Outward Bound

by Juanita Coulson

  The music shifted to a third rhythm. The circles joined, became one, then broke apart into couples. Brenna locked her hands behind Derek's neck. His hands were tight against her waist as they danced and sprang into the air in wild, paired jumps, panting and laughing uproariously. Each couple tried to outdo the rest. Then the twosomes combined. Brenna and Jutta Lefferts faced one another, as did Morgan and Derek. Brenna took a tight grip on the men's shoulders as the four of them began to spin. "Now!" Morgan cued. He grinned mischievously at Derek. The men braced themselves, anchoring the women, turning around and around in an ever-smaller, faster-moving circle. Brenna's feet raised from the floor. Jutta, too, was going with the centrifugal force. Both women tilted, pointing their toes away from the circle, becoming flying dolls riding a spinning top. Jutta's long dark hair streamed away from the spin angle like a comet's tail. Brenna's short curls clung in sweaty tendrils to her face and throat.

  The other dancers dropped out, standing on the sidelines, clapping and cheering Morgan's team. Brenna sucked in air breathlessly, exulting in the dizzy sensations. Morgan's face was very flushed. Derek's eyes shone like a sunlit Earth sky.

  The music rose to a crescendo, then gradually softened, slowing. Morgan and Derek timed their movements precisely to match the tune, gently lowering the women back to their feet as the spin came to a stop. At the last instant, both men dropped to their knees and took their partners' hands, copying a quaint pose from bygone days. The final notes died in a bell-like, music-box coda.

  "Winners! The winners!" someone yelled, and a chorus took up the chant.

  Brenna wiped her forehead, giggling. Jutta was starting to hiccup. Too much excitement! Morgan would have pounded her on the back as a cure, but Jutta waved him off. "Next turn!" the spectators cried.

  Morgan turned the offer down. "No chance! That was the main performance. The floor's all yours now—amateurs!"

  The four of them walked away arm in arm, laughing. Brenna admired Jutta Lefferts, hiccups and all. It took a spunky woman to keep up with Morgan's pranks, and Jutta had done extremely well. She was a good sport, which some of Morgan's other love interests hadn't been.

  "We're getting pretty good at this," Derek said. "We ought to start an entertainment schedule on the vid circuits. I thought I'd be out of practice since ... how long ago was it when we danced together? Last fall? At Saunderhome?"

  "It must be at least that long," Morgan agreed.

  "Oh?" Jutta raised an eyebrow. "And just who were you dancing with then?"

  "Nobody who needs concern you, m'dear," Morgan said hammily, curling a non-existent mustache. That led to a hilarious pantomime between him and Derek, with Derek offering to shed some of his abundant facial hair so that Morgan wouldn't have to fake his mustache-twirling. Morgan amused himself more than he did anyone else, though all of them were chuckling before the mime was done. "I'm as winded as a first-time free faller. Come on. Let's get something to drink."

  The rotunda's efficient fife-support systems hadn't been able to keep up with their exertions. All of them were sweating, and their color was very high. They sauntered away from the dance arena, and Morgan hailed a service robot. He passed out tumblers of alcohol soothants to the women and Derek, took a large glass of citrus drink for himself. They stood sipping their refreshments, cooling down. Less energetic dances went on, and elsewhere pockets of conversation buzzed. Brenna's foursome wandered close to the one where her parents and President Grieske were. Quol-Bez and Sao and other dignitaries were on the fringes of an on-going discussion. Someone had mentioned the scheduled awards ceremony on Earth next month, at Protectors of Earth's Supreme Assembly. Ambassador Quol-Bez and Todd Saunder were supposed to be honored then, in memory of the first contact between humans and Vahnaj. But the event might be postponed because of an outbreak of the neo-anthrax plague bacillus. Conversation turned to the past, to the wars which had originally bred that mutant plague, with the older people launching into personal horror stories of "I remember when."

  "It all seems so damned dumb," Brenna muttered. "What could have possessed Earth's leaders back then, letting loose a wild contagion like that? Surely they could have guessed the scheme would backfire."

