Countdown for blast off. X minus five, four, three, two, X minus one, fire.
From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions
in time and space. These are stories of the future, adventures in which you'll
live in a million could-be years on a thousand maybe worlds. The National
Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of
astounding science fiction presents X minus one.
Tonight's story, courtesy. This is the story of the second expedition to the
planet of Landor. I'm recording it for any future expeditions which might land
on this God-forsaken sphere and the hope that they may learn from our tragic
example. As I write, there are two of us left. Two out of an original complement
of 180 men. One of us, myself, will be dead in less than 23 minutes. As for the
other, even have mercy on him. I do not know.
On June 3rd, 1997, less than two months ago, the last of our supply ships
blasted off from Landor for their return to Earth. After it had gone, I remember
looking out across the plain at the dead city. One of thousands had dotted this
planet. It had tall graceful buildings, atomic power systems, vacuum conveyors, all
perfect, all deserted, all ominous. How had it happened? The best guess was that
the plague had frightened the original inhabitants of the planet so that they'd
piled into rocket ships and headed for some distant planet. I often wondered why
a civilization so advanced as Landor could not find a serum to beat the plague.
It had taken out Earth doctors less than six months to develop an immunization
method. Well, maybe those Aborigines back in the hills knew the answer. That strange,
ugly little people who had taken to the caves the day we landed. I was thinking
these things when something happened that gave me the shock of my life.
Good evening, Captain. Oh, what brings you here, Doctor? It's the matter of the serum,
sir. Oh, what about the serum? It's no good. No good? It's too old. Ten years too
old. Didn't you examine it? Yes, I did, but well, my eyesight has been failing
lately. Are you aware, Doctor, that the last
supply ship has returned to Earth? Do you know we'll have no more contact for two
years? I... Just, how long do you give us? Well, the present immunity will last a
week or so. Then, without booster shots, it's just a question of time until
someone picks up the plague. After that... What about the natives? They don't die
from the plague? The accepted theory is that they have developed an immunity.
Well, suppose they haven't developed an immunity, Doctor. Suppose they get the
disease. Then they must have a treatment for it. If they don't, there would be no
natives. Would you be willing to go on an expedition to the hills to find out? At
this point, Captain, I'd be willing to do anything, absolutely anything. I... I am
truly sorry. You're sorry? Doctor Morgan, sometime when you aren't too busy, when
you have a moment, I'd hate to inconvenience you. Would you mind telling
me how it feels to murder a hundred and eighty men? A hundred and eighty-one,
including yourself. I did a lot of thinking after Doctor Morgan left my
hut. It was still unreal for me. After all, the planning of an expedition was no
simple thing. You put into it the result of years of training and experience, years
of study at the Academy, years of learning how to handle men and natives.
Every man on my crew was hand-picked for his skill, and yet a simple thing like a
myopic surgeon misreading a label could blast the whole thing. Yes, it was a
shame, and I did the only thing I could think of. I yelled for bat ears Brady.
Brady! Get your carcass in here. Take the lead off. Okay, okay.
What's up? Sit down, bat ears. You got trouble, Kev? We got trouble. What? The
serum's no good. What? Morgan forgot to check it. It's ten years too old. Holy
jumping snails, you're gonna court-martial that? It wouldn't do much good. We'll all be
dead pretty soon unless somebody figures something out. Well, what are you gonna do, Kev?
Well, there's only one chance. One chance in ten million. What? The natives. Them
cave rats, what good can they do us? They don't get the plague, so maybe they know
a cure. Okay, let's get a few of them and beat it out of them. That's why you're
here. Shoot. How'd you like to come along on a little expedition up to the cave
country? You, me, the doctor, and Faulkner. Faulkner? Now listen, Cap, he's worse than
the doctor. Yes, but he knows more about the native culture than anybody here. He's
the only one who's completely familiar with the records of the first expedition.
Okay, so it's me, you, the doc, and Faulkner. When do we start? Tonight in half an
hour. We should reach the cave country by tomorrow. With luck, we'll be able to find
natives before night.
Benny Faulkner was the expedition anthropologist, one of the most
unfortunate-looking individuals I've ever met. An ugly man with large ears and a
big nose. His body was small and consumptive, but he had a good brain. He was the best
anthropologist the Interplanet Institute could recommend. He and Dr. Morgan were
the only two civilians on the expedition. We set out, and after several hours, hard
walking. Cap. Now what is it? Don't look now, but very slowly turn your eyes to the
right and look behind that big yellow rock. Okay. You see anything? No. Keep
looking. Don't stop walking. Okay. There. Yes, it looked like a shadow or something.
It's one of them gimpos. He's been following us now for almost an hour,
dodging in and out behind the rocks. Shall I bring him in? No, not yet. Just pretend
you don't see him. Tell the others if they notice to show no fear, as nothing
will start these simple-minded cavemen like fear. The manual said, under no
circumstances shall a member of the patrol display fear before a native. The
dignity of the Earthman must be preserved at all costs. Just before dawn,
we reached the cave country. We were tired and hungry, and we stopped to cook
some food and rest. Everything was quiet. There was no sign of the gimpo which had
been trailing us until... Okay, get in there, you sneaky little knocky man. Come on, come on, before I break this shovel on your stone.
