FIRST CONTACT
FIRST CONTACT
BY MURRAY LEINSTER
TOMMY DORT WENT into the captainłs room
with his last pair of stereophotos and said:
“IÅ‚m through, sir. These are the last
two pictures I can take."
He handed over the photographs and
looked with professional interest at the visiplates which showed all space
outside the ship. Subdued, deep-red lighting indicated the controls and such
instruments as the quartermaster on duty needed for navigation of the spaceship
Llanvabon. There was a deeply cushioned control chair. There was the little
gadget of oddly angled mirrorsremote descendant of the back-view mirrors of
twentieth-century motoristswhich allowed a view of all the visiplates without
turning the head. And there were the huge plates which were so much more
satisfactory for a direct view of space.
The Llanvabon was a long way from
home. The plates, which showed every star of visual magnitude and could be
stepped up to any desired magnification, portrayed stars of every imaginable
degree of brilliance, in the startlingly different colors they show outside of
atmosphere. But every one was unfamiliar. Only two constellations could be
recognized as seen from Earth, and they were shrunken and distorted. The Milky
Way seemed vaguely out of place. But even such oddities were minor compared to
a sight in the forward plates.
There was a vast, vast mistiness ahead. A
luminous mist. It seemed motionless. It took a long time for any appreciable
nearing to appear in the vision plates, though the spaceshipłs velocity
indicator showed an incredible speed. The mist was the Crab Nebula, six
light-years long, three and a half light-years thick, with outward-reaching
members that in the telescopes of Earth gave it some resemblance to the
creature for which it was named. It was a cloud of gas, infinitely tenuous,
reaching half again as far as from Sol to its nearest neighbor-sun. Deep within
it burned two stars; a double star; one component the familiar yellow of the
sun of Earth, the other an unholy white.
Tommy Dort said meditatively:
“WeÅ‚re heading into a deep, sir?"
The skipper studied the last two plates
of Tommyłs taking, and put them aside. He went back to his uneasy contemplation
of the vision plates ahead. The Llanvabon was decelerating at full
force. She was a bare half light-year from the nebula. Tommyłs work was guiding
the shipłs course, now, but the work was done. During all the stay of the
exploring ship in the nebula, Tommy Dort would loaf. But hełd more than paid
his way so far.
He had just completed a quite unique
firsta complete photographic record of the movement of a nebula during a
period of four thousand years, taken by one individual with the same apparatus
and with cdntrol exposures to detect and record any systematic errors. It was
an achievement in itself worth the journey from Earth. But in addition, he had
also recorded four thousand years of the history of a double star, and four
thousand years of the history of a star in the act of degenerating into a white
dwarf.
It was not that Tommy Dort was four
thousand years old. He was, actually, in his twenties. But the Crab Nebula is
four thousand light-years from Earth, and the last two pictures had been taken
by light which would not reach Earth until the sixth millennium A.D. On the way
hereat speeds incredible multiples of the speed of lightTommy Dort had
recorded each aspect of the nebula by the light which had left it from forty
centuries since to a bare six months ago.
The Llanvabon bored on through
space. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the incredible luminosity crept across the
vision plates. It blotted out half the universe from view. Before was glowing
mist, and behind was a star-studded emptiness. The mist shut off three-fourths
of all the stars. Some few of the brightest shone dimly through it near its
edge, but only a few. Then there was only an irregularly shaped patch of
darkness astern against which stars shone unwinking. The Llanvabon dived
into the nebula, and it seemed as if it bored into a tunnel of darkness with
walls of shining fog.
Which was exactly what the spaceship was
doing. The most distant photographs of all had disclosed structural features in
the nebula. It was not amorphous. It had form. As the Llanvabon drew
nearer, indications of structure grew more distinct, and Tommy Dort had argued
for a curved approach for photographic reasons. So the spaceship had come up to
the nebula on a vast logarithmic curve, and Tommy had been able to take
successive photographs from slightly different angles and get stereopairs which
showed the nebula in three dimensions; which disclosed billowings and hollows
and an actually complicated shape. In places, the nebula displayed convolutions
like those of a human brain. It was into one of those hollows that the
spaceship now plunged. They had been called “deeps" by analogy with crevasses
in the ocean floor. And they promised to be useful.
