Anderson, Poul - Hoka 1 - Hoka! Hoka! Hoka! - with Gordon R Dickson.pdf - Poul Anderson - chomikbob7

Poul Anderson and Gordon R Dickson

HOKA! HOKA! HOKA!

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance

to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

A Baen Book

Baen Publishing Enterprises

P.O. Box1403:

Riverdale,NY

ISBN: 0-671-57774-

Cover art by Stephen Hickman

First Baen printing, November

Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of theAmericasNew York,NY

Printed in theUnited States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

The Sheriff of Canyon Gulch

Interlude I

Don Jones

Interlude II

In Hoka Signo Vinces

Interlude III

The Adventure of the Misplaced Hound

Interlude IV

Yo Ho Hoka!

Interlude V

The Tiddlywink Warriors

Interlude VI

Joy in Mudville

Undiplomatic Immunity

Mysterious Message

PROLOGUE

From theEncyclopedia Galactica , 11th edition:

TOKA: Brackneys Star III. The sun (NSC 7-190853426) is of type G2, located in Region Deneb,

approximately 503 light-years from Sol… The third planet appears Earthlike, to a sufficiently

superficial observer… There are three small moons, their League names being Uha, Buha, and

Huha. As is customary in the case of inhabited planets, these derive from a major autochthonous

language (see nomenclature: Astronomical). It was discovered too late that they mean,

respectively, "Fat," "Drunk" and "Sluggish."…

At least "Toka" means "Earth." However, indigenous tongues have become little more than

historical curiosities, displaced by whatever Terrestrial speech suits the role of the moment…

Two intelligent species evolved, known today as the Hokas and the Slissü. The former are

quasi-mammalian, the latter reptiloid… Conflict was ineluctable… It terminated after human

explorers had come upon the system and the Interbeing League took charge… In effect, the Slissü

were bought out. Abandoning their home worlden masse , they became free wanderers throughout

civilization, to its detriment. (See slissü. See also computer crime; confidence games;

embezzlement; gambling: Crooked; misrepresentation; politics.)

The ursinoid Hokas generally stayed in place. No nation of theirs refused to accept League

tutelage, which of course has had the objective of raising their level of civilization to a point

where autonomy and full membership can be granted. Rather, they all agreed with an eagerness

which should have warned the Commissioners…

The fact is that the Hokas are the most imaginative race of beings in known space, and

doubtless in unknown space too. Any role that strikes their fancy they will play, individually or as

a group, to the limits of the preposterous and beyond. This does not imply deficiency of intellect,

for they are remarkably quick to learn. It does not even imply that they lose touch with reality;

indeed, they have been heard to complain that reality often loses touch with them. It does

demonstrate a completely protean personality. Added to that are a physical strength and energy

astonishing in such comparatively small bodies. Thus, in the course of a few short years, the

"demon teddy bears," to use a popular phrase for them, have covered their planet with an

implausible kaleidoscope of harlequin societies describable only by some such metaphor as the

foregoing…

The Sheriff Of Canyon Gulch

It had been a very near thing. Alexander Jones spent several minutes enjoying the simple pleasure of

still being alive.

Then he looked around.

It could almost have been Earth—almost, indeed, his ownNorth America . He stood on a great

prairie whose dun grasses rolled away beneath a high windy sky. A flock of birds, alarmed by his

descent, clamored upward; they were not so very different from the birds he knew. A line of trees

marked the river, a dying puff of steam the final berth of his scoutboat. In the hazy eastern distance he

saw dim blue hills. Beyond those, he knew, were the mountains, and then the enormous dark forests, and

finally the sea near which the Draco lay. A hell of a long ways to travel.

Nevertheless, he was uninjured, and on a planet almost the twin of his own. The air, gravity,

biochemistry, the late-afternoon sun, could only be told from those of home with sensitive instruments.

