Shakespeare's Planet by Clifford D. Simak Page A

don’t ask me to swear what year it is. And history. That is even worse. We don’t have history; we have legend. Some of the legend probably is history, but we can’t be sure which is history and which is not.”
    â€œAnd you came here by tunnel?”
    â€œYes. I am a member of a team that is mapping the tunnels.”
    Horton looked at Nicodemus, who was crouched beside the fire, watching the cooking steaks. “Did you tell her?” Horton asked.
    â€œI never had a chance,” said Nicodemus. “She never gave me a chance. She was so excited about me talking what she called the ‘elder tongue.’”
    â€œTell me what?” asked Elayne.
    â€œThe tunnel’s closed. It’s inoperative.”
    â€œBut it brought me here.”
    â€œIt brought you here. It won’t take you back. It’s out of order. It works only one way.”
    â€œBut that’s impossible. There is a control panel.”
    â€œI know about the control panel,” Nicodemus told her. “I’m working on it. Trying to fix it.”
    â€œAnd how are you doing?”
    â€œNot too well,” said Nicodemus.
    â€œWe are trapped,” said Carnivore, “unless the goddamn tunnel can be fixed.”
    â€œMaybe I can help,” said Elayne.
    â€œIf you can,” said Carnivore, “I implore you do your utmost. Hope I had that if tunnel not fixed, I could join ship with Horton and the robot, but I think it over and it does not seem so. This sleep you talk about, this freezing frightens me. Have no wish to be frozen.”
    â€œWe have worried about that,” Horton told him. “Nicodemus knows about the freezing. He has a sleep-technician transmog. But he only knows how to freeze humans. You might be different—a different body chemistry. We have no way to determine your body chemistry.”
    â€œSo that is out,” said Carnivore. “So tunnel must be fixed.”
    Horton said to Elayne, “You don’t seem too upset.”
    â€œOh, I suppose I am,” she said. “But my people do not rail against fate. We accept life as it comes. Good and bad. We know there will be each.”
    Carnivore, finished eating, reared up, scrubbing at his bloodied muzzle with his hands. “I go hunting now,” he said. “Bring home fresh meat.”
    â€œWait until we’ve eaten,” suggested Horton, “and I’ll go along with you.”
    â€œBest not,” said Carnivore. “You scare the game away.”
    He started walking off, then turned around. “One thing you can do,” he said. “You can throw old meat in pond. But hold your nose while doing.”
    â€œI’ll manage it,” said Horton.
    â€œSo good,” said Carnivore, and went stalking off, eastward along the path to the abandoned settlement.
    â€œHow did you fall in with him?” asked Elayne. “And what, actually, is he?”
    â€œHe was waiting for us when we landed,” said Horton. “We don’t know what he is. He said that he was trapped here, along with Shakespeare …”
    â€œShakespeare, from his skull, is human.”
    â€œYes, but we know little more of him than we do of Carnivore. Although we may be able to learn more. He carried a volume of the complete Shakespeare, and he filled the book with writing, scribbling on the margins and end papers. Every place where there was white space left.”
    â€œYou have read some of this scribbling?”
    â€œSome of it. There’s a lot yet to read.”
    â€œThe meat is done,” said Nicodemus. “There is only the one plate and the one set of silver. You will not mind, Carter, if I give them to the lady?”
    â€œNot at all,” said Horton. “I am handy with my hands.”
    â€œOkay, then,” said Nicodemus. “I’m off to the tunnel.”
    â€œAs soon as I have eaten,” said Elayne, “I’ll drop by to see how