Space brat

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73674 *** Space Brat By O. H. LESLIE _The aliens' invasion plan was logical. To conquer Man, they reasoned, you start with Baby and work up._ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Fantastic January 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Mr. Gertz slapped his forehead in vexation, and his wife, Emma, shifted in their double bed and said: "Louie, for heaven's sake. Go to sleep!" "Sleep?" Mr. Gertz mocked her speech. "What are you, kidding? How can I go to sleep with that brat next door screamin' its head off?" "It's only a baby. What do you expect?" "I expect a little peace and quiet!" "Poor little thing," she murmured. Mr. Gertz grumbled. The baby cried on. * * * * * Athra, Chairman of the War Council of Nahrla, squatted on the blood-red cushion and twisted the plastic features of his eyeless face into a portrait of contempt and impatience. He had listened silently to the arguments and counter-arguments of the council members, and only until their shrill, strident voices had grown tired of the useless debate did he speak. And when he spoke, they listened. "Fools!" he said harshly. "Seven orbits has the sun made of Nahrla. Do you think Jeheera has waited this long to make its plans?" * * * * * A murmur went up at the mention of the hated name. Jeheera, their planetary neighbor, had hurled its declaration of war seven Nahrla-years ago. Still, the major preparations for the battle were not underway. The battlefield had been chosen: a distant world on the rim of the great nebula, a world whose green land areas and wide seas most resembled the terrain of the two combatants. It was traditional for Nahrla and Jeheera to fight on other worlds; through countless centuries, they had learned the bitter outcome of war on their own soil. Jointly, their exploratory forces had searched the galaxies for the scene of their next conflict. They had decided upon the planet called Earth by its inhabitants, and fixed the date of the engagement for forty years hence--a generation to the short-lived creatures of the green world, but only a brief span to the people of Nahrla. "Forty years!" Athra rasped. "Seven gone already. And still we sit in idle quarrel, without our defenses prepared. Do you realize the consequence of such inaction? Do you not suppose that Jeheera has already sent its agents to this world, to scout out its population, its ways, its weaknesses, its dangers and pitfalls? And what have we learned? What information do our scouts supply?" At the end of the hall, a figure arose, bowing humbly, its four jointless arms wrapped about its narrow body. "If I may report, sir," he said quietly. The council members turned to the speaker. "You may speak, Shura," the chairman said. The figure bowed again. "As captain of the exploratory force of Nahrla, it is my duty to point out the nature of the problem we face on this new battleground. This is no ordinary world we have chosen. Its inhabitants are strange and unpredictable. They are alternately peace-loving and warlike, wise and stupid, courageous and cowardly, noble and selfish. There is little consistency in their actions or emotions. But there is one aspect of their nature which is common to all." "And what is that?" "Suspicion. A lack of trust in each other's motives. And that is why our problem has been so difficult, sir. We would have sent our agent among them many orbits ago, if we could have decided upon what form the agent should adopt." Shura slithered across the polished floor of the council room and stopped before the Reading Screen at the right of the chairman's pillow. He flipped the switch that started the screen glowing. "Here is what the Earth-race calls a Man." A gasp of revulsion swept the room at the image that appeared on the screen. "In addition to his unattractiveness," Shura said, "the Man is a relatively ineffective creature. As an individual, he is usually inclined to be emotionally unstable, petty, given to a sense of self-importance, greedy, acquisitive, slothful, and often cruel. At times, he is capable of unselfish and even noble actions, but even these are questioned by his fellow-creatures as having hidden, base motivations. If our agent were to take the form of this Man, his ability to uncover the type of information we seek would be hampered by the same distrust that affects all men of the planet Earth. Therefore, we cannot recommend, in all honesty, that we despatch an agent bearing this shape to scout this battlefield." * * * * * The chairman grunted. "Then what shape do you recommend, Shura?" The figure shrugged. "We have considered several others. There are many types of organic creatures on this world, some of them more trusted by Man than Man himself. This shape, for example." He flicked the switch. A four-legged creature, blanketed with shaggy fur, with a long nose and pointed ears, appeared on the Reading Screen. "This is what they call Dog. Dog is considered by the Earth-race as Man's Best Friend. He accompanies Man everywhere, and told many confidences, even though he has no ability to speak or comprehend. He is well cared-for, often pampered. And most important, he is usually trusted implicitly." "And this is the shape you recommend?" Shura sighed. "No. Unfortunately, Dog's actions are limited by the master's. They are allowed little freedom of action. If Dog becomes independent of Man, they declare it Wild, and treat it as a beast of the field." The chairman slapped at his pillow with his seven-fingered hand. "Get to the point, Shura! I do not wish to hear what shapes you do _not_ recommend. I wish a positive answer to our problem!" "We have one," Shura said. The councilmen murmured. "Here is the shape we recommend, after