What's the trouble? Cap, I caught me one of these gimpos sneaking around outside
the tent. Bring him in the light of the fire. We can get a look at him. Faulkner. Yes,
sir. Keep an eye on him. Try to establish some communication. All right. Look out. No
need to knock him down, Batty. Oh, that's the only language they understand. See if
you can reach him, Faulkner. Okay, Captain. I'll need a drummer of some sort. A what?
Well, they have no language as we know it, and they have a very rudimentary sense
of hearing. I find they communicate with one another through a very primitive
kind of vibration of the tongue. The closest I can come is a series of drum
beats, a sort of Morse code. The psychologist on the first expedition, had
it worked out before he was killed by the plague. I've studied his notes, and I
think it'll work. You mean these little critters can talk to one another? I
believe they can. At any rate, we'll have a chance to find out. Do we have
something I can use for a drum? Here. Take my water bottle. Thank you, doctor. Now,
I'll tap it three times. That's a greeting of some sort. Just a moment. Yes,
sir. I don't want you treating this fellow like an equal. Don't give him the
idea that we're desperate. Once they sense that, you're lost. I have to
communicate with him, sir. Well, just bear in mind what I said. Dignity. Yes, sir.
I'll do my best, sir. It was a strange sight. On one side of the water bottle
crouched little Benny Faulkner, looking for all the world like a human spider.
Across from him, crouched the Landrian, a humpbacked gray little creature with an
enormous head and those huge soft lavender eyes. Every few moments, one would
stop the strange tattoo of communication and the other would take it up. I'm
setting forth in this narrative the most vital part of their conversation, as
Benny Faulkner later transcribed it from the best of his memory. Benny asked, why
were your cities abandoned? Was it the plague? The native said yes. Benny said,
do you still fear the plague? The native answered yes. Do any of your people
become afflicted? The answer was some. How do you treat them? Silence. How can we
find a cure for the plague? More silence. Then the native said, go among my people.
Benny asked, will we find the answer among your people? The native replied, my
people have the answer. Benny said, will you tell me the answer? The native
repeated, go among my people. As far as the Landrian was concerned, the
conversation was ended. He rose to go and Faulkner stepped from his path, but Brady
was there to ensure the better. Hold on there, Bucko. You ain't going no place.
Don't maltreat him, Brady. What did he say, Benny? He says his people have the
answer. What do you think? There may be some truth in it. He says some of his
people still get the plague. That must mean it isn't a question of immunity.
They must have a cure. Well, he wasn't clear on that. Then they must have a
vaccine to keep it from spreading. Does he know? His answer is for us to go among
his people. Well, that leaves it up to us. The first level of caves is on top of
that cliff about a mile ahead. It's a trap. I'll bet my last dollar on it. Well,
maybe not. We'll have to risk it. Wait. Well, let me go. I got you all into this.
But how will you talk? Benny here can give me enough of the code so I can ask
the big question. You understand that they might just decide to cut your
throat? I'm fully aware of the risk. All right, doctor. You go ahead. We'll wait at
the foot of the cliff. If you aren't back down in three hours, we'll come up after
you. What about the gimpo here? We'll hold him as a hostage to ensure the doctor's
safety. If the doc comes back all right, we'll let him go. If not, that's your job,
Brady. A pleasure.
It took Dr. Morgan about an hour to pick his way up the side of the cliff to the
first of the openings where the Landrians lived. He waved to us before he
entered the mouth of the cave and we waved back. Then we settled down to wait.
It was a long, long wait.
Eight o'clock. He's been up there more than three hours, Cap. We'll give him a
little more time. It's getting colder. Let's keep that fire going. How much
longer you gonna wait, Cap? Oh, we've got lots of time. You'd think we'd have heard
of something by now if they were gonna knock him off, I mean. Oh, not necessarily.
Wait. Look up on the cliff. That's him all right. What's he running for? I don't
know. He looks scared. That crazy fool. If he don't look out... Doctor! Dr. Morgan, look out!
Look out!
We found the doctor at the foot of the cliff, crumpled and broken. There were no
marks on his body, nothing except a twisted, mocking grin on his face. Oh, yes,
and one other thing. Scrawled across the pad he had taken with him on which to
make notes concerning the answer was a single word. The word was courtesy. We
threw the paper away. The expedition was a failure, though
Batyars claimed he'd get it out of the Gimpo if I'd let him. I nodded in
agreement. Batyars took the little native off behind an outcropping of rock. He was
back in 15 minutes dripping with sweat. Well? Let's go, Cap. Nothing. But nothing.
You see... They ain't made very good, these little gray people. They come apart
too easy, so let's go, huh, Cap? All right. Benny. Benny, what is it? I feel kind of
sick all of a sudden. In the back of my head, a dull kind of pain. Let me see your
tongue. Come on, give him a hand, Batyars. We've got to get him back to camp. What
is it? I'm not sure, but that blackness on the tongue and the headache, it could
be the plague.
By the time we got Benny Faulkner back to camp, he had the red spots on his body.
