The Scarlet Hexapod

If – September 1959

(1959) *

Margaret St. Clair

Of course they were batty … wouldn’t you be if you were right all the time?

-

“HE CERTAINLY is a cute animal,” Mrs. Norris said, looking do w n at Jef f , w ho had tied himself into a close lover’s knot around her left ankle. “That color’s beautiful. But what is he, anyway? I thought he was some sort of dog when he came squirming under the gate to say hello, but I never saw a dog w ith six legs.”

“He’s a Darkside hexapod,” Bixi Clovis replied. “Maybe you’ve read about them hexies have had a good deal of publicity lately.”

“A hexapod ? … Yes, I re member seeing a voca -piece in the last issue of Vue about them. But I thought they w ere always violet or plum col or.”

“Usually they are. But Sonsy’s last litter had two that were that sort of sunset color, like Jeff, and one that was jet black all over except for her toenails and the irises of her eyes. They were a sort of king fisher blue.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“Oh, she was. Everyone that saw her wanted her.”

“You raise them to sell?” Mrs. Norris asked. Jeff had come loose from her ankle and was lying on the garden path in front of her, all six feet raised in adoration, while h is bushy, flame-colored tail thumped rhythmically on the plastic stepping stones.

“Well, yes and no,” Bixi an swered. “In the first place, all that stuff about how they have litters as soon as they get some borax to eat is nonsense. They are crazy about b orax, of course, but they have litters when they feel like it, and not before. The litter Jeff w as born in is the first one Sonsy’s had in six years. And in the second place, you can’t sell a hexapod unless he wants to be sold. If he doesn’t like the per son you sell him to, he’ll come right home again. Hexies have a better sense of direction than carrier pigeons, and they won’t compromise —either it’s love at first sight or it’s no sale.”

“The voca -piece said they were highly intelligent.” Mrs. Norris was rubbing Jeff be tween his ears; his eyes were nearly shut, and he was mak ing a noise that was a cross between a gurgle and a coo.

“Oh, they are. Really, they are uncanny. They won’t learn tricks or anything like that if you try to teach them, they just look at you and thump their tails. But they seem to understand everything you say, and Bill, my husband, says that Sonsy’s always doing things he only thought about her doing. The other day he couldn’t find a blank for the dictatype , and she picked one up in her mouth and brought it over to him.”

-

JEFF had climbed into Mrs . Norris’ arms somehow and w as licking her ear apprecia tively. He looked startling and improbable against the back ground of her w hite dress and silvery hair.

“You know,” she said, “I feel like I’ve just got to have this little fellow. I’ve been wa nting a pet for some time, but Evan —he’s my nephew —says it would be too much trouble, traveling around the way w e do. He likes to be al w ays on the go. But I just kno w Jeff w on’t be any trou ble; he’s so cute and sweet. Ho w much is he, anyway?”

Bixi told he r, feeling a little apologetic.

“Oh,” Mrs. Norris said. “Well, I guess I can afford it. I won’t tell Evan, though. He —well, I w on’t tell him.”

The big zircoridiums on her hand glittered brilliantly as she put her thumbprint on the voucher. The papers were made out, the transaction w as complete. Jeff licked Bixi po litely on the nose in farewell, and trotted sedately after his ne w boss.

The next morning, while Bixi and her husband were at breakfast, there w as a scratch ing at the door. “It’s Jeff,” Bixi reported when she ca m e back. “He looks as if he has something on what passes for his mind. Do you suppose something’s w rong?”

Jeff trotted into the center of the room, fixed his eyes on the Clovises , and began to howl.

“What’s the matter, old fellow?” Bill asked, holding out a piece of w host to w ard the hexapod.

Jeff sniffed briefly at the whost , w agged his tail t w ic e, and then began ho w ling more loudly than ever.

“I’m going to call the hotel,” Bixi said above the din. “This is very funny. I’d have said Mrs. Norris w as crazy about him and he about her.”

Bill nodded.

“The clerk says the Nor rises left for Bagdad by stratoliner this morning,” Bixi Clovis reported after a sessio n on the video.

“Bagdad?”

“Mm-hmm. And when I asked him if they had a hexa pod with them, he said, ‘What is a hexapod?’ So where’s Jeff?”