The rotational period was approximately 24 hours, the sidereal year nearly 12 months, the axial tilt a neat

but not gaudy 11^ degrees. The fact that two small moons were in the sky and a third lurking somewhere

else, that the continental outlines were an alien scrawl, that a snake coiled on a nearby rock had wings,

that he was about 500 light-years from the Solar System—all this was mere detail. The veriest bagatelle.

Alex laughed at it. The noise jarred so loud in this emptiness that he decided a decorous silence was

more appropriate to his status as an officer and, by Act of Parliament as ratified locally by the United

States Senate, a gentleman. Therefore he straightened his high-collared blue naval tunic, ran a nervous

hand down the creases of his white naval trousers, buffed his shining naval boots on the spilled-out naval

parachute, and reached for his emergency kit.

He neglected to comb his rumpled brown hair, and his lanky form did not exactly snap to attention.

But he was, after all, quite alone. Not that he intended to remain in that possibly estimable condition. He

shrugged the heavy packsack off his shoulders. It had been the only thing he grabbed besides the

parachute when his boat failed, and the only thing he really needed. His hands fumbled it open and he

reached in for the small but powerful radio which would bring help.

He drew out a book.

It looked unfamiliar, somehow… had they issued a new set of instructions since he was in boot

camp? He opened it, looking for the section on Radios, Emergency, Use of. He read the first page he

turned to:

"— apparently incredibly fortunate historical development was, of course, quite logical.

The relative decline in politico-economic influence of the Northern Hemisphere during

the later twentieth century, the shift of civilized dominance to a Southeast Asia-Indian

Ocean region with more resources, did not, as alarmists at the time predicted, spell the

end of Western civilization. Rather did it spell an upsurge of Anglo-Saxon demo-cratic

and libertarian influence, for the simple reason that this area, which now held the purse

strings of Earth, was in turn primarily led by Australia and New Zealand, which nations

retained their primordial loyalty to the British Crown. The consequent renascence and

renewed growth of the British Commonwealth of Nations, the shaping of its councils

into a truly work!—even interplanetary—government, climaxed as it was by the

American Accession, has naturally tended to fix Western culture, even in small details of

everyday life, in the mold of that particular time, a tendency which was accentuated by

the unexpectedly early invention of the faster-than-light secondary drive and repeated

contact with truly different mentalities, and has produced in the Solar System a social

stability which our forefathers would have considered positively Utopian and which the

Service, working through the Interbeing League, has as its goal to bring to all sentient

races —"

"Guk!" said Alex.

He snapped the book shut. Its title leered up at him:

EMPLOYEES' ORIENTATION MANUAL

by Adalbert Parr,

Chief Cultural Commissioner

Cultural Development Service

Foreign Ministry of the United Commonwealths League City, N.Z., Sol III

"Oh, no!" said Alex.

Frantically, he pawed through the pack. There must be a radio… a raythrower… a compass… one

little can of beans?

He extracted some 5000 tightly bundled copies of CDS Form J-16-LKR, to be filled out in

quadruplicate by applicant and submitted with attached Forms G776802andW-2-ZGU.

Alex's snub-nosed face sagged open. His blue eyes revolved incredulously. There followed a long,

dreadful moment in which he could only think how utterly useless the English language was when it came

to describing issue-room clerks.

"Oh, hell," said Alexander Jones.

He got up and began to walk.

He woke slowly with the sunrise and lay there for a while wishing he hadn't. A long hike on an empty

stomach followed by an uneasy attempt to sleep on the ground, plus the prospect of several thousand

kilometers of the same, is not conducive to joy. And those animals, whatever they were, that had been

yipping and howling all night sounded so damnably hungry .

"He looks human."

"Yeah. But he ain't dressed like no human."

Alex opened his eyes with a wild surmise. The drawling voices spoke… English!

He closed his eyes again, immediately. "No," he groaned.

"He's awake, Tex." The voices were high-pitched, slightly unreal. Alex curled up into the embryonic

position and reflected on the peculiar horror of a squeaky drawl.

