Homegoing

Chapter 3

The Hakh’hli ship is bigger than any human spacecraft ever dreamed of being, and not a lot smaller than a twentieth-century supertanker of the sea. It is in the shape of a stubby cylinder, 1,100 feet long and 450 feet across. That adds up to something like 175,000,000 cubic feet of volume, two-thirds of which is devoted to fuel storage and the engines that drive it across interstellar space. The ship’s average density is a little less than that of water, mostly because so much of the fuel-storage space is given to hydrogen; if it were somehow deposited gently on a terrestrial ocean it would just about float. The inhabitants of the ship, 22,000 Hakh’hli and Sandy Washington, have an average of not quite 1,000 cubic feet of space apiece, but that includes not only their living quarters (mostly communal, anyway) but whatever space they need for recreation and for work. It isn’t a lot. It was even worse, a few twelves of days ago, when the big ship was cutting near the Sun to change its orbit. Then much of the “spare” space was allowed to heat up so that the vast coolers could keep the rest of it bearable. The Hakh’hli are glad now to be able to reenter the formerly closed off spaces. Even so, they are fairly crowded, at least by Earth standards. But that does not bother any of them, since none of them have had any personal experience of what Earth standards are like.

Of course the cohort were excused from the next morning’s shipwork—being given an audience by the Major Seniors took precedence over any routine duty. The bad part of that was that ChinTekki-tho first put them through a long twelfth-day of interrogation and rehearsal, since it was unthinkable that any of them should say or do the wrong thing.

It was still hot in the common room, and they were all a little irritable from trying to adjust to the queer Earth time ChinTekki-tho had insisted they adopt. Obie was a distracting influence, too. Even Lysander could smell that Obie was close to entering his sexual phase, and more than once ChinTekki-tho had to reprove one or another of the females for showing more interest in Obie than in the lecture. “You must all pay very close attention!” he demanded. “Especially you, Lysander!”

ChinTekki-tho’s s’s were as sharp as any of the cohort’s; he was the best of the ship’s experts on Earth languages and customs, which was why he was their tutor. But he wasn’t always fair. “I am paying attention,” Lysander said, aggrieved. “I’m not the one who wants to get laid.”

“I hope that is true,” snapped ChinTekki. “Now observe!” He displayed a section of the Earth on the screen, pointing to a land area. “This is where you will land. It is a northern area, easily accessible to your landing craft as you come in over the Earth’s pole—”

“It’s called ‘Alaska,’ “Tanya put in, showing off.

“We know it is called Alaska,” the tutor said irritably. “Because of its location it is a cold part of the planet. It will probably be covered with the solid-phase water they call ‘snow.’ So you will all need appropriate clothing. Then, Lysander, after the ship lands, you will go out alone among the natives, carrying a radio. Your mission is to learn what things are like on Earth now, since we are no longer receiving as many broadcasts as heretofore. You will report to your cohort, who will remain with the ship. They will instruct you on what to do. When you speak on the radio you will speak Hakh’hli only, no English. Do you understand why all this is necessary, Lysander?”

“Yes, of course. It appears that we must be very careful in dealing with human beings because—” He hesitated, then finished sulkily. “Because some of them behave very badly.”

“Not just some, Lysander. Very many of them. I am sure there are good ones, but by and large they are spoilers. You know what they have done to their planet—to your home planet, Lysander! What would our ship be like if we permitted such uncontrolled emission of dangerous pollutants?”

“It would be awful,” Polly volunteered smugly.

“That is true, Hippolyta,” said ChinTekki-tho, “but I am addressing Lysander. Do you know why your human people need our help, Lysander?”

“With verifiable accuracy and no uncertainty at all,” Sandy said, using English words but the Hakh’hli locution just to show his independence. But it did not pay to be too independent in the presence of any Senior, so he hastily went on with the familiar recital. “The human race has raised the heat-retaining capacity of its atmosphere, released acid-forming compounds into the ambient air, cluttered up its low-orbit space with debris, saturated the surface waters with reduced and organic materials, discharged long-half-life radionuclides into the environment, and permitted deforestation and soil erosion.”

“Also,” Demmy chipped in eagerly, “eutrophication. You forgot eutrophication of the lakes.”

“No, I didn’t. That’s part of what I said about reduced and organic materials, isn’t it, ChinTekki-tho? Of course it is.”

