Classic Audiobook Collection - If You Was a Moklin by Murray Leinster ~ Full Audiobook [scifi]

Episode Date: February 22, 2025

If You Was a Moklin by Murray Leinster audiobook. Genre: scifi Forty years after the first Earth ship settled the lush world called Moklin, the tiny human colony thinks it has won the jackpot of first contacts: the Moklins are friendly, helpful, and openly fascinated by everything human. They admire Earthmen so much that they copy our clothes, our speech, our habits, even our ideas about business and trade. And on Moklin, imitation is not just a hobby. Their strange biology lets each new generation change with startling speed toward whatever traits their people most strongly want.For Brooks and the other long-term colonists, it is flattering at first, then unsettling. A new trading post appears with suspicious efficiency. Human mannerisms spread too perfectly, too quickly. When an off-world investigator, Inspector Caldwell, arrives to look into rumors of unethical competition, the colony is forced to ask a question no one wants to voice: what if the Moklins are not only learning from humans, but becoming them? As friendship shades into fear, the settlers must untangle what the Moklins truly intend and decide how to protect a civilization that might be copied right out from under them. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:23:45) Chapter 02 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If You Was a Mockland by Murray Linsler, this story was first published in Galaxy Science Fiction, September 51. Part 1 Up to the very last minute, I can't imagine that Mockland is going to be the first planet that humans get off of, moving fast, breathing hard, and sweating awful copious. There ain't any reason for it. Humans have been on Mockland for more than 40 years, and nobody's. ever figures there is anything the least bit wrong until Brooks works it out.

When he does, nobody can believe it. But it turns out bad. Plenty bad. But maybe things are working out all right now. Maybe. I hope so. At first, even after he sent off long reports by six ships in a row, I don't see the picture beginning to turn sour.

I don't get it until after the old Palmyra comes and swagger. down on the next to last trip a company ship is ever going to make to Mockland. Up to that very morning, everything is serene, and that morning I am sitting on the trading porch, not doing the thing but sitting there and breathing happy. I'm looking at a Mockland kid. She's about the size of a human six-year-old, and she is playing in a mud puddle while her folks are trading in the post. She is a cute kid, mighty human-looking.

She has long whiskers like Old Man Bland, who's the first human to open a training post and learn to talk to Mocklands. Mocklands think a lot of old man bland. They built him a big tomb, Mockland style when he dies, and there is more Mockland kids born with long whiskers than you can shake a stick at. And everything looks okay, everything. Sitting there on the porch I hear a Mockland talking inside the trade room, talking English just as good as anybody. He says to Death, our Mockland trade clerk,

"'But, Deith, I can buy this cheaper over at the other trading post. Why should I pay more here?' Deith says in English, too, "'I can't help that. That's the price here. You pay it or you don't, that's all.' I just sit there, breathing, complacent, thinking how good things are. Here I'm Joe Brinkley, and me and Brooks are the company on Mockland. Only humans rate as company employees and get pensions, of course, and I'm thinking sentimental about how much humaner Mocklands are getting every day and how swell everything is. The six-year-old kid gets up out of the mud puddle and rinks out her whiskers. They are exactly like the ones on the picture of Old Man Bland in the trade room, and she goes trotting off down the road after her folks. She is

mighty human-looking, that one. The wild ones don't look near so human. Those that live in the forest are greenish, and have saucer eyes, and their noses can wiggle like an earth rabbit. You wouldn't think they're the same breed as the trading post-mocklands at all, but they are. They cross-breed with each other, only the kids look humaner than their parents, and are mighty near the same skin color as Earthman, which is plenty natural when you think about it, but nobody does, not up to then. I don't think about that then, or anything else. Not even about the reports Brooks keeps sweating over and sending off with each company ship.

I am just sitting there contented when I noticed that Sally, the tree that shades the trading post porch, starts pulling up her roots. She gets them coral carefully and starts marching off. I can see the other trees are moving off, too, clearing the landing field. They're waddling away to leave a free space, and they're pushing and shoving trying to crowd each other, and the little ones sneak under the big ones, and they all act peevish. Somehow they know a ship is coming in. That's what they're walking off means, anyhow.

But there ain't a ship due in for a month yet. They're clear in the land and feel, though, so I start listening for a ship's drive, even if I don't believe it. At first I don't hear a thing. It must be ten minutes before I hear a thing. thin whistle, and right after it the heavy drone, that's the ground repulsory units pushing against bedrock underground. Lucky they don't push on west stuff, or a ship would sure mess up the local countryside. I get off my chair and go out to look. Sure enough, the old Palmyra comes bugling down out of the sky, a month ahead of schedule, and the trees over at the edge of the

field shove each other all round to make room. The ship drops, hangs anxious ten feet up, and and then kind of sighs and lets down. Then there's mocklins running out of everywhere, wave and cordial. They sure do like humans, these mocklands. Humans are their idea of what people should be like. Mocklands will wrestle the freight over to the trading post, or climbing over everything that's waiting to go off, all set to pass it up to the ship,

and hoping to spot friends they've made in the crew. If they can get a human to go home with them and visit while the ship is down. They brag about it for weeks, and they do treat their guests well. They got fancy mackland clothes for them to wear, soft, silky guest garments, and they got mackland fruits and moklyn drinks. You ought to taste them. And when the humans have to go back to the ship at takeoff time, the mokulins bring them back with flower wreaths all over them. Humans is tops on moklyn, and moklynes get huminer every day. There's Death, our clerk.

