They were very young, slightly built, dressed in jumpsuits like the Secundan he’d met, but these jumpsuits were bright scarlet. There was an exuberance about them. He could hear them laughing, and one of them performed a complex dance step to unheard music. They looked like good company. They were all girls, maybe too young for him.
“Get him!”
Suddenly they were all around him, pulling at his clothes, clawing at his flesh, kicking him with shoes that looked uncommonly like leather. It was the shoes that decided him this was no playful romp. What kind of barbarians were these, to wear animal parts? He began to fight back in earnest, knocking one girl to her knees with a sweep of his arm. She looked up at him and the expression on her young face chilled him. There was an inhuman savagery there, and her chin was wet with saliva. They had no weapons but their shoes—and their numbers. Seven of them, each one smaller than he, but together they were overwhelming. They fought silently with a deadly purpose and he didn’t know what that purpose was. He didn’t know exactly what he was defending himself against.
They’d torn his tunic from his shoulders, pinioning his arms. Now they dragged his pants down and one girl taller than the rest threw herself bodily against him. He fell backward over another girl crouched strategically behind. He was on the deck and they were all over him. He felt sharp nails scratch at his naked chest and teeth worrying at his shoulder.
“Stop! Stop that, right now!”
A gray-clad arm scythed down. The girl clawing at his chest grunted as a fist thudded into the side of her head.
“What the hell?” She stared up, feral eyes burning.
“I said stop! You’ve made a mistake, you fools. This is a man!”
“This is no man, Megan!”
“You’re not on Secunda now. You’re in Hotel Andromeda—things are different. You were warned, huh? But you didn’t listen. I’ll have you confined for this!”
A dark-haired girl, startlingly pretty, snapped, “You’re the fool, Megan Sunrise. You’re too damned old to know the difference.” And she hooked her fingers into Imry’s underpants, dragging them down and clawing parallel weals in his belly. Her eyes widened in astonishment.
“Satisfied?”
The girls were scrambling to their feet. “He is a man. But…”
“But he’s so thin.” said another. “He looks like a woman.”
“He’s young, too,” said Megan harshly. “Hadn’t you noticed that, either?”
“He’s wearing green. The light’s dim around here. We took him for a crone.”
“If you’d killed him,” said Megan, “Security would have had you recycled.”
“No,” said the beautiful dark child. “They can’t recycle you for following the customs of your own race.”
“They can if it results in the death of a member of a different race. This man’s from Earth; I met him earlier. Now get going, and find yourself a Secundan crone, if you must!”
It was at that moment that Lady Adelaide Disdain arrived with her entourage.
One hour later. Lady Disdain, her entourage, Imry, and Megan were seated before Froan, head of Security.
“I told you this would happen,” Lady Disdain said, “but you wouldn’t listen. Now even the corridors of this hotel are not safe. I take a stroll and what do I come across? This innocent young man, barely twenty standard years old, being set upon and severely beaten by a gang of young animals from Secunda. If we hadn’t happened by at that very moment, God knows what might have happened! Cannibalism, in the very halls of Andromeda!”
She stared at Froan, conscious of a dangerously rising anger. She must keep control of herself. She must remember that, to the security chief—to it—she was just another guest. But it was hard. This creature wasn’t even human!
That wretched young woman in gray spoke before the alien could answer. “It was unfortunate, but I had it all under control. It won’t happen again.”
“How do you know that? How can you possibly know that, young woman? Where are the miscreants now, tell me that!” She felt herself flushing with temper and nudged her peacock. The garish bird’s fantail fluttered, wafting a cool breeze.
At least the Secundan had the grace to look embarrassed. “I told them to get back to the shuttle and place themselves in confinement.”
“Ha! What you’re actually saying is they’re still at large.”
“They will obey orders. If you must know, we’re confining all the bloomers. But honestly, Lady Disdain, I don’t see what business it is of yours.”
