Little Fuzzy

By H. Beam Piper

The story revolves around determining whether a small furry species discovered on the planet Zarathustra is sapient, and features a mild libertarianism that emphasizes sincerity and honesty. H. Beam Piper weaves a tale of science fiction awesomeness!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perennial Press
• Release date: Mar 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781531259747

Book preview

LITTLE FUZZY

H. Beam Piper

PERENNIAL PRESS

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All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

Copyright © 2016 by H. Beam Piper

Published by Perennial Press

Interior design by Pronoun

Distribution by Pronoun

ISBN: 9781531259747

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

I

~

JACK HOLLOWAY FOUND HIMSELF SQUINTING, the orange sun full in his eyes. He raised a hand to push his hat forward, then lowered it to the controls to alter the pulse rate of the contragravity-field generators and lift the manipulator another hundred feet. For a moment he sat, puffing on the short pipe that had yellowed the corners of his white mustache, and looked down at the red rag tied to a bush against the rock face of the gorge five hundred yards away. He was smiling in anticipation.

This’ll be a good one, he told himself aloud, in the manner of men who have long been their own and only company. I want to see this one go up.

He always did. He could remember at least a thousand blast-shots he had fired back along the years and on more planets than he could name at the moment, including a few thermonuclears, but they were all different and they were always something to watch, even a little one like this. Flipping the switch, his thumb found the discharger button and sent out a radio impulse; the red rag vanished in an upsurge of smoke and dust that mounted out of the gorge and turned to copper when the sunlight touched it. The big manipulator, weightless on contragravity, rocked gently; falling debris pelted the trees and splashed in the little stream.

He waited till the machine stabilized, then glided it down to where he had ripped a gash in the cliff with the charge of cataclysmite. Good shot: brought down a lot of sandstone, cracked the vein of flint and hadn’t thrown it around too much. A lot of big slabs were loose. Extending the forward claw-arms, he pulled and tugged, and then used the underside grapples to pick up a chunk and drop it on the flat ground between the cliff and the stream. He dropped another chunk on it, breaking both of them, and then another and another, until he had all he could work over the rest of the day. Then he set down, got the toolbox and the long-handled contragravity lifter, and climbed to the ground where he opened the box, put on gloves and an eyescreen and got out a microray scanner and a vibrohammer.

The first chunk he cracked off had nothing in it; the scanner gave the uninterrupted pattern of homogenous structure. Picking it up with the lifter, he swung it and threw it into the stream. On the fifteenth chunk, he got an interruption pattern that told him that a sunstone—or something, probably something—was inside.

Some fifty million years ago, when the planet that had been called Zarathustra (for the last twenty-five million) was young, there had existed a marine life form, something like a jellyfish. As these died, they had sunk into the sea-bottom ooze; sand had covered the ooze and pressed it tighter and tighter, until it had become glassy flint, and the entombed jellyfish little beans of dense stone. Some of them, by some ancient biochemical quirk, were intensely thermofluorescent; worn as gems, they glowed from the wearer’s body heat.

On Terra or Baldur or Freya or Ishtar, a single cut of polished sunstone was worth a small fortune. Even here, they brought respectable prices from the Zarathustra Company’s gem buyers. Keeping his point of expectation safely low, he got a smaller vibrohammer from the toolbox and began chipping cautiously around the foreign object, until the flint split open and revealed a smooth yellow ellipsoid, half an inch long.

Worth a thousand sols—if it’s worth anything, he commented. A deft tap here, another there, and the yellow bean came loose from the flint. Picking it up, he rubbed it between gloved palms. I don’t think it is. He rubbed harder, then held it against the hot bowl of his pipe. It still didn’t respond. He dropped it. Another jellyfish that didn’t live right.

Behind him, something moved in the brush with a dry rustling. He dropped the loose glove from his right hand and turned, reaching toward his hip. Then he saw what had made the noise—a hard-shelled thing a foot in length, with twelve legs, long antennae and two pairs of clawed mandibles. He stopped and picked up a shard of flint, throwing it with an oath. Another damned infernal land-prawn.

He detested land-prawns. They were horrible things, which, of course, wasn’t their fault. More to the point, they were destructive. They got into things at camp; they would try to eat anything. They crawled into machinery, possibly finding the lubrication tasty, and caused jams. They cut into electric insulation. And they got into his bedding, and bit, or rather pinched, painfully. Nobody loved a land-prawn, not even another land-prawn.