The skipper relaxed. One of a skipperłs
functions, nowadays, is to think of things to worry about, and then to worry
about them. The skipper of the Llanvabon was conscientious. Only after a
certain instrument remained definitely nonregistering did he ease himself back
in his seat.
“It was just hardly possible," he said
heavily, “that those deeps might be nonluminous gas. But theyÅ‚re empty. So
wełll be able to use overdrive as long as wełre in them."
It was a light-year-and-a-half from the
edge of the nebula to the neighborhood of the double star which was its heart.
That was the problem. A nebula is a gas. It is so thin that a cometłs tail is
solid by comparison, but a ship traveling on overdriveabove the speed of light
does not want to hit even a merely hard vacuum. It needs pure emptiness, such
as exists between the stars. But the Llanvabon could not do much in this
expanse of mist if it was limited to speeds a merely hard vacuum would permit.
The luminosity seemed to close in behind
the spaceship, which slowed and slowed and slowed. The overdrive went off with
the sudden pinging sensation which goes all over a person when the overdrive
field is released.
Then, almost instantly, bells burst into
clanging, strident uproar all through the ship. Tommy was almost deafened by
the alarm bell which rang in the captainłs room before the quarter master shut
it off with a flip of his hand. But other bells could be heard ringing
throughout the rest of the ship, to be cut off as automatic doors closed one by
one.
Tommy Dort stared at the skipper. The
skipperłs hands clenched. He was up and staring over the quartermasterłs
shoulder. One indicator was apparently having convulsions. Others strained to
record their findings. A spot on the diffusedly bright mistiness of a bowquartering
visiplate grew brighter as the automatic scanner focused on it. That was the
direction of the object which had sounded collision-alarm. But the object
locator itselfaccording to its reading, there was one solid object some eighty
thousand miles awayan object of no great size. But there was another object
whose distance varied from extreme range to zero, and whose size shared its
impossible advance and retreat.
“Step up the scanner," snapped the
skipper.
The extra-bright spot on the scanner
rolled outward, obliterating the undifferentiated image behind it.
Magnification increased. But nothing appeared. Absolutely nothing. Yet the
radio locator insisted that something. monstrous and invisible made lunatic
dashes toward the Llanvabon, at speeds which inevitably implied
collision, and then fled coyly away at the same rate.
The visiplate went up to maximum
magnification. Still nothing. The skipper ground his teeth. Tommy Dort said
meditatively:
“DÅ‚you know, sir, I saw something like
this on a liner of the EarthMars run once, when we were being located by
another ship. Their locator beam was the same frequency as ours, and every time
it hit, it registered like something monstrous, and solid."
“That," said the skipper savagely, “is
just whatłs happening now. Therełs something like a locator beam on us. Wełre
getting that beam and our, own echo besides. But the other shipłs invisible!
Who is out here in an invisible ship with locator devices? Not men, certainly!"
He pressed the button in his sleeve
communicator and snapped:
“Action stations! Man all weapons! Condition
of extreme alert in all departments immediately!"
His hands closed and unclosed. He stared
again at the visiplate, which showed nothing but a formless brightness.
“Not men?" Tommy Dort straightened
sharply. “You mean"
“How many solar systems in our galaxy?"
demanded the skipper bitterly. “How many planets fit for life? And how many
kinds of life could there be? If this ship isnłt from Earthand it isnłtit has
a crew that isnłt human. And things that arenłt human but are up to the level
of deep-space travel in their civilization could mean anything!"
The skipperłs hands were actually
shaking. He would not have talked so freely before a member of his own crew,
but Tommy Dort was of the observation staff. And even a skipper whose duties
include worrying may sometimes need desperately to unload his worries.
