Outward Bound

by Juanita Coulson

  "Maybe they're growing pains," Stuart said.

  The words prodded Brenna, made her still more reckless. She confronted Quol-Bez. "Any hints—from the advanced race to the uncouth savages?"

  "You're out of line, girl," Dian warned.

  Quol-Bez raised a three-fingered hand, quieting the stir of whispers running through the group. "It is wel-come, Dr. Foix. We do not require protocols among kin-friends of Todd Saunder. Such con-ver-sa-tions are ... urr ... tha-shei-dul..."

  Dian opened her mouth, but it was her pupil Sao who explained the Vahnaj phrase for the benefit of the rest. " 'Off the record.' 'Just among close acquaintances.'" She stared angrily at Brenna as she spoke, plainly challenging Brenna's right to be the Ambassador's "kin-friend" when she was assaulting the alien verbally in this manner.

  Morgan moved close to Brenna, gripping her shoulder and shaking her lightly. "Cool off," he urged softly. She ignored him.

  Quol-Bez's high, raspy voice was amiable. "We of the Vahnaj worlds have indeed suf-fered war-fare among ourselves, and with other species, I am ashamed to ad-mit, in our less ci-vi-lized centuries, as you have guessed. We, too, em-ployed bio-weapons. We have known dif-fer-ences of phil-o-so-phy. But we sur-vived. Obviously." The alien's pointed teeth showed. He seemed to be enjoying himself in some mysterious way.

  "Muddling through, just as we've been doing, eh?" Stuart put in. He was taking the trouble to be charming. He didn't do that often, but when he chose to, he was good at it. "Just have to make our mistakes and take our lumps. Wars, plagues, all the floundering around. Pity. For instance, we can barely haul ourselves out of planetary orbit, yet..."

  "We'll go a hell of a lot farther than that," Brenna said firmly.

  A soft, beloved voice murmured, "Or die trying." Derek. He looked morose. He didn't avoid Brenna's answering glare. Truce or not, he had meant that soft comment for her and Morgan, meant them to hear it.

  "Breakthrough Unlimited is going to conquer the light-speed barrier," Brenna insisted, her chin held high.

  "That is possible," Quol-Bez said in his condescending, irritatingly smug way. "There are cer-tain se-quences of tech-no-log-i-cal development for any intelligent species."

  "But are we following the right one?" Brenna prodded. "That's what Stuart means about floundering. We're working in the dark, trying to read between the lines of the Vahnaj historical tapes you've loaned us. And damned skimpy peeks you've given us, too."

  Morgan broke in, his annoyance now showing. "Don't expect the Ambassador to do our work for us. You know his diplomatic mission won't allow him to clue us in on the things you're talking about." He met Quol-Bez's calm gaze, a hint of a smile playing on Morgan's face. It was as if the two of them shared some special knowledge they weren't letting Brenna in on. She toyed with the urge to kick Morgan's shins. Whose side was he on, anyway!

  Dian tugged at her husband's sleeve, but Todd Saunder was engrossed in what was going on. Her face taut with exasperation, Dian simply walked away. Brenna had seen that happen at other times. Her mother refused to hang around during a squabble, saying she had done enough of that when she was younger. Unless there was an urgent reason for her to get involved, she wouldn't. A rhetorical argument certainly didn't qualify as "urgent."

  "My kin-friend Brenna, permit me to cor-rect you: Homo sapiens is not a sav-age species. It is not primitive. It is aggressive. But all species which develop in these manners, es-pe-ci-al-ly those which leave the origin world, must be aggressive."

  "But we always have to find our own way." Heads swiveled toward Derek. The guests listened respectfully to the famous former Space Fleet pilot. Brenna read their thoughts. Derek had experience with all forms of spaceflight, including Breakthrough Unlimited's craft. Expert opinion. He spoke and they paid attention—even if his judgment about Breakthrough Unlimited and the right way to reach the stars was wrong! "The Isakson modified photon propulsion system is something we've developed ourselves during the past twenty years. So is cryogenic stasis, which we owe to Todd Saunder's father. Those two independent discoveries enable us to build a sub-light-speed starship and leave the Solar System. No help needed from the Vahnaj or from any other species outside our own patterns of orderly progress."

  "There's a faster way," Brenna retorted, now that he had breached the truce. "Graviton spin resonance drive will give us FTL, and that comes out of our own technology, too!"

