Double Contact

by James White

  Suddenly there was an interruption, a sound that had not come from any local throat.

  “Speak, Pathologist Murchison,” said the loud, irritated voice of Charge Nurse Naydrad. “If you don’t want to say something, why are you using your communicator? I have work to do. Stop wasting my time.”

  Her bearers stopped so quickly that she almost rolled out of the litter, and the spider with her communicator dropped it onto the sand and backed away, chittering shrilly in alarm. Murchison laughed in spite of her problems. It was obvious what had happened because she could see the two indicator lights glowing. The spider who had been fiddling with it had inadvertently turned the reception volume to full as well as switching on the device. But the communicator was active and, even though it was lying in the sand several meters away and at extreme distance for a handset, Naydrad was listening.

  The spiders were used to her making loud noises at them, but only when she was communicating discomfort, and now she had to talk loudly to Naydrad. But there was the danger of arousing their suspicions by making noises without a reason, when none of them was touching or therefore hurting her. If they were to get the idea that a conversation was going on, that she was calling for help, then they would immediately silence her or the communicator. They were already trying to do the latter by standing well back from it and pelting it with stones from the beach rather than shooting their crossbow bolts at it. Luckily they had missed it so far, but communicators were not robust instruments.

  In an undertone Murchison used language that was unladylike—her only unfeminine trait, according to her life-mate—and thought quickly. There was very little time to send a message, and none at all if one of those rocks connected. She took the deepest breath she could without cutting herself and spoke slowly and clearly while hoping that the excited chittering of the spiders all around her would keep them from noticing the strange noises she was making.

  “Naydrad, Murchison here. Listen, don’t talk, and copy. We have been captured by indigenous intelligent life-forms, tentative classification GKSD…”

  The spiders weren’t paying any attention to her and were concentrating on their stone-throwing, which wasn’t accurate because the communicator continued to survive and show its indicator lights.

  “They appear to be sea raiders of some kind,” she went on more calmly. “They use large sailing ships, unpowered aircraft, crossbows, and there is no evidence of metal weapons. I’ve been tightly restrained but not hurt and am unable to see Danalta…”

  She broke off, realizing that her last few words might have been a lie. It was hard to be sure in the dimming twilight, but it seemed that the sand on one side of the communicator was showing wind ripples. Then, suddenly, they were all around it as Danalta did its impression of a patch of sandy beach. A moment later the device and its indicator lights disappeared from sight.

  The spiders threw a few more stones, their voices sounding surprised and uneasy rather than angry at this apparent display of magic, but with no target to aim at they were beginning to lose interest. But a few stones would not bother Danalta, whose hide, regardless of the shape it was covering, was impermeable to most classes of low-velocity missiles. The important part was that it had rescued and was protecting the communicator and, when the spiders left the scene, it would be able to contact the medical station which would relay its report to Rhabwar.

  Murchison was still feeling anxious about her immediate future, but more hopeful than she had been a few minutes earlier, when a loud, authoritative, chittering sound coming from the spiders’ vessel drew her attention towards it.

  Several of the triangular openings in the hull were open and emitting a dim yellow flickering glow which, Murchison felt sure, had to be coming from oil lamps or candles. High on the prow of the vessel and silhouetted against the darkening sky she could dimly see the spider who seemed to be making all the noise. It was holding a tapering black cone to its head that had to be a speaking trumpet. Beyond the beached vessel and perhaps half a mile out to sea there was another vessel, identical in size and shape and also showing a few patches of dim illumination. The view of it was cut off by the body of one of the four spiders who raised her litter and resumed their journey towards the beached ship.

  They had not reacted adversely while she had been speaking earlier, possibly because they had been too busy stoning and talking among themselves to notice or care, so she decided to pass on the latest information before they all moved too far from the capture point.

  “Danalta,” she said, “the indications are that the GKSDs do not have electric power or radio communication. Another vessel of the same size and shape is entering the bay and a third is on the horizon…”

  Murchison broke off as the escort halted. One of them chittered loudly at her and began inserting a claw between her body and the strands binding her, possibly checking on their tightness. It was making her very uncomfortable so she shut up.

  She didn’t know if her words had been heard, but she hoped that the small patch of beach that was Danalta included a sandy ear.

  CHAPTER 23

  The captain’s face on the casualty deck’s viewscreen had the darkened pink color characteristic of strong emotion, strong enough to filter down the length of the ship from the control deck.

  “Doctor,” it said, “I have an incoming message from the medical station which is being relayed from Danalta who is somewhere else on the island. This … this is ridiculous. It says that Pathologist Murchison has been captured by pirates of some kind. But that world down there shows no evidence of sapient life. Have your medics been using their medical supplies for recreational purposes? Would you talk to them, please, before I say something grossly impolite?”

  For an instant Prilicla glanced towards the forms of the unconscious Jasam and the wide-awake Keet, wondering whether or not he should switch off the translator, then decided to leave it on. Secrecy in a first-contact situation was not a good thing.

  “Of course, friend Fletcher,” he replied. “Patch them through.”