You couldn't hardly tell him from human anyways. He looks like a human named Casey that used to be at the trading post, and he's got a flock of brothers and sisters as human looking as he is. You'd swear. But this is the last time, but one, that an earthship is going to land on Mockland, though nobody knows it yet. Her passenger port opens up and Captain Haney gets out. The Mocklands yell cheerful when they see him.

He waves a hand. and helps a human girl out. She has red hair and a sort of business-like air about her. The Mocklands wave and holler and grin. The girl looks at them funny, and Captain Haney explains something, but she sets her lips. Then the Mocklands run out a freight truck, and Haney and the girl get on it, and they come racing over to the post. The Mocklands pushing and pulling them and making a big fuss of laughing and hollering, all so friendly it would make anybody feel good inside. Mocklands like humans. They admire them tremendous.

They do everything they can think of to be human, and they're smart. But sometimes I get cold shivers when I think how close the thing it turns out to be. Captain Haney steps off the freight truck and helps the girl down. Her eyes are blazing. She is the maddest-looking female I ever see, but pretty as they make them. with that red hair and those blue eyes staring at me hostile. "'Hi' you, Joe,' says Captain Haney. "'Where's Brooks?' I tell him.

Brooks is poking around in the mountains up back of the post. He is jumpy and worried and peevish, and he acts like he's trying to find something that ain't there, but he's bound he's going to find it regardless. "'Too bad he's not here,' says Haney. He turns to the girl. "'This is Joe Brinkley,' he says. He's Brooks's assistant, and Joe, this is Inspector Caldwell, Miss Colwell.

Inspector will do, says the girl, Kurt. She looks at me, accusing. I'm here to check into this matter of a competitive trading post on Mucklin. Oh, I says, that's bad business, but it ain't cut into our trade much, in fact I don't think it's cut our trade at all. Get my baggage assure, Captain, says Inspector Caldwell, Imperious. Then you can go about your business. I'll stay here until you stop on your return trip. I call, Hey, Death, but he's right behind me.

He looks respectful and admiring at the girl. You'd swear he's human. He's the spit and image of Casey, who used to be on Maglund until six years back. Yes, sir, says Deith. He says to the girl, Yes, ma'am, I'll show you your quarters, ma'am, and your baggage will get there right away.

This way, ma'am. He leads her off, but he don't have to send for her baggage. A pack of Mockland's come along, dragging it, hopeful of having her say thank you to them for it. There hasn't ever been a human woman on Mockland before, and they are all excited. I bet if there had been women around before, they'd have been hell loose before, too. But now the Mocklands just hang there admiring. There are kids with whiskers like old man bland, and other kids with moustaches. male and female both, and all that sort of stuff.

I'm pointing out to Captain Haney some kids that bear a remarkable resemblance to him, and he's saying, Well, what do you know, when Inspector Caldwell comes back? What are you waiting for, Captain? she asks Frosty. The ship usually grounds a few hours, I explain. These mocklins are such friendly critters. We figure it makes good will for the trading post for the crew to be friendly with them. I doubt, says Inspector Caldwell, her voice stripping icicles, that I shall advise that that

custom be continued. Cap Haney shrugs his shoulders and goes off, so I know Inspector Caldwell is high up in the company. She ain't old, maybe in her middle twenties, I'd say, but the Caldwell family practically owns the company, and all the nephews and cousins and so on get put into a special school so they can go to work in the family firm. They get taught pretty good, and most of them really rate the good jobs they get. Anyhow, there's plenty of good jobs.

The company runs 20 or 30 solar systems, and it's run pretty tight. Being a Calwell means you get breaks, but you got to live up to them. Cap Haney almost has to fight his way through the Mocklands, who want to give him flowers and fruits and such. Mocklands are sure crazy about humans. He gets to the entry port and goes to the entry port and goes. in and the door closes and the Mocklands pull back. Then the Palmyra booms. The ground repulsor unit is on. She heaves up like she is grunting and goes bulging up into the air, and the humming gets deeper and deeper and fainter and fainter, and suddenly there's a keen whistling, and she's

gone. It's all very normal. Nobody would guess that this is the last time but one a Earth's ship will ever lift off Mockland. Inspector Caldwell taps your foot, icy. When will you send for Mr. Brooks? She demands. Right away, I says to her. Death? I sent a runner for him, ma'am, says Death.

