Authors: Unknown
It was a hard look to describe, but one familiar to anyone who has been in government service for a long time. It was a fusion of haughty self-importance with the perplexed expression of someone who has no idea what is going on. Bendagar thought of it simply as “The Look.”
Dieter Pavel crossed Bendagar’s office using the overhead grips like a child on a set of monkey bars.
“Professor Bendagar?” he asked, holding out his hand to be shaken. The gesture marked him as a groundhog. Shaking hands was awkward in microgravity, especially when the other hand was needed to anchor oneself. Most microgravity dwellers confined themselves to a quick nod of greeting. Despite this, Bendagar leaned across the desk as far as his seat belt would allow and took the proffered hand.
“Mr. Pavel?”
Pavel nodded. “You were notified that I was coming, weren’t you?”
“Yesterday.”
Pavel laughed. “Sounds like you knew before I did.”
“What can we of the survey do to help you?”
Pavel pulled himself into the framework that served as the visitor’s chair and slipped his legs into the hold down straps. “You probably know that better than I do. They did not give me much guidance. Why don’t we begin at the beginning? What has happened since your people found the alien?”
“I have full reports - ”
Pavel held up his hand in a restraining gesture. “I am sure you do, Dr. Bendagar. I will read them later. In the meantime, I am merely looking for an overview of the situation.”
“Very well,” Bendagar answered with something approaching resignation. “As soon as the report of a survivor came in, the captain ordered a cabin prepared to receive him. We had a busy time of it for an hour or so.”
“You took the usual precautions against disease?”
“Of course. The captain cleared out a cluster of cabins at the end of a cul-de-sac corridor, all of which are against the outer hull. The former occupants were less than happy to be evicted. We stripped the central cabin of furnishings, sealed off its connection with the ship’s environmental system and installed an air renewal unit before depressurizing the cabins around it.”
“Why did you do that?”
“To build a Class 1 bio-barrier, of course. We have yet to discover an organism more complex than a spore that can survive a journey through vacuum. We installed multiple contamination locks in the corridor leading to our holding pen and implemented full decontamination procedures for everyone going in or out. The precautions were as much for the alien as for us. We did not want him coming down with the common cold or something equally devastating. That mistake has been made far too often in the past.”
“It sounds as though you were admirably thorough.”
“If there is one thing we of the survey know, Mr. Pavel, it is how to establish a proper quarantine.”
“I never doubted it, Dr. Bendagar. What happened next?”
We equipped the holding pen with cameras and self-contained sanitation facilities, gathered up everything aboard the alien ship that resembled a foodstuff, and then brought the alien aboard in a decontaminated rescue bag. We left the bag in the cabin, sealed the door, and sat back to watch.”
“What happened?”
“After ten minutes or so, he figured out how to work the bag’s escape mechanism. He spent the next several hours exploring the cabin, randomly at first, then much more systematically. He seemed to recognize the function of the waste disposal equipment almost immediately and soon had a fair understanding of the built-in controls. Then he found the bulkhead-mounted holoscreen. Once he learned to operate that, he barely moved for the next three days.”
“Then there is no doubt he is intelligent?”
“None whatever.”
“What does he do now?”
“He splits his time between watching the screen and watching us watch him.”
“What about communication?”
Bendagar grimaced. “That is a problem. He still shows no sign of recognizing that we are speaking to him and has not attempted to communicate, at least, none that we have recognized. That is why I asked to have a linguist assigned to my team. We need to take a more professional approach to the matter than we’ve been able to manage up ‘til now.”
“How long do you think it will be before we will be able to talk to him?”
“Weren’t you listening? We don’t know that we
can
talk to him.”
“I meant no criticism by my remark, sir,” Pavel answered. Humility did not come easy to him, but he had learned long ago about the scientific temperament. In his opinion, scientists were like poorly designed computer interfaces. One must put up with their idiosyncrasies if one wants to obtain any information. “I only meant that the coordinator has a number of questions she wants asked. I would like to give her some idea of how long it will be.”