This one dodged the thrown flint, scuttled off a few feet and turned, waving its antennae in what looked like derision. Jack reached for his hip again, then checked the motion. Pistol cartridges cost like crazy; they weren’t to be wasted in fits of childish pique. Then he reflected that no cartridge fired at a target is really wasted, and that he hadn’t done any shooting recently. Stooping again, he picked up another stone and tossed it a foot short and to the left of the prawn. As soon as it was out of his fingers, his hand went for the butt of the long automatic. It was out and the safety off before the flint landed; as the prawn fled, he fired from the hip. The quasi-crustacean disintegrated. He nodded pleasantly.

Ol’ man Holloway’s still hitting things he shoots at.

Was a time, not so long ago, when he took his abilities for granted. Now he was getting old enough to have to verify them. He thumbed on the safety and holstered the pistol, then picked up the glove and put it on again.

Never saw so blasted many land-prawns as this summer. They’d been bad last year, but nothing like this. Even the oldtimers who’d been on Zarathustra since the first colonization said so. There’d be some simple explanation, of course; something that would amaze him at his own obtuseness for not having seen it at once. Maybe the abnormally dry weather had something to do with it. Or increase of something they ate, or decrease of natural enemies.

He’d heard that land-prawns had no natural enemies; he questioned that. Something killed them. He’d seen crushed prawn shells, some of them close to his camp. Maybe stamped on by something with hoofs, and then picked clean by insects. He’d ask Ben Rainsford; Ben ought to know.

Half an hour later, the scanner gave him another interruption pattern. He laid it aside and took up the small vibrohammer. This time it was a large bean, light pink in color, He separated it from its matrix of flint and rubbed it, and instantly it began glowing.

Ahhh! This is something like it, now!

He rubbed harder; warmed further on his pipe bowl, it fairly blazed. Better than a thousand sols, he told himself. Good color, too. Getting his gloves off, he drew out the little leather bag from under his shirt, loosening the drawstrings by which it hung around his neck. There were a dozen and a half stones inside, all bright as live coals. He looked at them for a moment, and dropped the new sunstone in among them, chuckling happily.

Victor Grego, listening to his own recorded voice, rubbed the sunstone on his left finger with the heel of his right palm and watched it brighten. There was, he noticed, a boastful ring to his voice—not the suave, unemphatic tone considered proper on a message-tape. Well, if anybody wondered why, when they played that tape off six months from now in Johannesburg on Terra, they could look in the cargo holds of the ship that had brought it across five hundred light-years of space. Ingots of gold and platinum and gadolinium. Furs and biochemicals and brandy. Perfumes that defied synthetic imitation; hardwoods no plastic could copy. Spices. And the steel coffer full of sunstones. Almost all luxury goods, the only really dependable commodities in interstellar trade.

And he had spoken of other things. Veldbeest meat, up seven per cent from last month, twenty per cent from last year, still in demand on a dozen planets unable to produce Terran-type foodstuffs. Grain, leather, lumber. And he had added a dozen more items to the lengthening list of what Zarathustra could now produce in adequate quantities and no longer needed to import. Not fishhooks and boot buckles, either—blasting explosives and propellants, contragravity-field generator parts, power tools, pharmaceuticals, synthetic textiles. The Company didn’t need to carry Zarathustra any more; Zarathustra could carry the Company, and itself.

Fifteen years ago, when the Zarathustra Company had sent him here, there had been a cluster of log and prefab huts beside an improvised landing field, almost exactly where this skyscraper now stood. Today, Mallorysport was a city of seventy thousand; in all, the planet had a population of nearly a million, and it was still growing. There were steel mills and chemical plants and reaction plants and machine works. They produced all their own fissionables, and had recently begun to export a little refined plutonium; they had even started producing collapsium shielding.

The recorded voice stopped. He ran back the spool, set for sixty-speed, and transmitted it to the radio office. In twenty minutes, a copy would be aboard the ship that would hyper out for Terra that night. While he was finishing, his communication screen buzzed.

Dr. Kellogg’s screening you, Mr. Grego, the girl in the outside office told him.

