The Starry Rift

by James Tiptree Jr

“Yeah, it’s all true. I’m afraid I’ll fall all over myself when we get in real gee. I figure this type body normally hops. Or has a tripedal gait, using the tail. Maybe the arms that correspond to our regular ones are occasionally used for support, too. And somebody should mention that it’s hard to drink enough water. It feels dangerous, like it’d be corrosive. Whoever this is must sure be a dry type... That’s all, except I really hope this wears off soon. And Cap’n and the others have been great. Dinger out.”

  The voder clicks off.

  Exec nods, satisfied, and puffs a breath up through her fluffy gray mop of hair.

  “That confirms Torrane,” the deputy agrees.

  “Yes... Frankly, though, I think I’d rather have had one mad navigator than what this implies. And with FTL transmission.”

  The voder comes back on; Torrane.

  “Seventy-five Standard hours later. Approach completed. Deceleration and spiral to landing orbit. No reaction of any sort observed from the planet. We have had what appeared to be hailing signals as we came through the outer systems a day or so back. We are starting standard First Contact hailing broadcast, with extra time on most used planetary frequencies. Computer analysis of all transmissions in the area so far appears to indicate that there are no video signals. Maybe they don’t have this technology. But FTL transmission appears more and more likely.

  “Ah. Answering hail, we’re pretty sure. It starts with a pretty good imitation of ‘ Rift-Runne One. ’ But beyond that we can’t get a thing... They seem to be trying different languages now. Still nothing remotely familiar. But the voice sounds themselves sound a lot like Human... and there’s this feeling we should understand it.

  “We see two spaceports. The largest is near or in the largest city; we’ll land there. There are no bodies of water on the whole planet, only a dust of some kind of ice at one pole. The place looks dry. If we didn’t see and hear them, I’d say it looks an unlikely place for life.

  “The scope just found what looks like a warship sitting on that port. Missile racks tentatively confirmed. Plus some small type of ship that could be armed scouts... There are several other large ships on that port, and a lot of activity everywhere. Oh, hey—there’s one of those probable newscast things starting right now!”

  He pauses.

  “What it comes to, I guess, is that we’re approaching a large civilization, maybe very large, certainly well linked up together, and armed; possibly at war somewhere. Possibly with FTL transmission, maybe FTL transport, and with the approach mined with some peculiar confusing mental effect. Whew... Funny, I feel as if I shouldn’t joke. I get a feeling of, well, reverence. Maybe that’s my unreliable Sensitivity—no, Kathy is signaling she gets it, too.”

  He pauses, then says with a peculiar slow accent, “The Garden... the Garden of the... Oversoul... Ah—”

  “Out,” snaps Captain Asch’s voice.

  “Yes... sir,” says Torrane. “We’ll dispatch... this now.”

  The voder controls click.

  “I believe that’s all,” says Pauna. “I’ll run it all to be sure, but that was the cassette control snapping off. The other item that was in the pipe are some starfield holos; I’ll run them over to Charts.”

  There’s a silence.

  “Big and armed and technologically advanced,” says Exec heavily. “And we’re entirely unable to communicate with them. It’s vital that this contact come off peacefully, that we don’t provoke hostilities or leave a hostile impression. And we’ve got five untrained, uninstructed star-hoppers crashing in. Oh, gods—how short-sighted whoever laid on this mission was!

  “If we could only communicate—no, have communicated, this is all long in the past. Whatever was going to happen has happened... Do we start setting up defenses? What in the hells is happening right now?”

  Pauna and Realune stare at Exec, curious and a little frightened. It’s the first time either has known her to lose her cool. A sense of the reality of danger, of genuine gravity, begins to percolate through to them.

  Meanwhile the deputy is saying something to her in a low voice. Visibly, effortfully, she regains her calm and glances at the others, smiling again.

  “All right, girls. I’m an old worrier. Remember I’m paid to worry. You’re not. All we have to do is to wait, constructively.