If he was in hearing of the ship's landing, he may be on the way here now. He bows and goes in the trade room. There are Mocklands that came to see the ship land, and now have tramped over to do some trading. Inspector Caldwell jumps. What's that? She asked, Tense. The trees that crowded off the field to make room for the Palmyra are waddling back.

I realized for the first time that it might look funny to somebody just landed on Mockland. They are regular-looking trees, in a way. They got bark and branches and so on. Only they can put their roots down into holes they made in the ground, and that's the way they stay mostly. but they can move. Wild ones, when there's a water shortage or they get too crowded or mad with each other, they pull up their roots and go waddling around looking for a better place to take root in. The trees on our land and field have learned that every so often a ship is going to land

and they've got to make room for it. But now the ship is gone and they're lurching back to their places. The younger ones are waddling faster than the big ones, though, and take in the best places and the old grubes. and the old grunting trees are waving their branches indignant and puffing about after them mad as hell. I explain what is happening. Inspector Caldwell just stares. Then Sally comes lumbering up. I got a friendly feeling for Sally. She's pretty old. Her trunk is all a three feet thick.

But she always puts out a branch to shade my window in the morning, and I never let any other tree take her place. She comes groaning up and uncoils her roots and sticks them down one by one into the holes she left, and sort of scrunches into place and looks peaceful. Aren't they dangerous? asked Inspector Caldwell, pretty uneasy. Not a bit, I says. Things can change on Mockland. They don't have to fight. Things fight in other places because they can't change, and they get crowded,

and that's the only way they can meet competition. But there's a special kind of evolution on Mockland. Cooperative, you might call it. It's a nice place to live. The only thing is everything mature so fast. Four years on a Mockland is grown up, for instance. She stiffs. What about that other trading posts?

She says, Sharp. Who's back of it? The company is supposed to have exclusive trading rights here. Who's trespassing? Brooks is trying to find out, I says. They got a good, complete line of trade goods, but the Mocklands always say the humans running the place have gone off somewhere, hunting and such. We ain't seen any of them.

No, says the girl, short, I'll see them. We can't have competition in our exclusive territory. The rest of Mr. Brooks's reports, she stops. Then she says, That clerk of yours reminds me of someone I know. He's a Mockland, I explain. But he looks like a company man. named Casey. Casey's area director over on Khatim 2 now, but he used to be here, and Death is the spit and image of him. Outrageous, says Inspector Caldwell, looking disgusted. There's a couple of trees pushing hard at each other. They are fighting tree fashion for a specially good place, and there's others waddling around mad as hell because somebody else beat them

to the spots they liked. I watched them. Then I grin, because a couple of young trees duck under the fighting big ones and set their roots down in the place the big trees was fighting over. I don't like your attitude, says Inspector Caldwell, furious. She goes stamping into the post, leaving me puzzled. What's wrong with me, smiling at those kid trees, getting the best of their betters? That afternoon Brooks comes back, marching ahead of a pack of woods mocklins with greedy skins and sorcerize, that have been guiding him around. He's a good-looking kind of fellow, Brooks is, with a good build and a solid jaw.

When he comes out of the woods on the landing field, the trees are all settled down by then, he's striding, impatient, and loose-jointed. With the woods of Mocklands trailing him, he looks pretty dramatic, like a busy real picture of an explorer on some unknown planet, coming back from the dark and perilous forests, followed by the strange natives who do not yet know whether this visit her from outer space as a god or what. You know the stuff. I see Inspector Caldwell take a good look at him, and I see her eyes widen. She looks like he is a shock and not a painful one. He blinks when he sees her. He grunts. What's this? A she-mockland? Inspector Caldwell draws herself up to her full

five-foot-three. She bristles. I say quick. This here is Inspector Caldwell. that the Palmyra dropped off here today. Inspector, this is Brooks, the head trader. They shake hands. He looks at her and says, I've lost hope in my reports would ever get any attention paid to them. You've come to check my report that the trading post on Mockland has to be abandoned? I have not, says Inspector Caldwell, sharp.

