as best he was able in the
roundabout Skidian way, what he thought of the situation. However, Bruce beat him to the draw
and Cyprus found himself unable to articulate the strong statement of dissatisfaction he had
planned to deliver to the offworlders concerning their behavior.
     "Sit down, mate!" Bruce welcomed Cyprus onto the verandah with unaccustomed warmth,
and offered him some agbar. "Hey Leaf! A beer for Cyprus."
     Cyprus used the agbar in the conventional fashion, in silence up the nose. By the time he
had finished, having quaffed a few mouthfuls of beer, he had quite forgotten what had so upset
him.
     Despite the confrontation with his Skidian workforce the only way Bruce could get any
work out of them was by standing them all the time. This was a largely unsuccessful maneuver
as far as motivation went, because as soon as he turned his back they stopped what they were
doing and settled down for a sleep.
     "What a pack of bloody useless goons!" He yelled at them to no effect, resigning himself
to the fact that if he wanted to get anything done he'd just have to do it himself. So much for
assuming a supervisory role he thought.
     He threw himself into the fencing work, but his presence had a strange effect on his
erstwhile workforce. Rather than Stimulating them to greater effort, it merely reduced their
output even more, as if they'd expected all along that Bruce, rather than they, should be putting
in the most effort. It soon became obvious that Iamot, Laeol, and Oridor didn't even know why
they were there.
     As far as Bruce was concerned the Skidians were absolutely useless, and showed little
concern for their own futures. Even Cyprus, who should have known better, showed a
decreasing interest in what might ensure him a full belly in the future.
      Bruce felt that once he had shown he had no easy solution to their crisis, the Skidians lost
interest in the whole project, which irked him for he couldn't believe they could be so short
sighted in their time of need. What most frustrated Bruce most, was that what he considered
important clearly clashed with Skidian perceptions of the situation.
     He focused his energy on completing the first stage of his development program, impatient
to move on to the next -- stocking his model farm. It was becoming an obsession with him,
perhaps as an attempt to justify his existence, that the project succeed. Not that anyone on
Skid, apart from himself, was in a position to make a qualified judgement. Once he was finished
the Skidians could then simply clone farms all round the planet using this initial one as a
template, probably almost overnight.
     Bruce was tempted to tell the Skidians to simply start bowling ivops over where they stood
to supply themselves with food. But he had a sneaking suspicion that if he did that then the
Skidians would simply keep bowling the ivops over until there were none left. He thought it was
a much more sensible idea to try to introduce them to the idea of farming and utilizing a
resource rather than squandering it in one foul swoop.
     Finally, despite the best efforts of his workforce, Bruce was able to sip a well-earned beer
as he looked contentedly down at the plain below the house on the forty paddocks that
constituted the first stage of his model farm.
     Ready to start mustering ivops from the plain to stock the farm, Bruce magnanimously
gave his Skidian workforce a few days off to go to town and do whatever Skidians did when
they got some spare time. Hitching a lift on a freighter that had just disgorged its load at the
farm all four male Skidians made a beeline for Sietnuoc.
     Cyprus carried a report extolling his efforts on Skid's behalf in the wilderness and some
samples for further analysis. Cyprus had been sampling the organic food that the offworlders
had produced to date. However, nothing, short of force feeding, could persuade his three
compatriots to try any of the food produced on the farm despite Bruce's efforts.
      Bruce saw these Skidians as the cutting edge of a campaign to cultivate a general
acceptance of organic food among Skid's populace, and their reluctance frustrated him. He was
still astounded with the lack of support he got from Cyprus, who seemed to regard the organic
food as a secret he was loath to share with anyone.
      However, despite Bruce's best efforts, Cyprus was not much more enlightened about the
production of organic food now than he had been before they had started.
      As far as Cyprus was concerned, and rightfully so, the small garden seemed inadequate to
supply the needs of Skid, judging by how far the material went towards feeding the offworlders
themselves. What he failed to understand was that the small garden at Bruce's farm was
merely an example of what could be done if the Skid's industrial might was brought to bear on
the problem. This apparent evidence of an obvious lack of progress in the inconclusive report
from Cyprus was disquieting news for the members of Committee 21 who had staked much on
the organic plants.
      Strategic stockpiles of synthofood were being steadily depleted as efforts were made to
keep the population fed and ignorant of the crisis going on around them. Production from the
synplants had plateaued at 13 percent of Skid's own needs, quite apart from the requirements
of the other planets that relied on Skid for food. Worse, rumors of the impending crisis were
beginning to leak to the general populace and the first uneasy stirring of unrest, the likes of
which were unheard of on Skid for generations, were becoming apparent. An air of uneasiness
hung over the cities like dark threatening storm clouds as Skidians began to sense something
terrible was about to happen, while the establishment sought to divert attention away from the
increasing deficiencies in the lives of the average Skidian.
      Watching his people and their reaction to the now obvious shortages, Inel alone realized
how slender had been the thread by which he and all his predecessors had held sway on Skid. It
had not been their total domination of Skid in every aspect of life at all. The cultural
programming, the control of the media, and education, all the suppressive traits of a totalitarian
regime. It had simply been their ability to provide the necessities of life. Soon the isolated
cases of disobedience and destruction of property as Skidians sought to vent their anger at
suddenly finding that the comfortable lives they had taken for granted were suddenly
endangered, would grow beyond the ability of the Skidian security forces to control.
      While Inel did not feel personally threatened, the members of Committee 21 certainly did
because of the apparent lack of substantial progress in the great 'organic' experiment, as it was
being hailed. Especially when the results of a trial in which Mulgoon and Sideshow had tried to
exist on the organic material that Bruce had used to explain growth to Sideshow became public
knowledge in the senate. Never mind that the information available from Cyprus' latest reports
now showed up grave deficiencies in their experimental procedure.
      Inel remained apparently unruffled by the situation. So tranquil did he appear that rumors
began to surface that he was incapable of leading Skid through its present crisis and should be
removed. Inel's composure was prompted by an inability to react to the situation, some said,
not because he was firmly in control.
      Inel knew if Skidians were saved from the specter of starvation by the offworlders then
everything else he, they held, dear would change as well. Was the probable success of the
offworlders plans worth the destruction of Skid, as he knew it? He was not sure and decided
that he must have more time to consider the situation.
                                                It wasn't simply about deciding if his people
                                                would survive the present crisis, the likely
                                                structure of the resulting society he had
                                                taken a solemn oath to preserve at all costs
                                                was just as, if not more important to him. It
                                                would be more acceptable to save just a few
                                                Skidians and preserve the exquisite nature
                                                of Skidian culture than save most of the
                                                population and lose any control over its
                                                future development. Once Skidians were
                                                forced to think and act for themselves as a
                                                result of instituting the offworlders food
                                                production schemes, that would signal the
                                                end of Skid, as he and his ancestors had
                                                known it.
     Neither Iamot nor Laeol returned to the farm with Cyprus at the completion of their few
days off in the big smoke.
     "Par for the course," Bruce murmured without surprise, he'd half expected none of them
to return. "Just one more example of how eager these people are to help themselves," he
muttered into his beer, shaking his head like an old man with a low opinion of modern youth.
     When asked why the other two Skidians had not returned, Cyprus merely shrugged his
shoulders. "I don't know," he said, meaning he did not care to explain to an outsider, and
Bruce could not get any more out of him on the subject.
     Sue, of course, saw the situation in another light. "I can't blame them, really. They are
only slaves after all, directed where to go and what to do by their master. As far as they're
concerned there's nothing important happening here, though their leaders might see things
differently."
     "Meaning?"
      "Well, you can't blame the workers for a lack of interest if their bosses don't give them
some positive vibes, you know?"
     Bruce didn't have any sympathy with Sue's bleeding heart liberal attitude. He'd been
brought up to believe that decent people worked hard and those who didn't were bludging
parasites who expected others to look after them and pay their way. The Skidians were simply
a pack of bludgers and their rulers something worse because they condoned the bludging.
Bruce descended into one of his 'I don't give a shit' moods. If the Skidians weren't going to get
their act together, then he wasn't about to go out of his way to exert himself on their behalf.