“He went out of the room while you were talking. Prob ably went back to the hotel to look for Mrs. Norris. Don’t w orry about him; he’s got more sense about traffic than most human beings.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous about hi m. But w hat’s going on? I wonder —”

Bill left to go to wo rk, and Bixi went on wondering. Late that after n oon the clerk at the stratoport called on the video.

“Say, is this your hexa pod ?” he asked, holding up the struggling, scarlet form of Jef f for her to see.

“… Why, yes.”

“Well, you better come do w n and get him, It’s a good thing I remembered you peo ple breed hexapods. He’s been trying to get on stratoliners all afternoon. Tw ice they stopped him at the gang plank, and once he got into the cabin before he was caught.”

“Were the liners for Bag dad?” Bixi asked, feeling a thrill of superstitious awe that w as almost fear .

”’Why, no, they were en route for South America, for Valparaiso. I don’t know how he happened to pick three headed for the same place.”

“Valparaiso. O.K., I’ll come down and get h im.”

-

“YOU’RE sure it isn’t dan gerous, Evan ?” Mrs. Norris asked. “I must confess the idea rather frightens me.”

“Oh, not in the least, Aunt Emily,” her lanky nephew said. “I wouldn’t want you to try it if I thought it might be dang erous. But I know you’ll enjoy it. First the long ski run —”

“Do you think I can manage skis at my age, Evan?” Mrs. Norris asked a little doubt fully.

“Oh, they’re motor-driven. No trick to it at all. First the long ski run and then, just at the top, when you’re al mo st two kilometers up, the anti -grav comes on automatically, and you go floating slo w ly down. The harbor’s in front of you and the mountai ns be hind; I read the other day that that view of Valparaiso is one of the seven wonders of the modern world. You wouldn’t want to miss a thrill like that, would you, Auntie?”

“No, I guess not,” Mrs. Norris agreed. Her face gre w wistful. “You haven’t had any answer to your grams to Mrs. Clovis yet, have you?”

“No, not a word.”

“I can’t understand it. She seemed so conscientious and reliable. What do you suppose happened to the little fello w? So metimes I think w e ought to go back to Oakland and hunt for him.”

“Oh, nonsense. It’s a racket, that’s all. She has him trained to come back from wherever she sells hi m , so she can sell him over and over again. You are lucky to get out of it with out mo re trouble, Aunt Emily , dealing with people like that … You’d better get your things on, dear, before it’s too late to ma k e the ski jump today.”

-

“IT IS beautiful, Evan,” Mrs. Norris said, looking at the prospect before her. She g ave her nephew’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m glad you made me come. Have I got my feet in the skis right?”

Evan knelt in the snow and looked at the fastenings. “Ex actly right,” he reported. “I’ll be just behind you, Auntie, and remember, don’t lean too fa r out at the turns.” He walked over to the anti-gray mechanism.

“I won’t, dear. What’s that man yelling about?”

“Senor! Senor!” The fat little man w ho had taken their admission fees at the barrier w as running up the snowy slope to w ard them, puffing an d stumbling over his feet. “Cui dado ! Muy peligroso ! No toques la maquina ! Cuidado !”

“Probably wants more mon ey,” Evan said, turning negli gently to face him. Mrs. Nor ris’ skis began to move. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You were right, Evan,” Emily Norri s said when she and her nephew were down by the copter again. “It is one of the wonders of the world. The Terrestrial Chamber of Com merce isn’t exaggerating when it says there’re things on Ter ra that none of the other plan ets can match. It was a little scary when I got to the top of the incline, because I thought, What if the anti—grav doesn’t go on? I’d have been smashed into a dozen pieces. But I went floating down like a feather. But where were you? I waited quite a while before I thought of looking for you here. Did you decide not to make the jump? You really missed something.”

“Got into a row with that damned ticket taker,” Evan said a little thickly. His face was pale. “Jabber, jabber couldn’t make out what he wanted. Upset me —no use making that jump then. It was spoiled.” He cleared his throat. “Aunt Emily, how would you like to go to Chi na next? I know how nervous you are about getting off of Terra, and we haven’t been to China for several years.”

“To China?” Her face was doubtful. “Why, Evan, we on ly just got here. Wouldn’t you like to stay a little while be fore we start traveling again? It’s so beautiful here.”

“Yes, I know, Auntie, but you know how easily I get bored. I’m afraid that’s just the way I am. Restless. Impa tient.” He was chewing at his lower lip.