That's absurd. This planet has great potentialities. This post is profitable, and the natives are friendly. and the trade should continue to increase. The board is even considering the introduction of special crops. That strikes me as a bright idea. I'd like to see what would happen if mocclans started cultivating new kinds of plants. It would be a thing to watch with regular mochland plants,

seeing strangers getting good growing places and special attention. I can't even guess what'll happen, but I want to watch. What I want to ask right off, says Inspector Caldwell fierce. is why you have allowed a competitive trading post to be established, why you did not report it sooner, and why you haven't identified the company back of it. Brooks stares at her. He gets mad. Hell, he says. My report cover all that. Haven't you read them? Of course not, says Inspector Caldwell. I was given an outline of the situation here

and told to investigate and correct it. Oh, says Brooke. That's it. Then he looks like he's swallowing naughty words. It is funny to see them glare at each other. Both of them looking like they are seeing something that interests them plenty, but throwing off angry sparks just the same. If you'll show me samples of their trade goods, says Inspector Caldwell, arrogant,

and I hope you can do that much, I'll identify the trading company handling them. He grins at her without amusement and leads the way. to the inside of the trading post. We bring out the stuff we've had some of our mocklins go over and buy for us. Brooks dumps the goods on a table and stands back to see what she'll make of them, grinning with the same lack of mirth. She picks up a busy reel projector. Hmm, she says scornfully. Not very good quality. It's... Then she stops. She picks up a forest knife. This, she says, is a product of Then she stops again.

She picks up some cloth and fingers it. She really steams. I see, she says angry, because we have been on this planet so long, and the mocclans are used to our goods, the people of the other trading post duplicate them. Do they cut prices? 50%, says Brooks. I chime in. But we ain't lost much trade.

Lots of mocclans still trade with us out of. friendship. Friendly folk, these Mocklands. Just then, Death comes in, looking just like Casey that used to be here on Mockland. He grins at me. A girl just brought you a compliment, he lets me know. Shucks, I says, embarrassed and pleased. Send her in and get a present for her. Deith goes out. Inspector Carlwell hasn't noticed. She's seething over that other trading company, copying our trade goods and underselling us.

on a planet we're supposed to have exclusive. Brooks looks at her grim. I shall look over their post, she announces fierce, and if they want a trade war, they'll get one. We can cut prices if we need to. We have all the resources of the company behind us. Brooks seems to be steaming on his own, maybe because she hasn't read his reports.

But just then a mokling girl comes in, not bad looking either. You can see she's. is a mocklin. She ain't as convincing human as Deith is, say, but she looks pretty human at that. She giggles at me. Complement, she says, and shows me what she's carrying. I look. It's a mocklin kid, a boy just about brand new. And it has my shape ears, and its nose looks like somebody has stepped on it. My nose is that way, and it looks like a very small-sized working model of me. I chuck it under the chin and say, Kichiku, it gurgles at me.

What's your name? I asked the girl. She tells me. I don't remember it, and I don't remember ever seeing her before, but she's paid me a compliment, all right, Mockland style. Mighty nice, I say. Cute as all get out. I hope he grows up to have more sense than I got, though. Then Death comes in with an armload of trade stuff like old man Bland gave to the first Mockland kid that was born with long whiskers like his, and I say, Thanks for the compliment, I am greatly honored. She takes the stuff and giggles again and goes out. The kid beams at me over her shoulder and waves its fist.

Mighty human-like, a right cute kid, any way you look at it. Then I hear a noise. Inspector Caldwell is regarding me with loathing in her eyes. Did you say they were friendly creatures? She asks bitter. I think affectionate would be a better word. Her voice shakes. You are going to be transferred out of here the instant the Palmyra gets back.

What's the matter? I asked, surprised. She paid me a compliment, and I gave her a present. It's a custom. She's satisfied. I never see her before that I remember. You don't, she says. The callousness.

You're revolting. Brooks begins to sputter. her, then he snickers, and all of a sudden he's howling with laughter. He is laughing at Inspector Call. Well, then I get it, and I snort. Then I hoot and holler. It gets funnier when she gets madder still. She near blows up from being mad.

We must look crazy, the two of us there in the post, just hollering with laughter, while she gets furiouser and furiouser. Finally, I have to lay down on the floor to lay. laugh more comfortable. You see, she doesn't get a bit of what I've told her about there being a special kind of evolution on Mockland. The more disgusted and furious she looks at me, the harder I have to laugh, I can't help it. End part one. Part two of If You Was a Mockland by Murray Lister. This Libre-Vox recording is in the public domain. Part two. When we set out for the other

trading post next day, the atmosphere ain't what you'd call exactly cordial. There is just the inspector and me, with Deith and a couple of other mocklins for the look of things. She has on a green forest suit, and with her red hair she sure looks good, but she looks at me cold when Brooks says I'll take her over to the other post, and she doesn't say a word the first mile or two. We trudge on, and presently Deith and the others get ahead, so they can hear what she says, and she remarks indignant. I must say Mr. Brooks isn't very cooperative. Why didn't he come with me?

