by H. M. Hoover
Still on the floor, Zorn told a fellow tolat, "You try!" The other's eyes shot straight up, and Lian imagined she could see its indignation. "No!" it said. The rest of the tolats suddenly had business elsewhere.
"I'll try," said Dr. Farr, and walked into the darkness with one hand outstretched to feel the way. His fingers buckled against a solid wall. "It's closed!" He sounded both disappointed and relieved as he patted the barrier. "I can't get in. What did you learn, Zorn?"
"This tolat felt one mind," said Zorn, "but not for long. It does not trust us. Only Tsri Lian and its own people."
"You're right," said Dr. Farr. "That's a very wise machine."
"But of us all, tolats would be the only ones who might be able to fix it if it needs repairs," said Scotty.
The Counter had already considered that. It was for that reason it had expelled the clever alien. It feared being merely chemically or mechanically understood by them, tampered with into insanity or paralysis, and then, perhaps, remade immortal. It thought the tolats might try to do that with the best of intentions, unaware of what they were destroying.
"I think we're trying to hurry things," Dr. Farr de
cided. "We haven't begun to consider what we've just been told, and we're looking for more. Klat, what is your opinion?"
"That we discuss things while we feed," said Klat.
Lian was not hungry, nor did she feel like listening to people. Scotty volunteered to- bring her back a sandwich. When they had gone, Lian wandered over to stare at the Counter. She was sorry it would not translate. There were so many questions she wanted to ask the lumpies about the things they'd seen this morning, about their history—and what were their real names? When they could communicate totally, she thought, how was she going to explain the names she'd given them? Could she say, "I looked upon you as pets, large but good-natured and affectionate"? Then the thought occurred to her that if they were as smart as she suspected they were, they might call her the Toapa equivalent of. Fido. . .. What did the word "guardian" mean to them . . . ?
She looked over and saw the three of them still sitting there, not smiling now but watching tolats trying to test the floor. Since they weren't going to hide any more, they should move out of the ship, she thought. They would need houses, water, and waste recycle systems—education. The strip of land between ship and river was good soil for gardens. Maybe she could teach them ....
She helped herself to one of Scotty's sketching pads and a pen. "Let's design you a home," she suggested to the trio. "We could build it on the bluff where the camp is now. There's a beautiful view—" Poonie picked up the pad and examined it minutely before giving it back to Lian with a mental question mark.
"Paper. To draw and write on. See." Lian began to sketch the kind of house she would like to live in, the Idnd of house she remembered. As she drew, the trio watched and whispered to one another. When she had finished, Cuddles reached for the pen. He made a few awkward experimental strokes; then Poonie took the pen and turned to a fresh page.
Soon all four of them were stretched on the warm floor, engrossed in house design, oblivious to all around I them. Raindrops beaded on the roof overhead, flattened, and made rivulets down the glass. The dome was quiet except for the click of tolat claws and the murmur of voices in the corridor outside.
The house Poonie drew somehow looked like the gray people. It was large and nicely rounded with a garden and a moongate. It stood by itself on the side of a wooded hill.
"Where does everybody else live?" said Lian.
Cuddles got up and padded over to the table and got another pen. He and Naldo collaborated on a village. Their drawing, like Poonie's, had a sense of humor to it, Lian thought. Small furry things like Buford were given a guest house. Allowance was made to avoid wortle burrows and paths in the cliff above the river.
A passing tolat stopped to study the sketch. "Nice," it decided. "But fountain should be here." A claw pointed. "Here we can bring waterfall down to pool in center. Stream can recycle down to river."
"Can we make the pool deep enough for them to swim?"
"Tolats can do anything If they have right tools," said the tolat, and elbowed in to join the party.
Dr. Farr and Scotty wandered in and stood over them. The group worked on, unaware of their audience until Lian said, "Somebody's blocking the light," and looked up to see the two staring openmouthed at the sketches.