"Yeah. Git up, stranger. These hyar parts ain't healthy right now, nohow."

"No," gibbered Alex. "Tell me it isn't so. Tell me I've gone crazy, but deliver me from its being real!"

"I dunno." The voice was uncertain. "He don't talk like no human."

Alex decided there was no point in wishing them out of existence. They looked harmless, anyway —

to everything except his sanity. He crawled to his feet, his bones seeming to grate against each other, and

faced the natives.

The first expedition, he remembered, had reported two intelligent races, Hokas and Slissü, on this

planet. And these must be Hokas. For small blessings, give praises! There were two of them, almost

identical to the untrained Terrestrial eye: about a meter tall, tubby and golden-furred, with round

blunt-muzzled heads and small black eyes. Except for the stubby-fingered hands, they resembled nothing

so much as giant teddy bears.

The first expedition had, however, said nothing about their speaking English with a drawl. Or about

their wearing the dress of Earth's 19th-century West.

All the American historical stereofilms he had ever seen gabbled in Alex's mind as he assessed their

costumes. They wore—let's see, start at the top and work down and try to keep your reason in the

process—ten-gallon hats with brims wider than their own shoulders, tremendous red bandannas,

checked shirts of riotous hues, Levis, enormously flaring chaps, and high-heeled boots with outsize spurs.

Two sagging cartridge belts on each plump waist supported heavy Colt six-shooters which almost

dragged on the ground.

One of the natives was standing before the Earth-man, the other was mounted nearby, holding the

reins of the first one's—well—his animal. The beasts were about the size of a pony, and had four hoofed

feet… also whiplike tails, long necks with beaked heads, and scaly green hides. But of course, thought

Alex wildly, of course they bore Western saddles with lassos at the horns. Of course. Who ever heard of

a cowboy without a lasso?

"Wa'l, I see yo're awake," said the standing Hoka. "Howdy, stranger, howdy." He extended his hand.

"I'm Tex and my pardner here is Monty."

"Pleased to meet you," mumbled Alex, shaking hands in a dreamlike fashion. "I'm Alexander Jones."

"I dunno," said Monty dubiously. "He ain't named like no human."

"Are yo' human, Alexanderjones?" asked Tex.

The spaceman got a firm grip on himself and said, spacing his words with care: "I am Ensign

Alexander Jones of the Terrestrial Interstellar Survey Service, attached to HMS Draco ." Now it was the

Hokas who looked lost. He added wearily: "In other words, I'm from Earth. I'm human. Satisfied?"

"I's'pose," said Monty, still doubtful. "But we'd better take yo' back to town with us an' let Slick talk

to yo'. He'll know more about it. Cain't take no chances in these hyar times."

"Why not?" said Tex, with a surprising bitterness. "What we got to lose, anyhow? But come on,

Alexanderjones, we'll go on to town. We shore don't want to be found by no Injun war parties."

"Injuns?" asked Alex.

"Shore. They're comin', you know. We'd better sashay along. My pony'U carry double."

Alex was not especially happy at riding a nervous reptile in a saddle built for a Hoka. Fortunately, the

race was sufficiently broad in the beam for their seats to have spare room for a slim Earthman. The

"pony" trotted ahead at a surprisingly fast and steady pace. Reptiles on Toka—so-called by the first

expedition from the word for "earth" in the language of the most advanced Hoka society—seemed to be

more highly evolved than in the Solar System. A fully developed four-chambered heart and a better

nervous system made them almost equivalent to mammals.

Nevertheless, the creature stank.

Alex looked around. The prairie was just as big and, bare, his ship just as far away.

" 'Tain't none o' my business, I reckon," said Tex, "but how'd yo' happen to be hyar?"

"It's a long story," said Alex absent-mindedly. His thoughts at the moment were chiefly about food.