Is he afraid of the men at the other post? Not him, I says. He's a good guy. But you got authority over him and you ain't read his reports. If I have authority, she says Sharp, I assure you it's because I'm competent. I don't doubt it, I says. If you wasn't cute, he wouldn't care. But a man don't want a good-looking girl giving him all.

orders. He wants to give them to her. A homely woman, it don't matter. She tosses her head, but it don't displease her. Then she says, what's in the report that I should have read? I don't know, I admit. But he's been sweating over them. It makes him mad that nobody bothered to read him. Maybe, she guesses. It was what I need to know about this other trading post. What do you know about it, Mr. Brinkley? I tell her what Deith has told Brooks. Brooks found out about it because one day some Mocklands come in to trade and ask friendly why we charge so much for this and that. Deith told them that we'd always charge that, and they say the other trading post sells things cheaper,

and Deith says, what trading post? So they up and tell him there's another post that sells the same kind of things we do, only cheaper. But that's all they'll say. So Brooks tells Death to find out, and he scouts around and comes back. There is another trading post only 15 miles away, and it is selling stuff just like ours, and it charges of only half price. Deith didn't see the men, just the Mockland clerks. We ain't been able to see the men either.

Why haven't you seen the men? Every time Brooks or me go over, I explained. The Moklins they got working for them. Say the other men are off somewhere. Maybe they're starting some more posts. We wrote them a note to asking what the hell they mean, but they never answered it. Of course, we ain't seen their books or their living quarters. You could find out plenty by a glimpse at their books, she snaps.

Why haven't you just marched in and made the mocklins show you what you want to know since the men were away? Because, I says, patient, mocklins imitate humans. If we start trouble, they'll start it too. We can't set an example of rough stuff like burglary, mayhem, breaking and entering, manslaughter, or bigamy, or those mocklins will do just like us. Bigamy, she grabs on that sardonic. If you're trying to make me think you've got enough moral sense, I get a little mad. Brooks and me, we've explained to her careful just how it is admiration and the way evolution

works on mocklin that makes Mockland kids get born with long. and that the compliment the Mockland girl has paid me, is just exactly that. But she hasn't listened to a word. Miss Caldwell, I says. Brooks and me told you the facts. We tried to tell them delicate to spare your feelings. Now if you try to spare mine, I'll thank you. If you mean your finer feelings, she says sarcastic, I'll spare them as soon as I find some.

So, I shut up. There's no use trying to argue with a woman. We tramp on through the forest without a word. Presently we come on a nest bush. It's a pretty big one. There are a couple dozen nests on it from the little bitty bud ones no bigger than your fist to the big ripe ones lined with soft stuff that have busted open and have got cacklebirds housekeeping in them now.

There are two cacklebirds sitting on a branch by the nest that is big enough to open up and have eggs laid in it, only it ain't. The cackle birds are making some noises like they are cussing it and telling it to hurry up and open, because they are in a hurry. This is a nest bush, I says. It grows nests for the cackle birds. The birds are fertilized the ground around it. They're sloppy feeders and drop a lot of stuff that rots and is fertilizer, too. The nest bush and the cackle birds kind of cooperate. That's the way evolution works on Mockland, like Brooks and me told you. She tosses that red head of hers and stamps on, not saying a word.

So we get to the other trading post, and there she gets one of those slow-burning, long-lasting mads on that fill a guy like me with awe. There's only Mockland's at the other trading post, as usual. They say the humans are off somewhere. They look at her admiring and polite. They show her their stock. It is practically identical with ours, only they admit that they've sold out of some of the items because their prices are low.

They act most respectful and pleased to see her. But she doesn't learn a thing about where their stuff comes from or what company is harning in on Mockland trade. And she looked at their head clerk, and she burns and burns. When we get back, Brooks is sweating over memorandums he has made, getting another report ready for the next company ship. Inspector Caldwell marches into the trade room and gives orders in a controlled, venomous voice. Then she marches right in on books.

I have just ordered the Mockland Sales Force to cut the price on all items on sale by 75%. She says, her voice trembling a little with fury. I have also ordered the credit given for Moklyn trade goods to be doubled. They want a trade war? they'll get it. She is a lot madder than business would account for. Brooks says, Tired, I'd like to show you some facts.

I've been over every inch of territory in 30 miles, looking for a place where a ship could land for that other post. There isn't any. Does that mean anything to you? The post is there, isn't it? She says. And they have trade goods, haven't they? and we have exclusive trading rights on Mockland, haven't we?

That's enough for me. Our job is to drive them out of business. But she is a lot madder than business would account for. Brooks says, very weary. There's nearly a whole planet where they could have put another trading post. They could have set up shop on the other hemisphere and charged any price they pleased, but they set up shop right next to us. Does that make any sense?

Setting up close, she says, would furnish them with customers already used to human trade goods, and it furnishes them with Mockland strain to be interpreters and clerks. And then it come out what she's raging, boiling, steaming, burning up about. And, she says, furious, it furnished them with a Mockland head clerk who is a very handsome young man, Mr. Brooks. He not only resembles you in every feature, but he even has a good many of your mannerisms. You should be very proud. With this, she slams out of the room. Brooks blinks.

