Federation World

Chapter 18

IN the eight years since contact had first been established, they revisited the planet of the Blind Ones three times. The visits had not been strictly necessary, but special provision had to be made for the education and subsequent examination for Federation Citizenship of a candidate species who possessed only one sensory channel. While Cromonar’s people were not distrustful of the Federation’s motives, when situations arose which were particularly delicate or complex, they preferred the personal contact of Martin and Beth to the cold, artificial touchings of induction center robots.

These extended visits had been allowed, the supervisor told them, because there was nothing more urgent or important requiring their attention. In answer to persistent questioning they had been told that first-contact situations were still occurring, but that the physiologies and environments of the life forms concerned were such that the assignments could not be carried out by warmblooded oxygen-breathers without an unacceptable level of risk.

As a result they had been given a succession of assignments which, however interesting, varied, and demanding, were simply odd-jobs. And this latest one, Martin thought as he stared through the aircraft’s nose canopy, involved a trip inside the World itself.

Far below them there unrolled a rich, dark carpet of synthetic soil which stretched endlessly toward the nonexistent horizon until sheer distance, even in this pellucidly clear and cloudless sky, made it disappear into haze. At this latitude it was possible to circumnavigate the globe without seeing any change in the scenery, so widely scattered were the inhabited areas. But if their atmospheric craft’s respectable Mach 3 could have been maintained without stopping for the replacement of age-expired components, or crews, circumnavigation would have taken more than two centuries.

In the controlled and utterly calm atmosphere of this world, the airborne seeds and spores from the seven-thousand-miles-distant cultivated area which was their destination did not propagate at anything like Mach 3, and so the soil below remained fallow.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Beth said as she stared intently into the incredibly distant haze. “It’s too big. I feel much more comfortable in the more confined depths of interstellar space.”

Martin laughed sympathetically. “With me, it is a feeling of awe mixed with utter boredom. Knowing our masters, the feelings are being engendered deliberately. They want to remind us of our origin and purpose from time to time, so that when we speak of this place to others it will be with conviction.

“When we say big,” he added, laughing, “we will mean big.”

“And our passengers?” Beth asked.

“Even though they live here as Citizens,” Martin replied, “I expect they need to be reminded, too. Especially when they decide to go calling on their neighbors.”

Beth sighed and said, “We’ll be landing before midday meal tomorrow. Maybe we should go back and try to talk to them again about the difficulties they can expect. Not to frighten or discourage them, of course. We must try to be realistic but reassuring, if that isn’t a contradiction in terms.”

“It is,” Martin replied shortly, then added, “They don’t even like us, and don’t seem to listen to anything I say. Citizens!”

“Fortunately,” she said, smiling, “you’re the contact specialist. I’m just the driver. Let’s go.”

The lounge currently being occupied by the passengers smelled to high Heaven but, because the body odor was alien, it was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. In addition to the smell, the air was filled with an alien gabble which was being processed by his translator into the buzz of excited conversation. The sound faded for a moment as he entered, then continued at a higher level.

Martin tried to control his irritation. From a species which had been Federation Citizens for three generations, he had expected better manners.

When he and Beth had been recalled to the Federation World they had wondered what, if any, work could be found for a hypership captain and a first-contact and assessment specialist to do there. But they had quickly discovered that a Ship Handler One was expected to handle vessels of all sizes down to small atmosphere craft, and a Contactor Three had to do his job whether he was at the outermost edges of the galaxy or at home.

Their assignment instructions had left them in no doubt about that.

Martin keyed for both audible and visual translations when he spoke to the passengers.

“You will shortly be landing in the principal city of the Surreshon,” he said, “and for the first time you will be meeting Citizens of a completely alien species. If you have questions, or require information or assistance of any kind, you have only to request it:”

The background conversation continued unabated, but one of the Keidi turned and directed its speaking horn toward Martin to show that its words were for him alone.

“We do not request it, non-Citizen,” the being said loudly as its sound focus narrowed onto Martin’s head. “Both the Surreshon and the Keidi have studied each other’s physiologies and behavior patterns in detail, and contact is desired by both our groups. We are civilized beings, technologically and philosophically advanced, and, for several generations, Federation Citizens. We are grateful for your offer but feel that your presence here is redundant.”

