Not for the first time Caldaq wished he could borrow the mind of a S’van. A Massood proceeded directly from point A to point B. It was usually left to the S’van to explain what was happening at point C.
T’var’s words troubled him all the way back to the ship. They worried him as he watched the Human guests being made comfortable, worried him as preparations were made for Underspace entry while the shuttle, which was going to remain behind, was loaded with equipment for the incipient base.
It even troubled him on the return journey to the surface of the bright blue-and-white planet, until he made himself put it out of mind. There was too much to do now to waste time on worry.
He was more relieved than he cared to admit when they found Will Dulac’s boat anchored where they’d left it. The Human was waiting to greet the shuttle as it descended. Perhaps he’d been working on his strange music, Caldaq mused.
Will was standing in the cockpit when Caldaq stepped out of the shuttle’s submersible onto the cat’s deck. The moon was bright, allowing him to see the bubbles that emerged from where the vast dark shape was settling into the lagoon. Caldaq remembered the Human hand-shaking gesture of greeting in time to extend his fingers.
“I saw the shuttle,” Will said, “but where’s all the material for constructing your base?”
“It is begun even as we speak.”
Will looked over the side, wondering if his big spotlight was strong enough to illuminate anything beneath the clear surface. Not that he intended to try. The intense beam might draw the attention of a passing fishing boat or yacht.
“You saw how we camouflaged our craft previously,” Caldaq reminded him, fingering the translator unit hanging from his neck and hoping it could command the necessary terminology. “It is called electrophosphoresus. Lepar are already erecting the framing. Chemicals will be extracted from the water to create structures which will be attached to our vessel. The gold you value so highly was obtained through the same process. With Lepar setting the frames the work will go quickly.”
“Yeah, the Lepar. That’s the thing that intercepted me when I was trying to swim away.”
“Yes. Your agility in the water was quite a surprise to us. Few Weave species do well in water. Our biologists were startled to see an air-breathing bipedal mammal swim so efficiently.”
Will nodded, even though he was at best an average swimmer. “But the Lepar?”
“The Lepar are amphibious. In fact, they are unique in being the only known amphibious species to have developed true intelligence, though they are still—” He hesitated. “—slow in many ways. But they are very dedicated and work very hard. Being so different from the rest of us, they tend to keep to themselves. Even the Chirinaldo, who breathe supplemented heliox and are too massive to move around much on the ship, are more sociable.”
“In a situation such as we face here, the ability of the Lepar to work underwater is of obvious value.”
“What a coincidence that there happened to be some in your crew.”
“Our ship was commissioned for exploring. To cope with unforeseeable contingencies, as diverse a crew as possible was assembled. The Lepar do certain things better than any Massood, the Massood have their advantages over the S’van, and so on.”
“And you think we might do something better than anyone else?”
“Or hopefully at least as well. That is what our studies are intended to reveal.”
Will spent plenty of time in the water watching the base take shape. He didn’t relax until the shuttle once more resembled part of the reef. His only concern was that the work might be noticed by a low-flying plane, though the likelihood of that was small. What air traffic there was in this part of the world ran north-south along the coast of the Yucatán down to Honduras. Lighthouse Reef was sufficiently far out not to be overflown by commercial traffic.
Once the basic structure was complete the base began to sprout imitation coral heads and shelves, branches and caves. Even the colors matched those of the surrounding living reef. Lobsters and urchins began to move in, making new homes in the artificial coral’s inviting nooks and crannies.
Will came and went as he pleased, utilizing the same airlock employed by the Lepar. Some nights he used the cat’s dinghy to ferry anxious, quivering Massood to the nearby islands, where they spent hours running off accumulated nervous energy. They seemed to flow across the sand, their long legs scissoring effortlessly as they completed endless circuits of the palms and ironwood bushes.
It was Caldaq who explained to Will the sheer joy the Massood took in running and jumping, in competing against gravity. It was their heritage, their tradition.
Will was therefore somewhat surprised to note that while they could run forever, none of them seemed particularly fast or able to jump especially high. Though he was in his thirties and only in fair shape, he thought of matching his speed against theirs, then decided it would be tactless if he happened to win. Nor did he mention that any competent Human sprinter could run circles around the fastest of them.
The Hivistahm and O’o’yan, the S’van and the Wais did not seem at all athletic. It made him wonder.
He worked hard at convincing the techs who had been assigned to the base that mankind was hopelessly far down the road to peace and contentment. His words were contradicted by much of what they recorded from standard television broadcasts, so that he often found himself explaining the differences between reality and fiction. Even if Humans bizarrely fought among themselves that did not mean they were ready to go to war against an alliance of aliens they did not even know existed and who had never done anything to them.
No, all mankind wished was to develop the kind of advanced civilization the S’van and Hivistahm took for granted.
They listened with interest to everything he said, noting with approval and occasionally admiration Human accomplishments in art and music, literature and theater. Examples of Human efforts at working together to achieve harmony and understanding were everywhere.