He nodded. Her hands moved, and she vanished in a polychromatic explosion; when it cleared, the chief of the Division of Scientific Study and Research was looking out of the screen instead. Looking slightly upward at the showback over his own screen, Victor was getting his warm, sympathetic, sincere and slightly too toothy smile on straight.

Hello, Leonard. Everything going all right?

It either was and Leonard Kellogg wanted more credit than he deserved or it wasn’t and he was trying to get somebody else blamed for it before anybody could blame him.

Good afternoon, Victor. Just the right shade of deference about using the first name—big wheel to bigger wheel. Has Nick Emmert been talking to you about the Big Blackwater project today?

Nick was the Federation’s resident-general; on Zarathustra he was, to all intents and purposes, the Terran Federation Government. He was also a large stockholder in the chartered Zarathustra Company.

No. Is he likely to?

Well, I wondered, Victor. He was on my screen just now. He says there’s some adverse talk about the effect on the rainfall in the Piedmont area of Beta Continent. He was worried about it.

Well, it would affect the rainfall. After all, we drained half a million square miles of swamp, and the prevailing winds are from the west. There’d be less atmospheric moisture to the east of it. Who’s talking adversely about it, and what worries Nick?

Well, Nick’s afraid of the effect on public opinion on Terra. You know how strong conservation sentiment is; everybody’s very much opposed to any sort of destructive exploitation.

Good Lord! The man doesn’t call the creation of five hundred thousand square miles of new farmland destructive exploitation, does he?

Well, no, Nick doesn’t call it that; of course not. But he’s concerned about some garbled story getting to Terra about our upsetting the ecological balance and causing droughts. Fact is, I’m rather concerned myself.

He knew what was worrying both of them. Emmert was afraid the Federation Colonial Office would blame him for drawing fire on them from the conservationists. Kellogg was afraid he’d be blamed for not predicting the effects before his division endorsed the project. As a division chief, he had advanced as far as he would in the Company hierarchy; now he was on a Red Queen’s racetrack, running like hell to stay in the same place.

The rainfall’s dropped ten per cent from last year, and fifteen per cent from the year before that, Kellogg was saying. And some non-Company people have gotten hold of it, and so had Interworld News. Why, even some of my people are talking about ecological side-effects. You know what will happen when a story like that gets back to Terra. The conservation fanatics will get hold of it, and the Company’ll be criticized.

That would hurt Leonard. He identified himself with the Company. It was something bigger and more powerful than he was, like God.

Victor Grego identified the Company with himself. It was something big and powerful, like a vehicle, and he was at the controls.

Leonard, a little criticism won’t hurt the Company, he said. Not where it matters, on the dividends. I’m afraid you’re too sensitive to criticism. Where did Emmert get this story anyhow? From your people?

No, absolutely not, Victor. That’s what worries him. It was this man Rainsford who started it.

Rainsford?

Dr. Bennett Rainsford, the naturalist. Institute of Zeno-Sciences. I never trusted any of those people; they always poke their noses into things, and the Institute always reports their findings to the Colonial Office.

I know who you mean now; little fellow with red whiskers, always looks as though he’d been sleeping in his clothes. Why, of course the Zeno-Sciences people poke their noses into things, and of course they report their findings to the government. He was beginning to lose patience. I don’t see what all this is about, Leonard. This man Rainsford just made a routine observation of meteorological effects. I suggest you have your meteorologists check it, and if it’s correct pass it on to the news services along with your other scientific findings.

Nick Emmert thinks Rainsford is a Federation undercover agent.

That made him laugh. Of course there were undercover agents on Zarathustra, hundreds of them. The Company had people here checking on him; he knew and accepted that. So did the big stockholders, like Interstellar Explorations and the Banking Cartel and Terra Baldur-Marduk Spacelines. Nick Emmert had his corps of spies and stool pigeons, and the Terran Federation had people here watching both him and Emmert. Rainsford could be a Federation agent—a roving naturalist would have a wonderful cover occupation. But this Big Blackwater business was so utterly silly. Nick Emmert had too much graft on his conscience; it was too bad that overloaded consciences couldn’t blow fuses.

