by John Kippax
Maseba said: 'Where your breath touches, the skin pales. Skin breather, at a guess. No lungs. Withdraws intake from area caused by pollution of your breath. Just like a bronchial membrane.'
Creighton was still a little awed by the voyage of discovery over the alien body. He felt the pulse; Maseba watched. 'Astonishing. About two hundred.'
'Which is maybe constant.'
Creighton continued. 'Transverse fold across stomach, like earth marsupials. Hips narrow, perhaps not child bearing. Arms slender, more so than human. Hands six fingers, thumb in line, hand musculature can probably operate hand either way, there being no palm. Feet similar, toes three-jointed as human.'
Maseba passed the single-eye-piece scope to Creighton. 'You want to take a closer look at the skin?'
Creighton took the instrument, bent down and put it to his eye. He switched on, and at once the alien's mouth opened widely, and it cringed away. 'Damn!' exploded Creighton, switching the scope off. 'Why the hell don't I think? This blasted thing uses ultra-violet rays, at the other end of the spectrum. I could have killed the creature!'
'We all make mistakes,' Maseba said, 'Look here, you're a little tensed up about this project, wouldn't you say? You've got plenty of time. We can keep it alive; ease off, for your own good.'
'There lies my duty.'
Maseba agreed. 'I'll speak to Panos about that guard roster for you.'
Creighton, to Maseba, was at that point either a total chump or the bravest man the senior MO had ever met. Despite the fact that Creighton did not yet know more than a tiny fraction of what was vital scientific knowledge about the creature, he slept there while the alien, who could be observed from the outside by a simple TV scanner, spent most of Creighton's sleep time just sitting and doing nothing. There was a guard at the door, which was probably of more psychological value to the crew than to the inmates of the sick bay.
But Creighton was as much a prisoner of his own convictions as was Bruce. The Captain, however, wanted revenge; there remained within him the searing memories of what the aliens had done to Earth men and women.
He was getting dressed. Bruce had decided that he had had enough of the prescribed horizontal misery. He felt well, therefore he was well.
He was almost out of the little ward, when a sick bay- attendant came in. He knew the drill. 'Sir,' - and a respectful salute. He was an old-timer.
'Yes?'
'It will be my duty to inform Dr Maseba that you have left sick bay without authority.'
'That's just fine, Attendant Ferrara. I always respect a man who does his duty.'
Bruce walked out and left Ferrara gaping. At the door of the alien's room a guard jerked to attention and saluted as Bruce went through, closing the door behind him. Creigh- ton was examining the double palate of the alien; the creature sat quietly on the bed. Creighton was slow, methodical; the alien's attitude was passive.
'Yes?' Creighton asked the question without turning round. After a pause he said: 'Whatever you've brought, put it on the flap table.'
'I just brought myself,' Bruce said.
Creighton turned. 'I'm sorry, I don't have the time to salute you.' He returned to his work.
Bruce felt his stomach muscles tighten. 'I came to see the prisoner.'
Creighton still had his back to the Captain. 'Well, now you've seen him, you can go away.'
'Mister!' The voice had the authoritative whipcrack, but Creighton ignored it. 'I am the Captain of this ship; I go where I please.'
Creighton straightened, turned from the alien who continued to sit placidly. And Bruce found himself at the disadvantage of being four centimetres shorter than the other. 'If you wish to address me correctly, then the simple word "doctor" will suffice. But here, and with me, times have changed. Captain Bruce; in this special place, as in the sick bay itself, your writ does not run. In matters of discipline, of course you are to be obeyed, but this is not a matter of discipline. You are interfering in scientific work of the highest priority. I am entitled to get on to sub-etheric at once, and let Earth's Biophysics Institute know what is going on.'
'The aliens killed Earthmen.'
'Therefore aliens must be killed. Yes?'
'And what's wrong with that?'
Bruce loathed the smile of contempt upon Creighton's face. The medic said: "Would you dare, at this very moment, to kill this creature?'
listen, Creighton. There is one thing I have to know about - this sort of creature.'
