Tarbush Hanson turned on the Pipe-Rilla. “You think so? So why don’t you go take a look, an’ see what’s so fascinatin’ out there. Rather you than me.”
“All right, Tarb.” Chrissie put her hand on his arm. “Take it easy. We work together, or we’re all in trouble.”
“We do.” Danny Casement turned to Deb. “Mind if Vow-of-Silence takes a look with it? Give her something to occupy her mind, and she’s supposed to have phenomenal vision.”
“Do you think she’s tall enough to take a peek over the ridge if she uses it?”
“Worth a try. And if she’s not that tall, it’s for sure none of the rest of us is. Shall I?”
Deb nodded. Even before that Danny was bending over and rooting in the supply case. He pulled from it a round cylinder half a meter long and about as thick as his upper arm.
“Here, big girl.” He handed the cylinder to Vow-of-Silence. “Courtesy of Bony Rombelle, in the bit of time he had before we left when he wasn’t fiddling with the ship. See what you can do with that.”
“It is a—” the Pipe-Rilla held it in two forelimbs, and turned it over and over “—what is it? Why do you offer it to me?”
“It’s a periscope. It works like this.” Danny pulled out the extensible tube, foot after foot, until it was as long as the Pipe-Rilla was tall. “You look into one end, the thick end here, and you get a view of what the thin end sees. The question is, if you stand up and raise this as high as you can, are you able to look over the top of the ridge?”
“I do not know. But I will find out.” Vow-of-Silence crouched down, then slowly and carefully raised the periscope until it was vertically above her head. “Not from this position. But perhaps if I rise …”
The long, thin body slowly unfolded, until it towered far above the watching humans.
“I have a view over the ridge.” The Pipe-Rilla’s voice came from far above. “And as you say, buildings are visible. Many buildings, around a long cleared strip of land — the airstrip seen in the images. And beings moving, around the buildings. And …” The tone of voice changed. “Is there any way to operate this device at higher magnification?”
“Be reasonable!” Danny called up to her. “The Bun cobbled this together from any leftover bits of optics he could find. It’s mechanical, not electronic. What you see is what you get. Just what is it you’d like to see in more detail?”
“I am not sure.” Vow-of-Silence remained standing for another long minute, then at last crouched down to the same level as the humans. “Perhaps my eyes are deceiving me, but here is what I saw. I saw many creatures moving around the buildings. Some were bigger than others, but all of them had the same overall body plan. Except for one.”
The Pipe-Rilla bent yet lower, and placed a pair of forelimbs together in a gesture that seemed apologetic. She stared into Deb Bisson’s eyes. “That one — as I said, I cannot be sure, and I do not like to speculate on such an important matter — but that other one had a different shape, a quite different body design.” Vow-of-Silence paused, as if not sure that she wanted to say what came next. At last she murmured, almost too low to hear, “That other one seemed like one of you: that other one had the shape of a human.”
* * *
What Vow-of-Silence had seen, or possibly not seen, led to the shore party’s first major disagreement. The Pipe-Rilla was all in favor of walking straight up to the encampment. “They did not harm the one person, who can only be Friday Indigo. So why should they harm us? It is so like humans, to assume the worst of every other living thing. Let me approach the encampment, and announce our presence.”
Deb was ready to argue, but she didn’t need to. Eager Seeker said, “With respect, it is easy for you to say that. You have not lost a part of you. We urge caution.” The mound of the Tinker Composite became taller and thinner. A group of topmost components began a preliminary fluttering of purple-black wings. “We can fly parts of ourself high over the ridge, and make our initial contact with low risk.”
“With respect, although as a composite you possess superior reasoning powers, your separate components are not capable of thought or intelligible discourse.” Vow-of-Silence began to stand up. “It is far better if I go.”
“With respect, we must disagree.”
Deb suddenly understood what the argument was really about. “No one should go until we’ve learned a lot more,” she said, “and I’ll tell you why. You’re both hoping to have first contact with a new species. Well, we humans are just as keen for that. But if it is Friday Indigo inside the encampment, you’re too late. And if it isn’t Friday Indigo, we have no evidence that whoever lives in that encampment would accept any offer of our friendship.”
