Pretender
Piers Anthony and Frances Hall
CHAPTER 1.
The craft was in trouble. It might have been an enemy nimbus-mine, for this was a marginal zone. More likely it was random failure somewhere in this old unit. NK-2 was no mechanic. It would be necessary to dock for repairs.
He sent his host-animal for the local planet chart. In a moment the configuration of suns and worlds spread across the host’s visual center.
Few planets in this region were habitable, fewer were actually occupied, and none were civilized. Only three supported galactic enclaves, and one of these was marked with the warner signifying probable enemy penetration. The chart was not new, but NK-2 doubted the situation had changed significantly in the interim.
His most expeditious docking was on the warned planet. His trajectory suited the other two poorly, and he hardly wanted to risk them while the reliability of his craft was in question. In this case it was better to chance confrontation with the enemy, unpleasant as the prospect was. He was no combatant, but he could exercise suitable caution.
NK-2 had the host examine a detail chart of the chosen world. The natives were at the early-cluster stage, and their technology was unevenly distributed and as yet far from the level required for galactic intercourse. Station A-10 was located at the leading cultural and economic center, which was situated beside a river not far from a mountainous region somewhat removed from the planet’s sizable oceans.
All he had to do was dock his craft, send out a distress signal, and wait at the station until a repair vehicle responded. The local representative was DS-1, and of course he would be competent to handle this case. That was the purpose of such enclaves.
But if the enemy had truly infiltrated, there could be complexities. Ordinarily he would contact Station A-10 prior to docking—but the enemy would be certain to intercept such a message. He would have to do it blind; that was the lesser risk. And he would signal for assistance while still in space, using a tight beam that avoided the planet.
Too bad he couldn’t wait it out in space. But a derelict ship was bad policy anywhere, and there were supplies to maintain his host for only a fraction of the necessary time. The animal would starve—and of course NK-2 would die with it. That was another reason why galactic stations were maintained on primitive planets. Standby assistance was never far away.
The docking was routine. The repulser shield discouraged the local fauna so that no natives poked about the craft, and neither the animate nor the inanimate portions of the team suffered disfunction. He was within manageable range of the enclave. Dockings were never made too near native camps, of course; even the shield could not abate too drastic an intrusion!
NK-2 sent his host about the craft, putting it in order for his absence. He still did not dare signal Station A-10 for fear of enemy monitoring, but his host could easily travel the distance.
According to the subnotes on the chart, the natives were four-limbed, fixed-form sapients of large size, possessing tamed animals one of which resembled his host. With just a touch of repulse to abate curiosity, he should be able to enter the city and connect with the station without even advertising his presence to either natives or enemy. Then it would be all over except the tedious wait.
Perhaps he could use the time to indulge in research relating to the motivations of incipient civilization. Any primitive society offered rich opportunities for such studies, and NK-2 had upon occasion been tempted to enter some other field than radiation prospecting. But he lacked the training for alien ethnology.
The host had completed its chores. NK-2 knew he should review the distress-docking checklist, but he was impatient with the routine. Nothing would bother the craft, and he could return if necessary after establishing himself at Station A-10.
He took the host outside after setting the lock to reseal automatically. They paused a few paces away to look back. There was no sign of the craft. That meant the repulser was operative; the host’s gaze avoided that region even when directed specifically. Excellent. They resumed ambulation toward the station.
The light of the local sun was fierce and the atmosphere was dry and hot, causing his host discomfort. The terrain was not difficult, however. It had been so long since NK-2 had been on an alien world that this was a refreshing experience. Were his host attuned to the specific environment, he might have romped.
The animal, far from romping, was tiring. NK-2 allowed it to rest. There were so many trifling differences between habitable worlds that no single creature could adjust readily to them all. But the pause did not seem to help; when he started off again, the animal stumbled. Something was ailing the creature.
Then he remembered: he had failed to inoculate his host against local maladies before leaving the protection of the craft. This was an elementary precaution the checklist would have covered—elementary but essential. Now the unfortunate creature had been contaminated, and NK-2 himself was in trouble.
There was no point returning to the craft, for it lacked curative facilities. He would have to proceed to the station. His host would probably perish, but NK-2 could transfer to a native host. An unpleasant necessity, but the result of his own oversight. He was sorry the innocent animal had to suffer. In future he would be more careful about such details; there was more involved than personal convenience.
Now the host’s strength was failing rapidly, as the virulent microorganisms of this wilderness raged through its system unchecked. The animal became confused, and would have lost the way had NK-2 not exerted firm control. This was going to be closer than he had supposed; there was now no possibility of returning to his craft. The Station was much closer, but any delay in locating it could have serious consequence.
Then disaster. There was no native settlement in the charted location—only a large mound covered with scattered blocks of stone. A city had once stood here, certainly—but it had been destroyed utterly.
NK-2 drove his host to the exact coordinate of Station A-10. There was nothing but rubble.
The host collapsed and lay in the bright heat. It was dying—and there was no alternate host available.
CHAPTER 2.
The boy came from a peasant hut on the Tigris River, at the fringe of the mighty Babylonian Empire. This region was increasingly menaced by the barbarian Medes. Yet what was that to his family, already so deeply in debt to the temple of Marduk that the charioteers could hardly bring more sorrow!
He was six. He had been born in the year Nebuchadnezzar died, and already he understood deprivation and hunger. His father labored all day in the hot barley fields, but lacked barley for his own bread. What was there for a boy to do?
He approached the great mound with a certain expectant thrill, though he had been here many times before. It was forbidden; that was why he came. This was the ruin of Nineveh, capital of the ancient Assyrian Empire. Well he knew its savage history, for it was still told by the old men of the region, some of whom claimed to have been there at its destruction.
Where was the god Asshur now, who had governed the world from this spot? Where was his power, his terror, his rows on rows of bloodstained stakes, the ghastly glee of his conquests?
Only these stones remained, the mighty rubble of a god.
The boy was looking for a god, or at least a shedu, an invisible winged bull to stay by his side and protect him from harm. And to protect his family too, lest he be forced to spend the rest of his life working off his father’s debt to the temple.