“Yes, it is,” the teacher agreed. “But you left out something even worse. Also, your human people are combative. They have weapons. They fight wars among themselves, even, with much killing.”

“I have seen the broadcasts,” Lysander said shortly.

“Yes, you have. So you know that we must be very cautious in approaching them. If it turns out that there can be a peaceful meeting between humans and the Hakh’hli, then we will reveal ourselves. But first we must be certain, and that is your job. We cannot risk the ship.”

“Praise to the ship,” cried Obie, and all the females immediately joined in.

“Yes, praise to the ship,” ChinTekki-tho echoed. “Now, what is your story, Lysander?”

“First off,” Lysander said rebelliously, “my name isn’t Lysander, not when I’m on Earth it isn’t.”

“A good point,” the tutor said with approval. “Go on.”

“My name is John William Washington. I am twenty-three years old. My home is in Miami Beach, Florida, but my parents, who were named Peter and Alice, were killed in an automobile accident. I am a college student, but after my parents’ death I was very upset and I took some time off from school to get away. I have been traveling in Alaska, because I always thought it would be an interesting place to visit. I have been off by myself, mining gold, and I am now getting ready to go back to Miami Beach, but I have lost my way.”

“Yes, that is all right,” ChinTekki-tho said approvingly. He paused, looking them over thoughtfully. Then he asked, “Are there any questions?”

Tanya put up her hand, Earth style. “Why don’t we get as many transmissions anymore, ChinTekki-tho? We’re getting tired of all these old movies.”

“That is not known, Titania. There are certain electromagnetic signals being received all the time, so it is certain that the Earth people have survived their difficulties. To some degree, at least. But the signals we have detected do not seem to carry data. We don’t know what they are. Anyone else?”

Obie piped up, “Why can’t we see the friends who trained with us now?” He was referring to the thirty and more other Hakh’hli youths who had been brought up with them and then, just a few twelve-days before, had been removed to another part of the ship.

“The Major Seniors have decided to segregate you,” ChinTekki-tho explained. That was, really, the only explanation that was needed for any Hakh’hli, but he added graciously, “After all, you six—seven, I mean, Lysander—are special. You are the ones who will land first on this planet.”

“But there were many attractive females in the rest of the group, and all we have left here are these three,” Obie complained. All three of the females hissed angrily, but the tutor overrode them. “That’s enough, Oberon! Now we will go to the chamber of the Major Seniors for your audience. However, there is one thing more. To prepare yourselves for your mission, you must all only speak English even among yourselves from now on—except to the Major Seniors, of course.”

Because the Major Seniors weren’t ready to see them, Sandy and the rest of his cohort had to wait in the compression room for one hour fifty-two minutes by their new watches. At first they were all subdued, because of the solemnity of the occasion. Lysander rubbed his ears ruefully; the compression still hurt, in spite of what had already been done to his ears to relieve it.

The subdued atmosphere didn’t last long; the occasion was too exciting. Obie and Helen began roughhousing, as usual, and Polly had to sit on them to calm them down. That was normal enough, though. Going into the big part of the ship was always an adventure for them. At least it was an adventure when it wasn’t simply drudgery, as when they had to take their turn at shipwork. But there wasn’t much that was interesting in the compression room. It was just a room. It had benches to squat on, and the ship’s screens to watch for entertainment, but what those showed was seldom really entertaining. True, once a twelve-day the whole ship was allowed to view a recorded Earth movie, selected out of the many thousands on file. That was interesting even to the cohort, because in these movies the dialogue was dubbed into Hakh’hli by some of the English-speaking scholars, and it was always amusing to hear a cheth female voice speaking the lines of, say, a hard-bitten infantry sergeant in World War Two. The rest of the time the screens were slaved to the standard ship’s circuits, and all you could get on any of its channels was the check-shots of the engines and farms and pilotage and housekeeping functions, and maybe now and then a boring, a really boring, look at the sun they had just circled and then perhaps a shot of the planet they were aiming at. That would have been interesting enough, except that Sandy’s cohort had their own screens, which were a lot better. They had all the recorded stories and documentaries and gleanings of half a century’s eavesdropping on the planet’s radio and TV transmissions. Although they had been watching those recorded transmissions for three-twelfths of every day for all of their lives, the old broadcasts were still exciting, simply because they were from Earth.

