by Timothy Zahn
Pahli Jalal's thoughts were, in fact, a dozen light-years from his wife. Specifically, they were on the massive object some fifty thousand kilometers off the Susa's starboard bow.
"No chance that it belongs to Lorikhan or any of the others, is there?" he asked Ahmar, his aide, as he studied the image on the telescope screens.
"None, sir." Peering at his bank of displays, Ahmar touched a button and then shook his head.
"Completely unknown configuration and space-normal drive spectrum. Scanner Section reports their star drive probably works on the same principles as ours, but it's definitely not a standard Burke system." He glanced at the commander. "Are we going to make contact?"
"None, sir." Peering at his bank of displays, Ahmar touched a button and then shook his head.
"Completely unknown configuration and space-normal drive spectrum. Scanner Section reports their star drive probably works on the same principles as ours, but it's definitely not a standard Burke system." He glanced at the commander. "Are we going to make contact?"
"Looks like the decision's been made," Pahli said to Ahmar.
"We could attack, sir, or even run," First Office Cyrilis pointed out. "Or both; we could fire a torpedo salvo and be gone before they even knew the missiles were on the way."
Pahli and Ahmar exchanged glances, and Pahli felt his jaw tighten momentarily. Fight or run-it was always the same reaction to every problem. When, he wondered, would humanity learn to solve conflicts with understanding and mutual respect instead of with animal reflexes? "Recommendation noted, Lieutenant.
We'll hold orbit here and see what they want."
"Yes, sir. Recommend we put weapons stations on full alert anyway, Commander. Just in case."
Eyes still on the screens, Pahli waved an impatient hand. "All right. See to it."
Cyrilis saluted and floated across to the main intercom board. Sotto voce, Ahmar said, "I hope he doesn't blow them out of the sky before they even have a chance to say hello."
Pahli shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about that. He's got better combat nerves than either of us."
"Commander!" the scanner chief reported suddenly. "UV laser hitting us; coming from the other ship.
Low-power, too diffuse to be a weapon. It seems to be frequency-modulated."
Pahli threw a tight smile at Ahmar. "I think they've said hello. Get a recorder on that laser and turn Cryptography's computers loose on it. I think there's also a package of basic language instruction on file, isn't there?"
Ahmar nodded. "Disk file Ninety-three something, for opening communication in case another Earth ship ever came out here."
"Start beaming it across with one of our own communication lasers. It'll prove we're interested in talking, even if they can't understand any of the tape."
The unknown ship took up a parallel course some five hundred kilometers from the Susa; and for six hours the two ships did a slow promenade as the lasers continued their information exchange. And it was the unknown, not the Susa, that solved its puzzle first.
"I greet you, Human," the bridge speaker boomed out in a voice like flat gray paint. "I am called Drymnu."
The words seemed to echo through Pahli's head. It was indeed as he'd half-expected: no tenth-generation human ship, but a truly alien craft. Kohinoor's first contact with another race... With as much poise as he could manage, he touched the proper button on his board. "Drymnu ship, greetings," he said, his mouth dry. "This is Commander Pahli Jalal of the starship Susa, servant to the Hasar Nation.
Have I the privilege of addressing your captain?"
The alien's abruptness took Pahli aback somewhat. "Well, we'll be happy to assist as much as possible," he said, motioning to Ahmar. The aide had anticipated him, and was already tying Cryptography into the conversation. "Please explain the problem."
"First, I appear to have found more than one way to address you: Human, Commander Pahli Jalal, and Hasar Nation. Which is correct, or do I misread? In a congruent manner, which reference word is correct: you, him, or her? And how do I and we correspond?"
Pahli frowned. "All the words are correct in different contexts. 'You' refers to a person being addressed or spoken to, while 'him' and 'her' are used when speaking of a third person."
There was a pause as the other seemed to digest that. "But does third person not refer to a separate entity not part of oneself? Surely there is insufficient space in your craft for two of you to exist."
Pahli cut himself out of the circuit and turned to Cyrilis, who was peering over the scanner chief's shoulder. "Just how big is this alien, anyway?" he asked.