  “Pauna, can you make a copy of this, leaving out all the body-hallucinations stuff? I’d like to have it posted in the main lounge before dinner tonight. And Realune, we’ll get back on that communication to the Ammourabi, green? I’ll be with you in a minim, as soon as I ask Fred something.”

  Renewed smiles all around.

  As the two women leave, they hear her say, “Fred, will you encode the gist of this for rush transmission to Central and to the other section Execs? And never forgetting the deputies’ grapevine.”

  “ZIELTAN TO ALL-HARMONY, TWENTY ULANTAN, YOUR REPORTER IS FAVONEEN. FROM THE GARDEN OF THE OVERSOUL, A FORTUNATE MORNING TO YOU! IT IS NOW JUST OH-SEVEN HUNDRED HOURS ON A BEAUTIFUL CLEAR DAY.

  “OUR FIRST ITEM IS A FOLLOW-UP ON YESTERDAY’S FLASH.

  CAPTAIN KRIMHEEN OF THE EASTERN FLEET HAS LANDED AND IS DEEP IN CONFERENCE WITH THE COUNCIL, DISCUSSING THE LATEST DEVELOPMENTS IN THE EAST COMENO REGION. WHERE THE ATROCITIES COMMITTED BY THE ZHUMAN RAIDERS ARE APPARENTLY MUCH MORE WIDESPREAD THAN WE THOUGHT. HE FLEW HIS WARSHIP, THE GUARDIAN, TO ZIELTAN IN RECORD TIME, BRINGING WITH HIM PICTURES AND DETAILS OF THE ZHUMANOR AND THE BRUTAL METHODS THEY USED TO SUBDUE THE COMENO COLONY WORLDS. THE PICTURES WILL BE TRANSMITTED VIA OUR LATEST DIGITAL TECHNOLOGY AT THE END OF THIS BROADCAST FOR REPRINT IN YOUR LOCAL PRESS, AND NO ONE WHO SEES THE DEVASTATION AND THE PITIABLE PLIGHT OF THE COMENO CAPTIVES CAN FAIL TO BE MOVED. ONE OF THEIR MAIN METHODS WAS TO TAKE HOSTAGE THE COMENOR CHILDREN AND BY SYSTEMATICALLY ABUSING THEM THEY FORCED THE COMENOR TO ABANDON THEIR VITAL AGRICULTURE AND DIG GEMSTONES FOR THE RAIDERS. ANOTHER CRUEL TECHNIQUE WAS TO PUT TIGHT COLLARS ON THE CAPTIVES, WHICH COULD BE CONTRACTED BY RADIO SIGNAL, THUS CHOKING THE UNFORTUNATE CAPTIVE TO DEATH IF HE DID NOT WORK HARD ENOUGH. BY THESE MEANS THEY FORCED THE PRISONERS BEYOND THEIR STRENGTH, LITERALLY WORKING THEM TO DEATH. AND THE NEGLECT OF THEIR CROPS MEANT THAT THEY WOULD STARVE. BUT THE BESTIAL ZHUMANOR TOOK NO CHANCES:. WHEN THE GEMSTONE LODES WERE EXHAUSTED THEY SLAUGHTERED ALL SURVIVORS AND DESTROYED ALL TRANSMITTING EQUIPMENT, WHICH IS WHY THESE OUTRAGES HAVE GONE ON SO LONG UNKNOWN TO THE REST OF THE HARMONY.

  “HOWEVER, OUR FLEET’S LAST OPERATION AGAINST A CAPTIVE COLONY HAS MET WITH SUCCESS. OVER A DOZEN RAIDERS WERE CAUGHT WITHOUT THEIR SHIP—THEY ARE, IT SEEMS, SHORT OF SHIPS—AND THEIR PRISONERS RESCUED ALIVE. ALSO, TWO GROUPS OF FUGITIVE COMENOR WERE FOUND AND RESCUED IN CRITICAL CONDITION. THEIR NEED IS GREAT. FOR ANY WHO CARE TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE RELIEF OF THESE SUFFERING PEOPLE, COMENOR-RELIEF BOXES ARE BEING SET UP IN EVERY ALIEN AFFAIRS OFFICE. THE ZIELLO GOVERNMENT WILL OF COURSE DO ALL IT CAN, TOO. BUT THE RELIEF AND REBUILDING OF THE COMENO COLONIES WILL STRAIN OUR RESOURCES.