And then the fever began to rage. It was the plague, no mistake about it. Before
morning, Collins, the supply sergeant, had it. Then it was Peabody. After that, the
men went down like ten pence. Then one morning, Batyars Brady dragged himself
into my tent and sat down. The lines in his face told me the end was coming
pretty fast. Sit down, Brady. What's the count? Six left. We buried the chaplain
today. Got anything to drink? Sorry, I'm all out. How about a cigarette then? You
got a cigarette? Yeah, sure. How's Faulkner? I don't get it. He's still alive. Still
alive? Yep. In fact, he's getting better. He's sitting up. Holy mackerel. It's a good
cigarette. It's like any other. No, no. This one's different, Cap. This is my last.
What do you mean, Brady? Take a look at my tongue. See? Little black spots. Somehow I
managed to get him into bed. He was already raving when I gave him the last
of the morphine. It was incredible. Big, brawling bat ears, Brady. A tower of
strength lying sick and whimpering in a cot. When he died, I went out on the moors
to think. The sun was a dull red glow. Cold breeze whipped on him. Somehow I
couldn't forget Faulkner. Why should Faulkner recover from a plague from
which no man has ever recovered? Surely there must be a reason. Nothing happened
without a reason. I turned and went back to see Benny Faulkner. Hello, Captain.
Hello, Benny. How are you? Pretty good. I got up and walked a couple of steps today.
How goes her? Brady's gone. I just buried him. Listen, Benny, there must be some
reason why. There's nothing strange about me, nothing different from any other man.
There must be. You survived the virus. Benny, I want you to tell me everything
you know about yourself, everything you can remember, because somewhere in your
makeup is some little thing that makes the difference. If I can find that thing,
then maybe I can do something to save myself and the rest. Even if I can't, at
least I can leave a record for any future expedition that comes to Landrow.
Okay. Okay, Captain. Where should I start? At the beginning. I'm going to take notes.
Well, I was born on the 2nd of July in 1971. My parents were ordinary people.
My father was...
Look, Captain, I've told you everything I can remember. Three days now you've gone
over me, pawed me, questioned me. What else can I tell you? Benny, let's go over
that last part once again. Where should I start? Take it from where the natives
started to walk away. You stepped out of his path and Brady grabbed him. Okay, so I
stepped out of his path. Why? What do you mean why? Why did you step out of his
path? Why not? Courtesy, I guess. What's the matter? Courtesy. That's the word that
Dr. Morgan had scrawled in his notebook. I don't see that... I don't either. Tell me,
Benny, why should you want to be courteous to a native? Why not? What about
maintaining your own dignity? Are you talking about dignity or arrogance? I
don't know. Benny, listen, maybe we were all wet in our deductions. Maybe these
cities here on Landrow weren't deserted centuries ago. Maybe these little people
up in the caves are the same people who used to live in those big cities. Why
would they leave? Maybe they found out the big cities weren't the answer. Maybe
they found out that civilization doesn't necessarily bring happiness, so they just
packed up and left, returned to the simple. It doesn't make sense. You're
forgetting the plague. What is the plague, Benny? Well, I don't know. Is it a virus?
I don't think they ever found out. You know what I think? What? I think the plague
is nothing more than what we know as greed and arrogance. Captain, you're going
off your rocker. I think maybe we're in line to die. Serum was good. In fact, I
don't think the serum had anything to do with it. I never heard anything as crazy,
fantastic in my life. No? I think I'll go back to my tent and finish writing the
report. I am beginning to sweat a little. Captain, maybe it isn't the plague. It is.
I've seen it too many times to kid myself about it. Maybe hot compresses or
something. No, Benny. Listen, Captain, you don't believe that junk about courtesy, do
you? I mean, that's a lot of nonsense. You must know that. Holy macro, Captain. You
do believe it, don't you? Good night, Benny. I think I'd like to be alone for a
while. Okay. Good night, Captain. Maybe the
supply ship will be early. You can probably stick it out. Sure. Good night,
Captain.
And this concludes my report. I'm turning it over to Benny Faulkner in the hopes
that he will be able to transmit it to any other expedition commander who
contemplates exploring the planet of Landor. The fever is beginning to mount
now. My hands tremble as I write. The end should not be far off. There's little
question in my mind as to what it will be. You see, I didn't have a chance. I
stepped out of no paths. I showed no courtesy.
You have just heard X minus one presented by the National Broadcasting
Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of astounding science
fiction. Tonight by transcription X minus one has brought you courtesy
adapted for radio by George Lefferts from the story by Clifford Simad. Featured
in the cast were Brett Morrison as Captain Ira Warren, Arnold Robertson as
Batheers Brady, Edwin Jerome as Dr. Morgan and Bill Griffiths as Benny
Faulkner. Your announcer Fred Collins. X minus one was directed by Ken McGregor
and is an NBC radio network production. And now next week the frontier is a
strange place and a frontier is not always easy to recognize. It may lie on
the other side of a simple door marked no admittance but it is always deadly
dangerous. What happens when an innocent girl ignores a single regulation? You
will find out next week at X minus one. When you buy United States savings bonds
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