The other hunched his shoulders. "Several thousand of us could fit comfortably aboard that ship. He can't be that big-square-cube laws would never have let him evolve. We've got to be misunderstanding him."
Pahli nodded and touched the switch again. "We also seem to be misreading," he said. "We are all of one species, but there are over one hundred eighty persons aboard this craft. Does that help?"
"This is not posheliz-scsit-khe-fzeee-" The speaker squealed unintelligibly for a second and then cut off sharply.
"What was that?" Ahmar whispered.
"I don't know. I must have said something wrong," Pahli answered. "Cyrilis, put all defense systems on full alert." The other nodded, and a tense silence descended on the bridge.
When the break came it was almost an anticlimax. "You are a fragmented race," the speaker said, once again in a flat monotone. "Each of your members is distinct from the others. Is this true?"
A strange shiver ran down Pahli's spine. The implications of such a question... "Yes, that's true. I, uh, take it you're different?"
"I am one. Aboard this craft is a single mind, a single purpose, with eighteen thousand two hundred twenty-six physiologically distinct units. Never before has a fragmented race survived its intraspecies warfare to reach the stars. That has always been impossible. Where are you from, and how have you accomplished this?"
A surrealistic picture flashed across Pahli's mind: the alien ship transformed into a giant beehive, its corridors filled with buzzing insects. He shook the vision out of his mind and again cut off the link.
"Ahmar, do we have a mistranslation here?"
"Doesn't look like it, sir. Cryptography reports that the grammatical structure of the Drymnu language seems compatible with this sort of hive mind thing they're describing." He shook his head. "A hive mind.
I've read about such things, but only in fiction. To actually find one..." He trailed off, still shaking his head.
"Doesn't look like it, sir. Cryptography reports that the grammatical structure of the Drymnu language seems compatible with this sort of hive mind thing they're describing." He shook his head. "A hive mind.
I've read about such things, but only in fiction. To actually find one..." He trailed off, still shaking his head.
Pahli nodded slowly. That burst of emotion when the alien realized the nature of humanity could have been surprise, fear, or hatred. Best to err on the cautious side. "No problem. I'll tell him about Earth.
Even if he could find it, it's too far away to bother with." If it hadn't blown itself out of existence by now and saved any hostile aliens the trouble, he added silently. On Earth, even more than on Kohinoor, problems were solved with animal reflexes.
Thumbing the switch, he settled more comfortably into his chair and began telling the strange creature called Drymnu about the equally strange creature called Man.
The sun was just setting behind the tall buildings of Missai Gem when the formation of six fighter jets streaked by overhead, heading south toward the Missai-Baijan border. A handful of grain still clutched in his hand, Shapur Nain looked up as they were briefly framed by the city park's trees. He twisted his head to follow them with his eyes, feeling the initial tension drain from his old body. Only a single wing, and not climbing with anything near attack speed, unless his eyes were failing as fast as his legs. That meant it was only a routine patrol, or perhaps that the border f
orces were being beefed up. The war with Baijan hadn't started. Not yet, anyway.
He watched the jets vanish into the distance and then turned back to the birds and small animals milling around his bench. Tossing them the grain, he watched with interest as members of the different species jockeyed for position. The scavenger rusinh, armed with needle-sharp ridges on beak and wing coverts, had all the obvious physical advantages over the relatively defenseless treemice. To compensate, the furry mammals had developed a strategy where two of them would distract a rusinh with lightning-fast feints while a third made off with some of the grain. Each threesome worked in rotation, giving all its members a chance at the food.
Cooperation-that was the secret of survival. Tossing out another handful, Shapur wondered if mankind would ever learn that lesson. He tended to doubt it. Kohinoor had started with the cleanest sheet humanity had ever had-and what had they done with it? The legends said Earth had been worse, but Shapur no longer really believed that. Three wars in his lifetime alone, including one world war... his left leg throbbed with the memory. And now this Enhoav Basin problem could close the books on the whole thing permanently. Emotions and rhetoric were running high and hot, especially between Hasar and Lorikhan, and there were no signs that either side was ready to back down.