'The Draco was out on Survey, mapping new planetary systems, and our course happened to take us

close to this, star, your sun, which we knew had been visited once before. We thought we'd look in and

check on conditions, as well as resting ourselves on an Earth-type world. I was one of the several who

went out in scoutboats to skim over this continent. Something went wrong, my engines failed and I barely

escaped with my life. I parachuted out, and as bad luck would have it, my boat crashed in a river.

So—well—due to various other circumstances, I just had to start hiking back, toward my ship."

"Won't yore pardners come after yo'?"

"Sure, they'll search—but how likely are they to find a shattered wreck on the bottom of a river, with

half a continent to investigate? I could, perhaps, have grubbed a big SOS in the soil and hoped it would

be seen from the air, but what with the necessity of hunting food and all… well, I figured my best chance

was to keep moving. But now I'm hungry enough to eat a… a buffalo."

"Ain't likely to have buffalo meat in town," said the Hoka imperturbably. "But we got good T-bone

steaks."

"Oh," said Alex.

'To' wouldn't'a lasted long, hoofin' it," said Monty. "Ain't got no gun."

"No, thanks to—Never mind!" said Alex. "I thought I'd try to make a bow and some arrows."

"Bow an' arrers—Say!" Monty squinted suspiciously at him. "What yo' been doin' around the Injuns?"

"I ain't—1 haven't been near any Injuns, dammit!"

"Bows an' arrers in Injun weapons, stranger."

"I wish they was," mourned Tex. "We didn't have no trouble back when only Hokas had six-guns. But

now the Injuns got 'em too, it's all up with us." A tear trickled down his button nose.

If the cowboys are teddy bears , thought Alex, then who — or what — are the Indians ?

"It's lucky for yo' me an' Tex happened to pass by," said Monty. "We was out to see if we couldn't

round up a few more steers afore the Injuns get here. No such luck, though. The greenskins done rustled

'em all."

Greenskins! Alex remembered a detail in the report of the first expedition: two intelligent races, the

mammalian Hokas and the reptilian Slissü. And the Slissü, being stronger and more warlike, preyed on

the Hokas—

"Are the Injuns Slissü?" he asked.

"Wai, they're ornery, at least," said Monty.

"I mean… well… are they big tall beings, bigger than I am, but walking sort of stooped over… tails

and fangs and green skins, and their talk is full of hissing noises?"

"Why, shore. What else?" Monty shook his head, puzzled. "If yo're a human, how come yo' don't

even know what a Injun is?"

They had been plop-plopping toward a large and noisy dust cloud. As they neared, Alex saw the

cause, a giant herd of—uh—

"Longhorn steers," explained Monty.

Well… yes… one long horn apiece, on the snout. But at least the red-haired, short-legged,

barrel-bodied "cattle" were mammals. Alex made out brands on the flanks of some. The entire herd was

being urged along by fast-riding Hoka cowboys.

"That's the X Bar X outfit," said Tex. "The Lone Rider decided to try an' drive 'em ahead o' the

Injuns. But I'm afeered the greenskins'll catch up with him purty soon."

"He cain't do much else," answered Monty. "All the ranchers, just about, are drivin' their stock off the

range. There just ain't any place short o' the Devil's Nose whar we can make a stand. I shore don't intend

tryin' to stay in town an' hold off the Injuns, an' I don't think nobody else does either, in spite o' Slick an'

the Lone Rider wantin' us to."

"Hey," objected Alex, "I thought you said the, er, Lone Rider was fleeing. Now you say he wants to

fight. Which is it?'

"Oh, the Lone Rider what owns the X Bar X is runnin', but the Lone Rider o' the Lazy T wants to

stay. So do the Lone Rider o' Buffalo Stomp, the Really Lone Rider, an' the Loneliest Rider, but I'll bet

they changes their minds when the Injuns gets as close to them as the varmints is to us right now."

Anderson, Poul - Hoka 1 - Hoka! Hoka! Hoka! - with Gordon R Dickson.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: