It came as a nasty surprise when, one stormy morning, immediately after finishing his morning tea, his daily routine was broken by a weak signal from space. Leo hoped it would turn out to be a meteorite, or maybe even a stray comet. He locked on it, and within an hour the signal had resolved itself into an energy pattern that showed it to be a metallic body propelled by magnetic drive. There could be no doubt of it: it was a spaceship. Somebody was coming to visit, and that was never good news. The lord of the planet would have to be notified immediately, and that meant Leo would have to descend from his comfortable hut on the summit of Mount Forgetful to the tree line in order to send the message via tree network.
Leo packed a light lunch and put on his warmest clothing, because he was tired of controlling his body temperature, and set off at once.
His way led downward between precipitous cliffs, overhung with heavy accumulations of snow. It was the sort of place where a man had to exercise extreme caution, extending his radar sense to the uppermost and being ready to respond quickly to the slightest hint of danger. But Leo was thinking so hard about the message he was to deliver that the first warning signal he responded to was a roaring sound from just above him.
Avalanche coming right at him! And it was too late to take evasive action. Leo remembered now, too late, his father’s final warning before his death—never trust nature, the old man had wheezed—and then Leo was engulfed and tumbled and turned, and somewhere along the line consciousness was lost.
When he came to, he found that he was tied hand and foot to a bed. With this as a clue, it was easy for Leo to figure out that he must have been rescued by a member of the Guaschi clan, hereditary enemies of his clan, the Huue.
A large, middle-aged man, holding a knife and clad in ratty furs, came forward from the shadows and nodded. “Yes,” he said, “you have inferred correctly, I am Ottoline Guaschi. I am, of course, going to kill you.”
“Why didn’t you do it already?” Leo asked. “I mean, why bother rescuing me in the first place?”
“My dear fellow, rescuing snowbound strangers is incumbent upon us all. In any event, I bear yon no enmity.”
“Glad to hear that,” Leo said.
“Or rather, I do bear you enmity, since our clans are mortal enemies, but the enmity I feel is purely formal—it is what goes with the role rather than being a true reflection of what my emotions actually are toward you.”
“What are your emotions actually toward me?” Leo asked.
“Profound indifference,” Guaschi said.
“I’m very glad to hear that.”
“But I do have a formal role to perform. One is supposed to kill enemies.”
“But you saved my life.”
“Well, that’s the sort of thing one does anyhow, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. But it’s inconsistent, this saving me and then saying you’re going to kill me.”
“Inconsistent? I should think not!” Guaschi said with some heat. “These contradictory actions are entirely consistent with my role, which is that of once discovering and dealing with an ancient clan enemy.”
“Well, all right,” Leo said. “But before you take any drastic action, I have a favor to ask.”
“Sorry, no favors,” Guaschi said. “It complicates matters.”
“This favor will do me no good,” Leo said, “since I’ll be dead. But it will be of considerable benefit to you and the rest of the Eleroi.”
“Well, I suppose I must grant it, then,” Guaschi said, his tone somewhat peevish. “What is it?”
“Please go down to the tree line and send a signal to the planetary lord. Tell him that an alien spaceship is approaching our planet.”
“This is not some kind of joke?” Guaschi asked.
“Note my insignia. I am an official watcher, duly elected by the lottery. I detected an alien ship some hours ago. That is my last word on the subject.”
“No need to get huffy about it,” Guaschi said. “I had to express some degree of incredulity, didn’t I? It’s been a thousand years since the last alien showed up, hasn’t it?”
“About that,” Leo said. “But before that they used to come here quite frequently, sometimes to settle, sometimes to conquer, sometimes to explore, sometimes for no reason at all. In the end we always got rid of them, of course.”
“Of course,” Guaschi said. “And we shall this time, too. Shan’t we?”
“Well, one hopes for the best,’” Leo said.
“Do you think they’ll give us trouble?”
“They’re certain to if you don’t get on with killing me and going down to the tree line to send the signal.”
“You can go down to the tree line yourself,” Guaschi said. “It’s a nasty bit of slippery climbing, and I don’t fancy it.”
“Then you’re not going to kill me?”
“I didn’t say that. You jumped to a conclusion.” Guaschi smiled. “That’s a good one on you.”
“Yes, all right, it is,” Leo said. “But you did say I was to go to the tree line and give the message?”
“Correct.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
Guaschi drew a small revolver out of his pocket. “Not until you promise me to return after giving the signal.”
“Of course I promise,” Leo said. He walked off, thinking, Simple-minded sod.
“Hurry back,” Guaschi called after him. “My daughter will be impatient to meet you.”
Leo stopped and turned around. “Daughter? How does your daughter come into this?”
“I would have thought you would have inferred the answer to that very question by now. Quite obviously, I thought up an alternative to killing you. Instead, you can return and marry my daughter. It’s dramatically acceptable, uniting the two opposing families and thereby resolving the ancient conflict. An admirable resolution every bit as acceptable as killing you.”
“Of course, it’s obvious enough now,” Leo said. “Tell me, what does your daughter look like?”
“Come back and find out.”
VI.
“Good afternoon, Lord Aftenby,” Denton said. “I have something rather unpleasant to report.”
“Have you indeed?” Lord Aftenby said. He was upset. He permitted Denton to see this by a very slight frown. A frown which said, “You know this is my last day of being lord of the planet, couldn’t you have waited until the next lord was selected by lottery?”
“No, I couldn’t,” Denton said, cognizing Aftenby’s thoughts by the rapid reading of a multitude of facial sub-cues. Learning this sort of reading was one of the main educational features of the Eleroi race. Anybody could punch up information on a computer. The real question was, did you know what’s going on around you?
“All right, if it’s so important, I suppose I should attend to it.” Aftenby practiced a sort of offhandedness in his manner which was one of the accepted norms of Eleroi protocol.
Denton had opted for casual but firm directness in his manner. It was really the best personality for the job of prime minister, which was the position the lottery had won him this year.
“To get straight to the point,” Denton said, “Leo Huue, the watcher on Mount Forgetful, just signaled. He has picked up a spaceship coming straight for our planet.”
“A spaceship?” Aftenby said. “An alien spaceship from outer space?”
“Well, obviously,” Denton said. “Since it’s not one of ours it must be alien, and since it doesn’t come from here it must come from there. The fact that we have no spaceships of our own also inclines me to the belief that it is, at least from our point of view, alien, though from its own outlook quite human, no doubt.”
“I know all that,” Aftenby said crossly. “I was simply expressing an appropriate amount of surprise. After all, it’s been over a thousand years since the last one, hasn’t it?”
“Something like that,” Denton said. “And I knew that you knew that, but I made my speech anyhow to practice didactics. No offense meant, I
assure you.”
“And none taken. I suppose I had better get things going. The procedures are clear. We must go into defensive mode, first degree. Come with me while I broadcast the message.”
Denton accompanied Aftenby across the broad Lord’s Room to the open mullioned window. Outside the window were small red-and-white blossoms that hung on the tips of a tall multi-branched tree.
Aftenby reached out and grasped one of the branches. “Priority message,” he said. “Clear the track.”
He waited until the network was clear, then announced, “There is an alien spaceship approaching our airspace. Please notify anyone around you who is not interfaced with the biological network. We are going into Defense Procedure A immediately.”
Aftenby could feel his message going out along the tree’s roots and branches, entering the nearby forest, from where it was rebroadcast by vines and creepers and grasses until it had completed a circuit of the entire planet. Wherever an Eleroi was in contact with tree or vine, the message was received.
He turned to Denton. “That ought to do it.”
“Shouldn’t you tell them who you are?” Denton asked.
“I clean forgot.” Aftenby grasped the branch again. “This is your lord speaking. Aftenby. The ruler of the planet, you may remember. Duly elected by lottery last year.”
Aftenby turned to Denton. “How’s that?”
“Pretty good,” Denton said. “But shouldn’t you say something to pick up their morale? I believe that is one of the functions of the head of a planet.”
“Oh, very well, if you really think I ought to.” Aftenby grasped the branch again. “It is usual in times of danger for your leader to speak words of comfort and wisdom. But the fact is, I’m scared as hell and you should be too. Aliens are bad news. But we’ll cope somehow, never fear.”
He released the branch and turned to Denton. “That ought to buck them up, eh?”
“It certainly had its effect on me,” Denton said. “Come on, let’s get down to the operations room.”
“What on earth for?” Aftenby asked.
“Because that’s where we plan how to deal with the aliens. You as lord of the planet and me as your prime minister.”
“It’s a comfort to have you,” Aftenby said. “You always know what to do.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to bear the responsibility,” Denton said. “That, my lord, is your lot.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” Aftenby said. “Let’s get to operations.”
VII.
The ivy tickled Tony the Contactman into wakefulness. Probably not on its own, of course. Not enough internal musculature. Aided no doubt by the breeze. And the breeze directed by the universal interaction of the Eleroi intelligence with Gaia, the gestalt composed of all the subsystems of the planet and its ethereal surround. Or so Tony the Contactman surmised.
It could have been no more than a happy accident—fortuitousness—or did he mean serendipity?
The vine tickled his foot again. “Damn your impudence,” Tony said in the tone of a man speaking to his beloved cat. He stretched, put on a light robe, and made himself a cup of tea. The vine was tapping impatiently against the wall. “Wait a minute,” Tony called out. “I’m no good till I’ve had my coffee.” But the vine couldn’t understand. It had no ears and not much intelligence, either, despite the latest boost from the Universal Intelligence Upgrade Program, whose existence could be inferred but not verified.
Tony the Contactman was about to lose himself for an hour or so in speculations about cosmic upgrading. He was fat and physically lazy and less inclined toward kinetic activity than his fellows and very fond of thinking about generalizations. Of course, he was only fourteen; he might outgrow it. You could never tell what the Universal Program had in mind for you next.
Tap tap tap.
“All right, I’m coming!”
Without haste, Tony walked into the living room and crossed it to the open window through which the ivy had thrust green fingers. Tony took one of the green fingers in his own and was immediately patched through to the headquarters of the lord of the planet. It was Aftenby this year, he remembered, and Denton was his prime minister.