She won't believe anything, he says, sour. Except only that man is vile. Is it true about a moklin who looks like me? I nod. Funny, his folks never showed him to me for a compliment. present. Then he stares at me, hard. How good is the likeness? If he is wearing your clothes, I tell him truthful, I'd swear he is you. Then Brooks, slow, very slow, turns white. Remember the time you went off with Deith and his folks hunting? That was the time a mockling

got killed. You were wearing guest garments, weren't you? I feel queer inside. I. I feel queer, I'd, but I nod. Guest garments for Mocklands are like the best bedroom and the drumstick of the chicken among humans. And a Moklin hunting party is something. They go hunting garlethose, which you might as well call dragons, because they got scales and they fly, and they are tough babies. The way to hunt them is you take along some cackle birds that ain't nesting.

They are no good for anything while they're honeymooning. And the cackle birds go flapping around until a garlicthose comes out. after them, and then they go jet-streaming to where the humans are, cackle in a blue streak to say, here are come, boys, hold everything until I get past. Then the garlic-those dives after them, and the hunters get it as it dives. You give the cackle birds its innerates, and they sit around and eat, cackling to each other zestful, like they're bragging about the other times they done the same thing, only better. You were wearing guest garments, repeats books, grim. I feel very queer inside, but I nod again.

Mockland guest's garments are mighty easy on the skin, and feel mighty good. They ain't exactly practical hunting clothes, but the Mocklands feel bad if a human that's their guests don't wear them. And, of course, he has to shed his human clothes to wear them. What's the idea, I want to know? But I feel pretty unhappy inside. You didn't come back for one day in the middle of the hunt. hunt? After tobacco and a bath? No, I says, beginning to get rattled. We were way over in the

Sunlib Hills. We buried the dead Mockland over there and had a hell of a time building a tomb over him. Why? During that week, says Brooks, Grimm, and while you were off wearing Mockland guest garments, somebody came back wearing your clothes, and got some tobacco and passed the time of day and went off again. Joe, just like there's a mackling you say could pass for me, there's one that could pass for you. In fact, he did. Nobody suspected either.

I get panicky. But what did he do that for, I want to know. He didn't steal anything. Would he have done it just to brag to the other macklands that he fooled you? He might, says Brooks have been checking to see if he could fool me. Or Captain Haney of the Palmar. or— He looks at me.

I feel myself going numb. This can mean one hell of a mess. I haven't told you before, says Brooks, but I've been guessing at something like this. Mocklands like to be human, and they get human kids. Kids that look human anyway. Maybe they can want to be smart like humans, and they are. He tries to grin and can't. That rival trading post.

looked fishy to me right at the start. They're practicing with that. It shouldn't be there at all, but it is, you see? I feel weak and sick all over. This is a dangerous sort of thing. But I say quick, if you mean they got mocclans that could pass for you and me, and they're figuring to bump us off and take our places, I don't believe that. Mocklands like humans. They wouldn't harm humans for anything. Brooks didn't pay any attention. He says, hush. I've been trying to persuade the company that we've got to get out of here fast.

And they send this Inspector Caldwell, who's not only female, but her redhead to boot. All they think about is a competitive trading post. And all she sees is that we're a bunch of lascivious scoundrels. And since she's a woman, there's nothing that'll convince her otherwise. Then something hits me. It looks hopeful. She's the first human woman to land on Mockland, and she has got red hair. It's the first red hair the Moklins ever saw.

Have we got time? He figures, then he says, With luck it ought to turn up. You've hit it. And then his expression sort of softens. If that happens, poor kid, she's going to take it hard. Women hate to be wrong. especially redheads.

But that might be the saving of humanity when you think of it. I blink at him. He goes on fierce. Look, I'm no mackling, you know that. But if there's a mackland that looks enough like me to take my place—you see? We got to think of Inspector Caldwell, anyhow. If you ever see me cross my fingers, you wickle your little finger. Then I know it's you.

and the other way about, get it? You swear you'll watch over Inspector Caldwell? Sure, I say, of course. I wiggle my little finger. He crosses his. It's a signal nobody but us two would know. I feel a lot better. Brooks goes off next morning, grim, to visit the other trading post

and see the Mockland that looks so much like him. Inspector Caldwell goes along, fierce, and I'm guessing it's to see the fireworks when Brooks sees his bockland double that she thinks is more than a coincidence, which she is right, only not in the way she thinks. Before they go, Brooks crosses his fingers and looks at me significant. I wiggle my little finger back at him. They go off. I sit down in the shade of Sally and try to think things out.

I am all turned up inside and scared as hell. It's near two weeks to land. ending time when the old Palmyra ought to come bugling down out of the sky with a load of new trade goods. I think wistful about how swell everything has been on Mockland up to now, and how mocklins admire humans, and how friendly everything has been, and how it's a great compliment for Moklans to want to be like humans, and to get like them, and how no Moklyn would ever dream of hurting a human being, and how they imitate humans joyous and reverent and happy. people, Mocklands.