Yet contradictions also abounded. Much of mankind’s music was as acrimonious as it was affecting. The same could be said for his art and theater. Certain aspects of Human sport were as violent as the war between the Weave and the Amplitur, make-believe or not. Even Human humor seemed as mordant as it was amusing.
Patiently Will explained, interpreted, elaborated upon. The idea was not to laugh at someone but with them. Not to injure on the playing field but to compete, just as the Massood competed at running and jumping.
There was much in what they heard and observed that severely troubled Third-of-Study, who had been placed in charge of the xenopsych section.
“Are you saying,” said Caldaq in the privacy of his tiny cabin, “that you agree with the Human Will’s assessment of his kind, or disagree with him?”
“Both.”
It was difficult for Caldaq to envision the technician’s true thoughts. The Hivistahm relied far more on gestures than on their limited range of facial expression. He stood there, eyeshades down, delicate fingers locked together. A Hivistahm could stand motionless like that long enough to drive a Massood crazy.
“Everything the native says is true, and everything he says is a lie.”
“Well, that will make a fine definitive report,” said Caldaq sarcastically.
The technician unlocked his fingers. “Truly I do not know how else to put it. Sometimes my people and I feel that the dumping ground for every contradiction in the universe this world is. Even their weather a study in extremes is.”
“So I have heard.” Will had tried to explain what they might face come hurricane season, though Caldaq had difficulty fully grasping the enormity of his description. Hurricanes, as Will called them, were a feature of uninhabitable gas giants, not civilized worlds.
Abruptly Third-of-Study began to pace. Caldaq sat a little straighter. The Hivistahm did not pace. That was a Massood characteristic.
“Do you the reaction of the technician who was damaged by the
cerebral scan remember?”
“I do,” said Caldaq.
“Less certain am I with every passing day that her reaction, while extreme, was unjustified.”
Caldaq indicated displeasure. “That is not a scientific attitude.”
“Truly this world renders mental detachment difficult. It is the unpredictability of these people that troubles me, and I am not alone in this opinion. To utilize the unpredictable in warfare, whether being or machine, to court disaster is.”
“You may see them as unpredictable because we do not yet understand them.”
“That may be so.” Third-of-Study halted. “But even those species capable of fighting, such as the Massood, can in predictable fashion to a known set of circumstances be expected to react. That cannot be said of these Humans. They cannot say it of themselves, as our prime specimen repeatedly pointed out has. That is a dangerous quality to have to deal with in a time of battle. If these people do not know how they might react, what they might do, how can they within the existing command structure be accommodated?”
“This is true even of our first contact and erstwhile native friend, Will Dulac, who never tires of violently reminding us how peaceful his people are. His voice grows loud and his gestures swift.” Behind the lime-tinted shades the eyelids of the Hivistahm blinked nervously. “Truly I find it impossible to believe that these contradictions have entirely your notice escaped, Captain.”
Caldaq put aside the lightscribe he’d been working with. While capable of irony, the Hivistahm were not spendthrift in its use.
“They have not.”
“Even assuming that the native Will is wrong and that his people serviceable fighters prove to be, do we really want such creatures as allies? Might not their mental instability as much a liability as benefit render them?”
“The fact they do not know themselves is one of the characteristics that makes them unique. Let us first find out if and how they can be useful to the Weave. Then we will deal with any related problems. It may be possible to structure their integration in such a way as to minimize their awkward unpredictability.” When the Hivistahm showed signs of pursuing his objections, Caldaq irritably waved him off.
“It is for you and the S’van to decide if these Humans can be helpful and for the Chirinaldo and Massood to determine whether and how. Confine your determinations to your specific discipline and leave tactics to me.”
The technician seemed about to say something more, abruptly decided not to. He pivoted on wide sandals and headed for the doorway.
Weeks passed before Third-of-Study felt confident enough to confront his captain again.
“Truly something else concerns me.”
Caldaq was not in the mood. He hated administrative work and there was much to deal with. “What is that?”
“It may be as Will Dulac says, that if presented with the choice his people would choose not in the great conflict to participate. But what if they are not given that choice?”
Caldaq’s whiskers twitched as he regarded the technician. “What do you say?”
“We could what the native says accept, that his people inherently peaceful and unwarlike are but have acted otherwise because of historical circumstances they are to learn how to control just beginning. We could depart, all evidence of our visit obliterating, preserving the ignorance of this world. Left to develop by themselves these people progress toward true civilization might well make.”
“They might also destroy themselves utterly,” said Caldaq. “There are indications they may yet do that.”
The Hivistahm gestured elaborately. “Truly. And if we intercede, if they come to know the Weave and share all that it stands for, that will not be permitted to come to pass. They to destroy themselves will not be allowed.”
“Make your point, supervisor.”
