The Seed of Evil

Unrecognisable utensils lay scattered and jumbled about the floor, and Ruiger’s gaze went to the rest of the hut. He shuddered. The walls resembled the racks of some prehistoric butcher’s shop, hung with pieces of raw flesh—limbs, entrails, various internal organs, and other organic components and substances he could not identify, from a variety of creatures unknown to him. The Chid clearly had botanic interests, too. Items of vegetable origin accompanied the purely animal ones, plants, tree branches, cuttings, fruit, strips of fibre and so forth. A moist, slightly rotten smell hung on the air, though whether from the grisly array or from the Chid themselves he could not say.

Unable to find a clear space on the floor, Brand left the sled floating. Ruiger pointed to the body. He hoped the purpose of their visit was self-evident.

“This is our comrade. He has been badly injured. We came to ask if you can heal him.”

The Chid in the sling swayed slightly from side to side. “Werry-werry-werry-werry …” he said, or that was what it sounded like to Ruiger. But then he broke off, and to the Earthmen’s great surprise spoke in almost perfect English.

“Visitors come to us from off the vast plain! You are here to sport with us, perhaps?”

“We came to ask for your help,” Ruiger replied. Again he pointed to the sled. “Our friend was attacked by a scythe-cat—a dangerous animal that’s found on this continent.”

“For the time being I’ve suspended his organic processes with a gelid solution,” Brand interrupted. “But when it wears off he’ll be dead, unless the damage can be made good first.”

“Chids are famed for their surgical skill,” Ruiger added.

The Chid withdrew his arms from the sling and approached the sled with an ambling gait, kicking aside metal artifacts that lay on the floor. Automatically Ruiger drew back. The strangeness of the scene made him fearful. It was hard to believe that these people were as advanced as they were supposed to be.

Bending over the sled, the Chid prodded Wessel’s inert form with a long finger. He chortled: a brassy sound like the braying of a cornet.

“Can you help him?” Ruiger enquired.

“Oh yes. Quite easy. Simple slicing. Nerves, muscles, blood vessels, lymph channels, skin—you won’t even know where the joins are.”

A feeling of relief flooded through the two men. “Then you’ll operate?” Ruiger pressed.

Straightening, the Chid stared directly at him. His eyes, now that Ruiger saw them close up, were horrible, like boiled eggs. “I have heard it said that Earthmen can leave their bodies and move about without them. Is it true?”

“No,” said Ruiger. It took him a moment to realise what the Chid was talking about. “You mean their souls can leave their bodies. It’s not true, though. It’s only religious belief. You know what religion is? Just a story.”

“How wonderful, to be able to leave one’s body and move about without it!” The Chid seemed to reflect. “Are you here for sport?” he asked suddenly. “Do you like races?”

“We are only interested in helping our friend get better.”

“Oh, but you should game with us.”

“After our friend is better,” Ruiger said slowly, “we’ll do anything you like.”

“Excellent, excellent!” The Chid chortled again, much louder than before, a shrill, unnerving sound.

“Can we rely on you?” Ruiger pressed. “How long will it take?”

“Not long, not long. Leave him with us.”

“May we stay to watch?”

“No, no!” The Chid seemed indignant. “It is not seemly. You are our guests. Depart!”

“All right,” Ruiger said. “When shall we come back?”

“We will send him out when he is ready. Tomorrow morning, perhaps.”

“Good.” Ruiger stood uncertainly. He was eager to get out of the hut, but somehow reluctant to leave.

The Chid on the couch had completely ignored them, apart from one glance when they first entered. He still lay motionless, as if dead.

“Until tomorrow, then.”

“Until tomorrow.”

They withdrew, stiffly and awkwardly. To human sensibilities the Chid seemed to lack stability, Ruiger decided. They gave a neurotic, erratic, disconcerting impression. But it was probably a false impression, like that given by their idiot faces.

Back in the ship, Ruiger said: “Well, so far it went all right. If that Chid keeps his promise we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“But this talk about sports and games,” Brand said anxiously. “What do they expect of us?”

“Never mind about that. As soon as we get Wessel back, and he’s all right, we simply take off.”

“We’ll owe them. They might try to stop us.”

“We’ve got guns.”

“Yeah … you know, I guess we’re all right, but what about Wessel? That hut doesn’t look a lot like an operating theatre to me. Somehow I find it hard to believe they can do anything.”

“They don’t work the way we do. But everybody knows they can accomplish miracles, almost. You’ll see. Anyway, it gives Wessel a chance. He didn’t have one before.”

They fell silent.