'Only one? A somewhat unscientific approach for a man with your scientific capabilities. What do you want to know?'
Bruce could willingly have shot down both Creighton and his charge. He said: 'Find out for me if this one here is of the race that did the damage on Minos Four, and Kepler Three. In that sick bay lies my second-in-command, almost as good as dead. I have to know.'
'So that you then have more justification for provoking an incident in which you could kill this alien? Oh, no. Whatever I discover I shall note most carefully, with photographs and the fullest text possible. But I shall tell you only what I think you should know; and when I put "Top Secret (M)" on a file, that means that only three people, Maseba, de Witt and myself are allowed to see it. In this matter. Captain Bruce, you're excluded. And, if you don't like it, get yourself on to sub-etheric and ask your question of all the highest authorities, and see what answers you get. Indeed, if you cause further trouble, I shall make a personal complaint to the World Admiral who is, I believe, helping with the work on Balomain Four, World Admiral Carter. I know that he is a friend of yours, but he also happens to be a man who knows more about discipline than even you do.'
Bruce, still boiling with anger, knew that Creighton was right.
'You can only peg me on something like gross neglect of a patient, or of misuse of my powers as a doctor, and even then you can only do that with the agreement of the senior medic. If you need to know more about me, ask Helen Lindstrom, at some suitable time after she awakes or is awakened to health and strength, which is something for which the whole ship prays most devoutly.'
Creighton turned his back and continued with his examination of the placid alien.
Bruce left.
Chapter 9
An intelligence which knew at a given instant all of the forces by which nature is animated, and the relative position of all the objects, if it were sufficiently powerful to analyse all this information, would include in one formula the movements of the most massive objects in the Universe and those of the lightest atom. Nothing would be uncertain to it; the future and the past would be present to its eyes.
MARQUIS DE LAPLACE
Bruce knew that Helen Lindstrom's state was the centre of his worry. He had a friend, however. That being so, he sometimes turned on George Maseba and vented his frustration. He refused to take mild sedatives offered by his MO.
'No, George. They only make it seem easier.'
They were in Maseba's cabin, now on the way to show the flag on Balomain Four. Perhaps, with Creighton's cooperation, they might show more than that.
'OK. Then I prescribe a little booze.' Maseba produced a bottle of his privately distilled arak, and a couple of glasses.
'That's poison, and against orders.'
"Beautiful, pure stuff,' Maseba said. He poured some. 'Doctor Johnson said that brandy could do quickest for a man what drinking could do. This beats brandy.'
Bruce sipped the fiery liquid. 'Going to Balomain Four,' he muttered, 'with our tails between our legs. Helen still under, and Creighton wrestling with that alien.'
'Creighton is devoted to the work. He's making a journey of discovery where every fresh step may be the wrong one.'
'I know. But time is so short.'
'If Creighton could go faster, he would.'
Bruce listened to the sounds of the ship, deadened by the sick bay insulation, and his mind roved for a moment down the list of officers on duty. All efficient, not a friend among them. 'So what's the news of the alien?'
Maseba
found a clipboard. 'Here. The alien hears and sees like a bat. Vibrating palate behind vestigial nose sends out a note above human range of hearing. Sound bounces off objects and reports back to brain. It's a hermaphroditic marsupial, with pouch and teat, and internal organs therefore containing both male and female gonads.' He looked up at Bruce. 'I don't know if you remember, but long before we got Charlie Alien on board, Creighton had guessed that last bit. Some guesser.'
'And what about its mind?'
'That will be a long job. Creighton is trying to establish a relationship with the alien. Some sort of - of trust—'
'Trust?' Bruce was incredulous. 'Does the damn thing talk?'
'It does. The lowest notes of its voice are audible to the human ear.'
'Couldn't they get over that by recording the alien and slowing the playback, and the reverse for human speech? Lieutenant Czibulka is the languages and records man.'
'Correct, but it's more difficult than that.' Maseba poured arak. 'We can get over the hearing difficulty in the manner you suggest. But way up there above our normal hearing, the language is highly inflected.'