“Big-head,” Beth said softly, bypassing the translator. Martin smiled, then closed his fist and pointed at the Keidi with a stiffly outstretched arm.

“My orders are to make my experience available to you…” he began.

“Federation Citizens,” the other broke in, “do not take orders. We accede to requests if they seem reasonable and in the best interests of ourselves and other Citizens. We most certainly do not obey beings who are non-Citizens, regardless of the orders which they, themselves, must obey.”

A species who did not exchange personal information except in circumstances of intimacy, and who communicated with other individuals by pointing and focusing their speaking horns rather than calling them by name, would not be the kind of people to make friends easily. He hoped their behavior toward the Surreshon was better than that shown during the few conversations with their Earth-human crew.

Martin brought up his other arm and pointed both fists briefly at the Keidi, then swung them apart at shoulder level to indicate that his words were for everyone and not just the speaker, and tried again.

“There is no problem,” he said, “My orders are to give you advice and assistance when necessary, and I shall obey these orders. You will receive this advice but, as Citizens, you are not obliged to take it.”

“There are overtones of irritation in your communication,” the Keidi said. “This stems, I suspect, from the widely prevalent attitude of public servants who feel and act like the masters of those they are supposed to serve.”

“Ouch,” Beth commented.

Martin reddened, but a change in Earth-human facial coloration was unlikely to mean anything to the Keidi. Controlling his temper, he said, “May I make an observation, then, rather than give advice which might be misconstrued as instructions? The people who make up your contact group are probably the most advanced, intellectually adventurous, and forward-thinking members of your species. This is proven by the fact that you have arranged and are about to make contact with a culture which is completely alien to your own, and you intend to deepen this contact in the expectation that both species will benefit. This expectation is reasonable, but the wide-ranging cultural exchange which you envisage may not be as easy and rapid as you expect. Unless you are very lucky indeed, it might not be completed until several of your generations have passed.

“It is possible,” he ended carefully, lowering one arm to his side and pointing the other at the original Keidi speaker, “that your natural enthusiasm may have blinded you to the many problems you will encounter.”

The other’s horn quivered briefly, then it said, “Is it your intention, or that of your superiors, to discourage this project?”

“It is not,” Martin said firmly. Before going on, he glanced at the translation screen where his words appeared side by side in English and the regimented squiggles of the Keidi printed language. Carefully, because the material was available for later study by the Keidi and his supervisor, he said, “Such projects are to be encouraged and actively supported. They are the ultimate purpose for which the Federation Citizens were chosen and brought here. Our concern is that you might discourage yourselves by making a premature contact.”

There was no observable or audible reaction from the Keidi, and Martin continued. “Like yourselves, the group of scientists you are about to meet are not typical. The majority of the Surreshon population, like their Keidi counterparts, have only a passing interest in inter-species contact, and are much more concerned with the day-to-day business of living, mating, caring for their offspring. People like these are simply not interested in the long-term future scientific and philosophical development of their own or another species.”

The sound of background conversation had died away and, even though the others were not pointing their horns at him, Martin knew that he had their attention.

“The group you have arranged to meet will be interested in everything you do and say,” he went on. “But if the time required for full cultural contact between your species is to be kept as short as possible, it is the interest of the ordinarily disinterested Surreshon which must be aroused, as much and as often as possible. I have no doubt that beings of your level of intelligence and range of abilities will devise ways of achieving this.”

“Butter,” Beth murmured, again bypassing her translator. “Butter applied with a shovel.”

“What are your instructions?” asked the Keidi who was pointing at him, then added, “I mean, of course, what is the advice you were instructed to give us?”

Martin gave a relieved sigh. “I was told that you and your Surreshon counterparts, bearing in mind the serious nature of this project, would prefer a quiet arrival and first meeting with the minimum of outside interference from the population at large. However, it is the general public who are going to be involved ultimately, and it was felt that they should be involved sooner rather than later.

“This could be achieved,” he went on, “by arousing their interest in the project as early as possible, and increasing that interest by arranging frequent interviews with the media giving your reactions, on a more personal and noncerebral level, to your meetings with ordinary Surreshon citizens. The general public should be influenced by whatever means or activities available to you into desiring wider contact…”

“Are you suggesting,” the Keidi broke in, “that we market ourselves like some kind of saleable product? Our group is dedicated solely to the achievement of full understanding and cultural contact. We are not in the business of trading or selling. Your remarks are insulting, and I trust that the insult was unintentional.”