The Tinker Composite did not speak, but sagged a foot lower. The flutter of component wings ended. Vow-of-Silence crouched low, and stared at Deb. For once the Pipe-Rilla lived up to her name.
“I’m as eager to meet the aliens as any of you,” Deb said, “but we’ll only do it when we know it’s safe. And if it’s not Friday Indigo over in the encampment, we all go to meet the aliens together. That way there will be no arguments about first contact. Agreed?”
No one spoke, and Deb went on, “So here’s what I propose. I’ll snake through the vegetation, keeping low, until I can get a closer look at the encampment. No matter what I see, I won’t make any attempt at contact — that’s a promise. I’ll return here, tell you what I’ve seen, and we’ll decide what we want to do next. Everyone in agreement?”
“No.” The objection came not from Vow-of-Silence, or Eager Seeker. It was Chrissie Winger who was shaking her head. “You’re the leader of the shore party, even if you don’t think so. That means we normally do what you say.”
“So do what I say now.”
“Wait a minute. The team leader ought not to be an advance scout, because you may have to make tough decisions back here. Suppose you get into trouble, what do the rest of us do? So somebody else ought to go take the look-see. I propose that Tarb and me do it.” Chrissie held up a hand, because Deb’s mouth was opening. “The two of us have been sitting on our hands for weeks, waiting to find something to do—”
“We all have,” said Danny.
“ — something that fits in with our special skills. Now, you Danny, you can charm the leg off a chair, but that’s not what we need at the moment. You can’t charm an alien until you can talk to one. And you, Deb, you’re a weapons master, and your special skill is fighting.” That produced a groan from Vow-of-Silence and a hiss from Eager Seeker. Chrissie went on, speaking fast. “We’re not allowed to fight. But Tarb, on the other hand, he can read a person or an animal’s intentions without them saying a word. And he’s stronger than anyone I know. As for me, my specialty is deception. Call it magic if you like, call it trickery, call it sleight of hand — but it works. He and I make a good team.”
“Fine. You and Tarb can be the scouts.”
“We’ve been working together for years, in all kinds of situations. Whatever one of us does, the other can back up and support—”
Chrissie broke off as Tarbush Hanson gripped her arm.
“Not another word, Chrissie,” he said gently. “Weren’t you listening? Deb already agreed.”
“She did?”
“I said you could be the advance scouts.” Deb spoke fast, before the Stellar Group aliens could question her decision. “But you’ll follow certain rules.”
“No violence,” Vow-of-Silence said immediately. “No m-murder or fighting.”
“That’s one rule. I have others. You go wearing your suits — including helmets. I know that’s a pain, but it’s better than bites or stings that could be lethal. If there’s any trouble, even a suspicion of trouble, you turn and head back. Don’t use your suit radios. That’s too dangerous. If whatever is in the camp can detect our frequencies, they’ll use the signal to home in on us. We’ll be watching as best we can with the periscope, and that will have to do.”
“Suits, safety first, no si
gnals.” Tarb nodded his bullet head. “Got it. Anything else?”
“Yes. No matter what you see, or what you hear, or what you think, you don’t take risks. I need you here in plenty of time for us to decide where we’ll spend the night, ashore or back on the Hero’s Return.”
“No problem. We’re on our way.”
“You and Chrissie. Not that fat ferret.” Deb held out a hand. “Give her to me.”
“What makes you think I have Scruffy with me?” Tarbush put a fierce scowl on his big black face and tried to stare Deb down. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Oh, be reasonable, Deb, she goes everywhere I do.”
“You mean almost everywhere. I’m being more than reasonable. Come on, Tarb. Hand her over.”
Tarbush opened a bulky suit pocket and reluctantly extracted the ferret. He placed her on the ground, stroked his modded pet’s sleek and bulging head, and bent to whisper something. Scruffy waddled over to Danny Casement and sat down placidly at his side.