  As Danalta’s report came in, with occasional interjections from Naydrad, Prilicla wondered if he had made the right decision about allowing Keet to overhear it. The Trolanni’s emotional radiation was becoming increasingly disturbed, but that of the captain had changed from irritation to deep concern. When the shape-changer’s report ended, Fletcher spoke before Prilicla could respond.

  “Doctor,” it said urgently, “you will agree that this has become a predominantly tactical and military, rather than a medical, problem. That being so, with or without your permission, I must take charge.”

  “It is both a medical and military problem, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla. “But the first priority, military or medical, must be to have friend Murchison returned to us safely and soon.”

  “My thought exactly,” said the captain. “But the position is delicate. We are now faced with two first-contact situations that are running concurrently. The Trolanni one is going well, but these intelligent spiders … imagine, a culture based on nonmetal technology that possesses fighting ships, gliders, uses crossbows, and has no electric power generation or radio communication. They seem to have fire for lighting and perhaps cooking purposes but make no large-scale industrial use of it. No wonder the sensors found no signs of sapient life down there. An ambulance ship doesn’t carry weapons, naturally, but we’d have no trouble taking them on with our tractor beams and meteorite shield…”

  He paused and added, “… if we were allowed.”

  Prilicla knew as well as the captain how strict the rules were governing contact with any newly-discovered planet that held intelligent life. If the culture had a space-travel capability and the technology to support it, as well as the mind-set that had prepared them for the possibility of meeting other life-forms among the stars, then the contact procedure was straightforward. But if the indigenous race was primitive, then a careful and covert assessment had to be made regarding the long-term effects of making such a
contact and a decision taken on whether or not it should proceed.

  There was always the danger that strange beings dropping out of the sky in their thundering ships, even though the entities concerned wanted only to help, would give rise to an inferiority complex in an emerging culture, from which it might never recover. A starship, the wreck of Terragar, had already landed and no doubt been spotted by the reconnaissance gliders, so the damage might already have been done. But taking hostile action against them, even thought it would be in response to Murchison’s abduction, would most definitely be contraregulation.

  “The gliders will already have told their mother ships about the medical station,” the captain added, radiating worry. “If the spiders decide to raid it from the land or sea, it has no defenses.”

  “Regardless of the rules, friend Fletcher,” he said firmly, “we must somehow defend our people and patients there without injuring any of the spiders. Agreed? As a tactician, have you a plan for doing that?”

  “I’ll need to think about that for a while,” the captain replied. “But what about Pathologist Murchison? We aren’t trained or equipped to send in a rescue party, and getting her out any other way would mean tearing the fabric of that spider ship apart with tractor beams.”

  “Friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla, “you have a little time to think about defending the medical facility while we are moving Jasam and Keet there or, if necessary, moving the others back on board Rhabwar. Regarding friend Murchison, I want to discuss the pathologist’s situation with friend Danalta, who is still standing by and is close to the ships. It is a resourceful and versatile guardian and intelligence-gatherer.”

  “That it is,” said the captain. “I’ll relay my radio traffic to you so that you’ll know what I’m doing. Breaking contact.”

  While he was speaking to the shape-changer, Prilicla could feel Keet’s puzzlement and impatience, but the Trolanni didn’t interrupt with questions even after he had finished talking. He knew that Danalta was concerned for friend Murchison’s safety, but he was worried because the shape-changer rarely worried about anything. He gave the other advice and careful instructions and, hoping for the best, he was flying across to speak to the increasingly impatient Keet when the captain’s voice sounded in the control-deck repeater.

  “Courier One,” it was saying. “Regarding my situation report, I have an update for you. An indigenous intelligent species has been discovered on the planet below. They are physiological classification GKSD, possibly warlike, and possessing limited, nonmetal technology. Pathologist Murchison has been captured by them but the latest information is that she is unhurt. Two separate first-contact operations are now in progress. The damaged Trolanni vessel and this solar system remain in quarantine. No other vessels are to approach. Leave with this new information at once. Courier Two, you will stand by and listen out for further developments. Off.”

  “Prilicla,” Keet said before he could speak, “I have heard and understood every word spoken by you and the druul-like person, but the meaning of the words joined together confuses me. Are Jasam and I in danger, or the Murchison person? Personally I would not find the absence of this Murchison distressing, even though you have assured me that it is a very good healer in spite of looking like a druul. But you told me that this lovely world that Jasam and I have found was empty. Where did these warlike spiders come from? We were wearing the last and best searchsuit. Our people might never be able to build another. What is to happen to us now?”

  Even though a large proportion of his feelings were engaged in worrying over friend Murchison’s safety, Prilicla radiated as much sympathy and reassurance as he could while explaining the situation. He spoke truthfully, but because Jasam and Keet were patients, he laced the truth heavily with optimism.

