The Gentle Giants of Ganymede g-2

by James P. Hogan

  "ZORAC," Hunt said. "They look a bit lost up there. Tell'em to come on down and meet the folks."

  "They will," the machine replied in his ear. "They need a minute to get used to it. Remember they have not breathed natural air for twenty years. This is the first time they've been out in the open for all that time."

  At the tops of other ramps around the ship's stern section more airlocks had opened and more Ganymeans were appearing. Garuth's carefully planned order of emergence was already forgotten. Some of the Giants were milling around in the airlock doors, while others were already partway down the ramps; some were just standing motionless and staring.

  "They're a bit lost," Hunt said to Wilby. "We ought to go over and straighten them out." Wilby nodded and motioned his group to follow. Some UN aides conducted the main party of Earthmen from Ganymede toward the national delegations while Hunt, Danchekker and a couple of others turned back to escort Wilby's group to the ramps.

  "ZORAC, connect me to Garuth," Hunt muttered as they walked.

  "You're through."

  "This is Vic Hunt. Well, how d'you like it?"

  "My people are temporarily overwhelmed," the familiar voice answered. "Come to that, so am I. I had expected that the sensation of coming out under an open sky after so long would be traumatic, but never anything like this. And all these people. . . the shouting. . . I can find no words."

  "I'm with the group that's approaching the ramp you're on now," Hunt advised. "Get your act together and come on down. There's people here you have to say hello to."

  As they neared the base of the ramp, Hunt looked up and saw Ciaruth, Shilohin, Monchar, Jassilane and a few others moving down toward them. To the left and right, other Ganymeans who had already reached the ground via the other ramps began converging on the spot where Wilby's group was waiting.

  Garuth stepped off the ramp, his companions following close behind, and halted to look down at the Secretary General. Slowly and solemnly they shook hands.

  Hunt acted as an interpreter via ZORAC and concluded introductions between the two groups.

  "This is one of the guys who runs the whole of the UNSA show," he said to Garuth when they came to Irwin Frenshaw. "Without it we'd never have been there for you to find."

  And then the two groups turned and, now mingled together, began walking away from the ramp. From above and behind them, scores of eight-foot-tall figures flowed downward along the ramps to join the lead group from behind. They came out into the sunlight and halted for a moment to survey the delegations from the nations of Earth arrayed before them. A sudden hush descended upon the hills behind.

  And then Garuth slowly raised his right arm in a gesture of salutation. One by one the rest of the Ganymeans copied him. They stood there silent and unmoving, a hundred arms extended and raised to convey a common message of greeting and friendship to all of the peoples of Earth.

  At once the roar swept down from the hillsides again. If what had come before had been a flood, then this was a tidal wave. It seemed to echo back and forth across the valleys as if the mountains of Switzerland themselves were reverberating and joining in their welcome.

  Wilby turned toward Hunt and leaned forward to speak close to his ear.

  "I think your friends have made something of a hit," he said.

  "I expected some fuss," Hunt told him, "but never this in a million years. Shall we carry on?"

  "Let's go."

  Hunt turned toward Garuth and tuned in.

  "Come on, Garuth," he said. "It's time to pay our respects. Some of these people out there have come a long way to meet you."

  Slowly, with the small mixed party of Earthmen and Ganymean leaders in front, the Giants began moving forward en masse toward the waiting heads of the governments of Earth's nations.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the next hour or so, the Ganymean leaders went from one group of national representatives to the next, exchanging brief formal speeches of goodwill. As the Ganymeans moved on, the groups broke up and dispersed to join the growing mass of Earthmen and aliens mingling on the concrete apron below the Shapieron. It was a very different reception from the one that had greeted the first hesitant emergence of the Ganymeans out onto the ice at Ganymede Main Base.

  "I still don't quite understand it," Jassilane said to Hunt as the party moved toward the delegation from Malaysia. "So far you've told us that everyone we've met was from a government. But what I want to know is who is the government?"