  "If it works," Derek shot back. "Space Fleet dropped their experiments before Breakthrough Unlimited adopted the theory. That seems to say they doubted its feasibility even then. Affirmative, Councilman Ames?"

  The Terran Worlds Councilman's face was an unreadable mask. He refused to rise to the bait. But Stuart didn't. He said, "Oh, come on, Derek. We all know why T.W.C. turned the process over to a civilian outfit like Saunder Enterprises. Politics! They're afraid of stepping on the Vahnajes' toes. Their precious treaty, you know. Hiber-Ship's frozen coffin of a star-ship doesn't really concern them. Ah! But they get nervous about faster-than-light travel. Of course, we have that constant reminder, don't we? The Ambassador's little spaceship, with its Vahnaj FTL drive, parked out there in orbit beyond the asteroid belt. Hmm? Isn't that like dangling bait in front of us? Look but don't touch!"

  "Whatever the military's reasons," Brenna said, "they gave up on graviton spin resonance too soon, and we'll prove it." Derek gulped down the remainder of his drink. Morgan was glowering at Brenna as she continued. "You're right. The Vahnaj starship is bait, Stuart. It's been sitting out there, guarded by Space Fleet for six years, just in case Quol-Bez decides to use it for a quick trip back to his home worlds. But he never takes the trip. Why won't he lend the ship to us for a while, then? We'd know how to make good use of it..."

  That had been a test pilot's fantasy for six years, ever since the bare-bones facts about the alien ship had been revealed. An FTL drive! In the Solar System! A Vahnaj ship, diplomatically off-limits. But oh, how tempting! Nearly everyone in Breakthrough Unlimited and the other various FTL experimental groups in the same race with them dreamed of "borrowing" Quol-Bez's ship and learning its secrets. So what if there was hell to pay with the politicos afterward? It would be a fait accompli. The Vahnaj bragged they hadn't waged war against any other species in centuries. Were they about to start now, over an incident like that? Probably they would slap Earth's wrists, figuratively, and accept the reality. And humanity would have faster-than-light travel, while being spared the risks, the expense, the deaths...

  However, there was a small impediment. Space Fleet. A crack cordon making sure no humans, particularly no civilians, ever got close to the ship.

  "Maybe that ship's there to keep us humble," Brenna speculated. "To keep us from getting uppity."

  "Dammit! Stop it! You, too, Stuart! You're egging her on!" Todd Saunder roared.

  Brenna was taken aback. So was everyone else, including Stuart. Brenna was flabbergasted by that. Stuart would never have reacted to his mother that way. But for all the frictions within the family's branches, he still respected his uncle. A lifetime of her father's stern admonitions rang through Brenna's head:

  We're Saunders. And a Saunder is the best. We've got power, wealth, and honor. We have to live up to those things.

  Noblesse oblige. A foolish, weak-minded notion, to Stuart, normally. But this time he obeyed Todd's rules, mumbling apologies.

  Todd Saunder's credo—graciousness to friend and foe, acknowledgment of one's debts to society in exchange for privileges enjoyed. For Brenna's father, those debts included his mother's crimes and never forgetting his dead siblings. And sometimes, in his caring about old debts, he overlooked the fact that the new generation felt no obligation for those debts. Across the buzz of voices, Morgan and Brenna caught each other's eyes and were united. Morgan's annoyance with Brenna's earlier pushiness vanished in a heartbeat. Those debts had burdened their parents, as the old plagues left scars on the previous generation. This generation of Saunders and McKelveys had their own lives to live, their o
wn dreams and goals, and no emotional debts from the past, except those that they allowed their elders to pile on them.

  Brenna didn't intend to carry those debts. Courtesy, yes. Guilt, no. Not for crimes she had never committed and events that had happened before she and Morgan were born.

  Quol-Bez broke through the whispering confusion. "My friend Todd, you must not be disturbed. I do not object. Sincere-ly! Brenna and I talked of these things earlier. I in-vited this discussion."

  Todd looked at his daughter, frowning. Brenna squared her shoulders as Quol-Bez peered down at her, seeking confirmation. "That's so, Dad. After all, it's understandable. The Ambassador knows how important these theories of faster-than-light travel are to Morgan and me." Derek edged away from her, his face a storm cloud. Defiantly, Brenna went on. "As Stuart hinted, in a lot of ways the Ambassador's ship could be construed as psychological 'bait.' Not that anyone has any serious intention of 'kidnapping' the ship!" she hastened to assure the listeners. As far as logic went, she meant that. Emotionally, she nursed reservations. If only...! Chin Jui-Sao was translating the nuances of Brenna's statements for Quol-Bez as Brenna continued. "And we're not the only ones interested, come to that. There are several other FTL projects in competition with us right now."