Playing cowboys

     Sue stirred irritably, wondering why Bruce was getting out of bed far earlier than usual the
morning after Cyprus and Oridor had returned to the farm.
     "Come on, wakey wakey," he said, shaking her shoulders firmly.
     "It's too early!" she moaned into her pillow. Sue peered at the clock by the bed. "It's only
four thirty!"
     "We need an early start," Bruce replied, relishing the prospect himself.
     Out in the predawn darkness as the first rays of sunshine hit the hills alive with straggling
lines of sheep or cattle harried by a good team of dogs. To feel his booted feet swish through
dewy grass and the fresh clean smell of the open air was his personal nirvana. Bruce tipped
Sue out of bed, leaving her to disentangle herself from the bed covers, and went to rouse the
Skidians.
      By the time he had eaten, drunk a cup of syncoffee and almost finished a second, let the
dogs off for a run, and had a couple of smokes, the others had dragged themselves into the
kitchen, complaining sleepily about being torn from their beds at this ungodly hour.
      "Ready?" Bruce demanded as the Skidians and Sue did their best to dawdle.
      "Oh, come off it Bruce! It's still dark outside!" Sue snarled.
     "So what? I want to round a bunch of ivops up and get them moving before it gets too hot.
     "Who do you think you're kidding?" Sue muttered under her breath. None of them were
too keen on venturing out into the night, but the thought of incurring Bruce's anger was a more
frightening prospect, so Bruce was eventually able to hustle them out outside into the
darkness.
      Half an hour later they came across the herd of ivops that seemed to migrate slowly back
and forward in the vicinity of the farm, their eyes gleaming in the darkness like distant stars.
     Bruce stopped the ute and looked around, relishing the unmistakable aroma associated
with cattle on the move. The dusty, acrid, odor of bruised grass, urine, and fresh ivop dung.
     The ivops appeared unconcerned by the nocturnal visitors as Bruce tried to clear a path
through them, intending to break off a small section of the vast herd, and drive it back to the
farm. However, as he bumped a gap through the animals in the ute, nudging them out of the
way, it immediately closed behind him.
     "Well, that's not going to work," Bruce muttered. A change of tactics was obviously
needed. Bruce had chained the dogs to the back of the ute to stop them taking off on their own
and had already taken a stick to Punch to stop him barking. It did not stop all three dogs from
whining expectantly however, and trying to shake themselves free in their eagerness to join the
fray.
     "Here, way out!" One by one the dogs leaped down as he unchained them, barking madly
as they charged at the mass of much larger animals. Cop made straight for the heels of an ivop,
nipping at them and avoiding the kicks as the animal tried to dispatch this new pest into orbit.
Can was a more spectacular performer, leaping up to bite the rumps of the ivops and hanging
on until the unfortunate animal began to move. Punch just barked loudly and mechanically, like
a wind up toy.
      "That'll do, Can. Shut up Punch! Get in." Amidst the barking and shouting from the dogs
and Bruce, Sue and the Skidians looked on nervously. They were unsure what to do and were
disinclined to get in the way and bring down the sort of wrath on themselves that Bruce seemed
to be dishing out to his dogs and the ivops.
     Eventually a group of ivops slowly broke away from the main herd and began to drift in the
general direction of the farm. The dogs, sensing victory, redoubled their efforts, with Cop
acting like a general, directing operations from the rear alongside Bruce. The other dogs
moved to the flanks of the breakaway herd to try to ensure they headed in the right direction.
But however hard they worked the ivops steadfastly refused to move at a pace any faster than
a very slow walk.
     Cyprus and Oridor kept well out of Bruce's way in order not to draw attention to
themselves. They were more worried about what Bruce might do to them if they got in his way
than any potential dangers lurking in the wilderness. Or the ivops they cautiously trailed, once
Bruce called in his dogs and stopped to make sure none of the main herd tried to join the small
breakaway group.
     Suddenly the breakaway group stopped en mass, almost as if an order had gone out to
resist any further forward movement.
     The efforts of Oridor nor Cyprus failed to get the stationary ivops moving. Bruce had told
them to yell and scream at the animals or hit them with a stick if the ivops stopped or deviated
from their course. When both those options failed, they stood back, confused as to what to do
next.
     A little way behind them Bruce had seen what was happening and was yelling and whistling
unintelligible commands (that is, unintelligible to any but Bruce and the dogs) to the dogs in an
attempt to regain the lost momentum and get the mob on the move again.
      "Pheep, pheep, pheeeeep, pheep! Get in here, you bastards, get into them! Get back
Punch, you bloody idiot." Punch and Can barked maniacally, Cop nipped, Bruce ranted and
raved, and Sue cowered in the ute, curling up into a tight ball in her seat, worried that Bruce
might suddenly turn and swat her just for being there.
     The ivops stood docilely like very tame cattle, except for the way they lowered their heads
and stabbed tiredly at the dogs with their single horns. Most of them had resumed grazing as
though nothing unusual was happening. Worst of all the main herd had begun to creep slowly
towards their compatriots as if they wanted to make the herd whole again and were curious
about the strange events of the last half hour or so.
     The gap slowly closed between the two mobs of animals, and unless the mob that Bruce
was trying to push along began moving again, all the work they had done so far would be
wasted. Bruce stopped the ute, cursing the Skidians for their ignorance in forgetting to add a
horn to the list of essentials they had provided and reached behind the seat for the rifle.
Perhaps if he let off a few shots the ivops might be persuaded to move on. However before he
could lift the rifle off its rack, the ivops in front of him began to move again as suddenly as they
had come to a standstill.
      Oridor and Cyprus, now directing the ivops towards the race up the center of the farm,
were feeling pretty pleased with their efforts. However, from his position at the rear of the mob
Bruce, hearing the Skidians' excited yells, wondered what they thought they were doing,
standing five hundred meters away from the ivops and waving their arms about. Despite the
efforts of the Skidians, Bruce noticed the ivops drifted towards the farm almost as if they were
attracted there like bees to a honey pot.
     As the last ivop entered the race, Bruce stopped the ute, got out, rolled up a cigarette and
watched the ivops wander towards the holding pens beside the yards. Occasionally one of them
would stop to examine the fences on either side of the race, sniffing closely or taking a
tentative lick at the wires and getting an electric shock for their trouble. Some stopped in their
tracks to try and establish with more certainty what had hit them, while others turned, snorting
and bellowing in fear and pain, and chased after their companions.
     Oridor and Cyprus stood proudly by the gate to the big holding pens, looking as if they had
just completed some Herculean task and deserved an appropriate reward. Bruce ignored them
as he cast an expert eye over the ivops; the dogs had done most of the work.
     "Let's go and have smoko while they settle down eh?"
                                                    "What?" Sue and the Skidians stared at
                                                    Bruce as if he had suddenly started
                                                    speaking a new language of his own.
     "I wish you'd learn to speak English as she is meant to be spoken proper eh. Let's go
have a cup of tea. Get in Punch or I'll kill you!" He yelled at the dog who had slipped through
the railing and was busy bailing up an ivop cow in a corner of the yard.
     Punch gave Bruce a look which said, 'Well this is what I'm supposed to be doing, isn't it?'
Then just to show everyone who was really in control, Punch barked once more before loping
back to the fence. Bruce aimed a kick at the dog, missing by a large margin as Punch slunk
away with his tail between his legs and joined the other two dogs splashing about in a trough.
     Sue watched Bruce's face as he dealt with Punch and said somewhat uneasily, "Do you
have to be so hard on them, Bruce?"
     "Whaddaya mean?" he retorted defensively. Bruce reckoned he was pretty good with his
dogs.
     "The way you treat them, the poor animals. I mean, it's a wonder they stay with you at
all."
      "Just wait until they really annoy me. Then you'll see something," he muttered. Sue was
not sure she wanted to be around to see that, his temper for the last few hours had been bad
enough. The dogs seemed so well behaved too.
      "Sometimes they just get too smart for their own good, or they need a bit of straightening
out occasionally, like kids." Bruce played absently with Can's ears, while the other two dogs
sat attentively behind him as he squatted, looking around from time to time to see what was
going on. "They've got to be reminded of who's the boss."
      "How do you do that?"
      "Oh, chain them up to something so they can't move, and give them a good whack."
      "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
      "Oh, only once a month or so." Bruce decided there were some things that Sue didn't
need to know.
      Sue, who had been standing beside him, now fidgeted uneasily. Once again realizing how
little she knew about this man whom fate had thrown her together with. Behind his usually
impassive face, now mostly covered by a thick beard, there were hidden and sometimes murky
depths to his character. Sue shivered as she wondered it would be long before some darker
side to his character was revealed.
      "Let's go up to the house and that drink," Bruce suggested. He didn't like the way the
conversation was headed.
      Afterwards Bruce shepherded a grumbling and most unwilling work force back to the
yards. Cyprus believing the days work complete, could not understand why Bruce was so
insistent that it was not. Surely they had done enough for the day? The four of them climbed
into the holding pens and accompanied by the barking dogs and Bruce's whippy stick slicing
through the air chased the ivops into the yards.
      Cyprus and Oridor, who had seen the stick in action at close quarters, and Sue, who had
just decided Bruce's temper wasn't really to be trusted, kept a wary eye on both him and the
ivops.
      Their tentativeness seemed to incense Bruce. He thrashed the ivops with his stick when
they tried to run past him, and then most disconcertingly so, he started screaming at them.
      "Hit the bloody thing, Cyprus! Why do you think you've got a stick in your hand?" he
demanded as a group of ivops turned and ran past Cyprus who stood on the outer edge of a line
that the four of them had formed across the holding pen.
      "Get back! Bruce yelled, and the dogs took off to round up the escaped ivop.
      "Don't let them turn on you like that!" Not quite understanding what they were doing, Sue
and the Skidians walked on tenterhooks, not wanting to incur the wrath of Bruce. It had all
sounded so easy when Bruce was telling them what he wanted over 'morning tea'.
      At least the cowboys had horses, Sue thought; this was not how they did it in the movies.
      "Hit it Sue! Hit the bloody thing!" Sue stumbled and screamed as she saw a huge old bull
looking menacingly at her as he made a break for the rear of the holding pen.
      "Hit the bastard! Shit!" Bruce shouted disgustedly, throwing his stick at the offending
beast as it ran past him.
      Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor Sue dropped her stick and ran for the
fence. If she knew anything about bulls it was that they were dangerous, and she was not giving
this one half a chance to hurt her.
      "There's no need to yell," she whined petulantly, clambering up the rails, realizing that the
bull had taken off faster than she had, in the opposite direction.
      "Look, just whack them with your stick. They're more scared of you than you are of
them." Bruce was almost beside himself with frustration. Neither Sue nor the Skidians had any
idea at all, and the ivops, sensing their lack of commitment and confidence, treated them with
total disdain.
     "Here!" Bruce said, handing her the stick she had dropped.
     "But it's all dirty!" Sue dropped the muck-covered stick like a hot potato. "Look out!"
Bruce turned and saw the bull ambling towards the gate that the last of its mates were
meandering through with the three dogs in close attendance. Confused and upset by the noise
and the strange things that were happening, all the bull wanted was to rejoin his companions.
     "That'll do! That will do Punch! Get over here!"
     Sue saw only a mad bull intent on doing her a mischief, and wasted no time in clambering
to the top rail of the yard fence, closely followed by Oridor and Cyprus. They were not happy
about the situation either and had been looking for some excuse to escape ever since they had
returned from the house.
     Cyprus from his perch on the fence thought Bruce must be crazy to walk around ivops
armed with nothing more than a flimsy length of syntimber in his hand. The beasts could be
dangerous if they got as angry, as this one obviously was, and could seriously hurt a person
with the pointed protuberance that jutted from their noses.
     Cyprus blanched as he conjured up a vision of an ivop thrusting its horn into his body and
flinging him into the air.
      "Good bloody riddance!" Bruce picked up his stick and smacked the bull on the nose as it
went past with an outraged bellow, the disobedient dogs still yapping at its heels. He locked the
gate behind it in time to look up and see Sue and the two Skidians slinking off towards the
house.
     "Where the hell do you think you're off to?" However, they continued as if they hadn't
heard him. "Come back here or I'll bloody well kill ya. Shit!" Bruce rolled himself a smoke as
Sue, Cyprus, and Oridor slunk back and climbed onto the fence, perching there like sparrows
on a power line.
     Then Bruce walked quietly through the pens shutting the gates between each pen full of
ivops so that they didn't smother or pile up in the corners, or worse, push through the rails and
escape back onto the plain.
     "Get out," he roared at Cop who was trying to create a disturbance behind him. Cop
minced over to the rails and slipped between them. Bruce scratched his nose thoughtfully;
running an eye over the ivops in the pen in which he stood while Sue, Oridor and Cyprus waited
expectantly for Bruce to let fly at them.
     Oridor coughed beside Sue as the dust raised by the ivops irritated his throat. He did not
appreciate the pungent combination of dung, urine, and sweat either, or the frightful noise the
ivops made.
     "Right." There was no sign of Bruce's earlier contempt or anger now. "We'll sort out the
cows, the females and younger calves into here." He motioned with his half-smoked cigarette
at one of the two large empty pens, one of which opened directly back into one of the holding
pens.
     "That's a cow!" Bruce pointed to an animal with a large udder so his helpers knew exactly
what he meant. "Cyprus, you can be first. Stand in the gateway here and let nothing through
unless I say." Cyprus climbed reluctantly off the fence, frightened by the animals, but even
more scared by what Bruce might do to him if he did not.
     The reasoning behind separating the animals from each other was a mystery to Cyprus,
and he wondered why Bruce bothered. After all, in the wilderness they were together, so what
was the sense in doing more than was necessary with them? Why Bruce was purposely
endangering all of them?
     "Wake up, Cyprus." Cyprus tried to concentrate on what Bruce was trying to do, as Bruce
prodded an ivop towards the open doorway where he had taken up station.
     "Stand back and let it through," Bruce said. Cyprus stood aside and the ivop ambled past,
showing no interest in him at all. Cyprus's confidence blossomed, like most of the things the
offworlders did, nothing difficult or dangerous about it at all. He relaxed, knowing that
whatever the offworlders could do, he could do much better.
      "Bugger off, dog!" Bruce threatened Cop with his stick as he slipped back into the yard to
lend a hand. Sue, Oridor, and Cyprus gave each other significant glances and prepared for the
worst. But Bruce seemed unflustered and continued to move quietly among the beasts, tapping
one of them nose, prodding another in the backside with his stick, and guiding them in the
general direction of the gate.
      "Stand back and let it through," he'd call to Cyprus, or. "Stop it!" Until Cyprus developed
what he felt was an almost telepathic understanding of what Bruce required, and managed to
act without being told. After a while Cyprus noticed that some of the larger animals had
different organs hanging between their legs. Ah! Cyprus belatedly realized that Bruce was
segregating the males from the females, and he approved of this. Buoyed by this profound new
insight, his confidence grew even further.
      "Stop that one!" Bruce said as a bull got past him. Cyprus stepped in front of the ivop and
waved his stick at it, a gesture which in his limited experience should have stopped the animal
in its tracks. Nevertheless, this beast would not be deterred from its chosen course.
      "Hit the bloody thing, Cyprus!" Cyprus waved his stick at the bull, then lost his newfound
confidence, and jumped back up onto the fence out of its way.
      "Bugger ya, Cyprus!" Bruce cut the bull off himself, forcing it back with a series of sharp
clouts to its nose. The bull snorted angrily, half charged him, then retreated against the
onslaught.
      "Ya toey old bastard!" Bruce looked up at where Cyprus cowered on the fence. "Cyprus,
you've got a bloody stick. Just whack them if they go the wrong way." Bruce didn't know how
many times he'd told them this and it still hadn't sunk in.
      Cyprus's budding confidence had dissipated completely, and nothing Bruce could do or
say, short of dragging him down, would move him from the rails. Bruce threw his stick across
the pen in disgust.
      "Shit!" he yelled, more amused than angry. "You're a bloody old woman, Cyprus!" Then
he turned away so the others couldn't see him laughing at the expression on Cyprus's face.
      "There's no need to be sexist about it, Bruce," Sue said about to remonstrate with him.
      "Well, you get down here then, if you think you're so bloody smart!" Sue hesitated for a
moment, then slipped down off the railing, and picked up the stick that Cyprus had dropped in
his hasty escape. She was not going to let Bruce get away with that!
      Meanwhile Cyprus took this chance to beat a hasty retreat towards the house, closely
followed by Oridor. Bruce spat on the ground. Oh well, he thought, the two of them should be
able to handle the job if Sue didn't go all sulky on him.
      "Can you pick out the cows ok?" Bruce asked reasonably.
       "The ones with the big tits, you mean?"
       "Yeah, that's right. We want them in this yard here, ok?" Bruce herded a couple of ivop
cows towards the gate which Sue let through without any problem.
      "Good," he grunted reluctantly. "They won't hurt you if you show them who's boss." This
wasn't exactly true but Bruce decided Sue didn't need to know that.
      Gradually the number of beasts to be sorted dwindled. Cows there, heifers there, the few
bulls back out into the holding pen, the younger calves back with their mothers, the bigger
calves in another pen.
      "Right, we're just about finished. We'll just put these ones in a paddock for the night and
call it a day, eh?" Bruce said at last with a yawn. While this sort of work wasn't particularly
physical, it had been a long day and had required not a little concentration. Which was probably
why Bruce decided cynically that the Skidians couldn't handle it.
      "I'm buggered!" Bruce said for Sue's benefit, "What about you?" She nodded. "All I
want is a beer, a feed and to flop into bed. And not necessarily in that order," he declared. "It's
harder work than it looks, eh." He ruffled her hair. Sue shrugged numbly, too tired to care
either way.
      "The dogs are pretty stuffed too, getting fat and lazy." As if on cue, all three of them
came over, panting in expectation of a friendly word and pat. Uncharacteristically, thought Sue,
Bruce responded by giving each of them a few hearty slaps and a kind word. Trying to impress
me, she decided.'
      "They love you, don't they?" Sue recognized blind devotion when she saw it. "Even
though you're so horrible to them at times."
      "Oh, I wouldn't say so," he replied, letting Punch take a liberty because he was still really
a pup and didn't know any better. Punch jumped up, placed his paws on Bruce's chest, and tried
to lick his face.
      "We have a symbiotic relationship, buzz off Punch," he continued. "In return for me
harnessing their natural hunting instincts to chase sheep and cattle around, they get looked
after and fed."
      "Oh, are you sure?"
      "Yeah, of course. You ask Punch here."
      "Rubbish. What are we going to do with these?" Sue indicated the few ivops left in the
yards, to change the subject.
      "Aw, tomorrow we'll sort out the bull calves and deknackerise them."
      "What do you mean?"
      "Castrate the younger ones. Turn them into steers to raise for meat, Bull meat's ok but
it's a bit tough."
      "How do you do that?" Sue asked, balking when Bruce told her. "You're not serious, of
course? That sounds so cruel."
      "Nah, not really. It doesn't hurt them much if you get them young enough."
      "I don't believe you." Bruce pressed his thighs together, imagining the feel of cold steel
against his own genitals. "Yeah, perhaps, but it's a real bastard having lots of young bulls
running round the place ripping into anything and everything, calves popping out all over the
place, fences wrecked. They're just a bloody menace."
      "But cutting them out sounds so brutal. Surely there's got to be a better way."
      "We sometimes put rubber rings on them to restrict the blood flow. The balls drop off in a
few weeks, which, personally, I reckon is even worse."
       "How horrible." The sudden reappearance of Cyprus put an end to the conversation as
he sheepishly asked whether there was anything he could do to help out."
       "Bit late for that, isn't it?" Bruce demanded angrily, wanting to punch Cyprus in the neck.
He had probably been watching from the house until they looked finished before he offered his
services. "We're finished for the day now."
      He was about to add something particularly vitriolic when Sue sweetly intervened and
defused the situation.
      "Why don't you come to dinner Cyprus?" Sue asked, she and Leaf had some new organic
foods for him to try out.
      Tonight of all nights Bruce didn't want to have to spend in the company of a Skidian, but
Sue led him off before he could make an issue out of it.
      "It will be a pleasure," Cyprus replied to the retreating backs of the offworlders. Perhaps
he would finally be able to discover how the ivops could be a renewable resource. Inel had been
most insistent that he get this point clarified as soon as possible. Was it possible that the ivops
reproduced in some hitherto unknown fashion? After noting the presence of what appeared to
be many juvenile ivops and the obvious lack of technicians needed to ensure the success of the
reproductive process, Cyprus now thought they must be able to. How else could the presence of
these immature ivops be explained?
The birds and the bees