“Give our new linguist a week or so, and perhaps we can tell you that. Believe me, Pavel, there are a lot of questions we of the survey want answered, too.”
“Such as?”
“The first thing we want to know is how long they’ve had star travel.”
Pavel nodded. “That way we can gauge their level of technological development.”
“That, too, but mostly we want to get some measure of the distance between us and their civilization.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.”
“You were told they use some sort of wormhole transportation, weren’t you?”
“Not that I know what that means.”
“It’s a method for moving between two widely separated points without crossing the intervening space in between.”
“What has that to do with where they are located?”
“Everything. When their gate formed in the New Eden system, it produced a powerful gravity wave.
Now gravity waves are very persistent phenomena. Had any alien-induced gravity waves yet reached the solar system, we would have detected them. Since none have, we can set a lower limit on the distance to the alien’s home system. Their stars can be no closer than the number of light-years equal to the time that has passed since they first developed this method of travel.”
“You have lost me, Dr. Bendagar.”
“It is simple, really. Let us say that they invented the stargate a thousand years ago. Since gravity waves are omni-directional and travel at the speed of light, the fact that we have yet to detect that first wave would indicate that their systems are more than a thousand light-years from here. Likewise, that wave they set off in the New Eden system should be getting here in about a century.”
“You speak of ‘their stars.’ Coordinator Halstrom believes we face at least one interstellar hegemony, and maybe two. Do you agree?”
“Of course. The autopsies on the dead and our tests on the survivor conclusively prove they came from different star systems. If you find widely divergent organisms together on the same starship, what other conclusion is there?”
“Any indication of how many stars we are talking about?”
“None. Of course, when we can finally speak to our guest, that is something we will ask him.”
“Why do you suppose they attacked you, Dr. Bendagar?”
“Another matter we hope to explore with Butch.”
“Butch?”
“The alien. We have to call him something, at least until we learn what he calls himself.”
“Do you subscribe to this theory that they are inherently warlike? I have always believed that war was incompatible with an interstellar civilization.”
“I always believed that too,” the scientist said, “right up until the moment they vaporized Scout Three.”
“Perhaps that was unintentional. You know that such accidents aren’t unknown where automated weapons systems are involved.”
“You have seen the tapes. Did it look like an accident to you?”
“What it looked like to me is immaterial,” Pavel said smoothly. “I would hate to think that we were ready to begin an interstellar war over a single, regrettable incident.”
“Tell those who died how ‘regrettable’ it was,” Bendagar responded.
Pavel noted that the scientist was becoming impatient. One thing a life in politics taught a person was to judge accurately when one’s welcome was wearing thin. He decided to change the subject.
“When can I see the alien?”
“Anytime you want,” Bendagar replied. He checked his chronometer and said, “Except, he is probably asleep just now. You may want to wait until after dinner. We’ll introduce you and Miss Arden to the staff, then take you down to meet Butch.”
Dr. Bendagar was wrong. The alien was not asleep. He was sitting in his cell, contemplating the strange bipeds in whose custody he found himself. The same activity had consumed his every waking moment since they had brought him aboard their ship. Nor was his name “Butch.” His personal label was Sar-Say, descended from the famous Sar-Dva and ortho-cousin to Sar-Ganth, a name recognized in dozens of star systems spread across three quadrants of Civilization.
Sar-Say’s species had been civilized too long for them to rail against fate or vent their frustrations in emotional outbursts about what might have been. Even so, Sar-Say’s recent experiences had been enough to drive the most stolid being to wonder whether the universe might not have a personal grudge against him.
The ship on which he had been traveling was the
Hraal
, commanded by a Vithian named Muulbra, with a mixed crew of Vithians and Frels. The
Hraal
had been on the third stage of the journey from Vith to Persilin, maneuvering to approach the stargate on the far edge of the Nala system. They had halted their approach when the Nala stargate computer had warned of priority traffic astern. The traffic had turned out to be a Broan Avenger-class warcraft on high gravs. Rather than make for the gate, the Avenger had closed to within a thousand
fel
of the
Hraal
and opened fire.