“... Well, all right, dear. Anything you say.”

-

BILL CLOVIS stuck out his jaw. “I will not take a stratoliner to Asia!” he said defiantly. “What’s the matter with you, Bixi? Are you and that blasted animal both crazy? I had to draw a big hunk out of our savings ac count to get the tickets to Val par aiso when Jeff acted up, and now one of you has de cided, before we even get there, that we’ve got to go to Asia instead. Asia! And we’re only to Mexico City! God only knows if I can get a refund on the tickets.”

“Ssh !” Bixi said warningly. “People can h ear you all over the waiting room.” Jeff put his front feet up on her knees and looked at her pleadingly; he had been shivering ever since they got into the Ciudad Mexico stratoport . His bushy tail was lusterless and limp. “‘Can’t you see Jeff knows somethi ng? He didn’t keep pulling us over to the Chi nese stratoliners for nothing. He’s nearly worried to death. It’s serious. You know how hexies are.”

“Yeah, I know how they are. Crazy. He’s had too much borax, that’s all. Don’t you re alize I can’t possibly get back to work on Monday if we go to China? This is Saturday! And Darnell is out for my scalp anyhow. I’ve had enough of this idiotic wild-goose chase.”

“But darling —”

“Jeff’s imagining the whole thing! We’re going home!”

-

“BUT I FEEL so weak,” Mrs. Nor ris said pleadingly. “I ought to be over the food poi soning by now, oughtn’t I, Evan dear? Surely it wouldn’t hurt me to have a little more to eat. I feel so hungry and fa int all the time, and I never g et anything except broth.”

Eva n Norris shook his head. “Now, Auntie, the doctor knows what’s good for you. You don’t realize that you’ve been very ill. If you overload your stomach, you might have a relapse.”

Mrs. Norris sighed. “I don’t like the nurse, either,” she said.

“Why not? Isn’t she com petent?”

“Oh, I guess so, but-she isn’t respectful, and she’s so rough when she gives me my bath. And yesterday I heard her muttering something un der her breath when I asked her for my somni -spray.”

“Aunt Emily, you mustn’t go im agining things.”

“I do try, but ... Evan, couldn’t I have an English doc tor? I’m sure Dr. Chung does not understand me when I tell him about my symptoms, and I know I don’t understand anything he says. I always feel worse after I take my medi cine; it i sn’t doing me any good.”

“Now, Auntie,” Evan said with a touch of severity, “you mustn’t talk like that about Dr. Chung. He’s the best phy sician in Canton.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Norris said. Tears came into her eyes; she cried so easil y nowa days. “I wish I had that little hexapod I bought. What was his name? Jeff. I wish I had Jeff.”

“Don’t think about it, Auntie,” Evan advised. “It isn’t good for you. After lunch there are a few papers I want you to sign and thumb for me.”

“I thought I did everything like that in Valparaiso. Oh, Evan, I just don’t feel equal to business now.”

“All you have to do is print your thumb a couple of times. That’s all I want you to do.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Norris said again. Weakly she turned her he ad toward the wall. It annoyed Evan to see her cry. “Oh, dear.”

-

“I KNEW you’d come, Bill!”

Bixi said. Her face was radiant. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She gave her husband a vigorous hug.

“After I got your gram, what else could I do? Couldn’t have you getting into a lot of trouble by yourself,” he an swered with a hint of grim ness. “Everything’s fixed; I got leave from the office, and the hexies at home are fine. Listen, are they still her e?”

“The Norrises ? Sure. They are three doors down, on the same balcony that this room is.” Bixi’s face grew sober. “She’s sick in bed, Bill,” she said with a rush. “I pretended to be an agent of China Tour ist interviewing visitors. Her nephew talke d to me at the door. I looked over his shoul der and saw her. She’s so thin, and her face is a funny color, almost green. They have a Chinese doctor and a dizzy blonde nurse with the tallest stilt heels I ever saw, and her uniform fits her so tight it’s a wonder she can breathe w ith out an oxygen mask. I’m sure Mrs. Norris isn’t sick. You’d know what I mean if you saw her nephew and that nurse.”

Bill rubbed his jaw thought fully. “How’s Jeff taking it?”