The impertinence of the girl! “I’ll tell you what business it is of mine! This young man is a human, a representative of thousands of other humans on their way from Earth to my home planet. A blipreader, too. A member of an ancient and respected profession.” She turned her gaze on the alien again. It was impossible to tell what that ghastly creature was thinking. “I demand that the appalling Secundans be confined to their vessel—every one of them—for the safety of us all!”
The young woman shouted, “You know why he’s going to Cartaginia? Because you’re so old and inflexible there that you’ve asked for an infusion of fresh blood! You’re stagnating! Your birthrate is practically zero! And people like you are the reason why, you useless old woman!”
The impertinence of the girl!
The young man spoke. “Listen, I’m all right. Let’s forget it, shall we?”
So much for gratitude! Lady Disdain bent a terrible stare on him. “Perhaps you don’t realize what a narrow escape you’ve had. Are you aware that those Secundans are cannibals? They eat their own kind! It’s in their culture.”
He looked to the Secundan woman. “Is this true?”
She said, “Partly. In a way. But the only reason it’s in our culture is because it’s instinctive.”
Hardly a valid excuse, thought Lady Disdain, “And because of you—you barbarians—the Froans will not pass the Gift of Longevity to Mankind. Because of your existence, billions of human beings are dying unnecessarily. Because of your disgusting behavior. Mankind as a whole is regarded as a race of savages—isn’t that so Froan?”
The alien spoke for the first time; and when it spoke, it spoke for its entire race. The Froans spoke but rarely because of the complex telepathic communication involved. The immense head shimmered crimson for an instant; the scaly jowls wobbled as the head nodded in deference to human gestures. “Yes,” said Froan.
“I don’t understand,” said the young man from Earth. As young men went, thought Lady Disdain, he seemed quite a reasonable specimen and would fit in well on Cartaginia…
So Megan Sunrise told Imry the terrible story of Mankind’s first voyage to the stars, to Secunda. It’s an old story and mercifully not well known, because humans have tried to put it behind them. Mankind’s first starship was built centuries before the faster-than-light travel known as Froanways. It is said that the Froans gave Mankind the secret of Froanways simply because they didn’t want any more Secundans around the galaxy. That is very likely true.
“You see, Imry,” Megan said, “Earth was poor. Equipment was heavy and expensive. The voyage was to take many generations. Excess passengers could not be tolerated. By excess passengers, I mean old people… and men. So a special race of humans was bred.”
“Disgusting!” shouted Lady Disdain. Her entourage, some twenty elderly humans, nodded their heads on feeble necks, murmured “Hear, hear”, and prodded their peacocks into activity. The birds sat on their laps, small iridescent mutants bred for human use. The Cartaginians could not conceive the offense these bird fans—and their fur-trimmed clothes—caused Imry from Earth, where animals were sacrosanct.
Megan said quietly, “It all seems perfectly natural to us, so it’s not nice to hear other people calling us names.”
“I will call you what I like, young woman!”
Megan ignored her. “We have four age groups,” she told Imry. “We have children, we have bloomers, we have parents, and we have crones. Much like any ot
her human race, except we’re nearly all females. We usually wear a color to show our age: blue for children, red for bloomers, gray for parents, and green for crones. We don’t necessarily dress all in one color; just an indication is enough; a scarf or something. It’s not really important until we get older, but it’s become part of our culture. Like a national dress back in the old days of Earth.” She sighed. “But all that’s changing now. Our people are changing. Or maybe I should say they’re being Revised.” The green eyes were sad.
Lady Disdain shuddered theatrically. “It’s bad enough that your kind of perversion exists. I see no reason to wash Mankind’s dirty linen in front of this alien. Just shut up, will you, young woman? Now, Froan, it must be quite clear to you that those appalling Secundans represent a danger to any civilized race, is it not?”