"They drew that?" Dr. Farr whispered, as if he didn't want to break a spell. Lian nodded. "So they do retain Images from the past. ... I wondered what that line meant. As telepaths they can pass along from generation to generation how things truly were. Oral historians were quite common among Earth's tribes, but to find a culture like this!" For a moment he looked as if he'd like to shout for joy, and then he visibly regained self-control. "Yes, well . ,, „ are the towers an abstract fountain?"
"That's the waste recycle system," Lian explained. "The tolats are going to build it. Look at the foliage on the trees. It's not leaves; it looks like tiny script. And there, see a pattern on the cliff road? It's more notes." At that Scotty went over to get her note pad and joined them.
Dr. Farr put on his glasses and knelt down. "Amazing!"
"That they can write?"
"At this point that doesn't surprise me at all," he said. "Perhaps it would if I thought about it. What amazes me is that I missed the advance of several centuries by going to lunch."
A commotion broke out in the corridor. Faint shouting could be heard, then running footsteps.
"Dr. Farr? Dr. Farr?" The man Lian thought of as the little professor came running down the ramp into the dome. He was soaking wet, and his face was sickly pale. She sat up, alarmed before he spoke. "Dr. Farr! You've got to come!" He was panting with exertion. "You too, miss. They trust you. Hurry! They might kill him!"
Lian was up and running, the lumpies ahead of her. The corridor had never seemed so long. She dodged the curious staffers, never heard them speak. What had that stupid person done to make her gentle lumpies threaten him? Behind her she could hear the others coming, Scotty calling for her to wait.
Outside she paused. No one was in sight. It was raining hard. The three lumpies never hesitated but scrambled up over the earthwork, their feet slipping in the wet ground and leaves. She took a great gulp of fresh, sweet air and followed them. She didn't have far to go.
On the opposite side of the earthwork, in the hollow of a fallen tree, stood Vincent, his back against the roots. He was encircled by lumpies. They stood shoulder to shoulder, hands folded on their chests, watching him. He looked terrified.
"Call them off!" he yelled when he saw Lian.
"Coward," she said. "What's under your jacket?"
He glanced down and tried to flatten the bulges around his middle. Failing, he shoved his hands Into his pockets.
"What did you steal?"
"Nothing! Just get them away from me!"
Cuddles called something, and all the lumpies stood erect. Vincent took one look, turned, and tried to scramble up over the tangled roots of the stump. A tall lumpie caught him by the armpits, lifted him up and held him like a flailing insect, then gave him a vigorous shake. It was a very impressive display of strength.
"Stop! You're crazy!" Vincent got another shaking. "Stop it! It'll break! Stop!" There was a flash of color. Objects began to fall from the man's clothing into the mud below, and the lumpies retrieved them. A final shake and a small oblong panel fell. The lumpie turned and put him down outside their circle. He ran in panic, straight into Dr. Farr at the top of the slope.
"You've got to take some security measures, Fair!" The man grasped the archaeologist's arms to keep from falling. "Those animals tried to kill me! Look at this!" He showed them the dirt on his clothes. Dr. Farr was not impressed. Without commenting, he freed himself and came down to where Lian and the lumpies stood.
"Is that what was taken?" he asked Lian, looking at the enamel picture of a flower from a lost planet, a jeweled armpiece, an e
ngraved something, and two drinking bowls held by the lumpies. "Beautiful!"
"I was only going to photograph the stuff," said Vincent. "I wasn't going to take it. I was . . ."
Dr. Farr looked at him now for the first time. "Of course you were," he said mildly.
Vincent flushed. "I get attacked and you get sarcastic."
"You weren't attacked—you were caught," said Lian. "They didn't hurt you. They just took back what was theirs."
There was finger talking among the lumpies, and then those holding the objects in question stepped forward and held them out to Dr. Farr. "For safekeeping? Surely—" There was more rapid discussion and then head shaking.