Suppose he is, Leonard. What could he report on us? We are a chartered company, and we have an excellent legal department, which keeps us safely inside our charter. It is a very liberal charter, too. This is a Class-III uninhabited planet; the Company owns the whole thing outright. We can do anything we want as long as we don’t violate colonial law or the Federation Constitution. As long as we don’t do that, Nick Emmert hasn’t anything to worry about. Now forget this whole damned business, Leonard! He was beginning to speak sharply, and Kellogg was looking hurt. I know you were concerned about injurious reports getting back to Terra, and that was quite commendable, but….

By the time he got through, Kellogg was happy again. Victor blanked the screen, leaned back in his chair and began laughing. In a moment, the screen buzzed again. When he snapped it on, his screen-girl said:

Mr. Henry Stenson’s on, Mr. Grego.

Well, put him on. He caught himself just before adding that it would be a welcome change to talk to somebody with sense.

The face that appeared was elderly and thin; the mouth was tight, and there were squint-wrinkles at the corners of the eyes.

Well, Mr. Stenson. Good of you to call. How are you?

Very well, thank you. And you? When he also admitted to good health, the caller continued: How is the globe running? Still in synchronization?

Victor looked across the office at his most prized possession, the big globe of Zarathustra that Henry Stenson had built for him, supported six feet from the floor on its own contragravity unit, spotlighted in orange to represent the KO sun, its two satellites circling about it as it revolved slowly.

The globe itself is keeping perfect time, and Darius is all right, Xerxes is a few seconds of longitude ahead of true position.

That’s dreadful, Mr. Grego! Stenson was deeply shocked. I must adjust that the first thing tomorrow. I should have called to check on it long ago, but you know how it is. So many things to do, and so little time.

I find the same trouble myself, Mr. Stenson. They chatted for a while, and then Stenson apologized for taking up so much of Mr. Grego’s valuable time. What he meant was that his own time, just as valuable to him, was

Reviews for Little Fuzzy

[guide2_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Quite enjoyable, even after reading Scalzi's updated version.

[nexist_4 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

After having read "Fuzzy Nation" by John Scalzi, I was inspired to re-read the original story by H. Beam Piper. This is more a comparison of the two stories than a straightforward review.The first thing that struck me was the complexity of the plot. "Little Fuzzy" is not extremely complicated, but it has far more depth than Scalzi's reboot. This criticism is not just for Scalzi's work, I find that, in general, most science fiction and fantasy being produced today is far simpler than comparable works of the past. "Fuzzy Nation," while enjoyable, is more like an "After School Special" adaption of "Little Fuzzy." To be fair, Scalzi's book is recast for modern audiences. This means that it purposely changes things and emphasizes some elements at the expense of others. One of these elements is the role of the military. Jack, the main character, is no longer ex-military, but a unscrupulous disbarred lawyer. The rugged individual of the first book is now a selfish prat who is incapable of forming interpersonal relationships. Despite this flaw, he muddles through and manages to do the right thing. This de-emphasis of the military extends throughout the story. In "Little Fuzzy," they are instrumental to the plots unfolding. In "Fuzzy Nation," they barely make an appearance.The role of the female psychologist is also changed. In the original, she is a strong character who is revealed as such as the story unfolds. In the reboot, she is more of a foil, an ex-love interest of the main character, but a part of "the good guys team" from beginning to end. Frankly, she is more boring and conventional in her new role.While the original story could be construed as promoting a rather parochial colonialism and a metaphor for the idealistic implementation of Kipling's "White Man's Burden," I found the deus ex machina used to promote the Modern Humanistic romanticization of native people's to be a bit trite.Finally, I would like to dwell on the overarching thematic feel of the two works. While both end with a big trial to determine whether the Fuzzies are sentient, Scalzi's work seems to portray the idea of the totalizing embrace of government and the law as a vehicle to solve all problems and to rectify injustice. The role of the individual is to game the system. In Piper's novel, the story revolves around individuals with strong character acting to accomplish what they feel is right.In summary, Piper's vision is more in depth, less topical and has a quality that will be appreciated another 50 years hence. While Scalzi's work was entertaining, it fails to carry the same level of engagement.

[robinmichel · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I read John Scalzi's Fuzzy Nation before I read this original story. Both are superb, but oh how dated this story is :)

[kaethe_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I get a recommendation on a blog, come over here, and find a widget offering a preview, and another offering a download. If goodreads can find a way to offer me time to read in, I'll be set.