There was nothing like that in the anteroom. It wasn’t very big, either, and the faint odors that arose from Obie were very distracting to the females. It was a lucky break that Tanya found one channel with a sports event. The ship’s wrestling championships were under way. Somewhere in the Hakh’hli recreation space two huge Hakh’hli were competing in the quarter-finals. The cohort immediately chose up sides and rooted for their favorites. Even an Earthman might have been able to follow the action, if any Earthman but Sandy Washington had been there to see it, because the sport was actually an Earth innovation. It was copied from Japanese sumo wrestling and consisted of two Goliaths falling on each other.

And it was certainly exciting. Obie told Sandy enthusiastically, “If your Earthies never gave us anything else, that would be good enough.” But Polly disagreed; and Tanya disagreed with Polly; and while the bout was going on on the screen, naturally another fight broke out among the cohort.

When at last the Major Seniors had reached the point in their deliberations when they were willing to grant audience to Sandy’s cohort, the fight had long since been quelled. Obie was still bleeding slightly from a cut below his eye, but Demmy had torn a strip off his undershorts for a bandage—wearing human-type clothing had its uses, after all—and the whole cohort looked presentable enough as they lined up before the six huge Major Seniors. The Major Seniors were being genial, anyway, so they probably wouldn’t have said anything even if they had noticed. “And how are our Earthlingth today?” the Fourth Major Senior asked—in Hakh’hli, of course. Sandy noticed that she had managed to weep a benign tear of welcome.

The Major Senior had spoken to the group at large, but everyone knew the question was directed mostly at Sandy. “We eat and excrete very well, ancient female,” he said respectfully, in the same language. And then he added, using the English words when there was no Hakh’hli equivalent, “We are studying automobile driving, credit cards and late twentieth-century popular music, and yesterday we played basketball twice.” He enjoyed speaking Hakh’hli when he had just been told it wasn’t to be allowed anymore. It nettled him that his peers spoke better English than he did Hakh’hli. They had all had their vocal systems fiddled a little—surgically as infants or genetically before they were even born. They could make all the sounds of English easily enough, while when Sandy talked Hakh’hli too long his throat got sore from the clicks and glottal stops.

“Satisfactory, satisfactory,” the Major Senior muttered affably. “This First Major Senior will inform you now and not later.”

The First Major Senior always did, but all the same there was a little whiffling snort of resignation from the nostrils of almost everyone in the cohort. When the First Major Senior “informed” anyone, he started way back and left nothing out. Addressing Sandy directly, he did so again.

“Earth person Lythander Washington,” he said, his eyes gazing vacantly toward the gray ceiling of the audience room, “your female parent and your male parent were abandoned in spacecraft when your Earth persons engaged in one war. In course of this war much damage was done by both particle and photonic beams, and by kinetic impact of either solid objects or of chemically or atomically explosive blasts. Your parents could not return to their home. Although we rescued them they were in damaged state and not well. We were unable to keep them alive, but you were already one quickened ovum, near to term, and we were successful in preserving you alive. We supplied you with living necessities and companionship while we—”

“Ancient male,” Sandy said experimentally, “I have already received this information.” He didn’t think it would make the First Major Senior stop, or even blink, and it didn’t. All that happened was that Polly sidled away from Obie’s side long enough to give Lysander a quick, savage pinch from behind. The Fourth Major Senior looked up with thoughtful interest as Polly returned to crouch near the almost-tumescent Obie.

“—investigated certain nearby stars, including Alpha Centauri,” the deep voice rolled on. “That star was of no use or interest. We have now returned to system of your own planet. You are now adult and educated. Confirm that this information is verified and not in error.”

“It is verified, ancient male,” Sandy said, rubbing his bottom. Polly’s two-thumbed hand gave nasty pinches. He was aware that all the females were beginning to move toward Obie.

“We have been observing your planet since first approaching this system. There are certain facts of interest. First, those electromagnetic signals which originally attracted us to this system, and which increased exponentially in energy and in number all through our first approach, are now quite sparse. We do not have good, complete, recent information either by radio or by television. This may be because your Earth people have become either numerically few or technologically backward, due to that war. Alternatively, it may be for some other reason.”

The First Major Senior paused for a moment, interlacing his six-fingered hands across his belly meditatively. No one spoke. The Fourth Major Senior absentmindedly left her elevated seat and waddled in the direction of the cohort, her eyes on Obie.

