Aboriginal Science Fiction, Issues 57–58 — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“What knowledge?” Flannery asked, still sweating hard, though the pain had lessened now to a dull throbbing that had passed up his arm and begun to spread through his shoulder and down into his chest. ‘enema “Human knowledge. Human ‘yi needs. Without this they’re y -<. useless. It’s the difference > ; between wolves and a well- y) ) ent. With one, they had trained dog. Though they’re Ve ~ Mame eto be sorted out. And more useful than _ dogs. i) B . A ll stopped.” Immeasurably more useful, in f | vi | Flannery — glanced fact.” MacIntyre seemed to be YS ~ Be ) through the speeding dried you up, perhaps in one, two, or three years from now.” “You knew what they were up to?” “Suspected, that’s all. We weren’t sure if they'd found a survivor or not. Without that they were harm- less. If they’d found one .. well, that was differ- Pp « enjoying himself. . . @ road-taxi’s window as “But why me?” Flannery S ‘EZ = they approached the asked. > spaceport perimeter fence. “How else could we get someone out here? — : “Was it because of what was need- It took me months to find someone who’d ll . ed to train them that the Droid Corporations were against Help-plants?” he asked. The rep laughed. “Morality stop business? You're a _ trader yourself. Would morality stop you?” take the bait. An’ you were it.” MacIntyre laughed. “It’s just a pity you'll be in no kind o’ shape to take a share in our profits when the job’s been done an’ we can start marketin’ our domesticated Help-plants. But if it were a é Cf 4 5 possible to do what you're doin’ now an’ survive, “Then why?” I'd’ve done it myself ages ago.” “Who’d buy them? Who would buy them, Mr. Flannery slumped to his knees as the throbbing O’Casey, if they knew what their young — their spread through him. buds — were capable of? They all breed eventually. “You bastard,” he muttered, but his voice was And, however much you might try to prevent acci- weak. Already his vision was beginning to blur as dents, they would still happen. Then hell would let the warmth rose up into his neck. Fullgor released loose. No, were happy enough making droids. his hand to pluck off another of the “warts.” He They’re safe. Tried and tested. Help-plants? They’re started to raise it towards Flannery’s face when only good for the likes of MacIntyre and Fullgor. there was a sudden, high-pitched hiss, deafeningly Cowboys! Bums! Con men! And fools!” loud. Fullgor’s mouth belched open with a roar of Flannery knew he was right. pain as his hand burst in a vile explosion of rubbery Or almost. flesh, blood, and bones. MacIntyre tried to sprint for Because, deep as the surgery had been to remove his cruiser, but another shot cut his legs from the last vestige of the Help-plant’s bud from his sys- beneath him, laying him out flat in a pool of blood. tem, the doctors could not remove — or even be Flannery sobbed, bewildered. Already he was aware of — something hidden within his mind. beginning to faint, as the ground rose dark and soft Something that had reached, in those hours when towards him, blurring his sight of the men closing he slumped into unconsciousness, far inside him in, sniper rifles clutched to their chests. and spoken with his mind. It was there with him now, whispering. Whispering about others of its t was several months before Flannery was race, hidden far from sight within the trackless jun- [ wesec from hospital, the scar still glisten- gle. Others who wanted, one day, to spread once ing on his hand where the Help-plant had more. been surgically removed, its tendrils painfully With his help. extracted, section by section. Flannery flexed his Flannery thanked the rep as he set off towards hand, remembering the agony he had gone through. his waiting ship, fully fuelled and ready to set off An Interplanetary Robotics rep, standing in on into space. The little voice, nestled within his behalf of the Droid Corporations, saw him off. thoughts, told him he would return. One day. “A thousand talents have been deposited in a Because Help-plants weren’t always just slaves. Barachan Bank in your name,” he told Flannery on Or victims. their way to the spaceport. “You're a lucky bastard. Sometimes, he knew, they were wolves. = We could have left you. Or killed you, like we did a others. Just remember that. - we hadn’t been Visit our Web Site at: eeping watch on MacIntyre you'd have ended up appa budding Help-plants for them till the little buggers www.aboriginalsf.com Help-Plants Aboriginal Science Fiction — Summer 1998 conmiclooo KS, Conn