***

Great fun. Rather draggy in bits with long discourses on the meaning of sapience. I like that it had a diverse cast (at least as far as the names go) although there weren't many women. It was funny to see everyone smoking and carrying guns. That's two of the things Scalzi changed. He also adopted a less paternalistic attitude toward the fuzzys. For all the talk about sapience, Piper shows them as really cute pets. They can do neat stuff, but they're like very amusing children.

[suzemo · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

After finding out Fuzzy Nation was a reboot of Little Fuzzy, I wanted to go through both of them before reviewing either.

I liked this book, and it was good. It was a little dated (and not just the tech, it felt old), but it still held up pretty well. I'll admit to liking the reboot/Fuzzy Nation better, but this book was pretty good as well.

[jwhenderson_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What is sapience? The word comes from the Latin sapientia, meaning "wisdom". It is related to the Latin verb sapere, meaning "to taste, to be wise, to know"; the present participle of sapere forms part of Homo sapiens, the Latin binomial nomenclature created by Carolus Linnaeus to describe the human species. Linnaeus had originally given humans the species name of diurnus, meaning man of the day. But he later decided that the dominating feature of humans was wisdom, hence application of the name sapiens. His chosen biological name was intended to emphasize man's uniqueness and separation from the rest of the animal kingdom.In fantasy fiction and science fiction, sapience often describes an essential human property that bestows "personhood" onto a non-human. It indicates that a computer, alien, mythical creature or other object will be treated as a completely human character, with similar rights, capabilities and desires as any human character. The words "sentience", "self-awareness" and "consciousness" are used in similar ways in science fiction.Little Fuzzy is the name of a 1962 science fiction novel by H. Beam Piper that addresses this issue. The story revolves around the determination whether a small furry species discovered on the planet Zarathustra is sapient. The planet was recently settled and is run by the Chartered Zarathustra Company as a Class III planet, one without native intelligent life. Jack Holloway, an independent sunstone prospector, discovers what he at first takes to be an animal and calls it a “Little Fuzzy,” and then realizes it is a member of an intelligent species—or is it? The very interesting question of the sapience of the Fuzzies, who don’t qualify under the “talk and build a fire” rule of thumb, takes up the rest of the book. The talk rule requires verbalization which the Fuzzies do not have, but they do use symbols and with them communicate pretty effectively. By the second part of the novel questions such as is it possible "to be sapient and not know it" and other issues are considered including a sort of philosophical issue: Is sapience an either/or issue, thus once it achieved the only question is how intelligent is the sapient being? The conflict inherent in the novel's plot is between the management of the Zarathustra Company, who realize the company will lose its investment if the Fuzzies are sapient creatures, and Jack, the local prospector, who is convinced that they are definitely sapient. The problem for the Fuzzies is that even if they are not sapient, they are close enough to that state, which means that the company management decides to eradicate them to protect their interests. The suspense is a bit thin, but the novelist creates a thought experiment that is interesting because it doesn’t have simple answers. It was nominated for the 1963 Hugo Award for Best Novel. I found that it presented in an entertaining way the recognition of sapience in an alien species and the efforts of the two species to learn how to live together.

[thewallflower-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's not a new story -- new alien animal is discovered and everyone wants to know what to think of it. In this case, it's because otherwise the resource-takers lose their planet full of gems if the creatures are sentient. The story comes to a head when one of the Little Fuzzies is killed. So everyone's wondering if it was murder or not. To decide if it's murder, they have to know if the Fuzzies are sapient or not. To do that, they have to define what sapience is. And that's no easy task for some backwater scientists. All this is executed in a gripping courtroom drama.I saw a lot of potential in this book -- and I can't wait to see what Scalzi does with it, because I think he can fix a lot of the problems. One of those is that everything's too easy for the protagonist. Immediately, the court sides with him, and allows him all the advantages. While the Company (the resource-takers) are given the short shrift, and the burdens of proof are placed on them. In fact, the only real problem that occurs is how to define sapience, and that crisis is averted when the courtroom trial is annexed by the deus ex government which reveals the secret evidence its been gathering on the Fuzzies, rendering all the tension moot.My favorite part is that the book is labeled as a "science-fiction juvenile", except that when the antagonist realizes he's about to lose the case and go to jail for murder, he SLITS HIS OWN THROAT WITH HIS JACKET ZIPPER IN A PRISON CELL. You know, for kids!