The alien’s voice was like a rasp against steel. “No, it is not. They are a danger only to humans. And humans are not a civilized race by our reckoning. We cannot solve your problem because it is a human problem. Lady Disdain, you are wasting the time of Hotel Security.”
“My clone-sister is the president of Earth”
“We are aware of your relationship to Emerald Kemp.”
“Are you aware of the purpose of my visit to Earth? Of the president’s sickness, and our need to mindmeld before she dies? The continuity of government depends on the mindmeld. Without it, there will be anarchy on Earth! And there will be no mindmeld if I am attacked and killed by cannibals in your hotel!”
“A human problem, you will agree.”
“So you will not confine these creatures to their quarters?”
“You have made the same request three times in the last seven days. Lady Disdain. The answer is the same. It is not Security’s problem.”
Lady Disdain felt her cheeks flaming and her control slipping. Damn these all-powerful Froans and their so-logical arguments! “Listen to that, you humans. The Froans will not help. That tells you something about these creatures. You think they’re benevolent because they gave us Froanways travel and promised us longevity. But it’s not benevolence; it’s politics! They’re directing human development down the path they’ve chosen. In this way they maintain control and stifle other directions our development may take—directions that might have challenged their superiority’”
While the humans stared at her, stunned, Froan said, “It is Security that is refusing your request, not the Froans. Security is a multispecies organization.”
“I don’t see any other species around. There’s just you!”
“Obviously the other species trust us to make rational judgments.”
Lady Disdain rose. Her entourage rose. Peacocks fluttered. She glared at Megan. “I shall have to bring other forces to bear, that much is clear. I should have known better than to expect common sense from an alien.” She transferred her gaze to Imry. “You’re well advised to stay clear of this Secundan, young man. You heard what she said. You never know when her primitive instincts may come to the fore.”
Imry found Megan walking beside him as he left Security. It seemed impolite to veer off and leave her; politeness had been instilled in him since birth, as a very necessary prerequisite to life on Cartaginia. He glanced at her. She held her head high but tears glistened in the brown eyes. Surely she’d never—eaten people? It was impossible.
He’d heard plenty of rumors about Secunda during this past few years while the Secundans were being shipped back to Earth for Revision. Earth alone had the technology and capacity for such a huge task. Quite simply, the Secundans were being transformed into normal humans, shipload by shipload, and then returned to Secunda.
And Megan’s shipload was the last. Once she and her companions had been Revised, Froans would consider humans to be civilized.
And the Gift of Longevity would be theirs.
“All that stuff…” He hesitated. “About your age groups and what they do. It’s not really like that, is it?”
She swung round, pink with anger. “It’s exactly like that, and so what! Are you afraid I’m going to bite? Well, I’m past bloomer age, if that makes you feel any safer. But a lot of us… It’s so unfair! What’s wrong with disposing of people who are past contributing to society? What is wrong with bloomers being… involved in disposing of them? For us it must be right, because we can’t have children until we’ve achieved hormony.”
“Hormony?”
“You don’t know anything, but you’re so quick to judge, like everyone else! Hormony is the ability to have children. It disappears at the crone stage, just like it does in your race. But in our crones a dormant strain of hormones are still being produced, building up in the system. Before a bloomer can bear children, she must… ingest these hormones to achieve hormony.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Imry.
She snapped. “There is no fault, don’t you see? Somebody changed the rules on us, that’s all. And the people who changed the rules are the people who made us in the first place. You Earth people!”
He looked away. She was right. She was beautiful, too. He wondered if Revision would change the way she looked. What a pity he was going to Cartaginia among all the old farts, instead of Secunda…
“Sorry, Megan,” he said at last. “But it was the Froans who made the rules, and now they bribe us to stick by them. And the bribe is too good to turn down.”
“Yes. Well… I guess you don’t want me around anymore.” She turned away.
“No, wait a minute. Don’t go, Megan. Give me a chance to come to terms with this. Anyway, you can’t just leave me just like that. You saved my life. By the way, how did you happen to be around when I needed you?”