Sometimes, too, it helps to think aloud.
“Something like this has been talked
about and speculated about for years," he said soffly. “Mathematically, itÅ‚s
been an odds-on bet that somewhere in our galaxy therełd be another race with,
a civilization equal to or further advanced than ours. Nobody could ever guess
where -or when wełd meet them. But it looks like wełve done it now!"
Tommyłs eyes were very bright.
“DÅ‚you suppose theyÅ‚ll be friendly,
sir?"
The skipper glanced at the distance
indicator. The phantom object still made its insane, nonexistent swoops toward
and away from the Llanvabon. The secondary indication of an object at
eighty thousand miles stirred ever so slightly.
“ItÅ‚s moving," he said curtly. “Heading
for us. Just what wełd do if a strange spaceship appeared in our hunting
grounds! Friendly? Maybe! Wełre going to try to contact them. We have to. But I
suspect this is the end of this expedition. Thank God for the blasters!"
The blasters are those beams of ravening
destruction which take care of recalcitrant meteorites in a spaceshipłs course
when the deflectors canłt handle them. They are not designed as weapons, but
they can serve as pretty good ones. They can go into action at five thousand
miles, and draw on the entire power output of a whole ship. With automatic aim
and a traverse of five degrees, a ship like the Llanvabon can come very
close to blasting a hole through a small-sized asteroid which gets in its way. But
not on overdrive, of course.
Tommy Dort had approached the
bow-quartering visiplate. Now he jerked his head around.
“Blasters, sir? What for?"
The skipper grimaced at the empty visiplate.
“Because we donÅ‚t know what theyÅ‚re like
and canÅ‚t take a chance! I know!" he added bitterly. “WeÅ‚re going to make
contacts and try to find out all we can about themespecially where they come
from. I suppose wełll try to make friendsbut we havenłt much chance. We canłt
trust them a fraction of an inch. Weł darenłt! Theyłve locators. Maybe theyłve
tracers better than any we have. Maybe they could trace us all the way home
without our knowing it! We canłt risk a nonhuman race knowing where Earth is
unless wełre sure of them! And how can we be sure? They could come to trade, of
courseor they could swoop down on overdrive with a battle fleet,that could
wipe us out before we knew what happened. We wouldnłt know which to expect, or
when!"
Tommyłs face was startled.
“ItÅ‚s all been thrashed out over and
over, in theory," said the skipper. “NobodyÅ‚s ever been able to find a sound
answer, even on paper. But you know, in all their theorizing, no one considered
the crazy, rank impossibility of a deep-space contact, with neither side
knowing the otherłs home world! But wełve got to find an answer in fact! What
are we going to do about them? Maybe these creatures will be aesthetic marvels,
nice and friendly and politeand, underneath, with the sneaking brutal ferocity
of a mugger. Or maybe theyłll be crude and gruff as a farmerand just as decent
underneath. Maybe theyłre something in between. But am I going to risk the possible
future of the human race on a guess that itłs safe to trust them? God knows it
would be worthwhile to make friends with a new civilization! It would be bound
to stimulate our own, and maybe wełd gain enormously. But I canłt take chances.
The one thing I wonłt risk is having them know how to find Earth! Either I know
they canłt follow me, or 1 donłt go home! And theyłll probably feel the same
way!"
He pressed the sleeve-communicator
button again.
“Navigation officers, attention! Every
star map on this ship is to be prepared for instant destruction. This includes
photographs and diagrams from which our course or starting point could be
deduced. I want all astronomical data gathered and arranged to be destroyed in
a split second, on order. Make it fast and report when ready!"
He released the button. He looked
suddenly old. The first contact of humanity with an alien race was a situation
which had been foreseen in many fashions, but never one quite so hopeless of
solution as this. A solitary Earth-ship and a solitary alien, meeting in a
nebula which must be remote from the home planet of each. They might wish
peace, but the line of conduct which best prepared a treacherous attack was
just the seeming of friendliness. Failure to be suspicious might doom the human
raceand a peaceful exchange of the fruits of civilization would be the
greatest benefit imaginable. Any mistake would be irreparable, but a failure to
be on guard would be fatal.
