Roy Dudley THE STRANGE HARVEST Page 1

CHAPTER 1

   The eastern sky brightened from the faintest of oranges to gold and yellow as the sun thrust its mantle above the horizon. The mountains to the northeast emerged in bold relief, somber and austere. Brooding shadows cast by the sun spilled down the barren crevices and valleys, pointing a dark, accusing finger through the foothills to the wastelands. Far toward the south, near the horizon, darker shadows that inhabited the wastelands advanced blacker fingers to swallow the weak shadows cast by the sun. These shadows were glassine, with ragged towers, rounded, humpbacked, blackened and devoid of any vestige of vegetation. These blackened corpses provided mute evidence of the all-consuming atomic fires of long ago. For over one-thousand years mesquite and chaparral had fought a losing battle against this last dead remnant of man's futile battle for survival and freedom in this desert land.

   Farther to the south, and across a series of low hills and rock-ribbed valleys, lay the residence of those who had inherited the earth. Adjacent to this residential area and in a penned enclosure, resided one of the disinherited and his companions from another galaxy.

   Situated on a natural height of land, metallic towers arranged in orderly array cast long shadows across a rough circular stockade of adobe and native rock. These steel structures possessed a quality alien to the desert. There was no attempt to decorate or to achieve beauty. There was no note of harmony, a seeming affront to the ancient reign of sun and sand. Stark and utilitarian, they shadowed the disinherited. Although roughly ten acres in extent, the stockade melted into the barren landscape and achieved a oneness with the land. Enclosed by vertical walls forty feet in height, this was the home of man.

   Facing the towers was the entry to the stockade, a crude and heavy double gate of logs and steel. This gate was precisely centered in the eastern walls of the stockade, and the only entry through the six foot thick walls. These mighty walls enclosed a rectangular piece of largely barren land containing a few neat squares for garden plots at the northern end and living quarters to the south.

   Near the entry was a single, small and rectangular hut made of native adobe, a hut no more than twenty five feet by ten feet. Here resided the sole human resident. Isolated and alone near the gate, he was separate from, yet a part of the stockade.

   On the south side of the compound, spaced in concentric circles, were small circular huts of adobe with domed roofs. These were the nests of the Alee, man's social companions and assistants. Just inside the inner circle were two larger buildings. One building was the communal hall where unmarried Alee resided under the paternal rule of older Alee. Diametrically opposite was the kitchen and dining hall of the Alee.

   Some one-half mile south of the compound walls grew an orchard, a large orchard, in excess of one-hundred acres. These trees were evenly spaced and not native to the area. The trunks were knobby and gnarled, the foliage bluish, and with the limbs pruned into fantastic shapes. Each tree was cut differently and according to some rigid formula. The orchard was the single reason for the existence of the compound.

   Scattered across the earth were nine more such compounds, each specialized in nature. The principal purpose of the other compounds was the providing of sustenance and creature comforts for man and Alee, plus additional luxuries for man's masters, the Aithiss.

   The lone human completed a meager breakfast of grain meal mush, mixed with synthetic milk, a meal he had prepared over an earthen hearth in one corner. He was a slender man nearing twenty in age, burned to a leathery tan by the untempered rays of the sun. His sole garment consisted of a leather apron front and rear, this tied loosely together by leather thongs.

   In the liquid vowels of the Alee, he was called "Awnee". Their tongues could not grasp the consonants in Johnny. All male humans were called Awnee. Awnee himself did not know why. It had always been so.

   A five foot, furred creature paused diffidently at Awnee's open door. He walked erect with a supple economy of motion on feet faintly human. Reddish fur covered his otherwise naked body uniformly, except for two longer and darker tufts on the tips of his pointed ears. His eyes were large and with the vertical pupils of the feline tribe. His nose was small, snubbed and with a black tip. His mouth alone was faintly human, but without the fullness of lips. He possessed short but sharp canine teeth that projected past thin lips, and had a long tail, customarily curled across one shoulder. His five fingers were long and slender, each finger tipped with short claws. There was no opposing thumb. He was faintly human, faintly feline, and much of neither. He was Awnee's assistant and the leader of the Alee, a race from a distant planet.

   "Awnee?" he asked in a soft and pleasing voice.

   Awnee gave Awn a welcoming smile. "Yes, Awn, I'm ready. Gather the work party. We go to the orchards again today. This should be our last day in the orchards for a year."

   As the day wore towards noon, it became uncomfortably hot. Awnee paused in his work to wipe away accumulated sweat and to massage his back. Somewhat absently he watched the shimmering heat waves dancing along the horizon, softening the barren hills and boulder strewn valleys. Even the tops of the distant trees in the orchard were disembodied in a watery wasteland. A mirage it was called, the bending of light rays through air layers of different densities.

   Awnee knew this, but it was like knowing the words without the music. He knew many stray facts that were just as useless. He didn't know how he came to know these things, they were just there. After a wasted moment of idle speculation, he returned to his work. There were many seeds to be planted, many trees to be pruned before day's end. This was not the time for dreaming.

   The gentle plaint of the Alee reached him. They suffered from the brassy mid-day sun, but not as badly as Awnee. Darkness lay some seven hours away, seven hours before they could rest. That was the rule as laid down by the Aithiss.

   Awnee absently fingered the slave collar around his neck, an unconscious habit. Only the human males wore these collars. He could not remember when the collar had been fastened about his throat, but it was as much a part of him as his own two hands. This collar was an integral part of him, a part that he resented with a stubborn irrationality that often puzzled him.