  "The government?" Hunt asked, not quite following. "Which one?" The Giant made motions of exasperation in the air.

  "The one that runs the planet. Which one is it?"

  "None of them," Hunt told him.

  "That's what I thought. So where are they?"

  "There isn't one," Hunt said. "It's run by all of them and none of them."

  "I should have guessed," Jassilane replied. In translating, ZORAC managed to inject a good simulation of a weary sigh.

  For the rest of the day the formalities continued amid an almost carnival atmosphere. Garuth and the Ganymean leaders spent some time with each group of government representatives, establishing relationships and arranging a timetable of projected official visits to the various nations represented. It was a busy day for Hunt and the other Earthmen from Ganymede, whose familiarity with the aliens put them in great demand for performing introductions and made them the obvious choice for acting as general mediators in the dialogues. By invitation of the European Government, a liaison bureau--a representative international body operating under UN sponsorship--had been established as a permanent institution within the Earthman sector of Ganyville. By evening the program of affairs to be discussed between the two races was being handled in a more-or-less orderly and coordinated fashion.

  That night there was a grand welcoming banquet in Ganyville, vegetarian of course, in which words, and wine flowed freely. After the meal and still more speeches were over and the two races had begun mixing and socializing, Hunt found himself, glass in hand, standing to one side of the room with three Ganymeans--Valio and Kralom, two of the crew officers from the Shapieron , and Strelsya, a female administrator. Valio was explaining his confusion over some of the things he had learned that day.

  "Ethmanuel Crow, I think he said his name was," Valio told them. "He was with the delegation from the place you live in, Vic--USA. Said he was from Washington. . . State Department or something. The thing that puzzled me was when he said he was a Red Indian."

  Hunt propped himself casually against the table behind him and sipped his scotch.

  "Why, what's the problem?" he asked.

  "Well, we met the Indian government spokesman later on, and he said India isn't anywhere near the USA," Valio explained. "So how could Crow be an Indian?"

  "That's a different Indian," Hunt replied, fearing as he spoke that the conversation was about to get itself into a tangle. Sure enough, Kralom had something to add.

  "I met someone who was a West Indian, but he said he came from the east."

  "There is an East Indies. . ." Strelsya began.

  "I know, but that's way over in the west," Kralom said.

  Hunt groaned inwardly and reached in his pocket for his cigarette pack while he collected his thoughts. Before he could inject a word of explanation, Valio resumed.

  "I thought that maybe when he said he was a Red Indian he might be really from China because they're supposed to be red and they're not far from India, but it turns out they're yellow."

  "Perhaps he was Russian," Kralom suggested. "Somebody told me they're red too."

  "No, they're pink," Strelsya declared firmly. She motioned her head in the direction of a short, heavily built man in a black suit with his back toward them, talking to another mixed group. "There--he's one if I remember rightly. See for yourself."

  "I've met him," Kralom said. "He's a White Russian. He said so, but he doesn't look white."

  The three aliens looked imploringly toward Hunt for some words of wisdo
m to make sense of it all.

  "Not to worry--it's all hangovers from a long time ago. The whole world's getting so mixed up together now that I really don't suppose it'll matter much longer," he said lamely.

  By the early hours of the morning, while a thousand lights still twinkled on the shadows of the surrounding hills, all was quiet, except for occasional scuffling noises and every now and again an ominous crash of bulk against timber, as gigantic frames tottered unsteadily but contentedly to bed through the narrow alleys between the chalets.

  The next morning, the august visitors from every corner of the globe began departing to give Ganyville a week of undisturbed rest and relaxation. A light schedule of discussions with visiting groups of Earthmen, mainly scientists, had been arranged for the week and some news features were laid on for the benefit of the public; for the most part, however, the Giants were left free to enjoy the feeling of having a world under their feet again.