"Gifts?" Lian was guessing. The lumpies nodded.
The photographer said a nasty word. "If they don't want it anyhow, what difference did it make if I had it?"
"Some of us are particular about who we want to own our things," said Lian, and Scotty laughed.
Dr. Farr did not. "I'm sure you were rather discreet, handling such beautiful items, especially since none of us had yet seen them," he said to Vincent. "Yet the— uh—Toapa knew you had them. If I were you, I'd think about that. This could be an object lesson."
Vincent was going to protest, but then he saw Lian and the lumpies looking at him. He swore again and walked off through the rain.
"Are you going to dismiss him?" the professor asked nervously.
"No. Without Earth passage booked he'd be stranded in Limai for months. Talking too much. He's a very good photographer . . . and I want him where we can keep an eye on him."
That evening, like the good host he was, and in spite of the rain, Dr. Farr joined Lian beneath her tree to stand and watch twilight come over the mountains. The lumpies were swimming in the river below, but for the first time none of the staff had gone down to watch them.
"Why do you suppose that is?" she asked when he commented on that fact.
"Because of you," he said when she had almost given up hope of getting an answer. "Like the serpent in the garden, you've made us aware. Before you came we saw them as animals, innocents. Now they are sentient-—with a past and dignity and a name. Long ago there was great magic in names. It was believed you could be destroyed by anyone who knew your true name. They were sacred words of gseat power. . . ."
Lian shivered. esDo you believe that?" she asked.
"That's superstition. Ages ago, worlds past."
"But was it true?"
"There is some truth in most myths."
"My mother said lost tribes seldom survive discovery."
"And you're afraid that sort of thing will happen here?"
"Aren't you?"
"It had occurred to me," he admitted.
"If I'd never come here, maybe—"
"Don't assume too much responsibility, Lian," he said quickly. "Granted, discovery represents risks for them. But to avoid it, all they had to do was hide. There is more than enough room to hide on Balthor.
"My theory is they knew time was running short— that if they hid and continued to play stupid for another generation, they might truly become so—or they might die out. I suspect they chose to take the risk of exploitation or death rather than to continue to deny their intelligence."
Or the Counter chose to, thought Lian, but why through me?
"In any event," Dr. Farr continued, "we have discovered them. That can't be changed. If their things are all of beauty equal to those gifts they gave us today, then there is great wealth here. Wealth attracts greed. I will do what I can to protect them. So will Klat and his people. And the tolats will protect that engineering marvel in the dome until they understand it. For that they need its owners—and so they will protect them. But a lot of their future will depend on the lumpies— and perhaps on you, if you choose to accept it. They trust you. I don't pretend to have a theory as to why —or perhaps there is no why but only circumstances."
"Listen," said Lian, who was not quite ready to consider the responsibility implied by the man's last remark.
Unlike other evenings, the swimmers in the river had begun to call to one another, their voices floating rich and clear in the still air. As if hearing the sounds inspired confidence, the phrases grew louder, more elaborate, and the hills gave back an echo. From down-
river a voice sang out and another answered. The first repeated and then joined the second. Two more joined in, repeating the same phrase.
"They're singing!" There was wonder in his voice.
"Shhh!"
"Can you understand the words?"
"No," she whispered. "Just listen." There were voices in the camp behind them, and she turned to see the staff gathering, shushing one another, curious to hear. A tolat was jumping to the equipment shed, probably to get a recorder. She wondered what they would make of this music in translation.
The song was short and happy. It no sooner ended than another began; more voices joined in. Across the water by the shell beds, Poonie stood waist high in the river and began to sing. The others fell silent to listen. Poonie's voice was high and sweet, and the song was haunting. Then at intervals, individually or in chorus, other voices joined in.
Lian heard the music as a tale of good and evil, in times long past with people long gone, sung now not for its moral but for its beauty and their joy in at last being free to sing again.