  For the first time in this whole conversation, Terran Worlds Councilman Ames's serene confidence cracked a trifle. He looked distinctly uneasy, as if he wished Brenna hadn't brought that matter to everyone's attention. Brenna found this amusing. None of the other faster-than-light projects had the remotest chance of success. Surely Ames knew it. Only Breakthrough Unlimited's graviton spin resonance drive could do the job.

  Derek had ordered another alcoholic drink from a passing service robot. His courage bolstered, he cut in abruptly. "What Brenna would really like you to do, Quol-Bez, is tell the rest of those FTL experimenters to give up—and throw their investment capital in with Breakthrough Unlimited. Collect all the pellet fuel in one tank, you might say."

  Morgan had tried to shut Brenna up when she was needling Quol-Bez and pushing the limits of courtesy. But now that Derek had spilled the bag, Morgan was solidly on Brenna's team. "You bastard," he growled at his lifelong friend. Morgan's lopsided, rueful smile made the words a fond epithet rather than an insult.

  Derek tipped an imaginary cap to him in ironic salute. "Just thought I'd save us all some time. You and Brenna do tend to beat around the bush an awful lot."

  "How droll!" Stuart sneered. "Aren't you supposed to be on the opposing side, Whitcomb? Does Hiber-Ship know you're playing cutesy games with the enemy? Going to bed with one of them, too..."

  A few listeners began squirming uncomfortably at Stuart's lack of taste. Brenna was used to it. She felt oddly relieved that he was falling into his normal bad habits. She had been operating without any charts for a few minutes a while ago, when she had found her only ally in the room to be Stuart. Brenna and Stuart Saunder, taking on the Vahnaj Ambassador together! She began to wonder if his drink had been spiked with something exceptionally potent. She could count the times in her life she and Stuart had joined forces—this time. It wasn't likely to happen again soon, if ever!

  What had Stuart gotten out of the debate? He had seemed to enjoy it while it was going on. Speculating on Stuart's motives was a dead-end hobby, though. Not even Stuart knew what was going on in his burned-out brain cells.

  President Grieske and Brenna's father kept trying to apologize to Quol-Bez, despite the Ambassador's reassurances that he wasn't offended in the slightest. He smiled at them in tolerant amusement and brushed aside their efforts. Seeing that, Brenna began to seethe. Quol-Bez had been an excellent choice for this diplomatic mission. He had adapted wonderfully well to human culture and customs. Perhaps too well. Right now he was copying the all-too-familiar patterns of Brenna's elders-patronizing the "kids," and making allowances for their brashness and foolishness.

  "We don't need anyone to give us the answers on a platinum plate," Brenna said loudly. Chatter died away. People looked at her warily, waiting to see if the argument was going to start anew. "Morgan and I know we've got the FTL race won."

  "That is quite possible," Quol-Bez said very quietly.

  Dance music was playing, people were laughing and talking elsewhere in the rotunda, a constant ambiance of sound that the audio baffles couldn't completely dampen. But for Brenna, there was sudden, total silence. She and Morgan and Derek and Quol-Bez were quite alone. Despite her bragging, the alien had shot the floor out from under her. Dangling that bait—again— this time hinting at a glimpse into the future, foreknowledge that Brenna desperately wanted to possess.

  The Ambassador sensed that burning need to know and elaborated on his shocking statement. "Un-ques-tion-ably, in time, Homo sapiens will achieve faster-than-light space travel. Unless your species succumbs to a self-generated or natural catastrophe, like a nova, which your Spirit of Humanity I hope will pre-vent, such a stage of in-ven-tion must come to you." The patronizing tone was gone. Quol-Bez was speaking as one being to another who was almost his equal.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  "Then what?" Brenna demanded, hungering for that insight of what lay ahead. The financial worries, the nightmare fear of failure, crowded in on her, making her breathless. Quol-Bez could wipe out the uncertainties with a few words, if he chose to. "How fast can we develop after we achieve FTL?" Brenna demanded. "Trade within the Solar System? We've already got that. FTL will just speed up the process. What about outside the Solar System? Will the Vahnaj welcome Earth as a full trading partner? And what about the other species in the near-galactic neighborhood? Will they welcome us, too?"