[tadad_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A fairly simple plot, enlivened by a cast of humorous characters. If you're unfamiliar with the series, it's a bunch of adventures amongst aliens who compulsively take on the personae of characters in human fiction. It's actually fairly well done and good for a laugh.

[dodavehu · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Big Idea in Little Fuzzy: Alien Intelligence. - On the recently-settled frontier world of Zarathustra prospector Jack Holloway encounters a small, furry biped that he names "Little Fuzzy." Eventually "Pappy" Jack comes to think of Little Fuzzy as a sapient being which sparks a harsh reaction from the interstellar corporation that owns the planet because its charter will be revoked if Zarathustra is the home of an aboriginal species of sentient beings.Part "first contact" story, part corporate intrigue, part courtroom drama, Little Fuzzy is perhaps the most well-known work by H. Beam Piper. The novel remains one of the most salient science-fiction examinations of the challenges involved in recognizing non-human sentience and is as relevant to researchers studying chimpanzees and dolphins today as it is to those concerned with possible contact one day with extraterrestrials.Piper eventually wrote two sequels to Little Fuzzy which were collected in The Complete Fuzzy. The third novel in this trilogy was not discovered until many years after Piper's untimely death and so two alternate endings to the trilogy were also commissioned, William Tuning's Fuzzy Bones and Ardath Mayhar's Golden Dream: A Fuzzy Odyssey.

[fuzzi_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A friend shared this book with me about twenty years ago, and I was entranced. It's not a great book, but it's good, entertaining, and should give you some 'food for thought'. The descriptions of the antics of the fuzzies is marvelous, and worth reading the book if only for Piper's descriptions.I found this book this morning in a used book store, and reread it this afternoon. Guess what? It still was a fun read and I enjoyed it about as much as I did twenty years ago. (and yes, my moniker is based partly upon this book...as is my avatar, which I have used for a number of years online)

[wmorton38 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a pleasant little story about a prospector on the planet Zarathustra who discovers (or is discovered by) some very cute little teddy bear (?) like aliens. The plot of the story concerns the good guys trying to prove that the Fuzzies are sapient beings and the bad guys (the company that runs the planet) trying to prove they aren't. That's pretty much it but it's nicely done and quite enjoyable.

[radella_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Little Fuzzy is a wonderful little book. I found it interesting to see how the major themes in this book both relate to the modern times and how much those themes have been used in other science fiction. Jack Holloway is an elderly prospector mining for the valuable sunstone on the planet Zarathustra. He comes home one day to find a strange creature in his bathroom. He names them fuzzies, and quickly begins to realize they are not mere animals. Soon, many scientists are camped out on his grounds, studying them. They are trying to determine if the fuzzies are sapient beings... if so, the Zarathustra Company will lose its claim on the planet and the valuable sunstones. Things quickly come to a head, and the issue of sapience becomes central to a court case. I found it a bit simplistic. There was a “best case scenario” feel, with characters falling in the good or evil camp. There was no gray area. It also had the sorts of problems most novellas tend to have (at least in my opinion)- the characters were lacking any real depth, and the plot was straightforward.

[yarriofultramar · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A short, excellent story dealing with an issue of sapience - what it really means to think? Surprisingly, it does not feel dated although it was published almost fifty years ago. It is not gloomy and dark but rather optimistic. It is also an entertaining court drama and interesting look at the possible interstellar society based on libertarian ideas. Definitively a worthy read especially if you have few hours to kill. It can be downloaded from Gutenberg project so do not hesitate.

[dwwilkin_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Project Gutenberg has a free copy of this classic tale for download. Charming, heart-warming are keywords that I can attribute to this tale. It deals with our human expansion to the stars and our encountering those little green martians we have always expected. Except they are not what we have thought.I have read this along with Fuzzy Sapiens many times. The aliens of Little Fuzzy have not always been there in their UFO's spying on us, or are part of a xenocidal race that wants our extinction. If anything man wants to see the end of the alien. Perhaps bleeding heart liberals would be the thought of the defender of the Fuzzy, but Piper writes of Fuzzy in such a way as to make then an endearing race. Part little child, part kitty cat.The conflict is that if there are alien intelligences out there, who owns that world? We have seen Cherryh look at this from a distance in Downbelow Station, and the same with Weber in On Basilisk Station, but those books were not focused on the thought of someone speaking up for that Alien's rights and ensuring that they are protected. That is the plot line here. We have a company world that wants to exploit the world, we have a native intelligence that needs to be defended working within the system, but unable to articulate for themselves their defense. Hence a really great book that led to two additional authors writing books about them, and then years after Piper's death, a third tome being unearthed and published.