  “AMONG THE RESULTS OBTAINED FROM THE ZHUMANOR PRISONERS IS THE PINPOINTING OF MORE ZHUMAN BASES. A BIG CONCENTRATION OF ZHUMANOR APPARENTLY LIES TO THE EAST AND SOUTH OF THE RIVER DARKNESS, IN UNKNOWN SPACE. CAPTAIN KRIMHEEN IS RIGHT NOW WORKING FOR PERMISSION TO FOLLOW UP THESE LEADS, IN ORDER TO WIPE OUT THE NESTS FROM WHICH THESE MONSTERS COME. THIS NEWSCAST IS OF COURSE PROHIBITED FROM TAKING SIDES IN AN UNDECIDED ISSUE, BUT SURELY I AS AN INDIVIDUAL WILL BE FORGIVEN FOR EXPRESSING THE PURELY PERSONAL HOPE THAT HIS BRAVE EFFORT SUCCEEDS. THE OVERSOUL COMMANDS US NOT TO SEEK REVENGE, BUT I FEEL IT DOES NOT FORBID US FROM CLEARING OUR HOMES OF DESTRUCTIVE ANIMALS, AND THAT IS HOW I VIEW THESE ZHUMANOR. AND I SPEAK FOR ALL ZIELTAN IN SENDING OUR UTMOST SYMPATHY TO OUR COMENO MEMBERS OF THE HARMONY.

  “Oh—I HAVE HERE AN INTERESTING SIDELIGHT ON EVENTS IN HIGH ADMINISTRATIVE CIRCLES. IT SEEMS OUR YOUNG ADMINISTRATOR IS SO MOVED BY THESE HAPPENINGS THAT HE HAS ASKED TO GO TO THE FLEET AND TAKE PART HIMSELF! OUR SYMPATHY TO THIS BRAVE YOUNG MAN, WHOSE FUTURE POSITION CONFINES HIM TO PURSUITS WHICH DO NOT ENDANGER HIM.


  “FLASH! OUR SPACEPORT HAS JUST TOLD US THAT AN UNIDENTIFIED NON-ZLELLO SHIP OF LIGHT RECONNAISSANCE TYPE IS ORBITING IN TO ZIELTAN FOR LANDING. THEY APPARENTLY CANNOT RESPOND TO OUR HAIL, OR RATHER, THEY ARE RESPONDING IN A LANGUAGE UNKNOWN HERE. IF ANY OF OUR ALLIES IS MISSING SUCH A SHIP, POSSIBLY A PRIVATE VESSEL WHICH HAS LOST ITS WAY, KINDLY GO TO THE NEAREST CALLER AND CALL THE ADMIN INTERPLANETARY NUMBER GO-1-1119 TO REPORT IT. THAT’S GO-1-1119.

  “AND NOW WE BRING YOU A ROUND-UP OF THE SCORES IN THE CURRENT ALL-HARMONY TAIL-BALL GAMES PLAYED LAST NIGHT ON ELEZEER, MANHO, AND PERRUTAN...”

  Only five days after the arrival of Rift-Runner’s third message at FedBase 900, message number four drops down the chute to Pauna. A few minim later she is in Exec’s office, with the group assembled to listen.

  “Rift-Runner One to FedBase Nine hundred,” comes Torrane’s voice. “We’re starting this as we come in for landing on Zeel-tan, although it can’t be sent till we’re back in space again.

  “We’ve just done, ah, what might be regarded as, ah, a strange thing. Telling it sounds weirder than doing it. Anyway, on the way in, Kathy—Lieutenant Ku—got very disturbed. She kept looking at us as if she wanted to say something, and then going off into kind of a trance like, you know, the way Sensitives do. Finally Captain Asch asked her what was wrong.