  Morgan broke in, rebuking her once more. "Brenna, you know you're asking Quol-Bez questions that are out of line."

  Quol-Bez silenced him with a gesture. He was smiling at Morgan, that peculiar, superior smile that so irked Brenna. But Morgan wasn't bothered by it. He nodded, exuding friendship. There seemed to be a tacit conversation going on between them. Brenna had noticed that happening at other family gatherings Quol-Bez had attended in the past. Even more than Brenna's father, Morgan appeared to fall into an easy, one-on-one exchange with the Ambassador with no effort whatsoever. Brenna both envied the talent and resented it. Morgan's smile was becoming as smug as the alien's.

  Then Quol-Bez's stare shifted to Brenna. The dark eyes bored at her and she shivered, recalling the articles about possible telepathic abilities among the Vahnaj.

  "I could not pre-dict what you wish to know," Quol-Bez said at last.

  Brenna sighed. She had been holding her breath, and felt giddy. She drew herself up and refused to accept that reply. "Could not? Or will not?"

  "All the things you ask of me would require a lengthy consultation with my government before I could answer. I am sorry." The unspoken additional regret lay under the words. With the Vahnaj FTL radio, such communications might be lengthy, but they would be almost instantaneous. Quol-Bez was saying that he knew in advance his government would instruct him to clam up and tell Brenna nothing. "I am sorry," Quol-Bez repeated. "I beg you to understand."

  Five years out of the quarantine period, and he had been Todd Saunder's friend, via communications devices, long before then, and on casual social terms with the Saunder family ever since. Yet in many ways Brenna knew so little about Quol-Bez. His sad black eyes seemed to say, "Please do not demand what I cannot give you. I am bound by rules I dare not break. I am a diplomat, a servant of my government. Am I to risk betraying my people, revealing something they might not wish revealed just yet, to please the daughter of my kin-friend Todd Saunder?"

  Brenna felt cornered and chagrined. How had she gotten into this mess? By opening her big mouth at the wrong time! What was the matter with her? Beyond the obvious—nerves rubbed raw because of the upcoming Prototype test. She never gave in to such brash impulses this way, not in a friendly gathering like this! The difference, at this gala, was Stuart. Brenna narrowed her eyes, studying her dissipate
d cousin. Stuart was blatant in his enjoyment of the fracas. He had relished setting Brenna at Quol-Bez's throat, and now he was snickering over her discomfiture—from a safe distance. He remembered her temper from countless childhood arguments.

  Then Quol-Bez's eyes sparkled, and he turned again to Brenna. "I am told there is a par-ti-cu-lar human idiomatic expression. I would like to offer it to you, Brenna: 'May the best team win.'"

  "That's us," she said lightly, returning his smile.

  "Your kin-people spoke the same." Quol-Bez's reference to Mariette Saunder and Kevin McKelvey shook Brenna's composure. "They, too, were very brave. They wished to ad-vance your species, as you do. I regret that I did not know them longer. I ad-mired them very much. Your kin-aunt often said that she wished to build the faster-than-light ship without any out-side as-sistance..."

  Todd Saunder suddenly broke in, speaking with great emotion. "That was Mari, and Kevin. They always wanted to go it alone. She was furious when I first contacted your Vahnaj messenger beacon years ago, Quol-Bez. Do you know why? Because she wanted to be the one to find you—to go beyond our star system. Eventually, she got used to the idea of meeting the Vahnaj halfway. Mariette realized it doesn't make any difference. The important thing is that Vahnaj and Homo sapiens coexist in peace, and that humans are living in peace with each other, finally!"

  Brenna took her lumps, sheepishly saying, "Dad's right. So Aunt Mari learned. It takes patience. We have to learn that, sometimes. We are. I am. I'm sorry if I came on too strong earlier. I guess I got the forest mixed up with the trees and became too ... aggressive. Wasn't that the word you used to describe us...?"

  "Sav-ages?" Quol-Bez finished for her. His wide face split in a sly and remarkably human grin. He might patronize her now and then, but it was almost impossible to stay mad at such a likable being as this.

  Brenna held out her hand, and Quol-Bez's long fingers wrapped around hers. Morgan clapped his big paws around the handshake, sealing it, looking relieved that the too-hot discussion was over.