“Back off,” Beth said softly. Martin shook his head.

“With respect,” he went on, “every member of your group is engaged in a marketing project of great complexity and importance, that of selling an idea to people who, with very few exceptions, are not yet ready to buy it. They are like yourselves when you were children, when you were being introduced to the concepts of mathematics, geometry, or written language by tutors who had to devise methods of holding your interest and gradually increasing it within your then limited attention spans. Later, of course, these subterfuges became unnecessary as your interest in the subjects for their own sakes increased, with results which ultimately led to this project and The Builders only know what more besides.”

The Keidi’s speaking horn remained silent, but the focusing muscles were twitching.

“First impressions are important and longest-lasting,” Martin resumed quickly. “You should therefore attract as much attention and interest as early as possible, by putting on a show rather than arriving quietly. I suggest circling their airfield a few times followed by a couple of low-level passes across the landing area. Supersonic, of course, for the benefit of die media and sightseers, but land before the noise becomes irksome. Initially, you should seek out the news gatherers and respond to their questions, rather than to those of your counterparts, because there will be ample time later to…”

“No!” the Keidi broke in sharply. “Repeated overflying at supersonic speed would disconcert and perhaps frighten the young, irritate their parents, and therefore prove counterproductive.”

“The airfield is far removed from the densely inhabited area of the city,” Martin replied, “and I think that the youthful sightseers accompanying their parents, whose young minds you will be trying to influence, would enjoy such a display.”

There was no reply for a few minutes while the Keidi talked quietly among themselves, then the original speaker said, “Thank you, non-Citizen. We are in complete disagreement with you. The suggestion trivializes, sensationalizes, and cheapens a most serious and responsible activity. Our approach will be quiet and dignified, and your approach will be subsonic.”

Martin did not trust himself to speak as he turned to follow Beth to the flight deck.

Except for some mild curiosity shown toward them immediately following the landing, Beth and Martin were ignored. The Keidi and Surreshon scientists were Citizens engaged in opening cultural relations with each other, after all, and two non-Citizens of whatever species, who had crewed the visitors’ aircraft were of little intrinsic interest to either the Keidi or the Surreshon, who resembled something between an outsize caterpillar and a multi-legged ant.

Enormous efforts were being made by both groups to be polite and understanding and forgiving of each other’s mistakes-mistakes which were amusing, embarrassing, and often physically dangerous, but not serious so far as the project was concerned. The errors were, however, frequent enough to keep the few Surreshon news gatherers present very happy indeed.

If their supervisor was capable of feeling such an emotion, it should be pleased with the reports they were sending back. But when it contacted them a few days later, it barely mentioned the project. Plainly it had something much more urgent in mind for diem.

The ship sent to pick them up was small, simple, and stupid, Beth insisted, because there was no way for her to modify its orbit or velocity from inside the passenger observation module. As a master ship handler she was always a little restless when she had nothing to do but admire the scenery. The ship was, however, fast.

In spite of its fantastic acceleration they had time to sleep while their vehicle curved into a path which would take them into one of the two conical extensions which grew from the World’s north and south medial latitudes into the polar areas, leaving its totally enclosed sun directly astern of them. When they woke, the ship was approaching the tip of the north polar cone and only a few minutes from the five-hundred-mile diameter port which would enable them to move from intraplanetary to extraplanetary space.

For a heart-stopping moment the walls of the cone, the gargantuan ship construction and maintenance docks lining it like tiny, irregularly shaped metal tiles, rushed in at them from all sides. He glimpsed other ships, some distant and others uncomfortably close, moving toward the huge polar exit port. Then, in an instant too short for his senses to measure, they were through and on course for their waiting hypership.

The great exit port shrank into invisibility so that all around and behind them there stretched out a gigantic disk of absolute blackness. And above that dark and featureless horizon shone the stars as only they could shine at the center of the galaxy.

Feeling dwarfed and abysmally insignificant before such grandeur, Martin said very little during the rest of the journey to the hypership. No matter how difficult or dangerous the coming assignment turned out to be, he almost welcomed it because it would mean dealing with people like, or completely unlike himself. In that situation he could begin to feel useful and, in however small a measure, important again.