“One second new fact of interest,” the First Major Senior said then, “is that there are no indications of powered vehicles anywhere in this solar system. From this we conclude that that inability of your Earth persons to enter into space since they blockaded themselves still continues and has not been overcome.”

There was a nasal sigh from all the cohort at that. “Oh, pellets!” Demmy whispered, and Bottom kicked him. None of the Major Seniors showed any sign of hearing. Apart from the First, the others were gazing interestedly at the Fourth, who was sniffing Obie’s spine. Her hip pouches were visibly swelling.

“We will, however,” the First Major Senior said, “be able to make landing with one of scout craft by using one polar entry window. Most of debris remains in the plane of that Earth equator. Significant quantities are orbiting in other trajectories, but our analysts have identified one number of time periods during which approach can be made. Fuel costs will be very high, since no use can be made of rotational speed of planet and power must be applied all through descent phase; and similar costs will be encountered on return flight. However, that landing is feasible.”

Daringly, Polly moved between Obie and the Fourth Major Senior. The Major Senior half raised herself on her hind legs, glaring at Polly, who sidled resentfully away.

The Fourth Major Senior addressed the group of her peers. “Excuse us and do not be offended,” she said decorously, and led Obie away with a grip on the back of his neck.

“Yes, of course,” the First Major Senior said to her back. “Well, I think that is all that need be said in any event. You Lythander, you remember that, though you are Earth human, you are also Hakh’hli. We Hakh’hli gave you life. We Hakh’hli wish only to help your Earth humans to correct errors of their own folly. But we must go with caution, and so we require you to carry out your mission fully and exactly and not without success. Will you, Lythander, do this?”

“I will,” said Sandy, hoping the interview was over.

No such luck. The Second Major Senior stirred herself. “You must be clever and true and not disloyal, Lythander,” she said severely. “Your Earth people are vain, idle, careless, and deceitful. They are spoilers. They have spoiled their planet. You must be like us and not like them in your actions on this Earth.”

“All right,” Sandy growled, shifting from one foot to another.

The First Major Senior shed a consoling tear. “What these people do on their planet is their guilt and not yours, Lythander,” he said generously. “You need not swallow your own spit over this matter. Now you may all go.”

There were no rough-and-tumble games in the waiting room this time. There was only waiting—waiting for Obie to finish his amphylaxis with the Fourth Major Senior and return from their lek. And the waiting was not at all pleasant, because all three females of the cohort were simmering.

By the time Obie came back, looking chipper and pleased with himself, they had reached the boiling point. “Oberon, you’re a hoo-hik turd!” Polly thundered, and Helen and Tanya chimed in. “How could you?” Helen whined, and Tanya complained, “And with an old Major Senior!”

Obie was unrepentant. “You all saw what was going on, didn’t you? Why didn’t one of you squeeze in?”

“Against a Major Senior?”

Obie twitched a shrug. “There’ll be more chances,” he said generously. “And, wow, she was big. I never did it with a Major Senior before! It was all I could do to hold on.”

“Were there lots of eggs?” Bottom asked enviously.

“What do you think? I mean, her being as big as she is? She was just beginning to lay when I left—and, listen, somebody’s got to take them in for freezer tagging. You don’t expect her to do it, do you?”

There wasn’t, really, any particular reason why any one of them, rather than any other, had to perform that task. But, as Obie said, it had to be done. All the females were jealous of the Fourth Major Senior, both the other males were jealous of Obie, Obie himself was too full of himself to consider such a task—one way or another, it was Sandy who wound up twirling the sticky baton to catch each of the egg masses as they emerged from the swollen ovipositor of the Fourth Major Senior.

He had never done that before. It was kind of interesting to do. They looked like that Earth thing called “caviar,” with a salty-sour smell that disturbed him.

As was customary, he wrapped them in transparent plastic and carried them through the halls to the sorting section, all the Hakh’hli he met scattering out of his important way. He lingered while the sorters gently coaxed the masses apart into dishes of warm water; watched while each one was weighed and sniffed and tested and labeled with the codes of Obie and the Fourth Major Senior. He waited until he saw them put into trays and frozen before he left.

Sandy did not know why the whole process was so fascinating to him. He only knew that it was. For all that time he was absorbed, and on the way back to the cohort’s quarters he felt stirrings in his groin and a warmth flooding through his body and, oh, how impatient he was for the day when he would land on Earth, with its countless millions of nubile, human females.