But... The end of things is in sight. Like in humans has made Mocklands smart. But now there's been a slip-up. Mocklins will do anything to produce kids that look like humans. That's a compliment. But no human ever sees a Mockland that's four or five years old and all grown up and looks so much like him that nobody can tell them apart.

That ain't scheming. It's just that Mocklands like humans. But they're so much. scared the humans might not like to see themselves in a sort of Mockland mirror, so if they did that at all, they'd maybe keep it a secret like children, keep secrets from grown-ups. Mocklands are a lot like kids. You can't help liking them, but a human can get plenty panicky if he thinks what would happen if Mocklands got to pass in for humans among humans, and want their kids to have top-grade brains and top-grade talents and so on. I sweat sitting there.

I can see the whole picture. Brooks is worrying about Mocklands loose among humans, outsmarting them as their kids grow up, being the big politicians, the bosses, the planetary pioneers, the prettiest girls and the handsomest guys in the galaxy, everything humans want to be themselves. Just thinking about it is enough to make any human feel like he's going nuts. But Brooks is also worrying about Inspector Caldwell,

who is five-foot-three and red-headed and cute as the bug's ear, and riding for a bad fall. They come back from the trip to the other trading post. Inspector Caldwell is baffled and mad. Brooks is sweating and scared. He slips me the signal and I wiggle my little finger back at him, just so I'll know he didn't get substituted for without Inspector Caldwell knowing it, and so he knows nothing happened to me while he was gone.

They didn't see the mocclin that looked like Brooks. They didn't get a bit of information we did. didn't have before, which is just about none at all. Things go on. Brooks and me are sweating it out until the Palmyrus lets down out of the sky again, meanwhile, praying for Inspector Caldwell to get her ears pinned back so proper steps can be taken, and every morning he crosses his fingers at me and I wiggle my little finger back at him, and he watches over Inspector Caldwell, tender.

The other trading post goes on, Placid. They sell their stuff at half the price we sell ours for. So, on Inspector Caldwell's orders, we cut ours again to half what they sell theirs for. So they sell theirs for half what we sell ours for. So we sell ours for half what they sell theirs for, and so on. Meanwhile, we sweat. Three days before the palmarra is due, our goods are marked at just exactly one. percent of what they was marked a month before.

And the other trading post is selling them at half that. It looks like we're going to have to pay a bonus to Mocklands to take the goods away for us to compete with the other trading post. Otherwise, everything looks normal on the surface. Mocklands hang around as usual, friendly, and admiring. They'll hang around a couple days just to get a look at Inspector Caldwell. And they regard her respectful. Brooks looks grim. he is head over heels crazy about her now and she knows it and she rides him hard she snaps at him and he answers her patient and gentle because he knows that when what he hopes is going to happen she is going to need him to comfort her

she has about wiped out our stock throwing bargain sales our shells are almost bare but the other trading-post still has plenty of stock mr brooks says inspector callwell bitter at breakfast We'll have to take most of the Palmyra's cargo to fill up our inventory. Maybe, he says, tender, and maybe not. But we've got to drive that or the post out of business, she says, desperate. Then she breaks down. This, this is my first independent assignment. I've got to handle it successfully. He hesitates, but just then Death comes in.

He beams friendly at Inspector Caldwell. A compliment for you, ma'am. Three of them. She goggles at him. Brooks says, gentle. It's all right, Death. Show them in and get some presents. Inspector Caldwell sputters, incredulous.

But, but... Don't be angry, says Brooks. They mean it as a compliment. It is, actually, you know. Three mockling girls come in, giggling. They are not bad looking at all. They look as human as Deeth. but one of them has a long droopy mustache, like a mate of the Palmyra.

That's because they hadn't ever seen a human woman before Inspector Caldwell comes along. They sure have admired her, though, and Mockland kids get born fast, very fast. They show her what they are holding so proud and happy in their arms. They have got three little Mockland kids, one a piece, and every one of them has red hair just like Inspector Caldwell, and every one of them is a girl that is the spit and image of her. You would swear they are human babies, and you'd swear they are hers. But of course they ain't.

They make kid noises and wave their little fists. Inspector Caldwell is just plain paralyzed. She stares at them and goes red-ass-fire and white-est chalk, and she is speechless. So Brooks has to do the honors. He admires the kids extravagant and the mockling girls giggle and take the compliment presents teeth brings in and they go out happy. When the door closes, Inspector Caldwell wiltz.

Oh, she wails. It's true. You didn't. You haven't. They can make their babies look like anybody they want. Brooks put his arms around her and she begins to cry against his shoulder. He pats her and says, They've got a queer sort of evolution on mocklin, darling.