                                                  "You're pulling my leg of course mate."
                                                  Bruce managed to gasp between gusts of
                                                  laughter as Cyprus broached the question
                                                  of ivop reproduction after dinner. A hilarity
                                                  which stunned the Skidian considering the
                                                  delicacy of the subject.
       "No." Cyprus shook his head solemnly, wondering if he had made himself clear. You
never knew where you were with the offworlders. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat,
wishing he had not broached the subject at all.
       "You're not joking? Tell me then," Bruce asked earnestly, "how do Skidians reproduce? I
mean, you'd do it pretty well like us, wouldn't you?"
       With not a little embarrassment, for it was not a subject commonly discussed on Skid, and
because Cyprus could not speak from personal experience, he explained the process clinically,
like a prudish father teaching his precocious son the facts of life.
       "Well, that's basically how the ivops do it, mate," Bruce explained. "I'll keep my eyes
open and if I see it happening I'll point it out for you."
       "Do you mean to say the ivops do it in public, where they can be seen?" Cyprus's
discomfort was acutely increased by this offer.
        Cyprus sounded so scandalized, Bruce thought he must have missed something vitally
important again. "They're only animals, man. It's a perfectly natural activity for them." This
casual comment horrified Cyprus even further, and Bruce continued to make matters even
worse. "You do it, don't you? I bet Leaf sneaks down to your room every night you old stoat."
       "Yes, Leaf often comes down for fellowship." Cyprus continued proudly, "But we Skidians
only procreate once or twice in a lifetime, and then only in carefully supervised surroundings,
with the attendance of physicians to ensure success. For these ivops to do it whenever they like
is, I think, disgusting." Bruce's jaw dropped in astonishment.
       "Really?" He chuckled.
       "This is true," Cyprus replied piously, wondering what Bruce thought was so funny. But
then, he did have some strange customs, apparently Bruce and Sue actually shared the same
bed! Cyprus had not seen any real evidence of this, for Inel had censored that information, and
it had not occurred to him to ask. Nor did it occur to Cyprus that Bruce might find some of his
own habits and customs just as odd, to say the least.
       Cyprus knew all he wanted to know and did not wish to discuss his own prospects for
procreation. He was scheduled to undertake his reproductive duties sometime in the next few
months and could not see this was any of Bruce's business. Sex was rarely discussed on Skid,
not because it was taboo but mostly because it was irrelevant to everyday life.
       "Doesn't sex give you pleasure? On earth we have sex, as much for pleasure, as an
affirmation of relationships, as to produce children."
       "Does this mean you have many offspring, on your planet?"
       "Not that I know of. I think you've missed my point," Bruce wondered how bright these
people were, sometimes. "Children generally result only when you want them to. Contraception
and all that. You know?"
      No wonder their planet is overpopulated thought Cyprus. "This immoral practice must
place a great strain on your planet's resources, causing much distress."
       "Nah. Well, yeah. But not for the obvious reasons. We've experienced a massive
population explosion on earth because food production techniques and especially medical care
have improved, which means people live longer than they used to and more of their offspring
survive. The earth's birthrate has actually decreased over recent times."
     "Why don't you disinfect useless, unproductive members of your society?" Cyprus asked,
employing the Skidian euphemism.
      "Most cultures on earth would consider that immoral." Bruce answered without thinking,
and then wondered if restricting aid to starving people just because their government was
Marxist or something wasn't euthanasia by another name.
     Cyprus pondered this statement. "Then the obvious course of action would be to withdraw
medical support from those areas that cannot care for themselves."
     "Ah, but that would be contrary to the customs and beliefs of my people. Where I come
from, life is prolonged for as long as possible, no matter what the cost."
     How inefficient, Cyprus thought. What a waste of resources! "Your population grows and
people suffer because you try to keep your people alive for as long as possible. That is crazy. It
would never happen here on Skid."
     "It probably did in the past, mate." Bruce was tired of Cyprus and his smug, holier than
thou attitude. He didn't need to be reminded that all was not well on his home planet, especially
by one who didn't take his own planet's problems too seriously.
     "What's the chance of playing some more rugby, er, Stim soon? Maybe once a week or
so?" Bruce asked changing the subject. He had recognized that Stim was a passion on Skid,
almost to the point of being a religion, which he could readily understand.
     Bruce had enjoyed watching the games, but recently the attraction had palled a little. Each
game appeared to have been choreographed by the same coach. The players didn't look as if
they enjoyed it either, which was the whole idea of playing in the first place wasn't it? Besides
he wanted to play, not watch.
     "The officials from the Murd club were impressed by your performance," Cyprus lied,
relieved to be discussing something he was more comfortable with. "Although they felt you
were a little too aggressive in your approach." That much was true.
     "Aggressive?" Bruce was a little taken aback.
     "However I'm sure they will be pleased to allow you to play as often as you would like."
Even if it took a direct command from Inel to ensure they agreed, Cyprus thought. Anything to
keep him quiet.
     Then Bruce shifted mental gears at a pace that left Cyprus struggling to keep up with him
again. "You know, we might be able to use a Stim team or two to introduce our organic food to
more people on Skid."
     "How so?" Cyprus was confused now. Far from being an unintelligent primitive, Bruce
was able to reason at a much greater pace than any Skidian he had ever met. Cyprus deeply
resented that any individual could be so unconsciously superior to himself, especially since the
offworlders had always been regarded as stupid and primitive.
     "Well, at home after a game we usually get together with the opposition for a drink or two.
Could we not invite my team, and the opposition, out here after a game? How's that for an
idea?" Bruce suggested enthusiastically. "We can have a barbecue."
     "Barbecue?" Cyprus mentally examined the word, trying to perceive its meaning.
     "Barbecuing is a form of cooking, more a social activity where I come from."
     Social activity? That sounded a bit ominous to Cyprus, considering the previous topic of
conversation. Another immoral offworld practice?
     Bruce set his mind at rest by explaining barbecues more explicitly. "Meat is cooked on a
metal hot plate over an open flame and eaten with raw veggies."
     "Veggies?" Cyprus had missed the point again, which was not unusual. He could not
associate components of the meal he had just finished with the term veggies.
     "The guests generally have a few drinks, and talk while they cook and eat. Sound ok?"
Bruce forgot to add that barbecues were about the only occasions in the society he came from
where men traditionally handled the cooking.
     Cyprus considered the unusual proposition. "I will have to clear it with Inel, of course.
Perhaps it would be more diplomatic of you to invite the high council to your first barbecue."
     "Well, um, leave it for a few weeks and maybe we could organize a tour around the farm
at the same time. Make a day of it eh?" The idea began to grow on Bruce. "I can explain to
your leaders what's going on here and what I hope to achieve."
     Not if I can help it, thought Cyprus. If any credit was due, he intended to be the major
recipient of it. "I will put this proposal to Inel in my next report. I'm sure he will be agreeable."
Cyprus hesitated, wondering whether he should impart the next piece of information to Bruce.
Surely it would do no harm to praise him as he would praise an untitled youngster for some
minor success. Select tit bits of attention to ensure continuing loyalty and hard work, in much
the same way that Cyprus had observed Bruce treating his four legged companions and to a
lesser extent Sue.
     "Once the food you offered Inel was carefully analyzed, Inel quite enjoyed partaking of
it."
     "Really?" Whoopee! Bruce thought. If the stupid old bugger hadn't realized he could eat
ivop meat and veggies yet, there was less hope for Skid than Bruce already thought there was.
     "What's good?" demanded Sue, emerging from the house wearing a grin that would not
have disgraced a cheshire cat.
     "Oh, it seems your veggies have been deemed fit for local consumption by the head
honcho. Though for the life of me I can't see how!" Bruce added facetiously. Sue's teeth
flashed as her grin widened. "So now Cyprus here wants you to organize a tasting session so
the big shots can sample your wares."
     "You're pulling my leg."
     "No, for sure. I suggested a barbecue would be a good idea." Cyprus watched Bruce in
admiration as he manipulated his female companion.
     "No worries," said Sue. Sue had taken to using many of Bruce's expressions and
mannerisms, Cyprus noted, and wondered why this would be so. Her own natural speech
patterns were much more easily understood and gentler on the Skidian ear.
     "Don't worry, mate, I can see right through you. I'll help you on one condition," she added
craftily.
     "Aw yeah? What?"
     "Tell you later." Sue gave Bruce a wanton look that even Cyprus could not fail to
recognize. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and invented an excuse to depart the embarrassing
scene.
     "I must leave you now." It did not cross his mind to thank his hosts for the meal they had
provided him. Thank you was an unnecessary courtesy since all food was collectively owned,
and supplied through a communal dispensing system. It really made little difference whose tap
the food was poured from. That the offworlders had actually produced most of the meal's
ingredients themselves made no difference to Cyprus.
     As Cyprus left, Sue lowered herself onto Bruce's lap and took a sip from his beer before
pecking him on the cheek. "I gather you want me to prepare a barbecue?"
     "I'll look after the meat," he protested.
     "Big deal."
     "Have to build one too. A barbecue, I mean. And butcher an ivop especially for the
occasion." Bruce added, growing a little defensive.
     "Bigger deal buddy, but I'll do it for you." She tweaked his nose playfully. By now it was
pretty obvious to Bruce that Sue wanted something from him. She was in that coy mood that
irritated him so much. Why couldn't she just come out and ask him?
      "What do you want?" Bruce reached for his beer, put the glass to his lips, and just about
choked on his suds when she told him.
     "You don't mind, do you? I don't," Sue assured him. "Honestly."
     "How did you get onto that subject?"
     "I don't know really." It had not occurred to Sue to dig deeply into the motivation behind
the request she had received from Leaf earlier in the evening.
      "Leaf just asked out of the blue why we slept together."
      "And you explained everything?"
      "No. Well, not at first anyway."
      "Well I'm not sure I want to do it. These Skidians have some pretty weird ideas about
sex."
      "I thought you'd enjoy it, Bruce. Not shy are you?"
      "Of course not, but I'm not an exhibitionist, either," he retorted. To tell the truth, Sue's
immorality shocked him. He did have some scruples, even if she didn't. That was the strange
thing about most Americans he'd met, Bruce thought. On one hand they appeared to be of
upstanding moral character, almost to the point of prudishness, then they would suggest
something totally outrageous without batting an eyelid.
     He didn't quite know whether he should feel affronted by being manipulated in this way, or
embarrassed because surely the Skidians would be watching, collecting data. Wired for sound.
That was almost funny. If the boot were on the other foot and he were a medical man in some
institution down on earth, he'd certainly be interested in sussing out how the Skidians made
babies.
      "Ok," he said at last, trying to sound as ungracious as possible. "You certainly know how
to stick it to a man. I'll do it as long as I don't see her and she doesn't laugh."
     "Thanks, Bruce," said Sue, hugging him. "I knew you wouldn't mind."
      Bruce thought about Leaf for a moment. He'd come to regard her almost as part of the
furniture, a non-person. Then he remembered that night a few weeks, might have even been a
few months ago now, when Leaf had clumsily offered herself to him. That's what it was all
about. Sue might believe that she was manipulating him, but in reality Leaf herself or
somebody in the background was really pulling the strings.
      "Why the sudden change of heart, Bruce?" Sue asked suspiciously catching him off guard
as he remembered that despite being a Skidian, he actually found Leaf quite attractive.
     "Well, to tell you the truth, Sue, Cyprus and I were having a man to man talk along similar
lines. You know, these Skidians really do have some strange ideas about sex and stuff, they
think we are odd! You know?"
      "So Leaf's been telling me."
     "Yeah. Anyway, I thought I might have been a little hypocritical because I offered him you
for the night."
      "Bruce! I don't believe even you could do such a thing!" Sue said, both shocked and hurt.
     "He declined my offer and decided that a Stim game on the TV would be far more
interesting." Bruce shouted after Sue as she jumped up and ran inside.
     Bruce chased after her and by the time he had reached the bedroom he was half carrying
her to the bed. As they wrestled playfully a sudden thought flitted through Bruce's mind. She
didn't mean tonight, did she? But he was really too busy to care.
      Bruce didn't know how long she had been there when he felt her eyes boring into the back
of his head. He sat up, turned round and found Leaf watching from the side of the bed.
      "Hello," he said, as casually as possible as Leaf's eyes flicked towards Sue, who nodded
her head slightly as if to say, 'Ok.'
      Not knowing what to do, and feeling more than a little self-conscious, Bruce collapsed to
the bed and rolled over on his back. Before he knew what was happening Sue had rolled over
and pinned him to the bed. Not that he put up much of a struggle, as he watched Leaf shed her
loose robe and lay down stiffly beside him.
     "What the hell?" Bruce made a weak effort to push Sue off and shoo Leaf away at the
same time. Sue leant over and gave him a quick, wet, but passionate kiss.
"Shh, Bruce," she whispered into his ear. "Look, the girl's so frustrated and."
"So?"
"Make love to her."
"What?" Here he was presented with the means to experience one of his wildest
fantasies and Bruce was so stunned he didn't know what to do with himself. What was this little
game that Sue was playing? Almost against his will, Bruce felt himself become excited at the
prospect and he reached out a hand and caressed Leaf's flank.
     Leaf stiffened at his initial touch and then relaxed with a long deep sigh. As Bruce began
to explore her body with his fingers and then his mouth, not an easy job with someone sitting on
you. Leaf's breathing started to come quicker and her hips began to rock gently up and down.
She began to gasp, excited beyond her wildest dreams, by a whole new series of emotions and
almost frightening sensations that filled her mind.
     She began to writhe uncontrollably, wanting the caresses to last forever, so intense was
the pleasure they gave her. No wonder Sue smiled when she talked of what Bruce did to her in
their bed.
     Leaf sobbed as Bruce suddenly removed his hands from her body. She groped for his
hands, to pull him back. However, her hands encountered something else. Something pulsing
with heat and life. She gasped and wondered what it could be as Bruce covered her body with
his own.