Shapur shook his head in frustration. Even he, who'd been pretty well cured of foolish nationalistic sentiments by his wartime experiences, had found himself being caught up by the polarizing forces around him. Logically, he could agree that Hasar was entitled to the rewards of its billion-ryal gamble-but the Hasarans were so damned insolent about it! And as for Missai playing mediator, that was laughable in the extreme. With the water-rights issue at the southern border on the verge of boiling over again, Prima Simin had little credibility as a peacemaker even among his own people, let alone the rest of Kohinoor.
The shadows of evening had fallen across him, and Shapur shivered with the sudden chill. His bag of grain was nearly empty now; scattering the remaining kernels, he waited until the birds and animals had finished their feeding. Then, grasping the cane that rested against the bench beside him, he got carefully to his feet. For a moment he stood there, waiting stoically for the sudden agony in his leg to subside. Then, keeping the use of the cane to a minimum, he began the slow walk to the edge of the park and his apartment a block away. Someday, he thought, they'd come up with a genuine pain-regulating prosthesis and he wouldn't have to go through this every time he wanted to stand up.
keeping the use of the cane to a minimum, he began the slow walk to the edge of the park and his apartment a block away. Someday, he thought, they'd come up with a genuine pain-regulating prosthesis and he wouldn't have to go through this every time he wanted to stand up.
The preliminary reports were all in, and most of the senior officers had left the Susa's briefing room to continue their work. Only First Officer Cyrilis remained behind, seated quietly at the small table.
"Something else on your mind?" Pahli asked, collecting the report disks into a neat pile in front of him.
"Yes, sir. I want to know why you refused my suggestion earlier that we disable the alien ship when we had the chance. We had the drive units pinpointed; a single seeker torpedo in each would have-"
"Would have been a totally unwarranted act of aggression," Pahli interrupted him stiffly. "What did you want to do, start an interplanetary war? Don't we have enough trouble on Kohinoor as it is?"
"It's precisely because of our problems on Kohinoor that I made the suggestion. It may or may not have occurred to you, Commander, but the Drymnu ship presents us with a rare opportunity. Even a partial mastery of an alien technology could give the Hasar Nation a vital military edge over our enemies."
"I don't recall the Drymnu offering us any of their technology. In fact, it seemed to me that they were inordinately eager to get away from us, and weren't in any mood to open trade relations."
Cyrilis shook his head impatiently. "I wasn't suggesting we beg or barter for the items we could use."
"I know what you were suggesting. Ignoring the moral issue for a moment, suppose we'd attacked and found them better armed than we thought?"
"The Susa's a warship. It's our job to take risks when necessary."
Pahli was suddenly tired of this conversation. "Well, the subject's academic now, anyway. The Drymnu's gone, and we can't follow him."
"Yes, we can." Standing up, Cyrilis walked over to Pahli, moving with practiced ease in the tenth-gee the Susa's rotation was providing. "I took the liberty of launching two sensor drones a few hours before the alien left. We got his para-Cerenkov rainbow from three directions." He handed Pahli a disk. "Here are his course and speed figures."
Pahli took the disk mechanically, looking up at the lieutenant with new eyes. To do something like that without Pahli's permission skated uncomfortably close to insubordination.
"I'd guess we have no more than a couple of hours to give chase before he gets too far ahead of us,"
Cyrilis continued. For a moment he locked eyes with his commander. "The decision is yours, of course. I trust you won't take too long about it." Saluting, he left the room.
Pahli was still seated at the table, fingering the disk, when Ahmar came in. "I just saw Lieutenant Cyrilis heading toward the bridge, looking like an angry jinn. What did you say to him?"
Pahli brought his gaze back from infinity and focused on his aide. "Actually, he did most of the talking. He thinks we should go after the Drymnu, blow him to bits, and then take any of his equipment that's still in one piece."
Ahmar shook his head. "Thank God he's not in charge. And how does he expect to find the Drymnu again? It's a big universe, you know."