“He spends most of the time on the balcony outsid e their room, listening. I was afraid he’d try to jump in through the window (this hotel is a dump —windows with glass in them), but he stays out of sight and listens. But , ,, w hat are we going to do? Even if something is wrong, Evan is her nephew, and we’r e not even friends of hers. If w e try to start anything, he’ll just take her somewhere else and what are we going to do ?”

There was a long, thought ful pause. “I guess we’ll have to leave it to Jeff,” Bill Clovis said at last.

-

“THANK YOU, Aunt Emily,” Evan Norris said. He folded the documents his aunt had just thumbed and signed, and put them neatly away in a dispatch case. “It’s almost six teen,” he said, looking at his informeter . “Mab —the nurse —”is still off duty. What do you say w e have tea togeth er, Auntie dear?”

“You’re sure it w on’t upset me?” Mrs. Norris said feebly from the bed. “Yesterday the tea made me feel a little sick.”

“It was only your imagina tion. A nice cup of tea will do you good.” He rang the serv ice bell.

“Couldn’t I have one of .tho s e little crumpets?” Mrs. Norris asked when the tea had been brought. “They smell so good.”

“Better not, Auntie,” Evan advised, beginning to pour out the tea. “It might make—good God, what’s that noise?”

An appalling racke t had begun at the window, a scratching, grinding, clashing, rattling noise, like a fight be t w een a Martian vrys and a dhobi in an electrical storm.

Evan w ent over to the win do w and looked out. “Nothing there or on the balcony, as far as I could see, ” he reported w hen he came back to the tea table. “Can’t imagine what caused it. I’ll complain to the management if it happens again.”

“It is refreshing ,” Mrs. Norris declared after a pause, during w hich she had been sipping from her cup. “Not at all l ike w hat I had yesterday. Don’t you think it’s better, Evan? Why, Evan, w hat’s the matter? Evan! Are you ill ?”

Evan did not ans w er. He had slumped back against the side of his chair. His face w as a dull red and his breathing rasp ing and slo w . As Mrs. Norris w atched, the thin por celain teacup slipped from his fingers a n d fell to the floor.

Jeff j umped through the open w indo w . He paused to lick Mrs. Norris quickly on her astonished nose, and then took his stand in front of her unconscious nephe w . He be gan to bar k. Jeff had a deep chest, even for a hexapod. He w as a really notable barker when he chose. They heard him all over the hotel: -

“HE SAVED my life,” Mrs. Norris said. Jeff, who w as lying curled elaborately around her ankles, thumped the eutex languidly with his tail. He had the air of a hexa pod w hose troubles are over.

“If I’d drunk the tea Evan had fixed for me, as weak as I was … It w as supposed to finish me off, you see, make it look like a natural death … But this little fello w made all that racket at the window just at the right time, and Evan got mixed up and drank it himself. I couldn’t understan d w hat had happened at first; I thought he’d had some sort of fit. I never w as so glad to see anybody in my life, Mrs. Clovis, as I w as w hen you came to the windo w , after Jeff began to bark, and asked me if your hexapod w as annoying me. It w as like w aking up from a dreadful dream. Are you sure five thousand will be enough to build the ne w hexa pod kennel, Mrs. Clovis? I’d be glad to give you more; I feel that I o w e you people a great, great deal.”

“Skip it,” Bixi said hastil y. “Jeff deserves all the credit. Where is Evan now?”

“The cou rt sentenced him to be rehabilitated.” Mrs. Norris sighed. “I hope the treatment does him good. It’s hard for me to believe; his mother w as my husband’s favorite sister. But no w that I look back on it, I realize that at Valparaiso, too, he w as trying … He meant to da m age the anti -grav m echanis m on the ski -jump there, so I’d fall. He said at the trial that the nurse (she w asn’t a nurse at all, really) suggested it, but that Dr. Chung d idn’t kno w what was going on. Evan never gave me any of the medicine the doctor left —what I had was drugs he and that nurse got-and they lied to the doctor about my treatment … Anyhow, I sti ll have Jeff. When I get a little stronger, I’m going shopping for the finest collar for him I can find. He’s a wonderful, wonderful ani m al, Mrs. Clovis.”

“Yes,” Bill Clovis ans w ered, s mil ing at Bixi, “it all goes to sho w the truth of the old say ing Bixi is al w ays quoting at me: ‘If a hexapod bites a man, put the man in jail.’ Hexapods are always right.”

The End

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The Scarlet Hexapod