“Look after her, Danny,” Tarb said, “she’s yours if I don’t come back. She’ll do whatever you and Deb tell her.”
“You’ll come back. You’d better.” Danny picked up the ferret awkwardly and gave the pet a critical inspection. “I sure as hell don’t want to be saddled with her. I bet she has fleas and worms. Sterilization—”
Tarbush Hanson was a very tall man. He seemed to grow another six inches. “If you dare—”
“Stop that, Danny,” Chrissie said. “You can’t make jokes on some subjects, they’re sacred.” She took Tarb’s arm and pulled him toward the spiny bushes. “Come on, animal-man. Let’s go — before you two start a testosterone fight.”
* * *
Chrissie was short and slim and about half the weight of Tarbush Hanson. She was better able to seek out clear patches ahead, and after a few steps he was content to fall in behind her.
For years, both of them had encountered only the plants growing in formal gardens of the Outer System colonies. It had been much longer than that since either of them had walked through a forest or meadow of Earth. Chrissie, pushing ahead, had to keep reminding herself that it was normal for plant life to be so vigorous — so competitive. It seemed that in every square centimeter where something could grow, something did. No matter how careful you were in placing your feet, a plant or animal down there got squashed. After the first five minutes she accepted that as inevitable, stopped looking down with every step, and kept her head up to find and take the line of least resistance.
There was one exception to that rule: wherever the fronded vegetation tops were in windless waves of motion, she stayed well clear.
Now and again she lifted her head, to stare at the super-bright sky. What she wanted to see was the ghostly spheres that everyone talked about, but the blazing sun made that impossible.
“Careful!” Tarbush said from behind, and grabbed her shoulders. Chrissie brought her attention back to ground level. A body-thick stripe of lurid green crossed her path at waist level. Two more steps, and she would have walked into it.
No problem? Maybe — except that the strip glistened , and attached to it she saw the bodies of half a dozen different creatures in various stages of digestion. Not all of them were as small as the dark-red millipede that Danny had picked up. The biggest was long, thick-built and legless, and it probably massed half as much as Chrissie. It was still alive, and wriggling feebly.
“Thanks, Tarb. Looks nasty. For safety’s sake we’re going to take a bit of a detour.”
She headed to the left, to a point where the green strip merged with a stubby upright cylinder like the bole of a sawn-down tree. The bole gurgled faintly. Chrissie moved another four meters to the left before she felt comfortable enough to edge past.
“Ridge top,” Tarbush said, when they had been going for another two minutes. “I’m seeing over.”
His height advantage was substantial. Chrissie motioned to him. “You go first. Keep your head down, and tell me what you see.”
Tarbush pushed forward for another ten meters, then paused. “Got a good view now. Same as Vow-of-Silence said. We have the beginning of the cleared area, maybe twenty meters in front of us. Bare rock. Fence begins about forty meters beyond that. It’s like a network, maybe chain-link, so it’s easy to see what’s beyond. Other creatures at a few places along the fence. Guards, maybe? Lots of legs, big pincers, stalks that probably carry eyes. Big, dark carapaces. Don’t see anything that could possibly be a human. Give me a minute, let me watch what they’re doing.”
While Tarbush stared in silence, Chrissie came to his side and craned up as tall as she could. She was in the middle of a patch of tall, furry plants that smelled like pungent lavender. “Nothing there looks anything like Friday Indigo,” she whispered. “Wonder how sure Vow-of-Silence was of what she saw?”
“No way to ask her now without breaking radio silence. But I’m reading some behavior patterns. See the two different sizes? The small ones are in charge of the big ones, I’ll bet money on it. Some level of language, too, maybe not spoken. Maybe chemical, like ants and termites. I’m going to move forward a little farther, get a better look.”
“Tarb! Be careful.”
Chrissie’s warning was too late. He was already edging out to where the bare rock started.