Report Number Thirteen B
As instructed, I have continued to encourage the male offworlder in the hopes that he could be
persuaded to mate with me. However, apart from the first attempt, I am not convinced that my
approaches were correctly interpreted by the male offworlder.
When it became obvious that this approach would continue to fail, I began discreet inquiries
with Sue, learning something from her of offworld sexual practices and preferences. Comparing
these observations with our own secret archival material I changed my experimental approach.
(App. 1)
Earlier reports have noted how their sexual activity is as much motivated by a search for
pleasure and a measure of comfort, as a biological reproductive function. I felt this factor might
work in my favor. When I intimated to Sue that I had little knowledge of sexual practice and
wished to learn from the offworlders, Sue became most helpful for a reason that I cannot
understand. For it appears that the offworlders are generally monogamous.
She allowed me to observe their couplings on several occasions (App. 2) and then to partake in
the act (App. 3) My observations of the act are outlined in appendix three.
I would at this stage have to state that never having experienced a sexual act with a fellow
Skidian male I have nothing to compare the performance of Bruce with. In addition, I must
further state that I have found my present situation and recent events most distasteful. Hence I
implore you not to request me to repeat this activity and I again respectfully request to be
relieved of my duties here.

The report was not accurate in all respects, for Leaf had discovered something that most
Skidians would never experience, but that did not matter to Inel who took the report from
Sideshow and read it with interest.
    "This report is not explicit enough," he said. "Order her to remain and to provide more
detailed information." Skid's present sexual practices and mores dated from the days when
Skid had a population problem and instituted draconian measures to control it. The measures
had become a part of Skidian culture and there had never been any pressure to change them.
     Inel though, was more than a little interested, and found the report and the accompanying
tapes most stimulating. Unknown to the majority of Skidians who were ignorant of most of the
roles and activities of their rulers, the hierarchy of Skid enjoyed, among other things, active
sex lives. A perk of the job, so to speak, another throwback to ancient times when a leader was
expected to produce more than one potential heir. Just in case one or two of them, or more,
which was often the case, met with a fatal accident.
     It was not only in modern times that the leaders of Skid considered themselves above the
laws that the rest of the planet lived by, that by tradition they also respected. But then, these
double standards were not unknown elsewhere in the universe.
     While Inel was interested in the sex lives of the offworlders, he found Sue most
unattractive and wondered how the male could tolerate her. What he needed was a good
Skidian courtesan. Why hadn't anybody else thought of that? A decent courtesan would have
discovered in a few hours what it had taken a team of researchers weeks to discover about the
offworlders. But then the simple things were never easy to achieve on Skid.

     Bruce woke the next morning wondering if the previous night had been anything more than
another dream. He looked over and saw that Leaf had gone and Sue was asleep beside him. He
stared up at the ceiling, trying to work out why Sue had done what she had. She didn't strike
him as the sort of woman who would pimp for a lover under any normal circumstances. But
then, Bruce thought sadly, circumstances weren't normal, were they?
     Their relationship wasn't about love, lust even, though he had come to care for Sue in a
way. It was more about a need for company, human company, and he began to feel guilty about
having taken Sue for granted for so long. Did Sue feel used, he wondered, or was he the one
that had been used?
     With these uncomfortable thoughts running through his head, Bruce slipped quietly from
the bed trying not top wake Sue, declaring in a fit of good intentions (he also vowed at least
once a week to give up smoking and getting drunk) to treat her a bit more tenderly in the
future. She wasn't just the handiest thing around to warm his bed. But now she wasn't the only
one, and that had been mostly her own doing. So how was he supposed to handle Leaf now?
Was Sue now about to share him with Leaf?
     After a lazy breakfast, putting off the time when he would have to start the day's work, he
went and called on Oridor and Cyprus. He half expected to find Leaf there and signs of
reproach on their faces. However, she wasn't, and there were none, so Bruce tried to set his
guilty feelings aside until the passage of time lessened their impact.
     Bruce detailed Oridor to march around the farm's boundaries to see if the ivops had
managed to knock over any fences during the night. A task that would probably take him all
day, because Oridor seemed to move at about the same pace as the sluggish ivops, while he
and Cyprus worked in the yards.
     They sorted the young ivops that had been left in the holding yard into two groups. Rather,
Bruce drafted the ivops while Cyprus watched, keeping well out of the way. Cyprus's previous
confidence in dealing with the ivops had dissipated and he was not about to get into a pen, even
with the little ones.
     Bruce released the bigger calves back onto the plain, not fancying the thought of wrestling
with them and drove the smaller bull calves into a pen behind the head bail. He set Cyprus up
on the head bail and drove the first bawling calf into the race which he managed to catch by the
neck before it flew out the gap. Bruce lashed the animal's hind legs to the lowest rails of the
drafting race with a piece of rope and got Cyprus to hold its tail out of the way, he didn't want it
whacking him in the face while he operated.
      After drawing his knife and testing its keenness by shaving some hairs from the back of
his hand, Bruce reached between the animal's legs and pulled its scrotum towards him. He
made an incision at the bottom of the sac, pushed one of the testicles out, and with a quick
slash of the knife it fell off into the race. Shit! I should save these for dinner, Bruce thought.
Mountain oysters! He repeated the operation with the second testicle, amazed that the animal
barely moved and the lack of blood, as if it was as dead in that area as the Skidians apparently
were.
      Then he realized Cyprus had lost his grip on the tail because it swatted him in the face.
      "Cyprus?" Bruce looked around to see what Cyprus thought he was doing, the useless
shit. At the first slash of the knife Cyprus had turned as white as a sheet beneath his tan and
fainted.
      Bruce untied the rope restraining the ivop's legs, climbed over the rail, and released the
head bail. The ivop gave the bail one desultory kick and then walked placidly out into the yard,
apparently unaffected by the amateur surgery. Bruce tried to bring Cyprus around with a nudge
to the ribs. "Hired help isn't what it used to be," he grunted mercilessly when Cyprus didn't stir
and carried on by himself.
     Cyprus revived slowly and took, to Bruce's disgust, no further part in the morning's work.
He made feeble excuses about an upset tummy and soon made himself scarce. Skidians
weren't used to the sight of blood, and the very hint of it was enough to make them panic.
      "Ya useless twit!" Bruce called after his retreating figure, and immediately felt a whole lot
better.
An unhappy Life

     Apart from Bruce's odd forays into town to play Stim, Bruce and Sue become strangely
isolated out at the farm. This didn't worry Bruce much, although he was heard to murmur it was
typical of the Skidians not to take an interest in what was good for them. For Sue it was
different matter, she did not seem as content keeping her own company, as Bruce was keeping
his.
     The farm ticked over nicely; it was not as if a whole lot of effort was required in running it.
Bruce as he had intended had become more or less surplus to requirements. This would have
been an ideal state of affairs if he headed a training program full of eager Skidians, but such an
institution had never eventuated. Cyprus turned out to be the only permanent recruit.
     Maybe they have solved their food production problems; Bruce thought one day and
asked Cyprus about it.
     "Well, what are you going to do about it?" Bruce wasn't surprised when Cyprus merely
shrugged his shoulders.
     "I don't know." He replied.
      With that sort of attitude, Bruce realized he was never going to be able to do much for the
Skidians. They didn't seem to be able to comprehend that they needed to build the abattoirs to
process the ivops or the machinery to cultivate the vast plains and harvest the crops. Bruce
could show them how but they had to do it. He felt that if he could cope with that failure, he
could then start working out how he was going to keep himself occupied in a constructive
manner and enjoy himself for the rest of his life on Skid.
     The rapid departure from the scene of Oridor further reinforced Bruce's poor impression
of Skidians. Then Cyprus also began to spend more time away in town (Bruce's derogatory
term for any built-up area of more than ten or so buildings) than he spent at the farm.
     "Well, stuff the Skidians!" He decided for the umpteenth time. I'm quite happy pottering
about here, minding my own business, he told himself untruthfully. For deep down he knew he
was important to Skid's future and he resented the fact the Skidians didn't realize it.
      Despite the odd frustrated bad-tempered flare up. Flare ups that either sent him to the
bottle or got him so bitter and twisted that he would not talk for days on end, Bruce thought he
was fairly happy with his lot.
      Sue amateurishly tried to analyze his behavior and counsel him, using such terms and
theories as she had picked up from her own encounter groups and visits to her analyst. Her
cliche-ridden approach was enough to clamp Bruce's jaws firmly shut.
      Do you want to tell me about it indeed! Bruce suspected Sue didn't really know what she
was talking about, despite the ease with which she articulated the psychobabble. He also
figured that having someone more or less as screwed up as yourself try and solve your
problems wasn't such a good idea either.
      Sue wished that she had met Bruce on earth so that she could assess the changes in his
behavior and more importantly get some advice from that one fountain of wisdom that had
never failed her, her mom. A vain hope, of course, for had they lived in the same country
instead of a world apart, or even the same town, given their different backgrounds it was
unlikely their paths would ever have crossed.
      Concluding she would never break through to Bruce's inner soul, to develop in him the
sort of openness and honesty that she took for granted, Sue gave up on Bruce. She realized
Bruce would still manage to function at some level whatever the crisis. For that was his
strength: he would trundle along no matter what. Bruce might have worked himself up at times,
reacting to the Skidian environment, but at least the manifestation of this anger also acted as a
release for it.
      Without realizing it, Sue, who believed she was so in touch with her own feelings, had
bottled up her emotional response to being on Skid and all things Skidian, and began to feel
rather distressed at times. She did not know whether she was physically ill or her nausea and
tiredness was simply a reaction to stress. It was not as if she could go make an appointment
with her doctor to get a checkup or visit her analyst.
      Sue did not have any confidence in the Skidian medical establishment, who unbeknownst
to her closely monitored her health status and had not decided to, or how to, intervene yet. The
very idea of some Skidian quack doctor pawing her made her shudder. She might just as well
have another beer
      At one point Sue became so withdrawn that Bruce wondered whether she might be
suffering some sort of mental breakdown. All she seemed to want to do was, make love with a
fierceness and passion that almost frightened him, and sleep. More than once he had to use a
headache or some other imagined weakness to avoid another sexual marathon, an
embarrassing ploy, because usually it was him that couldn't get enough.
      "Have you any idea how long we've been in this place, Sue? Feels like ages." They were
sitting on the verandah after their evening meal, having a beer and staring up at the myriad
stars that filled the sky. The remains of the meal had been cleared away by Leaf, who had
distanced herself from them, Bruce suddenly realized, after her night of sexual exploration.
When was that? Not long ago, for sure. Bruce seemed to think that it had been just the other
day. But it could have been last week. Could it have been the one before? He tapped his glass
and tried to count the months. It was at times like these he regretted never having got into the
habit of keeping a diary.
      "I worked it out the other day." Sue had in fact asked her book, which Bruce had not
thought to do. "We've only been on Skid for five or six months."
      "Is that all? Seems much longer, somehow. Like a lifetime."
      "Time flies when you're having fun." Both of them could remember how at times the days
just seemed to drag on forever. For an eternity. But it was not so bad now. Or was it? Sue
seemed more like her old self for the moment.
      "So we can be rightly proud of our efforts here then?" Bruce suggested after a moment's
consideration, really wondering whether they could be. There was always something else that
could be done. For Bruce, finding the energy to do all that could be done was his major
problem. "We have done a lot of work here, eh?" he added, as much to reassure himself as
anything.
      "Suppose so," she replied uncertainly.
      "I feel as if as I've been here for bloody years." With that depressing thought he tossed
his glass over the verandah railing and into the night, feeling the irrational urge to wreck
something again. The sound of tinkling glass as it smashed in the darkness gave him a certain
vicarious satisfaction.
      Sue almost followed his example, but restrained herself. Years of middle class,
conservative, indoctrination by her parents and peers prevented her from utilizing this useful
emotional release.
      Bruce called belligerently for another beer, which was delivered by drone. Leaf was
keeping her distance! Bitch! Bruce thought, and through his beer-befuddled brain considered
rooting her out of the hole she had withdrawn to and. He didn't know what.
      Sue correctly identified Bruce's descent into a morose mood and prepared to join him
getting drunk. She had been led to believe this was not a well-adjusted reaction to stress.
Nevertheless, drinking to excess did provide a temporary respite from the depressing realities
of Skid. Even if you paid for the indulgence with a hangover most of the next day.
      Tonight though, before he really got going, Bruce seemed to take control of himself.
Instead of drowning his sorrows he became animated and talkative, unusually so for someone
generally so taciturn. He began telling stories, almost to himself at first, as if recounting a
chapter of misadventures, until abruptly Sue began to laugh. The stories were about the sorts
of situations that Bruce had got into, stories that certainly hadn't been very amusing at the
time. However, from a distance, related to someone else, they were funny.
       But the telling of them also made him a little sad, for he had never told most of them to
anyone before, and he realized how many years he seemed to have lived in an emotional
wasteland. Men weren't built to be alone, he'd finally discovered after years of believing
himself to be a loner. He paused and reached unsteadily across the table for his pouch of
agbar, as he began a new story.
      He'd never felt he had it in him to be a good storyteller. He'd get the punch line confused
when telling jokes, and people somehow always turned away halfway through, leaving his words
hanging in mid air and him embarrassed. Then he'd stare uncomfortably at the ground or have
another beer to hide his discomfort.
      Suddenly, millions of miles from a home he would never see again, he realized he'd sold
himself short as a social animal. Tonight with Sue as an attentive audience, he never missed
the punch line, never failed to emphasize a climax articulately, and never wanted for an
appreciative laugh. So why did he feel so sad?
      A few days Cyprus reappeared at the farm after a protracted absence, only dallying long
enough to deliver a message before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.
      Oddly enough Cyprus's message was the first direct communication Bruce had received
from anyone on Skid. Usually they just seemed to expect him to know what was going on by
telepathy or something so he didn't know whether to make anything of the fact that Cyprus had
ventured out to the farm or not.
      "Useless bugger!" Bruce grunted, just for practice as Cyprus re-boarded the aircraft that
had flown him to the farm.
      It looked as if the Skidians were good at talking and making generous promises, but when
it came to action they were seriously impaired. Thinking about this one day, Bruce wondered
how they could appear to be so technically sophisticated and yet so bloody useless at the same
time. Somewhere along the line they must have got their act together. On the other hand if they
could channel even a small part of the energy and enthusiasm they reserved for watching
games of Stim Bruce thought they could easily solve their present crisis one way or another.
However, they couldn't or wouldn't, so it seemed to him that they were doomed.
      Well, that was tough. He, Sue, and Leaf if she wanted, would survive out here ok and any
other Skidian who made it this far. Though Bruce doubted many would venture out of the cities
even if they realized there was food in the wilderness. Few would even be aware that the farm
existed; though the likes of Inel and their hangers on might just decide to show up on their
doorstep.
     Bruce was sure that they could be provided for, although he didn't view the prospect with
any relish. The great fat oafs would just sit around pretending to be important, expecting to be
fed.
      "In a week's time," merely a general Skidian term that meant sometime soon, "I will
conduct a high powered delegation around the organic plant on a fact finding mission." Cyprus
had pompously informed them. He also informed them that they were expected to provide an
organic meal in the manner that Bruce had called a barbecue.
      "Reading between the lines, it looks as if Cyprus reckons he's in charge of the place,
don't you think Sue? Bruce suggested to her as they watched Cyprus disappear. "On the other
hand, maybe the Skidians have come to their senses and are keen to expand their organic
operations." Perhaps they were just a little slow off the mark, and he'd misread their intentions
all along. Bruce's eyes watered a little as he thought all his silent pleas for recognition had
been answered.
Social intercourse

