Store of the Worlds: The Stories of Robert Sheckley by Robert Sheckley Page B
Authors: Robert Sheckley
Tags: Science-Fiction
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told himself, and rushed on.
At the end of the corridor was a gigantic bolted door. Pid stared at it.
Footsteps hammered down the corridor, and Men were shouting.
What was wrong? How had they detected him? Quickly he examined himself, and ran his fingers across his face.
He had forgotten to mold any features.
In despair he pulled at the door. He took the tiny Displacer out of his pouch, but the pulse beat wasnât quite strong enough. He had to get closer to the reactor.
He studied the door. There was a tiny crack running under it. Pid went quickly Shapeless and flowed under, barely squeezing the Displacer through.
Inside the room he found another bolt on the inside of the door. He jammed it into place, and looked around for something to prop against the door.
It was a tiny room. On one side was a lead door, leading toward the reactor. There was a small window on another side, and that was all.
Pid looked at the Displacer. The pulse beat was right. At last he was close enough. Here the Displacer could work, drawing and altering the energy from the reactor. All he had to do was activate it.
But they had all deserted, every one of them.
Pid hesitated. All Glom are born Shapeless . That was true. Glom children were amorphous, until old enough to be instructed in the caste-shape of their ancestors. But Freedom of Shape?
Pid considered the possibilities. To be able to take on any shape he wanted, without interference! On this paradise planet he could fulfill any ambition, become anything, do anything.
Nor would he be lonely. There were other Glom here as well, enjoying the benefits of Freedom of Shape.
The Men were beginning to break down the door. Pid was still uncertain.
What should he do? Freedom ...
But not for him, he thought bitterly. It was easy enough to be a Hunter or a Thinker. But he was a Pilot. Piloting was his life and love. How could he do that here?
Of course, the Men had ships. He could turn into a Man, find a ship ...
Never. Easy enough to become a Tree or a Dog. He could never pass successfully as a Man.
The door was beginning to splinter from repeated blows.
Pid walked to the window to take a last look at the planet before activating the Displacer.
He lookedâand almost collapsed from shock.
It was really true! He hadnât fully understood what Ger had meant when he said that there were species on this planet to satisfy every need. Every need! Even his!
Here he could satisfy a longing of the Pilot Caste that went even deeper than Piloting.
He looked again, then smashed the Displacer to the floor. The door burst open, and in the same instant he flung himself through the window.
The Men raced to the window and stared out. But they were unable to understand what they saw.
There was only a great white bird out there, flapping awkwardly but with increasing strength, trying to overtake a flight of birds in the distance.
SPECIALIST
T HE PHOTON storm struck without warning, pouncing upon the Ship from behind a bank of giant red stars. Eye barely had time to flash a last-second warning through Talker before it was upon them.
It was Talkerâs third journey into deep space, and his first light-pressure storm. He felt a sudden pang of fear as the Ship yawed violently, caught the force of the wavefront, and careened end for end. Then the fear was gone, replaced by a strong pulse of excitement.
Why should he be afraid, he asked himselfâhadnât he been trained for just this sort of emergency?
He had been talking to Feeder when the storm hit, but he cut off the conversation abruptly. He hoped Feeder would be all right. It was the youngsterâs first deep-space trip.
The wirelike filaments that made up most of Talkerâs body were extended throughout the Ship. Quickly he withdrew all except the ones linking him to Eye, Engine, and the Walls. This was strictly their job now. The rest of the Crew would have to shift for themselves until the storm was over.
Eye had
At the end of the corridor was a gigantic bolted door. Pid stared at it.
Footsteps hammered down the corridor, and Men were shouting.
What was wrong? How had they detected him? Quickly he examined himself, and ran his fingers across his face.
He had forgotten to mold any features.
In despair he pulled at the door. He took the tiny Displacer out of his pouch, but the pulse beat wasnât quite strong enough. He had to get closer to the reactor.
He studied the door. There was a tiny crack running under it. Pid went quickly Shapeless and flowed under, barely squeezing the Displacer through.
Inside the room he found another bolt on the inside of the door. He jammed it into place, and looked around for something to prop against the door.
It was a tiny room. On one side was a lead door, leading toward the reactor. There was a small window on another side, and that was all.
Pid looked at the Displacer. The pulse beat was right. At last he was close enough. Here the Displacer could work, drawing and altering the energy from the reactor. All he had to do was activate it.
But they had all deserted, every one of them.
Pid hesitated. All Glom are born Shapeless . That was true. Glom children were amorphous, until old enough to be instructed in the caste-shape of their ancestors. But Freedom of Shape?
Pid considered the possibilities. To be able to take on any shape he wanted, without interference! On this paradise planet he could fulfill any ambition, become anything, do anything.
Nor would he be lonely. There were other Glom here as well, enjoying the benefits of Freedom of Shape.
The Men were beginning to break down the door. Pid was still uncertain.
What should he do? Freedom ...
But not for him, he thought bitterly. It was easy enough to be a Hunter or a Thinker. But he was a Pilot. Piloting was his life and love. How could he do that here?
Of course, the Men had ships. He could turn into a Man, find a ship ...
Never. Easy enough to become a Tree or a Dog. He could never pass successfully as a Man.
The door was beginning to splinter from repeated blows.
Pid walked to the window to take a last look at the planet before activating the Displacer.
He lookedâand almost collapsed from shock.
It was really true! He hadnât fully understood what Ger had meant when he said that there were species on this planet to satisfy every need. Every need! Even his!
Here he could satisfy a longing of the Pilot Caste that went even deeper than Piloting.
He looked again, then smashed the Displacer to the floor. The door burst open, and in the same instant he flung himself through the window.
The Men raced to the window and stared out. But they were unable to understand what they saw.
There was only a great white bird out there, flapping awkwardly but with increasing strength, trying to overtake a flight of birds in the distance.
SPECIALIST
T HE PHOTON storm struck without warning, pouncing upon the Ship from behind a bank of giant red stars. Eye barely had time to flash a last-second warning through Talker before it was upon them.
It was Talkerâs third journey into deep space, and his first light-pressure storm. He felt a sudden pang of fear as the Ship yawed violently, caught the force of the wavefront, and careened end for end. Then the fear was gone, replaced by a strong pulse of excitement.
Why should he be afraid, he asked himselfâhadnât he been trained for just this sort of emergency?
He had been talking to Feeder when the storm hit, but he cut off the conversation abruptly. He hoped Feeder would be all right. It was the youngsterâs first deep-space trip.
The wirelike filaments that made up most of Talkerâs body were extended throughout the Ship. Quickly he withdrew all except the ones linking him to Eye, Engine, and the Walls. This was strictly their job now. The rest of the Crew would have to shift for themselves until the storm was over.
Eye had
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