"Not big enough," Pahli displayed the disk. "He got the specs for the Drymnu's first flight segment."
Ahmar blinked in surprise. "Did you authorize that, sir?"
"Of course not." Pahli tossed the disk onto the table. "Unfortunately, he's got a good point. Command will want to know why we didn't at least try to barter for some of the Drymnu's technology."
"And why didn't you?"
"Same reason Cyrilis wants the stuff, only in reverse. Kohinoor's poised on a knife edge already. I don't want to be the one to push it off by introducing more weapons into the equation."
Ahmar nodded agreement. "But I suppose rational thought like that would be lost on a fire-breather like the lieutenant."
"Oh, don't be too hard on him. He's a man of war, and from his viewpoint I probably am an inferior commander. On top or that, I suspect he's suddenly realized why the Susa spends so much time away on these planetary search missions."
Ahmar cocked his head slightly. "Because you're a man of peace?"
Pahli grimaced. "I'm sure Command thinks more in terms of 'lost nerve.' But you're right; I don't think they really trust me too close to the Koninoor war zone. Cyrilis probably thinks serving under me will reflect badly on his record because of that."
For a moment Ahmar was silent. Then, nodding at the disk, he asked, "So what are you going to do?"
Slowly, Pahli picked up the disk. "I've been thinking, Ahmar. Maybe Cyrilis is right-maybe the Drymnu does have something we can use back on Kohinoor. I think we should have another talk together."
Ahmar's jaw sagged slightly. "You're not serious. Commander, you don't have to give in to any of this pressure-"
"No, my mind's made up." Abruptly, Pahli got to his feet and handed his aide the disk. Take this to the bridge and feed the data into the helm. Cyrilis will be up there; tell him to kill the spin and secure for hyperspace. I want the Burke drive firing in fifteen minutes."
Ahmar tried twice before he could get the words out. "As you command, sir." He backed a few steps toward the door, his eyes never leaving Pahli's face. "Sir, are you sure-?"
"Fifteen minutes."
Turning, Ahmar fled the room.
Pahli permitted himself a tight smile as he moved more leisurely toward the door. So Cyrilis wanted technological treasures
from the Drymnu, did he? Well, perhaps he would get more treasure than he'd bargained for. A lot more.
Flat on his stomach in the dirt, Ruhl Tras poked his head cautiously over the crest of the hill. "There they are!" he whispered to the crop-haired girl beside him. "Must be a zillion Hasar-devils out there!"
Flat on his stomach in the dirt, Ruhl Tras poked his head cautiously over the crest of the hill. "There they are!" he whispered to the crop-haired girl beside him. "Must be a zillion Hasar-devils out there!"
"Sure," he told her confidently as he brought his own weapon to bear. His wasn't nearly as neat as hers-it was at least two years old and the batteries were running low-but his initial embarrassment over it always disappeared once the game got going. Raising his head higher, he looked to either side and gave the signal. Instantly the hills erupted with a cacophony of whistles, screams, and clicks as a half dozen different guns began going off, accompanied by enthusiastic shouts and yells. Jumping to his feet, his own machine gun clacking away, Ruhl gave a war-whoop and charged down the hill, blasting away enemies as he ran. The others weren't far behind him, but his head start got him to the enemy camp first, and it was Ruhl who raised his gun high and brought it sweeping down to kill the last enemy soldier. "Death to Hasar!" he shouted.
And then all the others charged together behind and into him, laughing and shooting into the air and raining curses down upon the Hasar-devils. In the midst of it all a clear voice intruded, carried on the light breeze: "Ru-u-uhl! Lunchtime!"
"Aw," Ruhl groaned reflexively. Raising his voice, he called, "Okay, Mom!"
"I'd better go, too," one of the others said.
"Yeah, me too," someone else seconded. "Can everybody come back after lunch?"
"I gotta go to the doctor's," the girl with the Flash-Back said disgustedly. "Maybe I'll get back early, though."
"Can I borrow your gun while you're there?" Ruhl asked eagerly, before anyone else could get the same idea.