     Bruce poured himself another beer and promised himself not to drink too much more. With
an afternoon's steady drinking behind him, Bruce was already feeling a totally indestructible.
However, he was probably already too unsteady on his pins to do anything but stumble around
in a disorderly fashion. In other words he was beset with delusions which were often the
precursor to his getting totally drunk and making a total cock of himself.
     True to her earlier promise, Sue with a little help from Leaf, had certainly organized a
decent enough feed, Bruce decided, setting his beer glass over carefully down on top of the
barbecue he'd built. Sure his beer was safe, he flipped over the meat charring on the grill using
a fork he'd made out of a length of wire.
     "Not quite burnt enough on that side," he told himself. He liked his meat well cooked,
especially as the ivop steaks, despite having been marinated in an onion and Skidian wine
combination for hours, weren't exactly tender.
      Bowls of salads and stuff sat on the trestle table that Bruce had built using several doors
he'd temporarily ripped out of the house, sharing pride of place with bowls of synthofood and
potatoes cooked in foil on the barbecue.
     Taking another swig from his glass, Bruce critically regarded the ivop steaks sizzling
away. Beside him, still marinating in a bucket, were more than enough steaks to feed everyone
several times over.
     "About time to turn them," he said to himself again because he had nobody to talk to, a
fact that was beginning to annoy him. Being ignored in your own home just wasn't polite. Bruce
recharged his glass from the very large jug that he'd propped up in the bucket of meat to keep
cool. He was feeling expansive now. Warm. Euphoric.
     "Better slow down, man," he told himself, "taking another long swig, or you'll be properly
pissed."
     Toytoo, Cyprus, Yarad, slimmed down versions of Mulgoon and Sideshow, and another
couple of dozen Skidians unknown to Bruce had formed a loose insular group around the beer
dispenser. Off to one side of this group stood Inel and another portly gentleman, aloof from the
others, no doubt, by dint of their seniority.
      Looking around, Bruce got the idea that every single one of them, perhaps barring Inel
and Cyprus, looked singularly ill at ease. It was difficult for Bruce to decide whether this was
because of the proximity of their seniors, the food arrayed before them, or the very fact of their
being out in the wilderness, which Bruce knew unsettled them. It also occurred to him that the
discomfort might also be caused by coming into close contact with Sue and himself, as if they
were in danger of being contaminated by some contagious, incurable, disease. Even Cyprus,
who was by now well used to organic food and being out in the wilderness, refrained from any
contact with him.
      Bruce turned over a piece of meat, burnt nicely on both sides now, took out his knife,
sliced a piece off, and popped it into his mouth.
      "Not bad."
       With his eyes on the trestle table, noting the food Sue had prepared, Bruce felt a pang for
the little extras that were missing. Tomato sauce and warm crisp bread smeared with butter,
garlic bread preferably. I should be able to make tomato sauce with a little experimentation,
Bruce thought. And he could milk a cow, er, an ivop. And soon they would be able to bake
bread, of a sort. Skid was becoming more bearable every day. At least where food was
concerned, Bruce knew he would never be entirely comfortable on Skid.
      "How's the cook?" Sue asked emerging from the house with a tray full of food.
      "Done. Give us a plate eh, and I'll chuck this lot on." Bruce took the plate, filled it with
charred chunks of meat, and handed it back. "I'll just whack some more on. You might as well
tell the others to dig in, eh?"
      Sue drew Cyprus aside quietly. "It's ready. You can tell your friends to start now."
      Cyprus took his responsibilities fairly seriously, and after getting his cue from Inel he
made a long, rambling speech to his companions. Companions who now tentatively eyed the
organic food arrayed before them. Those that had not attempted the organic material
previously became noticeably nervous, shifting from one foot to the other and searching for an
excuse not to partake in the feast.
      Some of them stared at the food incredulously, as if to say, 'Are we really expected to
consume some of this material?' As far as they were concerned, it was bad enough having to
spend the best part of a day, any time at all actually, in the wilderness. Besides, the most
important Stim event of the month was taking place right at that moment and they were missing
it.
      Nevertheless, they all took at least a small portion of the organic food. When all said and
done, whatever they were there for, and for most of them that wasn't exactly clear, it was a
distasteful exercise only performed at the direct command of Inel. And even then only under as
much protest as good manners would allow.
      The Skidians had no doubt been told they were visiting a new food plant, a successful but
small-scale alternative to the failing synthofood plants. They might just as well have visited a
brewery for all the good it did them.
      Even after an intensive briefing and an updated situation report on the ability of Skid to
feed itself, famine was a problem to tackle when it became a personal reality. Not a likely
prospect, given that each of them still lived almost as well as they had always done. The
unusual shortages that the general populace was beginning to experience had not struck them
yet.
      The party had realized something unusual was up when instead of heading for an industrial
complex, their transport headed into the wilderness. Why would this be so? Several of them
wondered.
      "A new organic food plant in the wilderness," they were informed by Cyprus, who was
used to reporting data and having it go in one ear of his audience and straight out the other.
Worse was to follow when it was realized that this was where the offworlders, who had been
presented to the senate some months ago, had been quarantined.
     The male was a most uncouth individual, who as well as being rude and arrogant, dressed
in a fashion that could only be described as obscene, used far too much agbar. He also had the
effrontery to presume to conduct the elite of Skidian society around the experimental unit
where he had been isolated. It soon became obvious to all the Skidians, except Inel perhaps,
that Bruce was in fact quite stupid. Cyprus was obviously the expert on the organic plant, and
supplied them with the information that the offworlder was unable too.
     His commentary was along the lines of: "The offworlder is unable to manage a bigger unit
than this without assistance. Therefore, the productive potential of the organic system is
limited." No one thought to ask the obvious questions. Why was this so? Was not the
offworlder brought to Skid to instruct Skidians on organic food production so that Skidians
could produce their own organic food? Where were the Skidian trainees, the drones? Cyprus
had conveniently forgotten this minor detail and Inel alone kept his own counsel as native
professions of ignorance and arrogance surged around him like waves hitting a beach, dulling
his desire to act to save his people.
     "The management of these organic plants is a simple matter. If needed, small groups of
Skidians could establish their own units using the data we have already collected," Cyprus's
commentary continued.
      So why hadn't this been done?
     Then Cyprus delivered what he considered to be his trump, a master stroke that would
deliver him to the highest council of Skid despite his lowly birth.
     "I would willingly supervise such a development program, given that I have extensive and
relevant experience in this field."
     What experience, one might ask? Inel marked his card for future reference. How could it
be, as Cyprus maintained, that he could manage the organic plant, extract its full potential, and
train other Skidians in the art of organic food production when the offworlder was apparently
unable to do so? And what is more, why did not somebody point this simple fact out?
     Did they fail to recognize the fact that the synthofood production levels had fallen to less
than 15 percent of the required level needed to sustain all of Skid's inhabitants? Or were they
merely waiting for some miracle to deliver them from their fate? How many tyrants and their
minions had deluded themselves in such a fashion as the walls of their bunkers were breached?
Who among them could see the salvation of all they knew in the shaggy, dirty, beasts that the
offworlder had contained in the wilderness? Or in the material that sprang from the ground?
Interesting novelties perhaps. But food sources for a starving society? Never! That was the
problem, none of them had the imagination or vision to see how the offworlder's plans could be
put into action.
     The offworlder spoke of turning vast stretches of the wilderness upside down. He even
had documents drawn up to explain his proposals. With co-operation he maintained he could
feed many of Skid's inhabitants within several years, if not sooner. But even if this were
possible, several years were far too long. Skid would have starved to death by then. Nobody
thought to ask how soon at least a part of the population could be fed using the organic
systems, or how he would undertake this task.
     Inel wondered whether his people were really worth saving, the ones accompanying him
today certainly were not.
     Like Inel, Bruce brooded on the day's events, and the more he brooded, the darker his
mood became. Despite his initial hopes when Cyprus had confirmed the visit, it was apparent to
him that the Skidians still didn't appreciate his efforts on their behalf.
     Bruce felt Cyprus was probably doing his best to convince his fellows of the value and
practicalities of organic farming on Skid, even if he glorified his own part in the process. It was
painfully obvious that his efforts had been to no avail.
     Inel gave Bruce some encouragement with nods and secretive smiles, but pointedly would
not speak to him at all. The rest of the gathering asked nothing of Bruce, studiously ignoring
him and conversing amongst themselves. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and reached
under the seat of the ute for the solace offered by the flagon of beer that he had stashed there
in case of emergencies. Bruce had done his best to help, which had now obviously been
shunned. So be it. Maybe he would have the last laugh.
Bruce looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when the Skidians would come on
bended knee, begging for his help. He perked up at this idea, for then he would be in a position
to dictate terms. Maybe a trip home was not out of the question. Nevertheless, the taste of
disappointment and frustration was bitter in his mouth.
     With great gusto Cyprus and Inel began to stack their plates with the organic food
presented by the offworlders. Toytoo, Yarad, the remaining members of Committee 21, and
Sideshow, less familiar with the organic food, followed their lead with less enthusiasm. The
remaining Skidians took small helpings of meat and vegetables, giggling nervously at their
daring.
     Bruce watched them all with a jaundiced eye, amused a little at the comic contrast between
Skidians who were used to solid food and those who were not. One of the uninitiated burst into
a paroxysm of coughing and spluttering as he learned that it was impossible to swallow,
breathe, chew, and talk at the same instant.
     While his companions stood about laughing uneasily as they watched the unfortunate's
face go beet red, Sue dealt with the problem by applying several sharp thumps to his back. The
Skidian turned to remonstrate with the impertinent offworlder who had dealt him such an
undignified blow. Then realizing that the choking sensation he had just been experiencing had
disappeared and he could breathe again delivered a sickly smile instead.
     Bruce checked the meat again. Looking good he decided, taking up a knife and cutting
himself a mouth-sized piece, and washing it down with another large swig of beer. All his
intentions of restraint had long since flowed away on a tide of alcohol and self-pity.
     After giving the meat a few more desultory prods, Bruce piled the lot onto another plate,
restocked the grill, gave the fire a few prods with the fork, and made his way unsteadily to the
table. "Must be more pissed than I thought!" He told himself, louder than he had intended to,
as he wove towards the table and eyed the food. Just like home, he thought wistfully, his scalp
prickling and a lump rising in his throat.
     Bugger it! The resentful bloody-mindedness that Bruce had kept under control now began
to bubble up like a spring. He had striven hard to make a good impression on the Skidians all
day, but now realized the effort had been to no avail.
     "Look at them, Sue," he snarled, not quite slurring his words as he swayed beside her.
"Useless sods, all of them. You know what they're going to do, eh?"
     "No," Sue replied wearily.
     "Well, it's pretty bloody obvious to me that none of them gives a shit, except maybe for
Cyprus." He said unaware that his good friend Cyprus was actually recommending his demise
as surplus to requirements.
     "Yes, dear," Sue said in an effort to placate him.
     "Just don't give a shit," he ranted. "Quite happy for us to do the work for them while they
reap the benefits and take the credit for my effort." He scooped up a handful of coleslaw,
shoved it into his mouth, and washed it down with another mouthful of beer.
     "Do you know what Cyprus had the effrontery to say to me earlier?" Bruce knew it didn't
matter that he shouldn't allow Cyprus's lack of tact to upset him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help
himself now.
      Sue tugged Bruce by the arm, trying to move him out of earshot.
      "Keep your voice down!"
      "Do you think I care? Know what that twit said?"
       "No, but you're going to tell me anyway."
       "Cyprus told me he would have no trouble at all running this place or setting up other
farms, probably by using drones." Bruce spat. "We might as well sit back and leave them to
it." Bruce's professional pride was wounded, especially as it had occurred to him the Skidians
might just about be able to pull it off. "They couldn't organize a piss up in a brewery. Wouldn't
have a bloody chance. Bastards deserve to starve, I reckon." Bruce thumped his hand on the
table.
      The conversation around Bruce ceased abruptly. All eyes swiveled toward him for a
moment, then the Skidians returned to talking or eating as the case might be. The Skidians
studiously ignored the offworlders, as if they were some lower form of life whose presence
might have to be tolerated, but who could mostly be ignored.
      "They treat us like we're some kind of lower form of life." He continued alarming even
Sue with his behavior. He didn't seem to care whether the Skidians heard his criticism, and she
tried to pull him away further out of earshot. "They think that they can do without me, without
us. They're not bright enough to realize they can't. But they know they do. Get me?" Bruce
was under the misapprehension he was making sense. "I reckon they don't want us around
showing them what to do because our presence makes them look stupid." In essence this was
true, although the Skidians would have expressed it differently.
      "You're talking nonsense, Bruce!" snapped Sue in exasperation.
      "You just don't understand, do you?"
      "No!" she retorted. "I don't see why they couldn't look after the farm. It can't be too
difficult." Bruce seemed to think that farming was some sort of mystical process only
understood by a select few. What was so difficult? Even I know enough to run a farm, she
thought. Besides nobody was indispensable, not even Bruce. Sue turned to Bruce, whose face
in the few seconds she had taken her gaze off him had turned purple. A malevolent gleam
shone from his bloodshot eyes. If looks could kill, Sue, realized suddenly alarmed; Bruce was
quite capable of doing it. She began to tremble uncontrollably, afraid of what he might do next.
      "Bloody yanks!" Bruce turned on her. "You think you know everything, arrogant
bastards," he panted.
      Sue hoped that he might get a grip on himself, but it was a forlorn hope.
      "Well, let me tell you, my girl." The onslaught began in earnest this time. "Running a
farm is not as easy as it looks. I guarantee that if I stopped working this place tomorrow, it
would be a bloody shambles within a few weeks."
      Sue was through with Bruce's surliness, she had tolerated his growing negativity long
enough. Perhaps he had been negative from the start and now she had reached her limit.
      "Bruce! You are just being childish. Even I could run this place. Why do you make such an
issue about it?"
      "You think so, do you? Right. You kill the next ivop, shift them around, do all the other
little jobs round here. I'm not going to have anything more to do with this lot."
      "Oh don't be silly, Bruce."
      "Don't be silly, Bruce," he mimicked.
      "You're making an exhibition of yourself. Grow up!"
       Cyprus waddled over and stared down at Bruce in what he imagined was an imposing
fashion." Is anything wrong?" he asked after several moments.
      "Nah, youse fullas have got everything under control by the looks of things," Bruce
replied with a sarcasm that was wasted on Cyprus. "Everything." He took another long drink.
"You don't need my help any longer, so I think I'll just piss off, ok?" Bruce knew he was being
unreasonable, even pitiful. However, he had little control over his limbs any longer, even less
over his mouth. With a few beers inside him he was also stubborn, and not about to back down
from the stance he had taken. In the morning he'd see the whole situation in a different light,
and be sheepishly embarrassed by what memories remained of the night before. "Aw, bugger
off, Cyprus. You wouldn't understand."
      By this time Bruce had the attention of the whole gathering who had all noticed Cyprus's
skilful attempts to restrain the increasingly obnoxious offworlder.
      "Let me go, Sue!" Bruce brushed aside her feeble attempts to restrain him.
      "These offworlders are so unstable," someone in the crowd said.
      "We should have expected severe psychological problems with them. Their own planet is
so primitive. Skid must have quite overwhelmed him."
      "Yes," concurred the first speaker, just loud enough for Bruce to hear. "It's our own fault,
of course. We should have kept them under closer supervision. They have some queer
habits."
      "Do you know?" Asked another.
      "That's it!" Bruce booted the trestle table, and cursed when he realized his feet were
bare. He hurled himself at the table, sweeping it clear of plates, glasses, and bowls and then
stood back. Bruce glared at the Skidians, daring them to react.
     Cyprus stepped forward, extending his arm with his palm raised in a conciliatory gesture.
Bruce slapped the arm away and stormed off into the night, swearing in the darkness as he
tripped over a drone approaching from the kitchen. His angry voice loud in the stunned,
incredulous silence he left in his wake.
      "Bugger ya!" Bruce picked up the drone and hurled it onto the barbecue where it
struggled like a fly without wings on the grill. Then it began to sizzle, exploding seconds later in
a shower of sparks.
      The gathering stood transfixed as Bruce strode away, still swearing and muttering to
himself. As everyone began to relax and recover from their shock, becoming capable of
coherent thought, beginning to fear for their own safety, Bruce stumbled back into the light.
      "What are you staring at?" Bruce demanded of the nearest Skidian, who shrank away
him. Bruce made for the beer dispenser, the Skidians melting away from him as he approached.
He grabbed a full jug of beer and disappeared into the darkness once more.
      "I told you so," a Skidian voice ventured, when it was clear he was not returning.
      "We don't."
      "Should be."
      "Disposed of."
      "Unstable." All at once the Skidians tried to make themselves heard over the nervous
hubbub that erupted. The collective relief they felt at surviving a particularly nasty encounter
quickly turned to outrage.
      "An ill-conceived plan."
      Bang! Something exploded on the barbecue and silenced the mob again as a shower of
sparks and glowing shards of metal flew through the air. Those with rapid reflexes immediately
sought shelter, while those less endowed were left standing in astonishment, their mouths
gaping wide, trying to work out what was happening.
      Only Inel remained aloof from the confusion, stepping back into the shadows,
contemplating the scene and Bruce's inexplicable behavior.
      "Shit!" Bruce tripped over some obstacle in the night and his expletive made everybody
jump.
     Inel tried to comprehend the little drama that had just been enacted. Bruce had performed
in a disgusting and offensive manner. But why? While the others were dismissing the
offworlder's behavior as those of some crude lower being, Inel took Sue's arm and guided her
away, quietly.
      Feeling his grip on her arm, she panicked, now concerned for her own safety as well as
Bruce's. The thought that Bruce might disappear and leave her behind terrified her. She was
well aware that Bruce was a survivor. He might not, despite all she had done to make herself
indispensable to him, give her a second thought. Especially after she had indirectly aligned
herself with the enemy in the last few minutes. She struggled to free herself from Inel's grip, as
any woman might in the process of being dragged off into the night by a virtual stranger.
     Inel brought a finger to his lips in an oddly human gesture, demanding silence and, even
more strangely, reassuring her a little.
     "Come!" he said. "I wish to understand what has occurred here." Then he hesitated, as if
about to add something further.
     "Down by the river!" Sue gasped. "That's where Bruce has probably gone, and I want to
be sure he doesn't do anything silly."
     "The moving water?" A note of apprehension crept into Inel's usually steady voice.
Neither an encounter with the unpredictable offworlder, nor a visit to the moving water, the
habitat of unimaginable creatures, held much attraction for him.
     "Yes." Carefully in the darkness they made their way down the slope, Inel still clinging
tightly to Sue's arm.
     As they walked he evaluated the situation. Against his better judgement, and despite the
apparent setbacks that had befallen their schemes, the influence of Committee 21 had been
growing on Skid since their return with the offworlders. That their proposed enterprise was
apparently failing did little to undermine their growing influence, almost to the point of
threatening his own position.
     He sensed a mood for change was flowing through the senate. But was it for the better?
Or merely change for its own sake? Moreover, where might it lead? It seemed to Inel that by
showing a hitherto unsuspected (and traditionally frowned on) ability to show a little initiative,
Committee 21 had awakened a latent desire for change in Skidian society.
     Inel realized better than anybody that if Skid were to survive this present crisis, or any
future one, it would have to change its ways. However, could the complacent Skidian, unused to
change and challenges, rise to confront the crisis that now beset him? He shook his head as he
concentrated on this latest problem. Why were negative reports emanating from Committee 21
concerning the organic plant? Surely it was obvious Bruce could at least feed himself. So why
not all Skidians? How true was the offworlder's assertion that in time sufficient organic
material could be produced to feed Skid? There was not much point in working to safeguard his
own position if he would soon be dead from starvation.
     Inel found himself beset by the sorts of imponderables common to all leaders. Whose
advice could he trust? Should he lead Skid down the path of change to stave off an impending
disaster? Change that would lead into a new era of uncertainty? Or should he stick with the old
tried ways of dealing with problems, hoping for some sort of miracle to deliver his people from
the apocalypse? Grimly he wished he could see into the future.
     Inel knew that was a futile idea. He along with his predecessors had always discouraged
such initiative on the part of the populace. All thought and action, power and education had
been reserved for the ruling elite; the vast majority of the population had swapped their
historical slavery for a more sophisticated variety. Skidian society had been decaying for
generations, for the simple reason that there was no challenge to its existence and the people,
they simply had nothing to do. It had fed on itself until nothing remained of the industry and
driving force that had created a great civilization.
     Every Skidian, including Inel himself until recently, believed in the infallibility of Skidian
culture to secure them through any crisis. Had he delayed the decision making too long? Inel
hoped not. Thrusting these disturbing thoughts aside, he suddenly remembered to feel nervous
at being out in the open.
      "This is far enough," he said gruffly. His prime concern was to retain his power until
forced to relinquish it, convinced that the offworlders or their influence, were now the key to his
plans. He would use them without compunction, then discard them once they had outlived their
usefulness. Which he hoped would be sooner rather than later.
      "No, let's go a bit closer to the river," Sue said. "I want to make sure Bruce is ok."
      At that moment an outcry came from the direction of the house as the remaining Skidians
belatedly discovered the absence of the female offworlder and Inel. Despite being some
distance away, and unable to discern clearly what was being said, Inel clearly heard the word
'kidnapped.'
      His mind raced. Was somebody about to take advantage of his absence? With him out of
the way the path was open for Toytoo or some another pretender to assume his position. He
felt his heart begin to pound. Sweat suddenly blistered his forehead in a fashion first
experienced when he was being initiated into the pleasures of the flesh as a young man. He had
been apprehensive of the unknown then, too. What had been mere conjecture might become
reality more quickly than he could ever have imagined.
      He found himself unable to think. Instead, he became aware of the soft night sounds,
noises he had never noticed before, and wondered at the sudden clarity of his senses. Not that
he could identify the leaves rustling against each other in the breeze in the trees above his
head, the soft plop as a fish leapt from the water, and the singing of the wires on the fence
around the garden. The strange sounds all served to heighten his tension.
      While feeling exposed and vulnerable away from the reassuring presence of other people
and buildings, Inel realized with some irony that for the moment he was safer with the
offworlders than he would be if he made his way back to the house and was among his own
people.
      "This'll do." Sue released herself from Inel's grip, sat on the bank, and dangled her feet in
the river. From a little way downstream she heard the tinkle of water falling on water, followed
by a ribald guffaw.
      "Bruce, the mad bugger!" she muttered. At least he had not fallen in and drowned.
       Inel started warily. "What was that?" He was relieved to observe that the female was not
particularly perturbed. Not that he credited her with much intelligence.
      "Nothing. Just Bruce." A match flared in the darkness as the two of them stared silently
down the bank. For a few seconds Bruce's face was illuminated in the flame before the match
scribed an arc through the air, spluttering and dying as it hit the water.
      "What caused his objectionable behavior this evening?" Inel asked abruptly, wondering
whether he could entrust his safety to the offworlders. He might require them to transport him
to Sietnuoc independently of Toytoo and the others.
      "His pride has been wounded."
      "Pride?"
      "Yes. Cyprus maintained he could run the far, the organic plant here. But Bruce feels this
task is beyond Cyprus's capabilities." She decided against admitting to a similar opinion.
      "Oh." The statement confused Inel.
      "Do you understand? Bruce feels insulted because he knows Cyprus cannot do what he
says."
      "Impossible for Skidians to operate the organic plant?" Inel demanded defensively, in a
tone that suggested to Sue she should choose her words carefully.
      "Because none of your people has stayed here long enough to learn anything. One day in
the future, perhaps, with the correct training."
      Inel nodded in the darkness, knowing what Sue said was wrong. Sue did, however,
reinforce his growing suspicion that the development of the organic plant should be persevered
with and its operation expanded as rapidly as possible. Under Skidian control, of course, and
removed from the corrupting influence of the offworlders.
      "So Cyprus maintains he can operate the organic plant. I still fail to understand how this
affects your companion."
      "Well, apart from being here against his will, which was a bad start" Inel's impatient grunt
conveyed to Sue that this circumstance was insignificant beside the needs of Skid. "Bruce feels
it's pointless to carry on with his work if no Skidian shows any desire to learn from him. On one
hand he can see enormous potential for these plants, but on the other, nobody has shown the
slightest bit of interest." She paused to let Inel comment, but since he appeared to have
nothing to say, she continued: "In order for Bruce to best help you, you must prove to him that
you and your people are trying to help solve your own problems."
      "All this is most enlightening," Inel said, sensing Sue was questioning the capabilities of
the Skidians. "But it doesn't explain his behavior this evening."
      "It's simple really." She spoke in measured tones, as if to a child who was slow on the
uptake. "Bruce's recent behavior is his way of coping with the stresses placed on him by the
lack of support from you and your people."
      Inel felt a burning rage building within him and he restrained himself with difficulty. He
would not show this primitive female how deeply she had offended him. How dare she suggest
Skidians were not capable of running the organic plants? How dare she criticize the treatment
they had received? They were on Skid now, and Skidians were the most sophisticated and
technologically advanced inhabitants of the universe, bar none. Nothing was beyond their
capabilities. It had conveniently slipped his mind that their deficient technological expertise
was now endangering them, and that any chance there may have been to save at least some of
the people he led was almost gone. Just as many a past empire and dynasty had foundered on
the arrogant complacency and warped vision of its emperors. Skid, too, past the peak of its
powers, was also doomed.
      Inel understood that Cyprus was sure he could operate this organic plant. It followed, then,
that any Skidian, including himself, could do so. Cyprus's negative reports therefore had
sinister connotations. His stewardship of Skid was certainly under threat, and his opponents
had been given an unprecedented opportunity to act. They were probably poised to strike, in
fact, while he sat in the darkness with this offworld female.
Something in the water