Captain Muulbra had not even considered wasting his energy being indignant. Whatever reason the Broa had for attacking his ship must seem good enough to them, and one thing the overlords never did was explain their actions to the lesser races of Civilization. Instead of fleeing back toward Nala, Muulbra had ordered his ship into the stargate’s locus in the hope of escaping to safety in the Persilin system. If he had thought the Avenger would break off the attack, he had quickly been disappointed. Both ships reached the invisible boundary of the stargate just as the Avenger unleashed a single massive bolt of energy at its prey.
That bolt had never arrived. Onboard the
Hraal
, Sar-Say had been thrown from the resting frame in his cabin as alarms began to scream throughout the ship. The blow was not the sharp
crack
of an energy strike against metal, but rather a massive temblor in space. What had rocked the ship was the strong gravity wave that always accompanies a shift in the focus of a star gate. Sar-Say had barely regained his perch when Captain Muulbra reported that they had indeed jumped through the gate, but not to the Persilin system. A billion
fel
below them was an unknown yellow sun.
In one sense, they had been extremely lucky. The energy surge that had sent the gate focus skittering across some unknown number of light-
vang
could easily have dumped them out in deep interstellar space. Had that happened, they would have starved long before the
Hraal
could have reached another star. Instead, they found themselves close to a planet that reflected the blue-white glow of a water world.
There had been no time to rejoice at their good fortune, however. Moments after the captain’s announcement, they were again under attack from the Avenger’s energy bolts.
Captain Muulbra, with half his crew dead and his ship being carved to pieces around him, had made for the nearby planet in the hope of taking to the lifeboats before their tormentor could vaporize them. They had crossed half the distance to dubious safety when they discovered a single ship in orbit around the planet, and another, much smaller craft, in transit between the world and one of its moons. Muulbra had altered course for the strangers in the forlorn hope of distracting his pursuer.
The running battle - or more accurately, the running slaughter - had continued until the Avenger drew close to the smaller of the unknown ships and destroyed it with a single bolt. The attack took less time than the blink of an ocular. Even so, it allowed Captain Muulbra to widen the gap between
Hraal
and the Avenger. The order for lifeboat stations went out to the surviving crewmembers. Once in the boats, they would scatter while the Avenger took care of the large unknown ship in orbit. If they got well into planetary atmosphere while their attacker was preoccupied, they might yet survive.
Pursued and pursuer had closed the range to the large ship visible only on instruments just above the backlit planetary limb. As the Avenger approached weapons range with the stranger, something mysterious happened. The powerful Broan warcraft had exploded, adding its own substance to the detritus of space. As far as Sar-Say had seen, the stranger had taken no perceptible measures to defend itself. It was possible, of course, that the Avenger had run into one of the tiny bits of matter that cluster close to any planet. To have done so at so opportune a moment, however, was too improbable to contemplate. Muulbra, realizing that the danger ahead was as great as that which had been behind, used a last surge of power from his tortured engines to throw
Hraal
into an escape orbit. Then, as the engines died, so had the captain and his crew.
In time, the unknowns had boarded the derelict
Hraal
. Sar-Say had followed their progress by the bumps and scrapes transmitted through the hull despite the airlessness in the rest of the ship. As the sounds grew louder, he had become more frightened. Anyone who would destroy a Broan Avenger might show him little mercy. Then the moment of discovery had come, and despite his quaking, one part of Sar-Say had observed the strangers with detached clinical interest.
They were, like him, bipeds. That was not surprising. Bipeds made up the majority of Civilization’s species. The scientists were still arguing over why this should be. The fact that he did not recognize them in their vacuum gear did not particularly surprise him. The unfamiliar suits covered most of their form.