Babies here inherit desired characteristics, not acquired characteristics, but desired ones, and what could be more desirable than you? I am blinking at them. He says to be, cold, Will you kindly get the hell out of here and stay out? i come too i says just one precaution i wiggle my little finger he crosses his fingers at me then i says since there's no chance of a mistake i'll leave you two together and i do The Palmyra booms down out of the sky two days later.

We are all packed up. Inspector Caldwell is shaky on the porch of the post, when Mocklands come hollering and waving friendly over from the landin' field, pulling a freight truck with Cap Haney on it. I see other festive groups around members of the crew that, this being a scheduled stop, have been given ship leave for a couple hours to visit their Mockland friends. "'I got the usual cargo,' begins,

Haney. "'Don't discharge it,' says Inspector Caldwell firm. "'We are abandoning this post. I have authority, and Mr. Brooks has convinced me of the necessity for it. Please get our baggage to the ship.' "'He gapes at her. The company don't like to give in competition. "'There isn't any competition,' says Inspector Caldwell. She gulps. "'Darling, you tell him,' she says to Brooks. "'He says, Lucid. He's right, Captain. The other trading post is purely a Mockland enterprise. They like to do

everything that humans do. Since humans were running a trading post, they opened one too. They bought goods from us and pretended to sell them at half price, and we cut our prices, and they bought more goods from us and pretended to sell half the new prices. Some Mockland or other must have thought it would be nice to be a smart businessman, so his kids would be smart businessmen. too smart. We close up this post before Mocklands think of other things. He means, of course, that if Mocklands get loose from their home planet and passes humans, their kids can maybe take over human civilization? Human nature couldn't take that. But it is something to be passed on to the high brass and not told around general.

Better sound the emergency recall signal, says Inspector Caldwell, brisk. We go over to the ship and the power of the power. Mara let's go that wailing sarn that'll carry twenty miles. Any crew member in hearing is going to beat it back to the ship full speed. They come running from every which way where they've been visiting their Moklyn friends, and then all of a sudden here comes a fellow wearing Moklyn guest garments, yelling, hey, wait, I ain't got my clothes. And then there is what you might call a dead silence, because lined up for Chekhov is another guy that comes right. running at the recall signal, and he is wearing ship's clothes,

and you can see that him and the guy in Mockland guest garments are just exactly alike. Twins. Identical. The spit and image of each other. And it is for sure that one of them is a Mockland, but which. Capaney's eyes start to pop out of his head. But then the guy in Palmyra uniform grins and says, "'Okay, I'm a Mockland.

But us Mocklands like humans so much, I thought it would be nice to make a trip to Earth and see more humans. My parents planned it five years ago, made me look like this wonderful human, and hid me for this moment. But we would not want to make any difficulties for humans, so I have confessed, and I will leave the ship. He takes it as a joke on him. He talks English as good as anybody. I don't know how anybody could tell which was the human. guy and which was the moklyn. But this moklyn grins and steps down, and the other moklins admire him enormous for passing even a few minutes as human among humans. We get away from

there so fast he is allowed to keep the human uniform. Mocklin is the first planet that humans ever get off of, moving fast, breathing hard, and sweating copious. It's one of those things that humans just can't take. Not that there's anything wrong with mokulch, Mocklands? They're swell folks. They like humans. But humans just can't take the idea of Mocklands pass in for human and being all the things humans want to be themselves. I think it's really a false alarm. I'll find out pretty soon. Inspector Calwell and Brooks get married, and they go off to a post on Briareus for—a swell place for a honeymoon, if there ever was one. And I guess they are living happy ever after. Me? I go to the new job the company assigns me, telling me stern not to talk

about Mockland, which I don't, and the Space Patrol orders no human ship to land on Mockland for any reason. But I've been saving money and worrying. I keep thinking of those three Mockland kids that Inspector Caldwell knows she ain't the father of. I worry about those kids. I hope nothing's happened to them. Mockland kids grow up fast, like I told you. you. They'll be just about grown now. I'll tell you, I bought me a little private space cruiser, small but good. I'm shoving off from Mockland next week. If one of those three ain't married, I'm going to marry her, Mockland style, and bring her out to a human colony planet. We'll have some kids. I know just what I want my kids to be like. They'll have plenty of brains,

top-level brains, and the girls will be real good-looking. But besides that, I've got to bring some other mocklins out and start them passing for human, too, because my kids are going to need other mocclins to marry, ain't they? It's not that I don't like humans, I do. If the fellow I look like Joe Brinkley hadn't got killed accidental on that hunting trip with Death, I never would have thought of taking his place and being Joe Brinkley. But you can't blame me for wanting to live among humans. Wouldn't you if you was a mackling?

End of Part 2. End of If You Was a Mocklin by Murray Lister. This story performed by Phil Chenevere, Baton Rouge, Louisiana.