                                                             How opportune! Toytoo
                                                             smiled, knowing he could not
                                Cyprus led an unwilling      have planned Inel's end any
                                search party out into the    better himself. With Inel out
                                darkness, in what he hoped of the way he could simply
                                was a vain attempt to save return to Sietnuoc and
                                their leader from the        assume his position in this
                                offworlders. He had been     moment of crisis and deal
                                furnished with the necessary with any attempts to oppose
                                equipment and orders in the him. Even Raele, the
                                likely event they stumbled   successor Inel had been
                                on Inel alive.               grooming to replace him,
                                                             would not be able to stand in
                                                             his way.
     Down by the river Inel glanced sideways at the offworld female who was staring moodily in
the general direction of her companion. Both would have to be disposed of, permanently. And
soon. A cold shiver ran up his spine and he trembled uncontrollably. Then a gust of wind rocked
him, almost causing him to topple into the water.
     Inel believed in portents. He had instinctively made many decisions on receiving the
appropriate sign, none of which he regretted, even when information suggested that he should
decide otherwise. So when he was sent a signal from the undefined powers that ruled the
universe, he obeyed. This time the offworlders would not be sacrificed unnecessarily because
of the misguided activities of others.
     All memories of Skid would be erased from their minds and they would be returned to their
own planet. Given the nature of the space time continuum that the Skidian interplanetary
vessels exploited to journey across the universe at speeds far greater than the speed of light, it
was also theoretically possible that they could be returned at the very point and time of their
departure. As if they had never journeyed to Skid in the first place.
     Inel's attention returned to the importance of returning to Sietnuoc to reconsolidate his
position, and the practicalities of getting there. Back in the city he would begin the process of
destroying Toytoo and his fellow conspirators. But how was he to return to Sietnuoc and at the
same time avoid all contact with those he planned to destroy?
      Sue stirred much to his irritation, destroying his concentration.
     "Shouldn't we be getting back?"
      The search party was stumbling around in the semi-darkness, just outside the pool of
illumination created by turning on every light in the house. All but Cyprus were determined not
to venture into the night in case some unimaginable fate should befall them. Even Cyprus was
not confident enough to leave the lit area to the extent he could not regain it within moments.
     Inel replied decisively: "No. You have given me much to consider, but I wish to avoid any
contact with the others if possible."
     Sue spent the next minutes of silence listening to Inel's heavy breathing, and trying to
work out what she had said that was so important. She listened anxiously to the Skidians'
half-hearted search for them, and felt relieved when it became apparent that none of them
would come close to finding them.
     Bruce was his only chance of getting to Sietnuoc undetected, Inel decided. However, he
needed to hurry. It was possible that Toytoo, if not Cyprus he thought bitterly, could at that
moment be summoning transport to return them Sietnuoc. All it would take would be an
extraordinary meeting of the senate and Toytoo could announce his death and begin the
process of taking over.
     "Shit!" Something began to thrash around in the moving water. Inel stood quickly and
backed away from the bank, petrified, lest. Well? What? Like other Skidians he was not
imaginative enough to envisage what might be about to happen.
Sue jumped up and raced towards Bruce, who was pulling himself from the river.
"Bugger!"
     "What were you doing, Bruce?"
     "Beer fell into the water, didn't it?" he grunted unhappily.
      Sue kicked the jug back in, holding tightly to Bruce so he did not go in after it.
"What did you do that for?" Bruce demanded angrily, trying to shrug Sue off. "You've had
more than enough for one night."
"Plenty more where that came from!" Bruce tried to pull away from her, prepared
to crawl to the house if necessary to get another beer.
     "No!" Sue caught him around the waist and hung on, pressing her cheek against his chest
and hoping they would not overbalance and tumble into the river before she decided what to do
with him.
     "All right then, we'll find something else to do!" Bruce chuckled, nuzzling Sue wetly on the
shoulder. He would have gone further despite her protests, but Inel lumbered up and coughed
discreetly to interrupt the unseemly scene he had found himself intruding on.
     "Take me to Sietnuoc!" he commanded regally and without preamble, having decided
there was no other way to get there.
      "Aw yeah, and I'm sure the dogs would like a trip to town too."
      "I'm serious, offworlder." Bruce's name had slipped his mind for the moment. "And yes,
you must bring your four legged friends."
      "Keep your shirt on, mate." The idea of a drive appealed to Bruce in his present mood. It
wasn't exactly like driving for two or three hours into the big smoke for a hamburger, but the
next best thing. Pity there wasn't anything on this planet like a greasy burger with onions, eggs,
cheese, tomatoes, and a side order of chips. Bruce was suddenly felt revved up with no place to
go.
      "Are you sure that you're in a fit state to drive?" Sue asked.
      "Yeah, no worries. What do you think I am? I've only had a couple of beers woman!"
      "Quickly!" Inel urged them. "I don't want the others to realize I'm going," he said looking
nervously over his shoulder.
      "Ok, ok" Bruce replied dimly aware of the urgency in Inel's voice.
      They walked towards the shed where Bruce had left the ute. They met nobody; the other
Skidians were either stumbling around in the dark somewhere else, or they had not ventured
this far yet.
      "Don't forget your friends!" Inel hissed as Bruce opened the driver's side door and
clawed his way in behind the wheel.
      "Oh yeah, I forgot." Bruce practically fell out of the ute and made his way by an indirect
route to the kennels, where he slipped to his knees fumbling for the door catches. The dogs'
frenzied barking as soon as they heard the squeaky door of the ute opening had shattered any
pretence at stealth.
      "Shut up, ya bastards!"
      Inel snorted impatiently as he watched Bruce stagger back to the ute. Then he started
fearfully as the dogs jumped onto the deck. Had Toytoo's followers found them and were now
closing in for the kill? He was sure his end had come when a dark form pressed its face against
his own as he stood by the door.
      Punch got only one free lick in at Inel's face before Bruce slurred, "Get out of it!" If all
pretence at a quiet exit had failed when the dogs started barking, the cacophony seemed to
attract little attention. Most of the Skidians had become used to the dogs' exuberant behavior.
      "Right. Let's buzz off, then." Bruce dropped himself behind the wheel. He slapped Sue
heartily on the knee and started the engine.
     "Brmmm, brmmmm!"
      "Oh, shut up Bruce!"
      "Ha!" Bruce engaged first gear, switched on the lights, and dropped the clutch while Inel
was still struggling to squeeze his considerable bulk into the cab and close the door. He almost
tumbled out as the ute's tail swung around, the rear wheels spinning madly and showering the
shed with gravel. Bruce flung the steering wheel to the left, corrected the slide, and aimed the
ute in the general direction of the central race that led directly towards Sietnuoc.
      Struggling to stay upright in the swaying, accelerating vehicle, Inel clutched wildly for
something to cling to, eventually finding the handle above the door and hanging on for dear life.
Sue sank down between the shoulders of the two men, bracing herself for the inevitable
collision, telling herself that she should have insisted on driving. At the same time she realized
it would have been a fruitless exercise. Any attempt to wrest the keys off Bruce would have
just led to another quarrel, which he would have inevitably won.
      Bruce was beginning to enjoy himself, his only regret being the lack of noise the ute made,
as if the scattering of gravel against the side of the shed wasn't enough. Where was the noise
from a leaky exhaust manifold or muffler, the gratifying burble of a big six or eight under the
hood?
      They sped past the house, a great cloud of dust billowing in their wake like a temporary
fog. Sue pressed her foot to the floor, trying to apply an imaginary foot brake as fence posts
and other solid objects whizzed by the side windows. As they ripped silently down the race,
except for the dogs yapping away on the back, ivops grazing sleepily in their paddocks
suddenly took fright and ran away into the darkness.
"We don't need to drive as fast as this thing will go, you know," Sue muttered, knowing her
complaint would fall on deaf ears. Bruce eased his foot off the throttle, changed into top gear,
and pressed his foot down even harder.
      "Oh, we're not going fast yet!" He grinned mischievously, then slowed down as he
approached the wheel tracks in the endless sea of knee-high grass from their previous trips to
Sietnuoc.
      Inel did not say a word until they entered the city; he was too busy concentrating on his
next move. Hard work for a man who had, had almost his whole world cave in upon him during
the last few hours. Once they entered the near empty streets of nighttime Sietnuoc, Inel,
suddenly animated as if his battery were now fully charged, guided Bruce to a large, imposing
structure which Bruce recognized as the senate building.
     Once they had stopped Inel climbed out and trotted into the building as fast as dignity
would allow.
      "Now what?" Bruce asked himself as Sue stirred at his side. He got out and relieved
himself against the front wheel of the ute while having a look round. Cop jumped off and placed
his own signature on the decorative railings that protected a sickly looking tree.
      "Come here!" Bruce called the dogs over, chaining them to the railing before they took
off.
      "Where are we?" Sue asked climbing sleepily out of the ute as Bruce rolled himself a
cigarette and surveyed the building before him.
       "Back at the senate I think. Inel's inside. Most hospitable of him to invite us in, eh? I
reckon I'll go in and see what the story is." Bruce decided.
      "Are you sure it will be ok?"
      "Yeah, why not? He probably expects us, anyway." No Skidian Bruce had ever met was
good at saying what he meant, preferring the oblique approach that Bruce could never fathom.
Unconcernedly, his nonchalance fuelled by the alcohol still flowing through his veins which
reduced whatever propriety he normally had, Bruce strolled towards the door Inel had
disappeared through. Sue stood her ground, uncertain whether to follow, enter the building and
possibly get into trouble, or stay outside by herself.
     "Hurry up, woman!" Bruce called from the doorway. "We haven't got all bloody day!"
Bruce had just decided he wanted to take his leave and get home to bed. He might even have
to let Sue drive him home.
The end of Skid