“It’s all right. It’s business as usual for them, there’s no sign they see me. Maybe they don’t have good eyes. But I think we’ve confirmed what Dag Korin suspected when he first looked at the space images. This is a military operation. These critters move like a military organization, they’re disciplined and in unison when they march. Hold on. They’re lining up now. Hold on.”
Chrissie, hanging farther back, could see nothing. She waited for what felt like minutes, until Tarbush at last said, “Well, I’ll be damned. They’re going away. They’re filing into one of the buildings — every one of them, including what I thought were the guards for the fence. What’s with them? Lunch break? Party time?”
“Keep your head down!”
Tarbush in his curiosity was beyond the cover of the scrub. “It’s all right. There’s no sign of them any more. Hold on a second, though. I’m wrong, here’s one coming out. Lighter-colored, a bit bigger, like … Oh my God.”
“What?”
“It’s a person. A man. Vow-of-Silence was right. There’s a human inside the encampment.”
“Is anyone with him? Is he a prisoner?”
“Doesn’t look like it. He’s on his own. He’s moving toward the fence — he’s coming this way. What do we do?”
Chrissie couldn’t stand it any longer. She hurried forward to Tarbush’s side and stared at the approaching figure, still about fifty meters away. “It must be Friday Indigo. He’s wearing the same style and color of clothing as Bony and Liddy. It was standard issue for the Mood Indigo. He’s limping.”
“Maybe he’s hurt. He sure looks like hell. He probably took quite a beating in the storm when his ship was driven ashore. But he’s smiling — and he’s waving. Chrissie, he knows we’re here. What do we do now?”
“We ought to turn and run. We were told, no risks.”
“Deb said, turn back if there’s any sign of trouble. There hasn’t been any. Chrissie, we’ve at least got to wait long enough to say hello to him. He’s unarmed, and he seems pleased that we’re here — look at that grin, even though he can’t possibly know who we are or where we came from.”
“I don’t know.” Chrissie sounded troubled, but she made no move.
“Hello there.” The approaching man called the greeting. He had passed through the fence and was still grinning. “Welcome to Limbo. I don’t know you, but my name is Friday Indigo.”
“I’m Chrissie Winger, and this is Tarbush Hanson. We came here on a ship called the Hero’s Return. But you’re hurt.”
Now that he was closer, Chrissie could see streaks of dried blood running down from his temples and ears. His feet and calves were water-soaked, and more blood had run from a jagged hole in the
left thigh of his suit.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” He was still grinning, and he dismissed his wounds with one wave of his hand. “I don’t need help, and I feel great. This is a wonderful planet. Wonderful people on it, too.”
“You mean the people who made this?” Chrissie waved her hand, to take in the encampment, with its cleared airstrip and the tri-lobed aircraft ready for flight.
“Who else? Come on, I’ll introduce you. You need to meet Two-Four, he’s a funny little devil and a good friend of mine. Oh, and you definitely have to meet The One — especially The One, he’s the greatest.”
He had turned and was leading the way toward the fence and the encampment. Chrissie began to follow, but Tarbush said, “Wait a minute. These people you want us to meet. Are they people ? Or are they aliens?”
“They’re the Malacostracans — bit of a mouthful at first, but you’ll get used to saying it.” Friday was still walking, and they were at the gate to the fence. “They’re people, but not exactly like us. I mean, not actual humans. But that’s all right, because they’re better than humans. Far better.”
“Now let’s hold it right here.” Tarbush had stopped just inside the gate, and he and Chrissie were looking at each other. “I can see I’d think well of anyone who saved my life — but better than humans? I don’t like the sound of that. Did something else happen to you, messing up your head? Your ears have been bleeding.”
“My head is better than it’s ever been. I’ve never thought so well and so clearly.” Friday turned back to them. “Come on. If you’re lucky, The One will make you feel the same way.”
Chrissie took a step backward, away from the buildings. “Who is this `The One’ that you keep talking about?”
“The leader of the Malacostracans. She’s beautiful. Oh, don’t judge by those specimens. They’re lower level and they look nothing like her.”
Friday was pointing toward another of the buildings. Three creatures had emerged.
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