'Meaning that if you say a word with different emphasis, it means different things?'
'More difficult than that. Like this. If in English we say bananna or banahna, or any variations like that, the word is still understood. But in the alien speech there are six voice levels for every syllable. I don't' know what the permutations of that are, in a four-syllable word, but Czibulka tells me that he thinks they have up to eight- syllable words at least.'
'Eight syllables,' muttered Bruce.
'So, whether you like Creighton or not - and I know you don't - you might just reflect on that one single aspect of the job he's taken on; the language problem might not be licked in a year.'
'How about assessing this creature's intelligence by playing maths with it - binary - making a game of it?'
Maseba shook his head. 'Creighton's the expert. The physical examination is complete, and I've a sheaf of pictures from the tomograph. But as for what makes the alien tick, its mind... I'm glad it's not my pigeon... You look to me as though you need some sleep. Here, take two of these. Soft as a butterfly's kiss.'
Bruce took the two capsules, swallowed them and, with a nod and a half grin at Maseba, he left. But he walked through to the sick bay, nodded to the female attendant, and walked the deeply padded floor to the bed where Helen Lindstrom lay. By the bedside, the devoted Leela de Witt slept in a chair.
Bruce simply stood, looking down at her marble beauty. Feeling empty, he walked away, to go to his cabin; this kind of loneliness was more than the loneliness of command.
Elsa Niebohr asked, 'Does it help?'
Admiral Carter looked through the hut window and through the dome to where the latest arrived Excelsior ship was discharging cargo, some by crane, some by a/g lifts; hatches were open, small, wheeled buggies buzzed here and there.
'All we know is that Creighton is working on it - the "it" being the alien.' Carter was already thinking that if Elsa Niebohr had joined the Corps she would have been its first female admiral at about the mid-twenties of her youth, not
forty-plus like the woman who did actually make it. Carter felt that here was a dynamo, like a smaller - and a whole lot more handsome - version of her late father.
She said: 'Can I talk direct to Vee Twelve now?'
'Sure. Clear enough on sub-etheric; small time lag.' He pressed a button on his desk. 'Awolo, fix Vee Twelve for a call from Miss Niebohr.' He said to her: 'It'll take about three minutes, I guess. Can I offer you a drink?'
'Scotch please, Admiral.'
He put four centimetres of neat golden fluid into the glass, took one himself. Carter was not worried with her arrival; his own admin was sound, he had in no way ruffled Koninburger; Fane, Uschl and Baksh were efficient medics. He thought that way because he knew he had a tendency to treat Fane with a certain amount of awe, and he didn't like what he felt. For Carter, miracles didn't happen. As for the small dark beauty in the visitor's chair, she was just 'the owner' come to look at her investment. All right and proper.
'How well up are you in the general lines upon which Koninburger is working, Admiral?'
'The general lines I understand; I've made a point of keeping up with that. But the big thing will be when those ideas, properly tested, have to be translated into a spacecraft capable of using the Koninburger principles. That I must see, from a safe distance, too.'
'So life could still be dangerous.'
'Sure. Everywhere.'
The desk com buzzed; Carter pressed a button, and a voice said: 'Contact with Vee Twelve established, sir.'
'Thanks.' Carter passed over the receiver, and rose to go, but she waved him down. Carter sat.
'Hello, Vee Twelve. Elsa Niebohr here. Is the Captain available?'
'One moment please...' There was a scuffling of sound and a few crackles, and a voice said formally: 'Captain Bruce, Miss Niebohr.'
Carter, who had heard the story of the abruptly terminated liaison between his visitor and Bruce, listened with interest shaded with amusement.
'Congratulations on getting the alien.'
Bruce was terse; distortion made his voice grate. 'We paid a high price. My second-in-command has not yet recovered consciousness.'
'Yes, I'm very sorry to hear that. Admiral Carter told me. But she is going to recover?'
'Two good medics say they don't know. It's that kind of situation. The worst.'