  “ ‘You are!’ she sort of burst out. I mean, we are! All wrong. Look, I’d never forgive myself if I don’t warn you. After all, this is my job, isn’t it? That’s why I’m along, to pick up stuff? Well, what I’ve picked up is that if we land looking like we do, we’ll be in terrible danger. Maybe killed. There’s a feeling of hate for us—for our forms—that’s so thick I can’t see why no one else gets it. From all over! Don’t you pick up anything, Torry?’ she asks me.

  “Well, to tell the truth, I had been picking up something just like this, only I know I’m unreliable. So I told her. She sighs, like greatly relieved. ‘Yes. Captain Asch, I’m formally requesting that we disguise our appearance... And I know just how to do it, too. ’ She points to our bundle of tents, you know, those long thin pointy duffels.

  “ ‘We take our ground-suits, and those tent brace-cases and sew them on, and maybe tie one brace around our waists to go inside with padding, they’re flexible. And put some wads of stuff inside the chests, like arms folded up inside, and do something about our eyes. Makeup. Oh, we won’t look exactly like Ziello—now where did I get that? Oh, from Zeel-tan—but we’ll look, you know, Zeel like the races around old Terra look Humanoid. See?’

  “ ‘Huh?’ says Dinger. Captain Asch just watches her. ‘Tie ’em on—where? What for?’ Dinger asks, and Shara joins in. “ ‘To look like tails, of course. Like we feel.’

  “Well, we went ’round and ’round it, but in the end Captain agreed that was what she’d been picked for and we should go along. My confirmation seemed to carry weight, too, I guess—frankly the idea seemed great, to me. I hated the thought of facing whoever was down there just as I was. And we’ve been spending days ever since we waked up maneuvering and dodging those tails that don’t exist, and trying to remember we don’t have spare arms.

  “So we spent the time coming in doing just like she said, and it works pretty well. They really do look like real tails, of course, not prehensile or strong, but sticking out flexible, like alive. Shara got laughing and we all broke up. But really, they feel natural. And Kathy painted a few spots on her face, right where I thought they should be.

  “Now I’m going to put this aside until we’re down, and then keep a log to send you when we’re up again. Lords, I wish somebody would come up with that atmosphere-to-space pipe they’re always predicting. There’s nothing new to report from out here, except that warship on the port is confirmed. The scope picks up the armor and missile racks. The smaller racks are empty, but they’re carrying eight big ones, like planet-busters. Oh, and for the time we’ve been observing, the weather has been completely stable. Dry and clear, no rain at all. Torrane out.”

  The voder clicks.

  Pauna looks at Exec with a half grin at the idea of those tails but sobers when she sees the older woman’s face. Exec is imperceptibly nodding her head, as if to say yes, quite somberly.

  “A chance they’ll never connect that ship with us, if anything goes wrong,” the deputy says, low-voiced. Exec nods definitively.

  Torrane’s voice comes back.

  “Well, here we are on Zeel-tan. Down at eight twenty-four fifteen, eleven hundred hours Terratime, that’s early morning here.

  “We got a good look at the ships here as we came in. Their drive is definitely different from ours, and their fuel tanks are huge. Possibly indicating less fuel efficiency. We identify a probable tractor-beam head on that warship, too.

  “We’re getting a pretty cool reception, no interest at all. These people must be used to receiving unidentified alien ships. The air samples proved out green, but very dry, so we cracked the port and rolled the gangway half out. We’re all wearing our modified work suits. Dinger finished up those tails really nice.

  “Shara and I prepared a selection of First Contact materials as per regs, three sets of basic picture-talkies and three advanced. It looks like we can’t hope for any verbal commo whatever. The picture-talkies should help, they’re the new models with a small hand-held video cassette that shows a moving picture on the plate to illustrate each spoken word when you press the button. If you learn one, you have a basic pidgin-Galactic, no pronouns or prepositions or tenses or any trimming at all. The thing is, you have to learn it yourself to use it, we’ve all been doing that.