The captainłs room was very, very quiet.
The bowquartering visiplate was filled with the image of a very small section
of the nebula. A very small section indeed. It was all diffused, featureless,
luminous mist. But suddenly Tommy Dort pointed.
“There, sir!"
There was a small shape in the mist. It
was far away. It was a black shape, not polished to mirror-reflection like the
hull of the Llanvabon. It was bulbousroughly pear-shaped. There was
much thin luminosity between, and no details could be observed, but it was
surely no natural object. Then Tommy looked at the distance indicator and said
quietly:
“ItÅ‚s headed for us at very high
acceleration, sir. The odds are that theyłre thinking the same thing, sir, that
neither of us will dare let the other go home. Do you think theyłll try a
contact with us, or let loose with their weapons as soon as theyłre in range?"
The Llanvabon was no longer in a
crevasse of emptiness in the nebulałs thin substance. She swam in luminescence.
There were no stars save the two fierce glows in the nebulałs heart. There was
nothing but an allenveloping light, curiously like onełs imagining of
underwater in the tropics of Earth.
The alien ship had made one sign of less
than lethal intention. As it drew near the Llanvabon, it decelerated.
The Llanvabon itself had advanced for a meeting and then come to a dead
stop. Its movement had been a recognition of the nearness of the other ship.
Its pausing was both a friendly sign and a precaution against attack.
Relatively still, it could swivel on its own axis to present the least target
to a slashing assault, and it would have a longer firing-time than if the two
ships flashed past each other at their combined speeds.
The moment of actual approach, however,
was tenseness itself. The Llanvabonłs needle-pointed bow aimed
unwaveringly at the alien bulk. A relay to the captainłs room put a key under
his hand which would fire the blasters with maximum power. Tommy Dort watched,
his brow wrinkled. The aliens must be of a high degree of civilization if they
had spaceships, and civilization does not develop without the development of
foresight. These aliens must recognize all the implications of this first
contact of two civilized races as fully as did the humans on the Llanvabon.
The possibility of an enormous spurt in
the development of both, by peaceful contact and exchange of their separate
technologies, would probably appeal to them as to man. But when dissimilar
human cultures are in contact, one must usually be subordinate or there is war.
But subordination between races arising on separate planets could not be
peacefully arranged. Men, at least, would never consent to subordination, nor
was it likely that any highly developed race would agree. The benefits to be
derived from commerce could never make up for a condition of inferiority. Some
racesmen, perhapswould prefer commerce to conquest. Perhapsperhaps!these
aliens would also. But some types even of human beings would have craved for
war. If the alien ship now approaching the Llanvabon returned to its
home base with news of humanityłs existence and of ships like the Llanvabon,
it would give its race the choice of trade or battle. They might want trade, or
they might want war. But it takes two to make trade, and only one to make war.
They could not be sure of menłs peacefulness, or could men be sure of theirs.
The only safety for either civilization would lie in the destruction of one or
both of the two ships here nad now.
But even victory would not be really
enough. Men would need to know where this alien race was to be found, for
avoidance if not for battle. They would need to know its weapons, and its
resources, and if it could be a menace and how it could be eliminated in case
of need. The aliens would feel the same necessities concerning humanity.
So the skipper of the Llanvabon
did not press the key which might possibly have blasted the other ship tO
nothingness. He dared not. But he dared not not fire either. Sweat came out on
his face.
A speaker muttered. Someone from the
range room.
“The other shipÅ‚s stopped, sir. Quite
stationary. Blasters are centered on it, sir."
It was an urging to fire. But the
skipper shook his head to himself. The alien ship was no more than twenty miles
away. It was dead-black. Every bit of its exterior was an abysmal, nonreflecting
sable. No details could be seen except by minor variations in its outline
against the misty nebula.