      Inel was consulting his chief adviser of long standing, a thoroughly mysterious figure, who
had been his most trusted confidant for decades. By some quirk of history Noslow like all his
predecessor's was a Celcion and had been recruited from Skid's former adversary in order to
provide some form of impartial advice to Skid's ruler.
      Since returning to his office in the senate building Inel had concerned himself initially with
the containment of the situation at the offworlder's organic plant, ordering his personal security
detachment to spare nobody.
      That critical task set in motion, the renegades, as Inel thought of them, had not long to
live. He now turned his attention to the offworlders and his commitment to the old gods, that
only he knew existed, to return them to their planet of origin.
      "Show them every courtesy. Keep them occupied until the behavioral experts…." He
broke off as Bruce peered around the door.
      "Oh, here you are, mate," he began, with more familiarity than Inel cared for "I've been
looking all over this rabbit warren for you. We'll be off now."
     "I don't understand."
      "We'll be back off to the farm."
       "Where? Oh no." At all costs they must not be allowed to leave now. "Please be my
guest. There are some important issues I would like to discuss with you. Noslow here will make
you comfortable until I am ready. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"
      "Oh yeah, ok then," Bruce replied wearily.
      As Bruce retracted his head and allowed himself to be led off by Noslow, Inel shook his
head in wonderment before returning to his communicator. The offworlder thinks he is doing
me some sort of favor, he decided as he monitored the progress of his cleanup crew. These
Skidians were incorruptible and loyal to him alone. In Inel's experience they were most difficult
to deter from their task with the usual tales of woe, flattery, bribery, and the downright lies,
that were a Skidians usual defense when called to task for any failure or indiscretion.
      Inel watched their progress with a shudder, aware that he could so easily have been on the
receiving end of such a team. However, clever as Toytoo and his cronies were, Inel doubted
they had any idea such people existed. Raele led the crew. Inel smiled at the thought of his
favorite son and anointed successor.
      Noslow led Bruce and Sue into a plush suite where Inel was in the habit of entertaining his
favorite courtesan.
     "You will be comfortable here while you await for Inel's summons," Noslow
said.
       Noslow was stunned to see them here, believing them long dead, and angry that Inel had
kept their continued existence from him. He had always been against the idea of utilizing
organic material in an attempt to feed Skid's population, despite the looming famine. Inel had
always followed his advice in the past, and he had believed he had in this case.
     Noslow had understood that what there was of the organic experiment languished under
the incapable hand of Cyprus, Toytoo, and the others.
     "You know how to order what amenities you may require," he said, gesturing to the panel
set discreetly into the wall adjacent to the door.
      "Yeah!" Bruce yawned, too tired to care, as Noslow beat a hasty exit.
      How he could use the sudden appearance of the offworlders to the benefit of his masters?
After first believing their presence might mean disaster Noslow was now having second
thoughts. That they were still alive could provide his people with an unexpected but valuable
bonus when they assumed their rightful place in the universe.
     Bruce tried to open the door after the quaint little man had left them, only to find it locked.
      "Doesn't want us to go walkies," he remarked. Bruce flopped face forward onto the bed,
hiding his head in the pillow for a moment before turning over and groaning. It had been a long
day and he was still drunk. He opened his mouth as if to speak, yawned again instead, and was
instantly asleep.
     Sue smiled indulgently at him, leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair from his face, and
then planted a kiss on his forehead. She looked about her for a few minutes, and then lay down
beside him. After what seemed only a few moments, she to fell asleep.