  “Then Shara and I pulled a sequence of fish-eye shots of the starfields all the way from our side of the Rift to a scope close-up of Zeel-tan. Captain Asch said that in view of the apparent size and unknown nature of this system, we should omit the holos showing exactly where Base Nine hundred is.

  So we start with a general one that’s clearly in the fringes of the Rift seen from our side.”

  Here Exec sighs relievedly.

  “So far all we’ve seen is a port crew, who pointed to where we should park, and took off before we opened up. They put us on a spot covered with, like big lichens, probably not much used. And their body shapes, as far as we could see, are just like what we expected—taller and bigger than us, extra pair of upper arms, one big single eye, and a long heavy pointed tail they brace on. Their skins are covered with very short fur, like that cloth, velvet. Mostly brownish gold. We took all the holos we could.

  “Aha—Here comes a port official, or somebody in what looks like a staff car. Much rounder shape than ours, more headroom. And insignia on the side like a big jointed wreath. The driver is alone. He’s getting out now. Captain Asch will greet him from the top of the gangway, with us behind him as a back-up.”

  The voder clicks off—on.

  “Well, that was something! We let the gangway down and turned out as planned, and this official hops right up to the captain, giving us a kind of perfunctory once-over, as if he’d seen everything and we were just one more. Captain Asch salutes, and gives a real short speech in Galactic, the official clearly not understanding a word. When Asch finishes he says something incomprehensible that sounds like ‘Same to you.’

  “Then he just hops straight at Asch as if he expected Asch to step back and let him by and into the ship, through us. Asch didn’t want this booger loose in there, so he says low, ‘Close up,’ and just stands there with us jammed up behind him. The alien grunts, and fishes in his suit and flashes some kind of badge, as if that gives him the right to enter. But Asch just stands there with us behind him, and Dinger pulls the inner port closed.

  “So the alien says something like Asch was being ornery about some standard regulation, with lots of irritated-sounding grunts. But Asch pulls out a big fancy gold Federation pilots’ ID and flashes that, saying, ‘No way, Myr Three-legs.’

  “And just when things are getting a little sticky, another vehicle arrives. This one has the same wreath; it�
��s bigger, with a driver. There gets out two aliens in long blue robes, and a third in what looks like a uniform, bright orange.

  “The port official starts bitching to them, but Asch cuts through with his short official speech, of which they plainly get nothing. Then he signals Shara and me to go forward to them and present a set of our materials, which we do. I try to show them how the holos are in series, ending with Zeel-tan. But when Shara shows them the movie-talkie they’re fascinated—I guess they really don’t have video—but they just press buttons at random, apparently making no effort to learn. Asch finally gestures to them to take the set away with them.

  “Then the officer and the two robed types—maybe priests?—start arguing over who should have the things, and in the end Asch takes the chance of giving them another whole set, leaving us one more. He figures they will probably go up through different offices or chains of command.

  “It looks like we’re going to have trouble getting to meet any of the big honchos of this world.

  “But Shara got a lot of good out of her interview. The planet is definitely ‘Zieltan,’ with a little ‘I’ sound in it, and they are the ‘Ziello,’ I mean the ‘Ziellor,’ ‘r’ or ‘or’ is their plural. And she’s got ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and a probable ‘this,’ and indications that they raise the tone up for a question just like we do; I guess that’s one reason their speech sounds so familiar. She’s putting in a little cassette with her findings, just in case this is all you get back from us and somebody has to meet them again.”

  Realune gives a little gasp at that. Exec pats her hand and says quietly, “They did get off safely, Rea, we have the pipe.” Then she quickly turns back to the voder, because Torrane is saying:

  “—strange thing happened. When Shara told them we were Humans, one of the robed ones kind of burst out, ‘Yoo-manz—Zhumanor? Zhumanor—’ and some stuff I can’t say right. They have trouble with ‘h,’ Shara says. And they all make the negative sound, as if denying that we could be Humans, see. And the officer gets quite worked up when Shara insists, so she goes back to the pictures. And then the really weird thing happens.