  Many simply spent their time stretched out on the grass, basking in a splendor that was, to them, tropical. Others walked for hours along the perimeter, stopping all the time to savor the air as if making sure they were not dreaming it all and standing and staring in unconcealed delight at the lake, the hills, and the snowcapped peaks of the distant Alps. Others became addicted to the Earthnet terminals in the chalets, and displayed an insatiable appetite for information on every facet of Earth, its people, its history, its geography, and everything else there was to know about it. To facilitate this, ZORAC had been connected into the Earthnet system, enabling an enormous interchange of the accumulated knowledge of two civilizations.

  But best of all to watch was the reaction of the Ganymean children. Born aboard the Shapieron during its epic voyage from Iscaris, they had never seen a blue sky, a landscape or a mountain, never breathed natural air, and had never before conceived the notion of leaving their ship without requiring any kind of protection. To them, the lifeless void between the stars was the only environment that existed.

  At first, many of them shrank from coming out of the ship at all, fearful of consequences that had been instilled into them all their lives and which they accepted unquestioningly as fundamental truths. When at last a few of the more trusting and adventurous ones crept warily to the doors at the tops of the access ramps and peered outside, they froze in utter disbelief and confusion. From the things both their elders and ZORAC had told them, they had a vague idea of planets and worlds--places bigger than the Shapieron that you could live on instead of in , they gathered, though what this could possibly mean had never been clear. And then they had come to Ganymede; obviously that was a planet, they'd thought.

  But now this! Hundreds of people outside the ship clad only in their shirtsleeves; how could that be possible? How could they breathe and why did they not explode with decompression? Space was supposed to be everywhere, but it wasn't here; what had happened to it? How did the universe suddenly divide itself into two parts, half "up" and half "down"--words that could only mean anything inside a ship? Why was down all green; who could have made anything so large and why had they made it in strange shapes that stretched away as far as one could see? Why was up all blue and why weren't there any stars? Where did all the light come from?

  Eventually, with much coaxing, they ventured down the ramps and onto the ground. Nothing awful happened to them. Soon they became reassured and began to explore their new and wondrous surroundings. The concrete at the bottom of the ramps, the grass beyond, the wooden walls of the chalets--all were new and each held its own particular fascination. But the most astounding sight of all was that stretching away, seemingly forever, on the other side of the ship--more water than they had ever believed existed in the whole of the universe.

  Before long they were romping and reveling in an ecstasy of freedom greater than anything they had ever known. The crowning glory came when the Swiss police launches started running joy rides for them, up along the shore, out into the middle of Lake Geneva, and back again. It soon became obvious that only the grownups and their hang-ups stood in the way of the question of settling on Earth; the kids had made their minds up in no uncertain manner.

  Two days after the landing, Hunt was enjoying a coffee break in the residents' cafeteria at Ganyville when a low buzz from his Ganymean wrist unit signaled an incoming call. He touched a button to activate the unit and ZORAC's voice promptly informed him: "The coordination office in the Bureau Block is trying to contact you. Are you accepting?"

  "Okay."

  "Dr. Hunt?" The voice sounded young and, somehow, pretty.

  "That's me," he acknowledged.

  "Coordination office here. Sorry to trouble you but could you come over? We could use your help on something."

  "Not until you promise to marry me." He was in that kind of mood. Maybe it was coming home after being away for so long.

  "What? . . ." The voice rose in surprise and confusion. "I don't. . . that is, I'm serious . . ."

  "What makes you think I'm not?"

  "You're crazy. Now how about coming over? . . . on business." At least, he thought, she recovered her balance nice and quickly.

  "Who are you?" he asked lightly.

  "I told you--the coordination office."

  "Not them--you."

  "Yvonne. . . why?"

  "Well, I'll make a deal. You need me to help you out. I need someone to show me around Geneva before I go back to the States. Interested?"

  "That's different," the voice retorted, though not without a hint of a smile. "I'm doing a UN job. You're conducting private enterprise. Now are you coming over?"

  "Deal?"

  "Oh . . . maybe. We'll see later. For the moment what about our problem?"

  "What's the problem?"

  "Some of your Ganymean pals are here and want to go outside. Somebody thought it would be a good idea if you went too."

