"We'll both join," Kiku said glumly. "All right, get on it. Move."
"It's been nice knowing you."
Mr. Kiku switched off, then moved very fast, initiating a fresh departmental intervention, sending an emergency-priority message to the state governor, another to the mayor of Westville, another to the Westville district court. Formal action completed, he sat for a few seconds, bracing himself for what he must do next... then went in to tell the Secretary that they must ask for help from the military authorities of the Federation.
X The Cygnus Decision
When John Thomas woke up he had trouble remembering where he was. The sleeping bag was toasty warm, he felt good, rested but lazy. Gradually the picture of where he was and why he was there built up and he poked his head out. The sun was high and it was pleasantly warm. Lummox was nearby. "Hi, Lummie.
"Hi, Johnnie. You slept a long time. You were noisy, too."
"Was I?" He crawled out and pulled his clothes on, switched off the sleeping bag. He folded it and turned to Lummox-and started. "What's that?"
Near Lummox's head, lying squashed out as if it had been stepped on, was a very dead grizzly bear... about a six-hundred-pound male. Blood had gushed from mouth and nostrils, then dried. Lummox glanced at it. "Breakfast," he explained.
John Thomas looked at it with distaste. "Not for me, it's not. Where did you get it?"
"I catched it," Lummox answered and simpered.
"Not 'catched it'... 'caught it.'"
"But I did catch it. It tried to get in with you and I catched it."
"Well, all right. Thanks." John Thomas looked at the bear again, turned away and opened his food bag. He selected a can of ham and eggs, twisted off the top, and waited for it to heat.
Lummox took this as a signal that it was now all right for him to breakfast, too, which he did-first the bear, then a couple of small pine trees, a peck or so of gravel for crunchiness, and the empty container of John Thomas's breakfast. They went down to the stream afterwards, with Johnnie going first to search the sky; Lummox washed down his meal with a few hogsheads of clear mountain water. Johnnie knelt and drank, then washed his face and hands and wiped them on his shirt. Lummox asked, "What do we do now, Johnnie? Go for a walk? Catch things, maybe?"
"No," Johnnie denied. "We go back up in those trees and lie low until dark. You've got to pretend you're a rock." He went up the bank, Lummox followed. "Settle down," John Thomas ordered. "I want to look at those bumps."
Lummox did so; it brought the tumors down where his master could inspect them without stretching. Johnnie looked them over with increasing worry. They were larger and seemed to have lumps and bumps inside; Johnnie tried to remember whether such a development was a sign of malignancy. The skin over them had stretched and thinned until it was hardly more than thick leather, not in the least like the rest of Lummox's armor. It was dry and hot to his touch. Johnnie kneaded the left one gently; Lummox pulled away.
"Is it that tender?" Johnnie asked anxiously.
"I can't stand it," Lummox protested. He extended his legs and walked over to a large pine tree, started rubbing the tumor against it.
"Hey!" said Johnnie. "Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself."
"But it itches." Lummox went on scratching.
John Thomas ran to him, intending to be firm. But just as he reached him the tumor split open. He watched in horror.
Something dark and wet and writhing emerged, caught on the ruptured skin, held there inchoate, then burst free to dangle and flop like a jungle snake from a branch. For an agonized moment all that Johnnie could think was that it was indeed something like that some giant, parasitic worm eating its way out of its unlucky host. He thought with dumb self-blame that he had forced Lummie to climb over the mountains when he was sick to death with that.
Lummox sighed and wiggled. "Gee!" he said with satisfaction. "That feels better!"
"Lummox! Are you all right?"
"Huh? Why shouldn't I be, Johnnie?"
"Why? Why, that!"
"What?" Lummox looked around; the strange growth bent forward and he glanced at it. "Oh, that..." he answered, dismissing the matter.
The end of the thing opened out like a blossoming flower... and Johnnie realized at last what it was.
Lummox had grown an arm.
The arm dried rapidly, lightened in color and seemed to firm. Lummox did not have much control over it yet, but John Thomas could begin to see its final form. It had two elbows, a distinct hand with thumbs on each side. There were five fingers, seven digits in all, and the middle finger was longer and fully flexible, like an elephant's trunk. The hand did not resemble a human hand much but there was no doubt that it was at least as useful-or would become so; at the moment the digits wiggled aimlessly.
Lummox let him examine it, but did not himself seem especially interested in the development; Lummox acted as if it were something he always did right after breakfast.
Johnnie said, "Let me have a look at the other bump," and walked around Lummox. The rightside tumor was still more bloated. When John Thomas touched it Lummox shrugged away and turned as if to rub it against the tree. "Hold it!' Johnnie called out. "Stand still."
"I've got to scratch."
"You might lame yourself for life. Hold still, I want to try something." Lummox sulkily complied; Johnnie took out his belt knife and gently nicked the center of the swelling.
The nick spread and Lummox's right arm came out almost in Johnnie's face. He jumped back.
"Thanks, Johnnie!"
"Any time, any time." He sheathed the knife and stared at the newborn arms, his face thoughtful.
He could not figure all the implications of Lummox's unexpected acquisition of hands. But he did realize that it was going to change things a lot. In what way, he did not know. Perhaps Lummie would not need so much care after this. On the other hand he might have to be watched or he would be forever getting into things he shouldn't. He remembered uneasily someone saying what a blessing it was cats did not have hands well, Lummie had more curiosity than any cat.
But he felt without knowing why that such things were side issues; this was important.
In any case, he decided fiercely, this doesn't change one thing: Chief Dreiser isn't going to get another crack at him!
He searched the sky through the branches and wondered if they could be spotted. "Lum..."
"Yes, Johnnie?"
"Haul in your legs. It's time to play like a rock."
"Aw, let's go for a walk, Johnnie."
"We'll go for a walk tonight. But until it gets dark I want you to stay put and hold still."
"Aw, Johnnie!"
"Look, you don't want to go downtown again, do you? All right, then, quit arguing."
"Well, if you feel that way about it." Lummox settled to the ground. John Thomas sat down, leaned against him, and thought.
Maybe there was a way in this for Lummie and him to make a living... in a carnival or something. E.-t.s were big stuff in carnivals; they couldn't run without them-even though half of them were fakes-and Lummie wasn't a fake. Probably he could learn to do tricks with his hands, play something or something. Maybe a circus was still better.
No, that wasn't the thing for Lummie; crowds made him nervous. Uh, what could the two of them do to make a living?... after this, mess with the authorities was straightened out, of course. A farm, maybe? Lummie would be better than a tractor and with hands he would be a farm hand, too. Maybe that was the ticket, even though he had never thought about farming.
In his mind's eye he saw himself and Lummox growing great fields of grain... and hay... and vegetables and... unaware that he had fallen asleep.
He was awakened by a cracking noise and knew vaguely that he had heard several of them. He opened his eyes, looked around and found that he was lying beside Lummox. The creature had not left the spot... but he was moving his arms. One arm flailed past Lummox's head, there was a blur and another crack... and a small aspen some distance away suddenly came down. Several others were down near it.