Aftenby, himself, was, on the vine line. “Tony! How are you?”
“I’m very well,” Tony replied. “What’s up?”
“Brace yourself,” Aftenby said.
“I’ve already inferred what you’re calling me about,” Tony said. “It was simple enough, especially with the additional clue of your admonition, or should I call it an exhortation. It’s aliens, isn’t it? Are they on the ground yet?”
“Not yet,” Aftenby said. “They will be soon.”
“What bloody luck!”
“Well, it has been it thousand years since the last one.”
“I suppose so,” Tony said. “Well, what have you done?”
“Initiated Defense Procedure A. We’ve set up signal flares so that when the aliens are close enough for visual contact, they can see where to land.”
“Where we want them to land, you mean,” Tony said.
“Well, of course. But they usually tend to follow our landing suggestion. We bring them down in the north bay flats, close to the city of Dungruel.”
“”Dungruel? I don’t seem to remember any place of that name.”
“That’s because nobody lives there. Don’t you read the ‘Procedures for Dealing with Aliens’? Dungruel is the model city left us by the ancients. It’s where we show the aliens the tawdriness of our civilization.”
“How will you explain the lack of people? Can’t have much tawdriness without people.”
“Stop being silly. Of course we’re sending a population over right away, and they’ll be in place by the time the aliens get here.”
“Cutting it a little fine, weren’t you?”
“Our watcher had a little trouble with an avalanche and a blood feud, and there was some delay getting word of the sighting back to us. Don’t worry, there’s time. You know what you have to do?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “But must I? I mean, isn’t there someone else around who’d really get a kick out of doing it and would probably do it a lot better than I would?”
“No. Anyhow, it’s your job. The lottery selected you as contactman for this year. Don’t try to weasel out of it.”
“Of course I’m going to do it. I was just complaining, that’s all. I’m leaving right away. Is that fast enough for you?”
“Just a minute. Do you know what to do?”
“Of course I don’t know what to do,” Tony said. “Do you think I lie around all day studying up on what to do in case aliens show up? When they haven’t been around in a thousand years? But of course I’ll access the information before I leave. When I said I was leaving right away, that was a metaphor for leaving as soon as would be consistent with the necessary preparation for doing the job right. Or perhaps you missed the inference.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I miss any of your inferences, kid,” Aftenby said. “I asked if you knew what to do, knowing beforehand that you didn’t but were planning to learn, but I wished to underline the importance of taking more than a cursory glance at the material. Or did my tone of voice fail to make that clear?”
“Aftenby,” Tony said, “you have succeeded in making me lose my temper. Thank you. I needed that jolt to my constitutionally phlegmatic system to energize me to where I can deal adequately with what is happening.”
“Good luck, kid,” Aftenby said. “Go out there and contact those aliens. Remember, we’re all counting on you. But don’t let that get you nervous.”
“I won’t,” Tony said. “After all, the worst they can do is wipe out our entire race. But considering the ancient and well-accepted doctrine of the eternal recurrence of all things, that’s not such a big deal, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Aftenby said. “You are to be commended for the broadness and dispassion of your overview. But despite that, please try to
keep our race going a little longer, okay? Now go out there and deal with those folks.”
VIII.
It was only about an hour after landing. Brodsky and Anna were having a light curry dinner, when suddenly there was a knock at the spaceship’s port.
“Who do you suppose that is?” Brodsky asked.
Anna looked up from her Alien Primary Contacts manual, which she was reading propped up on the table in front of her. “One would infer,” she said, “that it is an intelligent alien.”
“How do you figure intelligent?”
“It takes brains to know enough to knock. Not even the cleverest dog on Earth can do that. They bark, you see. Not even our nearest cousins, the big primates, can be trained to knock before entering.”
Brodsky wondered how she knew that. Had a giant ape, trained but not reliable, walked in on her once? There were a lot of things he didn’t know about Anna.
“Might as well see who it is,” Brodsky said, then he undogged the port and pulled it open.
A small, fat boy in his early teens walked in.
“Hi,” he said. “You must be the aliens.”
“Yes, we are,” Brodsky said. “And you must be one of the Khasarians.”
“We don’t call ourselves that any more,” the boy said. “We call ourselves the Eleroi. Welcome to our humble planet.”
“How come you speak English?” Anna asked.
“I’m a telepath,” the boy said. “My name is Tony. I’m the contactman.”
Brodsky stood up, looked at Tony, and shook his head. “Aren’t you a little young to be a contactman?”
“Not at all. We Eleroi assign responsibility on the basis of intelligence and motility, not age.”
“That makes sense,” Brodsky said. “I’m Brodsky and this is Anna.”
Anna shook the contactman’s hand. She said, “Having a language in common makes it much easier. We want to know all about your civilization. And we want to tell you about ours.”
“Yes, that’s the usual form, isn’t it?” Tony asked.
“And we want to go sightseeing,” Brodsky said. “Visit your major cities. Look into the music scene, that sort of thing.”
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