He stooped to carefully place a seed the size of a walnut in a prepared hole next to a tree. He turned the seed until the bright spot was directed upward and the slight protuberance on the side was toward the tree. He then used the first joint of his index finger to measure the correct depth and covered the seed carefully,

   After planting the seed, he pruned the tree itself delicately, using a small saw and a pair of shears. This must be done exactly right, each tree cut a little differently, according to the rigid code laid out by the Aithiss, and only the trees designated by them.

   Each spring, in the death of Aunee, the moon, he must move through the vast orchard as directed by the Aithiss. The Alee prepared the holes and kept the ground cultivated, but only he could plant the seeds and prune the trees.

   The collar transmitted an unpleasant tingle to his neck, a warning that he had cut the branch a trifle short. A bad mistake and he would be on the ground writhing in pain. He slowed his pace and worked more carefully.

   Hot and thirsty, the Alee broadcast their distress again, a gentle plaint asking for his attention. In his mind he saw the picture they projected of a lake in the center of the orchard, a pool where they wished to swim. He counted the remaining seeds carefully and found himself slightly ahead of schedule. Perhaps they had the time for a short swim.

   He summoned Awn, but continued working. For a reason not entirely understood by him or the Alee, their telepathic ability was a secret that was carefully kept from the Aithiss. Telepathy was their usual means of communication, but they used vocal communication too. When away from the confines of the compound, they were wary in their speech and used more of telepathy. Vocalizations were used when the Aithiss might notice--or when they wished the Aithiss to notice.

   "Awnee?"

   Awnee turned to face Awn, who had approached him noiselessly from the rear. The slight click of a relay opening in Awnee's collar warned him the collar was active and the Aithiss listened. He knew without quite knowing how he knew, that the Aithiss monitored all their conversation, especially while working in the orchard.

   "Yes, Awn."

   "Sun." Awn held one furry paw aloft. "Hot. Alee hot. Need wet. Need drink."

   Awnee felt with very real affection for the small furred figure of Awn. Awn also knew the secrets the collar and used the short, disjointed conversation expected of him by the Aithiss. The Alee were more intelligent and higher on the cultural scale than the Aithiss realized, or were allowed to discover. This was but one of many confusing secret.

   In each compound, an Awnee was the only spokesman for the Alee. He alone could translate the orders from the Aithiss and alone, must protect the Alee as much as possible. This was an Awnee's primary responsibility.

   Awnee smiled for Awn. "All right, Awn. Fast."

   Awn turned and trotted away, sending a last thought. "Thank you, Awnee, will you join us?"

   "Yes, but it must be a quick swim. There are many seeds yet to be planted."

   Awnee placed his seeds and equipment carefully in the shade of the tree he had just pruned, moving noiselessly. After the relay in the collar had closed, he removed his short leather garment. There was no conversation in progress, the Aithiss no longer interested. Awnee ran toward the pool.

   The Alee were before him, playing and cavorting gracefully in the water. The swimmers were a working party composed of the most important males and females of the compound. This work in the orchard was their most important task of the year and required the best of the laborers.

   Awnee dived and surfaced near mid-pool, enjoying the cool wash of the water against his naked body. This same soothing balm of cool water washed the minds of the Alee. It was partly for these forbidden breaks that they loved him. If the Aithiss were to discover Awnee in his swimming, he would be punished. For this reason, there was no conversation aloud or loud splashing. Although Awnee was unsure what triggered the collar, he believed any sudden noise would alert the Aithiss.

   "Awnee, when will you have a female?" asked a female Alee. This was Aimee, Awn's mate. She perpetually worried about him and about the Alee.

   "The Aithiss make no mention of a female."

   "She too will be hairless?"

   "Yes," Awnee said patiently, for this was obvious.

   "You will mate with her?"

   "No--I don't think so--I don't know. I want no children of mine to be slaves."

   "But what of the Alee?" Aimee complained.

   "There will be another Awnee provided, perhaps." Awnee knew this was a lie. There were no more Awnees available.

   "Your father and your father's father as far as the legends tell have been overseers of the Alee. What of the Alee?" Aimee asked stubbornly.

   The Alee moved closer to him, for this was an important subject. Awnee studied their serious faces for a moment, unsure in his own mind. Although he had considered this problem, he had found no ready solution. He could not abandon the Alee to the uncertain keeping of the Aithiss; and without a human, one able to understand their language of soft vowels and mind talk with them, they would die under the yoke.

   "Aimee, no matter happens, I will see that the Alee are not harmed."

   The Alee were not satisfied with this, and Alee exchanged a confusion of thoughts that Awnee heard and understood. They couldn't hide their thoughts from him as he could from them.

   Awnee interrupted, "Enough, you loafers. Rather would I have ten times ten sons than harm the Alee. Now, back to work."

   He smiled as they scampered from the water, shook themselves and returned to work. Their long tails were curled across their shoulders, an indication they were content with his answers.

   Awnee returned to his supplies and his planting, the sun no cooler; and the sun well on its way to setting before he carefully planted the last seed and pruned the last tree. Neither the planting nor the pruning made much sense to him; and he considered this for perhaps the thousandth time, and for the thousandth time, dismissed it from his mind. There was a great deal about the Aithiss and their activities that he did not understand. The only bonus was that planting and pruning was complete for the year. Each year, this work in the orchards started in early spring, ran into mid-summer and was always tiresome.


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