  According to the records, though, the warlords hadn't believed that would happen, not until it was too late. Neo-anthrax and neo-smallpox, among other deadly leftovers, reminded mankind of past folly. Artificial plagues, lab-manufactured, had been weapons during the infamous Death Years and the Chaos that reigned from 2012 through 2030. The wars were over, the quarrels that triggered them now sounding incredibly petty. The plagues, however, refused to return to the labs. Contagion lurked in unsuspected hot spots, exploding every now and again. Even today, after decades of peace, Earth's health officials had to quarantine huge areas whenever one of the terrible epidemics erupted anew. It was beginning to seem as if humanity would never be quite free of that nightmare out of its past.

  "And we're still paying for those mad experiments," Derek said bitterly. His mother had been one of the victims during the neo-anthrax outbreak in the late Fifties. "They'll probably be rooting out plague into the 2200s, at this rate. Those maniacs permanently wrecked the planet."

  His Hiber-Ship Corporation indoctrination was showing. The stasis-ship volunteers were trained in primitive world survival and to respect ecosystems. Few of the volunteers had any patience for runaway technology turned to evil purposes. That intensive preparatory course, combined with Derek's family tragedy, had made him prone to lump all Earth's population together: There were the sane ones, who got out and colonized elsewhere, and there were the blind ones, who remained bogged down in Earth's decadence.

  Brenna gently laid a hand on his arm.

  "You mustn't blame them all," Todd said. "Billions of decent people fought those plague experiments during the wars, and that took courage. Right now they're reclaiming the poisoned lands. We just have to give them time. Earth will come back. You can rely on it."

  On the other side of the small group, Stuart Saunder edged closer, trying to hear. The actress was some distance away, being pampered by Stuart's flunkies. It was obvious she had arranged a liaison with the wealthy Earth-based Saunder scion for later in the evening. For now, however, Stuart seemed more interested in this discussion, which puzzled Brenna.

  "Microorganisms need not be laboratory-bred to cause harm," Chin Jui-Sao was saying. "Even the most beneficial intestinal bacteria can be deadly, under the wrong conditions. All life forms must be treated with cautious respect."

  Derek nodded. "The Spirit of Humanity put an amen to that, Sao."

  Some of the listeners eyed Quol-Bez. No doubt they were remembering the conditions under which the Vahnaj Ambassador had come to the Solar System. From the moment Todd Saunder had begun communicating with the Vahnaj, thirty-four years ago, Earth's scientists had strong reservations about face-to-face meetings between the two species. Their worry was a valid one, and not related to the xenophobic hysteria that had seized so many humans during that era—though the scientists' questions inevitably added to some people's fear of extraterrestrials. Because of those complicated questions, it had taken years to work out a treaty so that a Vahnaj Ambassador would be allowed to come to Todd Saunder's home world.

  Question: Cross-species contagion—could it occur?

  Answer: Yes!

  The Vahnaj, though, had a further answer. They were an old civilization. They had been exploring their section of the galaxy for many generations, and they had dealt with this thorny problem before, on other worlds. They had found a workable solution.

  Their Ambassador would, for the first part of his stay among humans, be a willing guinea pig. Quol-Bez would be available for any tests Earth's scientists wished to subject him to. He would enter quarantine. For Earth's additional protection, Ambassador Quol-Bez would bring with him samples of other Vahnaj micro-life, for Earth's scientists to play with. Also, Quol-Bez's own symbiote bacteria and antibodies, those microorganisms necessary for his existen
ce, would be attenuated by Vahnaj medicine prior to his departure from his planet. He would be rendered as harmless as possible to humans—even at the risk of weakening his own biological defense systems. Certainly no offer could be more generous. Under those terms, if an accident occurred during the quarantine period and Vahnaj microorganisms should escape Earth's testing areas, the threat to human life would still be minimal. The Vahnaj backed up their scientific reassurances with documentation relayed across the light-years to Todd Saunder and to the rest of mankind. Eventually, they convinced the skeptics.

  Earth's leaders continued to worry, though. What if the Vahnaj Ambassador were infected by Earth's microorganisms? If his biological defenses had been weakened, he would be especially vulnerable. He might die. Vahnaj was far ahead of Earth in technology—and in space-war capability. Might she not, in that case, take revenge for her Ambassador?