careful study. It is the shape of Man, but Man in the dawn of his innocence. The only shape in which all of the inhabitants of this planet give their complete faith and trust." He flicked the switch again. Athra, the chairman, stared at the bloated, pink, ugly thing on the Screen, and looked disgusted. "What in Nahrla's name is _that_?" "That," Shura said, "is what the Earth-race calls a Baby. Unlike ourselves, the Earth-creatures are mammals, bearing their young within the womb and expelling it after nine months of gestation. The creature that emerges is called a Baby, or Infant, and it undergoes a process of cell growth until it becomes an Earth-adult. But at no point in this entire growth process is the Earth-creature more adored, more pampered, and most important--more _trusted_--than the time when it bears the name of Baby." * * * * * "And this is your recommendation?" "Yes, sir. There are drawbacks, of course. The Baby is a helpless thing at first, dependent upon human care. But it is this very helplessness which makes the Baby so acceptable to the Earth-race. Our agent would have to suffer a period of helplessness before he is able to perform his scouting duties, but the few lost years will be well worth the outcome. He will be completely accepted into Earth-society. He will be one of them--not an alien stranger, unused to their ways and customs and mores. He will grow up as a normal member of the Earth-race. Then, when the proper moment comes, he will be in the best of positions to blueprint our new battlefield, in astonishing detail." From the corner of the room, Lotha, the ex-chairman of the Nahrla War Council, twisted his features bitterly and said: "And just how does Shura propose to introduce this agent to the planet? Can we place him in the very womb of some Earth-creature?" "No," Shura said. "That cannot be done. But infiltrating an agent in the form of a human Baby will be no problem. The Earth-creatures readily accept Babies, without question as to parentage or identity. There are thousands of such Babies born every day on the planet, and special institutions have been created for their care." Lotha growled. "It's ridiculous. Too elaborate. I prefer the direct approach." "That is our recommendation," Shura said stiffly. "I suggest we put it up to a council vote." The chairman nodded in assent. "Shura is right. The Council will vote on the proposal. All those in favor, will please raise their fourth hand." * * * * * Mrs. Purdy, of the Delafield Adoption Agency, smiled toothily at the young couple seated in front of her desk. "I'm always happy to deliver such good news," she said. "I know how long you two have been waiting, but now I think your prayers have been answered." Jane Bryan caught her breath sharply. "Oh, Mrs. Purdy! You mean--" "Yes, my dear. It isn't often that we are able to find just the infant our prospective parents have requested. But Fate has been good to you both. Recently, our agency was fortunate enough to receive a foundling infant boy. He's a perfect darling--just about a month old, blue eyes, blond hair, and an absolute charmer." Jane's husband, Dan, reached over to grip his wife's hand. "You really mean it, Mrs. Purdy?" "I certainly do. Naturally, you were one of the first couples I thought of when the baby was brought here. The poor little thing was abandoned on our very doorstep; it was like a gift from Heaven. Now, all we have to do is complete a few minor formalities--" Jane couldn't help herself. The tears started in her pretty green eyes, and she fumbled helplessly in her purse for her handkerchief. Dan got up and went to her. He put her head on his shoulder, and let her weep in happiness and relief. Mrs. Purdy watched them, her eyes tender. "Can we see him?" Dan asked. "Can we see our baby now, Mrs. Purdy?" "Of course. Come right this way." Jane dried her eyes, and they left the office together. But her tears began to flow again as they approached the crib on the second floor of the adoption agency. Her arms went out impulsively toward the child that lay in peaceful slumber on the sheet. "Oh, he's adorable!" Jane breathed. "Oh, Dan, he's just what we always wanted!" "How soon?" Dan said tightly. "How soon, Mrs. Purdy?" "Just a few days. We'll work as swiftly as we can, Mr. Bryan. In a few days, you can take your new baby home." The few days turned out to be a week. Then the phone rang in the Bryan household, and Mrs. Purdy's cheerful voice said: "Today's the day!" At five o'clock on a Monday afternoon, Jane Bryan carried her new son across the threshold of their apartment. * * * * * At two o'clock, the baby set up a hungry howl, and Dan Bryan stirred and sat up in bed. "Wake up," he said to his wife. "What is it?" "That damn thing is sure screaming its head off. I don't think I can wait. I think we ought to take care of it now." "But how can we?" his wife said. "It would look suspicious, wouldn't it?" "What if it does? We can move out of here tomorrow, see another part of the world." "But Lotha warned us to be careful--" "Lotha!" Dan Bryan said, his lips curled. "Why should we listen to anything _he_ says? We take our orders directly from Jeheera, not from a dirty Nahrlan traitor. I say tonight." "Whatever you say, dear," his wife answered. Mr. Gertz looked at the bedside clock, moaned, and punched his pillow angrily. "That lousy brat!" he said. "Why doesn't somebody shut him up?" His request was answered. With abrupt suddenness, the baby's pitiful cry ended. "There," Mrs. Gertz said comfortably. "I told you, Louie. The poor thing was only hungry. Now go to sleep." Mr. Gertz rolled over. He dozed off quickly, now that the night was still, and slept with the innocence of a babe. THE END *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73674 ***