  “Both of you will be moved as quickly as possible to the surface,” he said, “where I and what remains of my medical team will be able to help Jasam, whose condition requires urgent surgical treatment. The spiders are hostile, for reasons we will not understand until we learn how to speak to them. We didn’t know of their existence until an hour ago, but we are strangers who landed on their world without permission and that can be a strong reason for hostility. Or perhaps, as beings completely strange to their experience, they were curious and simply wanted to investigate a new life-form. But they don’t pose a physical threat, except to friend Murchison, because our level of technology is far above theirs.

  “However,” he went on, “regardless of their species’ level of intelligence or how technologically primitive they are, this is their home world. The Federation, our law-givers, would not allow the Trolanni to use your advanced technology to take it from them, or to settle on it without the expressed permission and agreement of the spiders.…”

  “If we did not do that,” the weak voice of Jasam broke in, “we would be no better than the druul.”

  Tactfully ignoring the remark but pleased that it was joining in the conversation, Prilicla went on, “But there are many worlds known to the Galactic Federation which are without intelligent life. When both of you are fully recovered and able to return in one of our ships to Trolann, we will show your people pictures of these worlds, and analyses of their water, atmosphere, and surface plant and animal life. Then we will make arrangements to move the Trolanni to the world of your choice.…”

  “And will you exterminate the druul,” Keet interrupted, “so that we may leave safely?”

  “None of these beings,” said Jasam, speaking weakly, but answering for him, “will exterminate anything or anyone, except possibly disease germs. How did they ever fight their way to the top of their evolutionary trees to became their planets’ dominant species?”

  “Jasam,” said Prilicla, “I’m very pleased that you are awake and taking an interest in the situation, but don’t overtire yourself. You ask a question that will take a long time to answer and you may be unconscious again, either from fatigue or boredom, before I finished answering it. Let me just say that in our precivilized times none of us, including my own species, were this well-behaved. The medical monitors will signal any change in your condition, so would you like me to leave you alone for a while so that Keet and yourself can talk together about your future?”

  He felt a sudden burst of fear and sorrow from Keet, and one of lesser intensity from Jasam. They both knew how close Jasam was to death just as they knew that he might be giving them the chance to speak to each other for the last time. Before either of them could respond, the captain’s voice sounded in the repeater.

  “Doctor, I have an operational update for you,” it said briskly. “We are now leaving orbit on a descending path which will bring us down close to sea level about three hundred miles from the island on the side opposite to the position of the spider vessels. We estimate arrival in just under two hours. The same high ground that they used to hide their presence from the station will also conceal our approach. Naydrad and the two servos will be standing by to receive the casualties. There has been nothing from Danalta or Murchison. Our sensors report no land, sea, or air activity in the vicinity of the three spider ships, so hopefully they are sleeping. You must be pretty close to your own limits of endurance, Doctor, so you might like to do the same.”

  “Thank you, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla, “that is good advice which I shall take at once.”

  He had folded his wings and was tethering himself loosely to an equipment support when he felt a subtle change in Keet’s emotional radiation. Normally its feelings, regarding its mate, the druul, and their situation in general, were sharp and strong. It loved and hated with equal intensity. But now there was a strange blurring and softening of feeling as it spoke.

  “I know that I cannot read another person’s emotions as well as you can,” it said slowly, “but from your words and actions here and on our searchsuit, I think—no, I believe—that you feel a deep concern for Jasam’s welfare, and mine. Is this so?”

  “Yes,” he said, trying to keep himsel
f awake.

  “On Trolann this question would be considered an insult,” it went on, “implying as it would a disgusting mental aberration and perversion. But I think … Are you feeling the same depth of concern for the safety of the druul-like healer Murchison, as you do for Jasam?”

  “Yes,” said Prilicla again.

  CHAPTER 24

  The glider pilots carrying their folded aircraft were the first to mount the boarding ramp, followed by Murchison’s bearer party and with the watchful spiders who carried only weapons bringing up the rear.

  The ramp, she saw, was wide, surprisingly long, and formed a gently sloping bridge over the wavelets and wet sand at the water’s edge. It stretched between the large opening in the ship’s bow and the dry area farther up the beach. It was an incredible idea, but she wondered if the spiders were sailors who didn’t like getting their feet wet.

  Inside the ship she was moved along a corridor whose roof was so low that if she hadn’t been lying flat on her back in a hammock, she would have scraped her face against the rough, fibrous surface of the ceiling. Positioned at deck level about twenty meters apart were lamps that flickered and, she thought, sniffing analytically, smelled of some kind of vegetable rather than mineral oil. Each lamp floated in a large wooden pan of water and there were two larger containers, one filled with water and the other, sand, placed close by. She wondered if the spiders were afraid of fire as well as water, then remembered that in the wooden-sailing-ship days on Earth, fire had been a servant that had to be kept under tight control.

  After what seemed an endless scrolling-down of dark, fibrous ceilings, her hammock was lowered to the deck in a compartment that was about six meters square and high enough to allow her to kneel upright if they untied her.

  Plainly that was their intention, because three of them lifted and turned her face-downwards while the fourth opened its mouth and began to do something which softened and loosened the strands around her body. Then they rolled her over and over slowly while the fourth spider made delicate, slurping noises as the continuous strand was sucked back into its body.