  The Vahnaj were a trifle insulted by that query. They replied that they were a civilized species. They fully understood the risks, and they accepted them. They would sign a treaty to guarantee, among other things, that their Ambassador was expendable. Diplomacy. The nature of cross-species meetings. And worth the gamble, to the Vahnaj. They hoped their treaty of good faith would pay off in centuries to come, when Homo sapiens would be a full trading partner in the Vahnaj sphere of influence.

  If their Ambassador survived, if the two species were compatible, then Vahnaj and Earth would take further steps and enlarge the treaty. Those steps would also depend, of course, on how quickly Earth's culture expanded into the galaxy on its own. The trade agreement might be in effect in scant years, once humans discovered their own method of faster-than-light travel. If they did. Otherwise, most treaty terms would remain inactive, or nearly so.

  The treaty was signed, and Todd Saunder's ComLink network and other media sold the package to humanity. And as the terms were understood, mankind began to look on the soon-to-arrive Vahnaj Ambassador in a different light. The Vahnaj were sending him to an alien Solar System with cool calculation. Quol-Bez might die, victim of an Earth virus. That was what a diplomat got paid for—to be a sacrificial goat, if necessary. When Quol-Bez reached Earth, after those years of tortuous negotiations, and entered quarantine, humanity came to know him through interviews on remote vid cameras. This tall, skinny, funny-faced otterlike creature with a child's voice and pointy teeth was the "alien invader" so many had feared? Quol-Bez had seemed more like a noble peacemaker, walking willingly into possible death if it would help advance the cause of interstellar relations between his people and Earth's.

  Quol-Bez didn't die. He survived the quarantine. And human volunteers survived exposure to the Vahnaj microorganisms Quol-Bez had brought for the scientists to test. Vahnaj and human blood, laden with new antibodies, provided sera. A major step. The two species could coexist.

  Now came the next steps, including travel to Vahnaj. That might not be as "easy" as conquering xenophobia and the danger of cross-species contagion had been!

  The conversational topic was changing. People were complimenting Brenna's father on the holo-mode broadcasts. "Whole thing went off great, Todd," Fred Grieske said. "Your people outdid themselves this time."

  "And didn't Carissa look simply charming?"

  Brenna didn't see who had said that. But Dian commented sotto voce, right in Brenna's ear. "She ought to. Her beauty experts work hard enough to keep 'Rissa eternally forty."

  A few other people had heard her, too. Deputy Commissioner Pecora rushed into the awkward silence. "Best holo-mode technique ever, Todd..."

  Todd Saunder was still a trifle pale. The emotional upheaval of seeing his dead sister and brother-in-law recreated in the images hadn't completely subsided. But he smiled his thanks. "Glad you liked it. ComLink tries to do right by the customers. Communications is our lifeblood, has been since before Goddard and the Lunar Base were founded. Why, in the last century my father was working on updating old-fashioned comsats. Imagine the primitive methods we had to use back then—wires and ground-anchored towers! All that just to send messages from one spot to another on a single planet..."

  "An improvement over tom-toms and semaphores, you must admit, Uncle Todd," Stuart suddenly put in. "But still centuries behind what the really advanced species are using, hmm? Like that heavily protected Vahnaj radio our Ambassador and the treaty makers use. Makes our systems look pathetic by comparison. Still, we are making progress, eh?"

  People around him didn't know how to respond to his sarcastic comments. Brenna found herself studying Quol-Bez intently, looking for signs that he was displeased or startled. For one of the few times in her life, she applauded Stuart, though silently. Her cousin had pinched the Vahnaj Ambassador's toes and reminded the smug souls who backed Hiber-Ship Corporation that they were trading their hopes of a future as star lords for a mess of pottage the aliens were throwing their way.

  The FTL radio that had ridden to the Solar System in a Vahnaj robot was a mere symbol. A symbol that sooner or later mankind was going to grab for itself!

  His expression sardonic, Stuart Saunder raised his glass—he nearly always had a glass in his hand! "Here's to progress!"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Quarrels—Friendly and Otherwise

  In varying degrees of approval, others joined Stuart's toast. When they were done, President Grieske jumped in. "Yes, progress, but with constant setbacks, I fear. Such as that new economic cutthroat competition between Alamshah and Nakamura Kaisya ... very bad! I do hope it won't involve any other of our interplanetary suppliers." He turned to Terran Worlds Councilman Ames. "Is the T.W.C. going to get in on the arbitration?"