Carter sat at an angle where he could see Elsa Niebohr's face and that of Bruce upon the screen, but he was chiefly watching Niebohr. She was an enigma; Carter, direct as a bullet, did not like enigmas, but there she was, talking to a discarded lover, a woman concerned over the life of another woman. 'Would you like me to get in touch with Doctor Shigeti, on Earth, about her? He's the finest, they say. I could arrange for him to talk with Doctor Maseba.'
Hell, Carter thought, when you consider the cost of such a hookup...
'Thanks, but I have total confidence in George Maseba and Leela de Witt.'
'And in Doctor Creighton?'
'He is probing his alien. And damned slowly.'
That will be,' Elsa said, 'because that is how the job needs to be done.'
'I accept that. We can talk about such things when we make planetfall. Goodbye, Miss Niebohr.'
Carter saw anger whip across her face. She said: 'He doesn't change, anyway.'
'For which we can be grateful,' Carter said.
Elsa looked at a notebook. 'I've seen nearly everyone, now. Fane tells me that Koninburger is working happily, but there may be ructions ahead. Theoretical ructions. So far, his math has fitted together like a jigsaw. When he runs out of parts that fit, then may come the testing time.
But the illusion that K is still below ground on Earth is still working.'
'Which is extraordinary.'
'Which is what I pay for, Admiral.' She smiled. 'I'm glad I don't pay you. It's easier to talk to you.'
'About your successes in setting up this whole thing.'
'And about my stupidities.'
Carter felt more and more bewildered by her manner, until it occurred to him that she was getting a mild father- figure replacement by talking to him in this way. 'Your stupidity. That I would like to hear about. For instance?'
'For instance, that damned smelting plant I insisted on being shipped out. It won't be used for months, maybe years. Oh, I was going to go so fast!'
'Financially, a drop in the ocean for you.'
'Many more little drops like it, and I shall have to fire the whole board and run the Corporation myself.'
'I thought you ran it now,' Carter said.
'Appearances count.'
Carter chuckled. 'I can't see any business problem getting you down.'
'The moment of decision comes when the math and theory are complete, recorded and tested. Once that is done, other highly-trained technicians could take over and turn the subspace drive math into pra
ctice.'
Carter felt that uneasiness again. 'Aren't you treating this as though you think that Koninburger will crack? With Fane...'
'Fane is brilliant, at his job. But don't forget what Koninburger may be thinking. Everyone down below, anything up to three thousand metres down there. One day, no matter what Fane has done and can do, he will begin to ask "why?" - theme and variations.'
'But he knows. Above ground, just a few domes and huts.' Carter was now feeling disturbed, and he couldn't put his finger on the why and how. 'That one alien coming in Vee
Twelve is the only one we want to deal with, at the moment.'
She looked past Carter, thoughtful, deliberate. 'When I arrived, I said I had come to protect my investment. That was true. Do you think, Admiral, that ever before in human history, so much cash and so much hope has been placed on one man, one human brain, one possibly fallible human brain?'
Carter was solemn. "You're your father's daughter, all right. Are you regretting spending so much cash?'
'No.' She rose. 'I will go and see my chief scientist, with Fane in attendance.'
Koninburger regarded Elsa Niebohr as a courageous woman who put her faith and her money on him when World Senate chickened out. While true human warmth was not really part of his nature, for he was an obsessively objective man, he nevertheless contrived to show some grace and politeness to her. Also, he was pleased that she had been keeping up with his teaching to his senior operatives and with the math and the basic ideas upon which he was working. Now he sat in his deeply underground sitting room, face to face with this small, striking woman of so much power.
'Worm holes,' she said, 'somehow does bring the idea into focus. Everything has holes, even if it's polished smooth; space has worm holes, the holes have mass, and inside that subspace - there is no time, no distance. "Before", "next" and "after" have no meaning.'
Hans Koninburger showed a rare flash of enthusiasm. "Now, I never used those words to you! You've been studying - and far back in the past, at that!'
'Of course,' Elsa said, deliberately matter-of-fact. 'Call it "protecting the investment". Your first problem in practical work - I'm sorry, I don't mean to play down what you've done already - is the plotting of some of the empty paths through space. Is that right?'
