Free Store of the Worlds: The Stories of Robert Sheckley by Robert Sheckley Page B

“that these Pushers will have nothing to do with us. In which case, our chances are approximately 283 to one against finding another Pusher planet.”
    â€œWe can’t be sure he won’t cooperate,” Talker said, “until we get him into communication.” He found it almost impossible to believe that any intelligent creature would refuse to cooperate willingly.
    â€œBut how?” Feeder asked. They decided upon a course of action. Doctor walked slowly up to the Pusher, who backed away from him. In the meantime, Talker extended a filament outside the Ship, around, and in again, behind the Pusher.
    The Pusher backed against a Wall—and Talker shoved the filament through the Pusher’s head, into the communication socket in the center of his brain.
    The Pusher collapsed.
    When he came to, Feeder and Doctor had to hold the Pusher’s limbs, or he would have ripped out the communication line. Talker exercised his skill in learning the Pusher’s language.
    It wasn’t too hard. All Pusher languages were of the same family, and this was no exception. Talker was able to catch enough surface thoughts to form a pattern.
    He tried to communicate with the Pusher.
    The Pusher was silent.
    â€œI think he needs food,” Feeder said. They remembered that it had been almost two days since they had taken the Pusher on board. Feeder worked up some standard Pusher food and offered it.
    â€œMy God! A steak!” the Pusher said.
    The Crew cheered along Talker’s communication circuits. The Pusher had said his first words!
    Talker examined the words and searched his memory. He knew about two hundred Pusher languages and many more simple variations. He found that this Pusher was speaking a cross between two Pusher tongues.
    After the Pusher had eaten, he looked around. Talker caught his thoughts and broadcast them to the Crew.
    The Pusher had a queer way of looking at the Ship. He saw it as a riot of colors. The walls undulated. In front of him was something resembling a gigantic spider, colored black and green, with his web running all over the Ship and into the heads of all the creatures. He saw Eye as a strange, naked little animal, something between a skinned rabbit and an egg yolk—whatever those things were.
    Talker was fascinated by the new perspective the Pusher’s mind gave him. He had never seen things that way before. But now that the Pusher was pointing it out, Eye was a pretty funny looking creature.
    They settled down to communication.
    â€œWhat in hell are you things?” the Pusher asked, much calmer now than he had been during the two days. “Why did you grab me? Have I gone nuts?”
    â€œNo,” Talker said, “you are not psychotic. We are a galactic trading ship. We were blown off our course by a storm, and our Pusher was killed.”
    â€œWell, what does that have to do with me?”
    â€œWe would like you to join our crew,” Talker said, “to be our new Pusher.”
    The Pusher thought it over after the situation was explained to him. Talker could catch the feeling of conflict in the Pusher’s thoughts. He hadn’t decided whether to accept this as a real situation or not. Finally, the Pusher decided that he wasn’t crazy.
    â€œLook, boys,” he said, “I don’t know what you are or how this makes sense. I have to get out of here. I’m on a furlough, and if I don’t get back soon, the US Army’s going to be very interested.”
    Talker asked the Pusher to give him more information about “army,” and he fed it to Thinker.
    â€œThese Pushers engage in personal combat,” was Thinker’s conclusion.
    â€œBut why? ” Talker asked. Sadly he admitted to himself that Thinker might have been right; the Pusher didn’t show many signs of willingness to cooperate.
    â€œI’d like to help you lads out,” Pusher said, “but I don’t know where you get the idea