She hesitated, then offered a reluctant smile. “I… followed you.”
This was much better. He took her hand. “Let’s start again, shall we?”
So they explored Hotel Andromeda together and found more interesting things than Secundan culture to talk about.
“Longevity. Maybe four hundred years of life. Do you want it, Imry?”
Her gaze held his, and he felt a strange weakness inside. Do I want to live that long? he wondered. Maybe, but I wish it wasn’t going to be among those old farts on Cartaginia. A younger world would be nice. Like Secunda… And so, in the External Communications Room of Hotel Andromeda, he began to wonder if he was falling in love with a cannibal.
Interplanetary communication, as we now know it, grew out of a paradox. There was little point in Earth, for example, communicating with Hotel Andromeda at the speed of radio waves, because the Froanways ships themselves move very much faster. For a century or so this problem defeated humans, and messages were carried on board ships and shuttles like the mail on Old Earth. The Froans showed no inclination to help out. It was not their problem. They communicated with one another instantaneously, telepathically. It was almost as though the Froans were testing Mankind’s ingenuity.
Then one day a bright young spark on Earth played around with two known facts about Froanways. Firstly, the great ships were driven through space by mental as well as physical methods from within the ships themselves. Secondly, the laws of inertia and momentum still applied: the rate of acceleration and deceleration depended on the mass of the ship. The heavier the ship, the greater the power needed and the longer it took to reach its destination.
Might it be possible to create a tiny ship, big enough to contain a message, that would operate on the same Froanways principle but move a billion times faster because it was a billion times smaller? It was. These tiny messengers became known as blips. Imry and Megan visited the External Communications Room. “Why does she call herself Lady Disdain?” asked Imry. His mind was elsewhere. As a blipreader, communications were his job and the External Communications Room was not particularly interesting.
A buzzer sounded, a tiny door flipped open, and a black object the size of a fist dropped into a tray. A white-suited human technician levered it open with a flat tool; the action reminded Imry of shucking oysters in
the wilderness area where he’d been raised. The technician held the opened thing to his temple and appeared to be listening.
“Blip for Lady Disdain of Cartaginia,” he announced to the room at large. “She’ll be the new Earth president in a few months, I’ll bet.”
A man at the far end of the room called, “How many times do I have to tell you, Anders? The contents of personal blips are confidential, for Pete’s sake. We don’t go sounding off about them in front of the whole goddamned hotel!” He nodded toward Imry and Megan.
“Hell, it’s only speculation. I didn’t read the message,” said the other sulkily.
“Sure. But speculating is the first step toward reading. I’ve seen it happen before. Just do your job and don’t get too interested, huh?”
The blipreader, scowling, clicked the blip shut again, slipped it into a package, sprayed it with Lady Disdain’s personal odor from the dispenser, and handed it to a messenger dog. The small drama was over.
“People on Cartaginia have hereditary titles like on Old Earth.” Megan returned to Imry’s question. “They’re passed down from their first genetic leaders.”
“Tough luck on the rest of the people,” said Imry. “Does that mean I’ll never get to be called Lord Imry?”
She laughed. “Is that your wish, my lord?”
“Well… I’d like to think I had the chance. After all, what’s an accident of birthplace got to do with anything?”
“What, indeed, Imry from Earth?” asked the cannibal…
“I’m so sorry, Megan.”
“She wants us locked up. Froan says it’s a human matter. That means a referendum. She could call it anytime; maybe she’s calling it right now. All people have to do is push a button and we’ll be caged like animals.”
“If the referendum goes against you.”
“It will. There are four shiploads of Earth people in Andromeda, and nobody likes Secundans. It doesn’t matter to them that we’ve already confined all our bloomers; they don’t want to understand that. We moved into our Earth shuttle twenty hours ago, but it’ll be a week before we’re ready for departure. They won’t let any of us out of that shuttle for a week.”
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