[dlmorrese · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a truly charming book. It has a succinct, and admittedly somewhat dated style, that is fast paced and engaging. It explores on of the "big" questions, what it means to be sentient, which puts in in a higher category of speculative fiction than the average space opera.

[mcwolf_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A Classic '60s pulp fiction novel which looks at the theme of ‘What constitutes a sapient creature’? The last half of this book goes into a detailed discussion between the characters, in and out of the courtroom, about this subject and then the repercussions it will have on the company owned planet of Zarathustra. Greed is the secondary theme as we follow the machinations of the company trying to keep its grip on the lucrative sunstone market.I particularly liked the technology of the book, it was vague enough in some areas to pass as a modern book and then quirky in the spots where it was a bit more detailed, like using audio tape to store information. I guess some of the tech in today’s modern sci-fi books will seem obsolete in 20 years time as well. This book can be read at two levels. When I read it twenty years ago it was an exciting story, after finishing it again at this later stage in my life the philosophical discussions where more interesting than the action. Space Vikings by H.Beam Piper is a good read as well but it looks at the theme of retribution and revenge.

[wova4 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I didn't start out with high expectations for Little Fuzzy, but I found its balance of gee-whiz futurism and the exploration of the nature of intelligence has aged well since 1962. Most of the characters are suitably developed (for science fiction, at least), but the big reveal of the character with other loyalties was easy to spot from a long distance. The fuzzies are impossibly likeable, almost to a point of distraction.

[lunacat_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jack Holloway is digging for stones on Zarathustra when a friend comes to visit. This friend isn't human though. Its a 'Fuzzy'.What follows is a lovely, interesting, enthralling and thought-provoking science fiction novel. The descriptions of the Fuzzies are wonderful. Their customs, habits, routines and methods of learnings are fantastic and made them entirely real.Not only is this a book with 'cute' written all over it, but also a serious look at what defines a sapient being and the lengths people will go in walking over what they consider 'inferior' beings to ensure they get what they want.This is by far and away the best science fiction I have read this year. I get the feeling it could take some doing to beat how much this book touched me. The ending just makes it brilliant.In one line: Not only a fascinating look at another species but also a discussion about the definition of a sapient being. Highly Recommended.

[bfgar · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my very favorite books. Read it. You'll like it.

[bzedan_2 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Now, the Terro-Humans colonise like nothing else. And, being human, they also love the commerce and capitalism. So, when possibly, this uninhabited planet the Company has essentially just started running in the black and self-sufficiently, isn't like—really uninhabited? Yeah, we learn about humanity, and how imaginatively cruel, grasping and utterly selfless it can be. At least when things are fuzzy. The ending would have been totally different if they were dealing with a "Little Scaly". There's two (still copywrit) books involving the Fuzzies after this, I may need to check them out (actually, just they and one other are the only Terro-Human books still in copyright). For all I know, Piper deals with that not-big-problem in them.

[lisamaria_c · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book introduced among the most memorable aliens in science fiction. Mind you, they're so cute as to induce sugar shock. Little furry creatures about the size of toddlers with soft, silky fury and huge eyes, playful and childlike. This almost has a feel more of a children's book than science fiction. Except it does deal with some sophisticated concepts. The "Fuzzies" are on a planet colonized by humans and largely owned and ruled by a corporation under a charter only valid if there are no sapient indigenous life forms. So when the Fuzzies show up, it soon becomes a very serious matter indeed whether they're just cute animals--or people. Piper's a good storyteller and presents likeable characters--human and non-human alike. It's an entertaining read, and for something with a 1962 copyright, surprisingly doesn't feel at all dated.

[joeyreads_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

So I read Scalzi's version, didn't much like it, and was very confused, and so went back and re-read this, and it's not at all the book I remember. I've cross-wired this to some entirely other book, which I remember as having much better aliens. Perhaps I'm remembering a sequel? Or an early Le Guin? Anyway, officially fuzzied out now.