  "T.W.C. has not been invited to participate in the discussions," Chairman Hong Ling-Kuang of Protectors of Earth replied huffily. "It is strictly a one-planet matter."

  "Not if the Progressive Expanionist Coalition has its way," Ames said with a superior smile. "They've been pressuring some of our Space Fleet contractors, and that will involve other planets."

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Grieske pleaded, "my apologies for bringing this up. I wasn't aware tempers were so touchy on the subject. It's because we're quite divorced from Earth's politics out here. Except for our friends and Space Fleet personnel who travel back to the home world frequently. Isn't that right, Todd? You don't think this competition will spread, do you? Not to step on your toes, but we need Nakamura's TeleCom network and Alamshah's transport connections almost as much as we do Saunder Enterprises." The President laughed and patted Todd's arm to show he wasn't taking his own suggestions at all seriously.

  Todd returned the smile. "I wouldn't be overly concerned, no. They'll solve it, eventually. I found out years ago that there are no simple answers. But there are answers. The trick is to find them. And they will. Rely on it."

  Brenna and her mother and Morgan exchanged amused glances. No simple answers. Yet Todd Saunder had built his life's work on the belief that answers could always be found— somewhere. If he hadn't thought that, he never would have sponsored Project Search. Earth might never have made contact with Quol-Bez's species. Todd Saunder was proof that tough questions yielded if one were persistent enough.

  "Politics and religion," Stuart chimed in again. Brenna listened warily. Where was he going and what was he scheming? "Dreadful mix. You have no idea what it can be like on Earth. You think you have a lot of Space Fleet troopers and personal bodyguards here?" He made a rude noise, dismissing Mars' finest officers and the private police who kept order. "Ambassador Quol-Bez and his charming translator could tell you what real personal risk is all about. In some cities back there, you can't move without a full contingent of armed soldiers to protect you from the mobs."

  Unexpectedly, Chin Jui-Sao agreed, her soft voice troubled. "This is so, unfortunately. There are, for example, surprisingly large remnants of the Earth First Party to be found in some areas. The Ambassador has been unpleasantly harassed by these fanatics, many times. They seem to be fighting the philosophical battles of decades ago, still fear
ful of a Vahnaj invasion." The guests around her chuckled at this absurdity, shaking their heads in pity.

  "They don't realize their entire premise is passe," Stuart added. "Fear of the unknown, the analysts call it. But how can that be?" He waved a graceful, well-manicured hand at Quol-Bez. "Is our esteemed Vahnaj Ambassador an 'unknown'? Ridiculous! Still, we can't disclaim those misguided fools completely. They are part of our human society, like it or not, with their crazy ideas and reactionary terrors."

  Brenna had been listening with growing attention, amazed at how much she wanted to second her cousin. Suddenly she exclaimed, "That's right. They're humans, every one of them. Tell us, Quol-Bez, did the Vahnaj go through this same sort of madness in your early history? You know—hot spots left over from past nuclear wars, mutant viruses, head-in-the-sand factions afraid of anything new or different, fanatics quoting garbled religious or scientific passages to prove that there are things man should never try to do. How long does it take a species to get past this awkward stage of development?" Her adrenaline was pumping. She noticed Stuart gloating, reveling in the rare experience of being backed up by another member of the Saunder clan. Brenna had the bit in her teeth, plowing ahead. "How long? Centuries? Millennia? What's the prognosis for backward people like us?"

  She was acutely aware of the faces in the gathering crowd around her. Councilman Ames of T.W.C. and Chairman Hong of P.O.E. were both inordinately interested in what answers Quol-Bez might give to Brenna's impertinent questions. Others showed a mix of idle curiosity, barely veiled chauvinistic pride in human endeavor that resented Vahnaj power, and some apprehension that Brenna had mortally offended the being from the stars. President Grieske spoke for that group when he said in dismay, "You exaggerate the situation, my dear. Those things you mention are just temporary aberrations, hardly typical of normal human activities..."