    Toytoo gazed upwards, searching for the aircraft he could hear overhead, marveling that it
had arrived so quickly after his summons. Everything was working out better than he could
ever have hoped. Not that he had planned anything. He had just taken advantage of some
favorable events and everything seemed to click into place, fate was on his side.
                                                  Cyprus had been the only one of his team to
                                                  venture out into the darkness and had
                                                  reported that the offworlders had driven off
                                                  in their vehicle after dumping Inel's body in
                                                  the moving water. In stating he had seen
                                                  this happen, Cyprus stretched the truth a
                                                  little. He had certainly seen something
                                                  tossed into the river and had assumed it
                                                  was Inel. Inel was certainly nowhere to be
                                                  found and the offworlders could be dealt
                                                  with at leisure.
     Toytoo smiled smugly, wondering what was taking the pilot so long to land. The aircraft
would transport himself and his follower's back to Sietnuoc, back to an extraordinary meeting
of the senate where Toytoo would promote himself as Skids savior in its hour of need. He was
gratified that his followers, including Inel's former associate, anticipating their triumphant
return to Sietnuoc, had gathered around him, though allowing him the space that befitted his
new position of authority.
     The pilot would have to be reprimanded severely for delaying his triumphant return to
Sietnuoc. What was he doing? Surely he could see the landing area? Toytoo was suddenly
assailed by a nagging doubt that he could not identify as the aircraft slowly descended. No, the
pilot was merely being careful Toytoo decided impatiently.
     Too late Toytoo noticed the markings; not that it would have made any difference. This
wasn't the transport craft he had summoned from Sietnuoc, were his last thoughts as a blinding
pulse of light flashed from the belly of the overhead craft searching him out as he stood
transfixed like a rabbit caught in the glare of a car's headlights.
     Microseconds later, Toytoo and all of his followers were dead, their bodies seared by a
powerful laser, the air full of the stench of charred flesh and burning hair until it was dispersed
by the light breeze wafting over the hill.
     The aircraft landed and a single figure emerged, scanning the area for any surviving life
forms. Apart from Leaf, who had emerged from the house and stood as if frozen to the spot
amid the bodies which were being consumed by a large drone, no one had survived the
operation.
     Raele curtly ordered Leaf about her business, which was to remain at her post, and
satisfied with his work he boarded the aircraft anticipating his reward for pushing the right
button for once.
     Back in Sietnuoc Inel sat at impassively at his desk. The threats to his wellbeing that had
been posed by Committee 21 and Toytoo's followers had now been removed without a trace.
Raele and his crew would be sent on the return mission to the offworlders' planet which would
remove them from the reach of any enquiry over the disappearance of Toytoo and his followers
for as long as necessary.
     Once the offworlders had left Skid, Inel would move his entire administrative structure
into the wilderness in order to encourage other Skidians to follow his lead. They would have to
if any of them wished to live. Like Cyprus and Toytoo before him, he was supremely confident
of his abilities to operate the offworlder's organic plant without their presence. Skidians did not
require any help from outside sources in order to solve their problems. All they needed was
information in a form that was comprehensible to them, the sort of data that the behavioral
experts at the medical center should have obtained in about five minutes from the offworlders.
     "How are the offworlders, Noslow?"
     "Under sedation at present. The behavioral experts have completed their work."
     "Good, good. Their transport is prepared?" Inel rubbed his hands, satisfied with his early
morning's work.
     "The crew is aboard and ready to depart." What Noslow did not add was that he would
also be aboard the craft and would attempt to divert it to his home planet once it was in flight.
     "Fine." Inel's thoughts moved on to other pressing matters. "Where are the latest reports
from the synthofood plants?"
     "Here, sir. As you can see, I have attached a summary including reports from other
relevant sources. Production appears to have stabilized at 15 percent of requirements, and a
scientific group at Nalgor reports they have found a promising antidote for the virus." Noslow
was lying, of course. His reports were always positive though he knew better than anyone on
Skid that the Skidian scientists were unlikely to find the antidote to the virus that had infected
the synthofood plants. The virus he had planted all those long months ago on the orders of
brother Pyro back on Celcious B.
     The synthofood supply situation was now critical. While production appeared to have
stabilized, almost all of the strategic synthofood reserve was now exhausted. Within a couple of
months, if not weeks, the population, already beset by inexplicable shortages of many items,
would starve to death. Noslow did not concern himself with this catastrophic prospect. His
masters on Celcious B had promised to take good care of him well before that time came.
     Soon now they would unveil their intentions. Besides, with a bit of luck he would soon be
aboard the patrol craft, returning the offworlders home, and if he had anything to do with it,
diverting them to Celcious. After his people landed on Skid, Inel, and the other so called
leaders of Skid, self-styled rulers of the known universe would be dealt to in the same way in
which Inel had just dealt to the members of Committee 21. The Celcions would then
commandeer some of the interplanetary freight vessels that plied the route between Skid and
Celcious B to carry their small army of conquest to Skid and re-establish their birthright as
rightful inheritors of the universe.
     The Skidians will rue the day they put my people into slavery, Noslow thought and deluded
themselves that they could foster the development of an intellectual community on Celcious to
help them rule without it eventually wheeling to snap at the hand that fed it. Noslow himself was
a product of this delusion, destined since birth to be senior adviser to the ruler of Skid, fated to
be the instrument of Skid's downfall.
     However, Noslow's plans to leave Skid were foiled when Inel ordered Noslow to
accompany him to the wilderness and the organic plant that the offworlders had established.
Noslow decided this was an unfortunate move on Inel's part, but the time was not yet ripe for
him to show his hand.

Epilogue
Message: Source Central Transport Operations. Due to unforeseen circumstances all
interplanetary traffic will cease from 2810/TA until further notice. End.

     Pyro glared angrily at the screen. There had been far too much of this sort of thing lately.
Without the necessary transport their crusade was only half-complete and they were now ready
to assume full control of Skid. Unfortunately they had to get there first, along with their
invasion force that was now camped around one of the staging points waiting for transport to
Skid.
     Furiously Pyro depressed several keys, seeking clarification from the duty operator of the
priority message that was still flashing on his screen. He waited impatiently for an answer for
several minutes, and then his screen, connected to the Central Transport Operations network
went blank.
     Trying to keep at bay the growing panic that was rising in his throat like a live thing, Pyro
feverishly transmitted an encrypted message to Noslow, his most senior agent on Skid, in the
hope he could allocate the necessary transport for them.
    He had not long to wait for the reply, but it was one that none of his carefully planned
schemes had allowed for.

Returned mail: User unknown

Tuesday, 10/09/99
     Bruce slowly emerged from a dreamless stupor, disorientated for a moment until he
recognized the oddly unfamiliar sight of his bedroom. Feeling almost too fragile to move, he
groaned in the expectation of severe discomfort and clamping his eyes firmly shut tried to will
himself back to sleep.
      However, among other things that conspired to prevent him from dozing off, the dogs
barked wildly outside. Had he forgotten to feed them again? It wouldn't be the first time.
     "Shit!" he muttered, opening his eyes again slowly. Bruce carefully slipped out of the bed
so he wouldn't wake…. Wake who? He wondered. Her name was on the tip of his tongue and
he saw, rather felt his face pressed into a mass of long dark hair. But of course there was
nobody else in the bed, just an elusive image in his mind and a name that he couldn't pin down.
      "Must have been a great dream," he grunted.
     His head throbbing mercilessly he stood unsteadily by the bed and stuck a hand out
against the wall to prop himself up. A sledgehammer seemed to be knocking against the inside
his skull and although it was spring, he felt unusually cold. As if he had been dumped nude in
the middle of the Antarctic.
     "Oh God!" he groaned, trying to recall how he had come to be in this state, and
discovering to his horror that he couldn't remember. What had he done now? Everything since
tea time the night before was a total blank.
     "What's going on here? I didn't have anything to drink last night. There's no booze, or
women, in the house."
     Bruce was not a hundred percent about the beer, he could have sworn that he and a
neighbor had polished everything off in the fridge a few nights before. He was certain there
wasn't a woman around. He steadied himself against the wall; his stomach also feeling
decidedly unsettled. Then he stumbled through to the kitchen expecting to find a heap of empty
cans on the table or in the lounge.
     Nothing.
      "Must be crook then," he decided. Something he'd eaten.
     "Those bloody oysters, I knew they were off," he muttered rubbing his stomach,
wondering if he was going to vomit.
     Bruce glanced at the clock over the fireplace. Five twenty-nine, 10.9.9... He automatically
checked his wristwatch and found he did not have one anymore. "Geez, I must be going nuts."
He was sure the previous day was the tenth. He checked his diary that lay open on the table.
Sure enough, today must be Wednesday the eleventh, there was an entry dated the tenth. He
switched on the radio and caught the beginning of the six-thirty news for Tuesday the tenth.
Bruce shrugged his shoulders. He must have had a real binge and jumped a day in his diary, or
maybe he was finally going nuts.

The streets of the once proud city were strewn with bodies, victims of the recent food riots, and
fires raged through the now empty buildings. Those who still had the energy and the inclination
tried to avoid the flames, but most were too weak. Anyway there was not, as far as most of
them knew, anywhere else to go.
Within weeks of the offworlders' departure from Skid, the synthofood plants failed completely
and Skidians were rudely introduced to famine and to fending for themselves in the manner of
their ancestors. Many Skidians, on learning of the developing catastrophe, simply willed
themselves to death, unable to cope with the unthinkable, while others killed themselves more
quickly, and violently to escape the painful and lingering death that awaited them. Others
rioted in anger, fear, and desperation although they had no target for their waning energy.
Their protests were futile.
Inel bravely attempted to operate the organic plant once the offworlders had departed, and to
generate interest among his fellow Skidians in the potential of this form of food production.
However, it was a case of too little, too late.
If only! Inel raged. If only he had listened and encouraged the offworlders in their work, taken
the time to learn from them. Been brave enough to implement the wide ranging changes to
Skidian society that would have saved more than the handful of Skidians that would now
possibly subsist on the few organic plants they had hastily established in the wilderness outside
Sietnuoc. Organic plants modeled on the offworlder's 'farm' as monument's to their collective
folly.
     Initially Inel had been confident he could save more than the small group he had gathered
at the organic plants, encompassing many of the ideas advanced by Bruce. Unfortunately
before he had a chance to test his theories Inel met his end, skewered, on the horn of a female
ivop and jammed against the railing, as he tried to catch her calf in the yard.
      "Bruce made it all look so easy," he spluttered, coughing blood all over his old friend and
confidant Noslow, who held him in his arms as he lay dying.
      Noslow nodded. This was not how it was supposed to be he wailed silently, oblivious of the
female ivop who was charging across the yard at him with her head lowered.

Sue pulled off the road into the parking lot where many of her fellow travel agents had already
gathered. She rested her head for a moment on the steering wheel, slightly nauseous all of a
sudden, and cast her eye over the group. Most of them were suitably if a little excessively
dressed in all the latest designer gear, as if it made them instant outdoors types. The clothing
was brightly colored and there was a profusion of sunglasses and bum bags full of matches,
cellphones, rescue flares, and first aid kits.
Everyone was shod in fashionable boots, wore a bright woolly hat and had the inevitable
camera slung carelessly around the neck. The brief bout of nausea passed and Sue did not give
it a second thought as she got out of the car. Bending over to pull the pack off the back set, she
suddenly felt lightheaded and straightened up quickly, bumping her head on the roof.
"Bugger it!" She put a hand over her mouth and looked around to see if anyone had heard her
use the obscenity. Then she stopped suddenly in her tracks, feeling as if she had been here
before. Which could not be right, because she never had.
Sue shook her head. She had been feeling a little odd these past few days, imagining against all
reason that she was experiencing something like morning sickness. That could not be right
either, because she had been celibate for almost a year now. Celibate, if she discounted the
intensely vivid dreams of her and a phantom lover she had been experiencing over the last few
nights that is.
      "Must do something about that," she said to herself as she wandered over to the group of
tour operators in time to catch the final instructions of their guide before he led them off into
the forest.
Is this the end of the most sophisticated and technologically advanced society ever in the
known universe? Will the invasion force from Celcious B ever find its way to Skid and march
triumphantly through the streets of the capital Sietnuoc? What will become of Bruce and Sue
and will they ever find each other? How will they fare on their return home and what
implications does this have for the world that they thought they knew of as home? What
becomes of Raele after he returns home and how does he and the other survivors cope with the
destruction of his home planet?

Find out the answers to these questions and more in Return to Skid.