The clouds broke, the wind shifted, and one by one the stars glittered. Still the music drifted across the water and traced memories in listening minds.
When it was almost night, the lumpies left the river and gathered on the beach. All in a company, they melted into the darkness of the forest, their voices echoing back and back again from the wet hills.
With the singing ended, the staff headed toward the dining room. Soon the only sounds were forest noises and a burr of distant conversation. Lian and Dr. Farr still stood leaning against the tree, each lost in private thoughts. Then with a sigh the man said, "I guess we should go eat."
"I guess so."
"I expect we'll hear from your parents soon."
"Either that or they'll just send Max to pick me up."
"Are you sure you want to go back?" And then to
soften the bluntness of his question, "Being here seems to agree with you. Like the lumpies, your expression is changing, your face is becoming more open. You're not quite the same too-serious young person you were the day we met."
"That seems like a long, long time ago," Lian said, and smiled. "I don't want to go back, to be honest. I'm not even sure now if I want to be an astrophysicist. I want to stay here—so much that it feels wrong even to think about being anywhere else. I know this might not be a forever thing—like a career—but maybe . . . maybe I could become the leading expert on the Toapa? Would you mind?"
"I'd be very glad—and so would Scotty and your tolat friends. You can help with the translation problem and act as liaison . . ." By the camp lights she saw him frown. "But I think you'd better call the observatory. Your parents might not approve at all."
"Not at first," she agreed, "but when they understand what it is we've found here, they will."
"Are you sure?"
"Not positive. But I think so. They're very intelligent," she said, and wondered why Dr. Farr began to smile and then controlled the urge.
"Perhaps so," he said, "but I have visions of an irate visit from them."
"Never irate. Never a scene," she said. "They aren't like that at all."
"What are they like, Lian? I'm curious."
She looked up at the supernova, thinking over her answer. "They are bright, rather remote—absentminded people. They enjoy their work so much that I don't think it has ever occurred to them that it is work. To them it's fun. They care very much for each other; they are friends and collaborators. They've spent so many years looking into deep space . . . that their sense of perspective is different. They seldom see what's going on around them.
"I remember once my mother was holding my hand before I went back to sleep after
a bad dream, and to
comfort me she said. There in your small finger is an iron atom born in the death of a star. It passed through the gaseous clouds of space, whirled into and out of Earth's sun to Earth, passed through mountains and prehistoric seas, dinosaurs, a fish and a fisherman, the north wind, a rabbit, a river and steel and rust. It is immortal. We are all immortal atoms.'"
"And were you comforted?" Dr. Farr said gently when she fell silent.
"In an odd way, yes. Because she meant it to comfort. She is not a once-upon-a-time person ... my small left finger has always seemed very special to me. I used to look at it under a microscope to see if I could find that immortal atom . . . now I know it will always be there, whether I see it or not"
When all the little minds warped into sleep, the Counter ceased to' monitor. It seldom listened in on dreams, not from discretion, but because the dream content of mortals was often painful, reminding some of its components parts of past dreams of their own-before they became the Counter and were trapped forever in this form. For the Counter, no dream was a sweet dream.
Throughout the night it occupied itself with work Lessons were sorted through and selected. The adults would first learn practical skills; the young could begin at the beginning. Care must be taken to avoid rousing alien fears of the unknown. A theater within the still-private section of the ship was readied as a classroom.
Here and there within the system, machine repaired machine. Robot arms jerked to life. Scanning eyes lit up. Drone arms pulled rover units Into charge. Cleaner units roiled to maintenance and tidied up the ship. Squeaking like bats In the dark, three rover units
traveled down the ramps to the deep holds. There they located equipment, silicon converters, molders, extruders. The people would need this soon. At long last the people were planning to build!
They would need surveyors and drafters and diggers. And where was that foaming machine? All the work could be done by drone robots and—the Counter came to a halt. It was doing it again—planning to take total care of its people. It remembered how that had worked out before. It would not make that mistake again.
