Free Sandkings by George R.R. Martin Page A

than he would have guessed from the relatively modest frontage. It was dimly lit, peaceful. The ceiling was a starscape, complete with spiral nebulae, very dark and realistic, very nice. The counters all shone faintly, the better to display the merchandise within. The aisles were carpeted with ground fog. In places, it came almost to his knees and swirled about his feet as he walked.
    “Can I help you?"
    She seemed almost to have risen from the fog. Tall and gaunt and pale, she wore a practical gray jumpsuit and a strange little cap that rested well back on her head.
    “Are you Wo or Shade?” Kress asked. “Or only sales help?"
    “Jala Wo, ready to serve you,” she replied. “Shade does not see customers. We have no sales help."
    “You have quite a large establishment,” Kress said. “Odd that I have never heard of you before."
    “We have only just opened this shop on Baldur,” the woman said. “We have franchises on a number of other worlds, however. What can I sell you? Art, perhaps? You have the look of a collector. We have some fine Nor T'alush crystal carvings."
    “No,” Simon Kress said. “I own all the crystal carvings I desire. I came to see about a pet."
    “A lifeform?"
    “Yes."
    “Alien?"
    “Of course."
    “We have a mimic in stock. From Celia's World. A clever little simian. Not only will it learn to speak, but eventually it will mimic your voice, inflections, gestures, even facial expressions."
    “Cute,” said Kress. “And common. I have no use for either, Wo. I want something exotic. Unusual. And not cute. I detest cute animals. At the moment I own a shambler. Imported from Cotho, at no mean expense. From time to time I feed him a litter of unwanted kittens. That is what I think of cute . Do I make myself understood?"
    Wo smiled enigmatically. “Have you ever owned an animal that worshiped you?” she asked.
    Kress grinned. “Oh, now and again. But I don't require worship, Wo. Just entertainment."
    “You misunderstand me,” Wo said, still wearing her strange smile. “I meant worship literally."
    “What are you talking about?"
    “I think I have just the thing for you,” Wo said. “Follow me."
    She led Kress between the radiant counters and down a long, fog-shrouded aisle beneath false starlight. They passed through a wall of mist into another section of the store, and stopped before a large plastic tank. An aquarium, thought Kress.
    Wo beckoned. He stepped closer and saw that he was wrong. It was a terrarium. Within lay a miniature desert about two meters square. Pale sand bleached scarlet by wan red light. Rocks: basalt and quartz and granite. In each corner of the tank stood a castle.
    Kress blinked, and peered, and corrected himself; actually only three castles stood. The fourth leaned; a crumbled, broken ruin. The other three were crude but intact, carved of stone and sand. Over their battlements and through their rounded porticoes, tiny creatures climbed and scrambled. Kress pressed his face against the plastic. “Insects?” he asked.
    “No,” Wo replied. “A much more complex lifeform. More intelligent as well. Considerably smarter than your shambler. They are called sandkings."
    “Insects,” Kress said, drawing back from the tank. “I don't care how complex they are.” He frowned. “And kindly don't try to gull me with this talk of intelligence. These things are far too small to have anything but the most rudimentary brains."
    “They share hiveminds,” Wo said. “Castle minds, in this case. There are only three organisms in the tank, actually. The fourth died. You see how her castle has fallen."
    Kress looked back at the tank. “Hiveminds, eh? Interesting.” He frowned again. “Still, it is only an oversized ant farm. I'd hoped for something better."
    “They fight wars."
    “Wars? Hmmm.” Kress looked again.
    “Note the colors, if you will,” Wo told him. She pointed to the creatures that swarmed over the nearest castle. One was scrabbling at the tank wall.