“If we leave they will either achieve civilization or destroy themselves. If we stay they will not destroy themselves but truly civilized may never become. The native Will speaks of the inexorable progress of his people toward peaceful coexistence. Our presence here disrupts that. Do our needs, the needs of the Weave, give us the right that to interfere with, with perhaps permanent effects? Do we the right have to deny these people the peace they have sought for so long simply because we feel are more important our needs? Do we the right have to interfere on such a scale with the development of a potentially civilized race?” The technician paused.
“It is such matters that glad make me.”
“Glad of what?” Caldaq asked softly.
“That I am not the one who such decisions must make.” Whereupon Third-of-Study departed, leaving Caldaq to silent contemplation of his glowing, waiting lightscribe.
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
Will sat in the cockpit listening to T’var as the S’van assistant captain toweled himself dry. Of all the Weave peoples he felt most comfortable around the S’van. Because of their intelligent rodentlike visages and continual twitching he often found the Massood intimidating in spite of themselves, while the Hivistahm and O’o’yan who comprised the bulk of the staff at the burgeoning base were too reptilian in appearance to warm up to.
In addition to being mammalian, the S’van were gregarious and talkative. They also possessed a highly developed sense of humor which transcended species, adroitly juggling inference and innuendo with a skill Will could only admire.
There were also several Lepar at the base, but they were so quiet and reserved he doubted he’d know how to initiate a conversation even if he encountered one of them in a hall or in the water.
Also, it was difficult to fear someone barely three feet tall. Sometimes he wondered what S’van faces looked like behind the thick black beards common to both sexes. The same dense curls covered head and arms, hugging the barely visible coffee-colored skin. Leaning against the back of the cockpit, T’var looked like a dark-eyed kitchen scouring pad.
Will turned down the volume on George Lloyd’s Twelfth Symphony, grateful for the company. Unlike Caldaq and the Hivistahm, who came solely to ask questions and make recordings, the S’van actually seemed to enjoy his company.
“You’re excited by something,” the S’van commented.
Will nodded. “I’ve come to an important realization, T’var. See, I’ve been trying everything I can think of to convince your commander and his staff that my people simply aren’t suited to participation in this war of yours. But it’s not because I’m right and their observations are wrong. We’re both right.
“One of your Hivistahm technicians spent hours yesterday discussing Human unpredictability with me. He thinks it makes us more unsuitable for participation than if we were a planet of congenital pacifists. I hadn’t looked at it like that before, but I think he has a point. I’m going to raise it with Caldaq.”
“The topic is already under discussion,” T’var informed him. “It may make no difference. You are still likely to be deemed useful.”
“Damn! What’s it going to take to convince them to leave us alone? We’re trying to put thousands of years of insensate primate violence behind us. How can I make Caldaq realize that?” He looked so sharply at T’var that the second-of-command jumped slightly.
“How about you, T’var? What do the S’van believe?”
T’var studiously examined the short stubby fingers of his right hand. “The S’van find it judicious not to offer up too many judgments.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” Will squatted next to the wheel, lowering himself so that he was eye to eye with his visitor. “What is it with you people anyway? You seem willing to let the Massood and the Hivistahm and the O’o’yan make all the decisions while you hover in the background with your mouths shut.”
Had there been a smile behind the black forest Will would not have been able to see it. “You are perceptive. But then, you’ve made use of your own opportunities for study these past months.”
“I’ll tell you something, Will Dulac. It is something I can say
more freely in your company than in that of my crewmates. The simple fact of the universe is that the S’van are smarter than the Massood and the Hivistahm, the Wais or the O’o’yan.”
“Then how come you don’t make the decisions? Why do you leave them to others?”
“We do not simply stand back and let events progress. We suggest. We influence. We make our opinions known. You should understand that even in a great civilization it is not always beneficial to be perceived as the smartest, particularly when one is small in stature and numbers.”
“Because of our abilities we occupy a disproportionate number of important positions in the hierarchy of the Weave, though we constitute a very small percentage of the total population. This gives us great influence while also exposing us to remnant primitive emotions. So we’re careful to minimize our exposure. For example, we keep to our homeworld and do not choose to colonize in the manner of the Hivistahm or the Bir’rimor.”
Will frowned. “You feel threatened by your own allies?”
“The Weave is not the monolithic front you perceive. Within its structure there is more conflict and dissension than you would believe. It’s grown so large that without the universal threat posed by the Amplitur I for one am convinced it would disintegrate of its own unwieldiness. This is our greatest danger.”
“There’s no internal fighting as you think of it, but there are other means of expressing dissatisfaction with one’s neighbors. Civilized means. Because of our vulnerability we’re very careful to let the Hivistahm, the O’o’yan, and the Wais make the decisions. To let the Chirinaldo and the Massood do the fighting while we offer advice. It’s not important to us who receives credit for making the right decisions; only that they get made.” Heretofore he had been speaking rough English. Now he resorted to his translator.
“There are emotions which are common to many peoples. Jealousy is not unknown among the peoples of the Weave.”