  Hunt sighed and shook his head to himself. "Okay," he said finally. "Tell'em I'm on my way."

  "Will do," the voice replied, then in a suddenly lowered and more confidential tone added: "I'm off on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays." Then it cut itself off with a click. Hunt grinned to himself, finished his coffee and rose to leave the table. A sudden thought struck him.

  "ZORAC," he muttered.

  "Yes, Vic?"

  "Are you coupled into the Earthnet local comms grid?"

  "Yes. That's how I routed the call through."

  "Yes I know. . . What I meant was, was she talking through a standard two-way vi-terminal?"

  "Yes."

  "With a visual pickup?"

  "Yes."

  Hunt rubbed his chin for a moment.

  "You didn't record the visual by any chance, did you?"

  "I did," ZORAC informed him. "Want a playback?"

  Without waiting for an answer, the machine reran a portion of the conversation on the screen of the wrist unit. Hunt nodded and whistled his silent approval. Yvonne was blond, blue-eyed, and attractive, her appearance somehow enhanced by the trim cut of her light-gray UN uniform jacket and white blouse.

  "Do you record everything you handle?" Hunt inquired as he sauntered toward the door.

  "No, not everything."

  "What made you record that then?"

  "I knew you'd ask for it," ZORAC told him.

  "I don't think I like eavesdroppers in on my calls," Hunt said. "Consider yourself reprimanded."

  ZORAC ignored the remark. "I logged her extension number too," it said. "Seeing as you didn't think to ask for it."

  "D'you know if she's married?"

  "How could I know that?"

  "Oh, I don't know . . . Knowing you, you could probably crack the access codes and get into UN's personnel records through the Earthnet or something like that."

  "I could, but I won't," ZORAC said. "There are things that a good computer will do for you and things that it won't. From here on in, you're on your own."

  Hunt cut off the channel. Shaking his head, he emerged from the cafeteria and turned in
the direction of the Bureau Block.

  He appeared a few minutes later inside the coordination office on the first floor, where Garuth and some other Ganymeans were waiting with a number of UN officials.

  "We feel we want to return the welcome that the people of Earth have given us," Garuth said. "So, we'd like to go for a walk outside the perimeter to meet them."

  "That okay?" Hunt asked, directing his words at the portly, silver-haired man who appeared to be the most senior of the officials present.

  "Sure. They're guests here, not prisoners. We thought it would be a good idea if someone they knew went with them though."

  "Fine by me," Hunt said, nodding. "Let's go." As he turned toward the door, he caught a glimpse of Yvonne operating a vi-console at the back of the office and winked mischievously. She colored slightly and looked down at the keyboard below the screen. Then she glanced up, winked back with a quick smile and busied herself at the keyboard again.

  Outside the building they were joined by more Ganymeans and a contingent of Swiss police headed by an apprehensive chief. The party walked down a path to the roadway and turned left to proceed between the rows of chalets toward a steel-mesh gate that formed part of the perimeter fence. As they walked clear of the chalets and continued up along the gently sloping gravel road toward the gate, a stir ran through the crowds sitting on the grassy mounds beyond the fence on the far side of the clear zone. People began jumping to their feet and looking down toward the fence. The excitement grew as the Ganymeans halted while Swiss constables unlocked the gate and swung it aside.

  With Garuth on one side of him and the Swiss police chief on the other, Hunt led the party through the gate as the clamor of voices ahead of them rose and became cheering. People began running down the slopes to press together just short of the police cordon, waving and calling as the party continued along the roadway across the clear zone.

  The cordon opened to let them through, and suddenly the people massed together across the roadway found themselves staring up into the awesome faces from another world. While the noise from all around continued unabated, the ranks immediately in front of the Giants grew strangely hushed, and fell back as if to maintain a respectful distance. Garuth stopped and looked slowly around the semicircle of faces. As his gaze traveled from one to another the eyes averted. Hunt could understand their uncertainty, but at the same time he was anxious that the gesture the Giants had wanted to make should not go unreciprocated.