“ItÅ‚s stopped dead, sir," said another
voice. “TheyÅ‚ve sent a modulated short wave at us, sir. Frequency modulated. Apparently
a signal. Not enough power to do any harm."
The skipper said though tight-locked
teeth:
“TheyÅ‚re doipg something now. ThereÅ‚s
movement on the outside of their hull. Watch what comes out. Put the auxiliary
blasters on it."
Something small and round, came smoothly
out of the oval outline of the black ship. The bulbous hulk moved.
“Moving away, sir," said the speaker.
“The object they let out is stationary in the place theyÅ‚ve left."
Another voice cut in:
“More frequency modulated stuff, sir. Unintelligible."
Tommy Dortłs eyes brightened. The
skipper watched the visiplate, with sweat-droplets on his forehead.
“Rather pretty, sir," said Tommy,
meditatively. “If they sent anything toward us, it might seem a projectile or a
bomb. So they came close, let out a lifeboat, and went away again. They figure
we can send a boat or a man to make contact without risking our ship. They must
think pretty much as we do."
The skipper said, without moving his
eyes from the plate:
“Mr. Dort, would you care to go out and
look the thing over? I canłt order you, but I need all my operating crew for
emergencies. The observation staff"
“Is expendable. Very well, sir," said
Tommy briskly. “I wonÅ‚t take a lifeboat, sir. Just a suit with a drive in it.
Itłs smaller and the arms and legs will look unsuitable for a bomb. I think I
should carry a scanner, sir."
The alien ship continued to retreat. Forty,
eighty, four hundred miles. It came to a stop and hung there, waiting. Climbing
into his atomic-driven spacesuit just within the Llanvabonłs air locks
Tommy heard the reports as they went over the speakers throughout the ship.
That the other ship had stopped its retreat at four hundred miles was
encouraging. It. might not have weapons effective at a greater distance than
that, and so felt safe. But just as the thought formed itself in his mind, the
alien retreated precipitately still farther. Which, as Tommy reflected as he
emerged from the lock, might be because the aliens had realized they were
giving themselves away, or might be because they wanted to give the impression
that they had done so.
He sw6oped away from the silvery-mirror Llanvabon,
through a brightly glowing emptiness which was past any previous experience of
the human race. Behind him, the Llanvabon swung about and darted away.
The skipperłs voice came in Tommyłs helmet-phones.
“WeÅ‚re pulling back, too, Mr. Dort.
There is a bare possibility that theyłve some explosive atomic reaction they
canłt use from their own ship, but which might be destructive even as far as
this. Wełll draw back. Keep your scanner on the object."
The reasoning was sound, if not very
comforting. An explosive which would destroy anything within twenty miles was
theoretically possible, but humans didnłt have it yet. It was decidely safest
for the Llanvabon to draw back.
But Tommy Dort felt very lonely. He sped
through emptiness toward the tiny black speck which hung in incredible
brightness. The Llanvabon vanished. Its polished hull would merge with
the glowing mist at a relatively short distance, anyhow. The alien ship was not
visible to the naked eye, either. Tommy swam in nothingness, four thousand
light-years from home, toward a tiny black spot which was the only solid object
to be seen in all of space.
It was a slightly distorted, sphere, not
much over six feet in diameter. It bounced away when Tommy landed on it, feet
first. There were small tentacles, or horns, which projected in every
direction. They looked rather like the detonating horns of a submarine mine,
but there was a glint of crystal at the tip-end of each.
“IÅ‚m here," said Tommy into his helmet
phone.
He caught hold of a horn and drew
himself to the object. It was all metal, dead-black.- He could feel no texture
through his space gloves, of course, but he went over and over it, trying to
discover its purpose.
“Deadlock, sir," he said presently. “Nothing
to report that the scanner hasnłt shown you."
Then, through his suit, he felt
vibrations. They translated themselves as clankings. A section of the rounded
hull of the object opened out. Two sections. He worked his way around to look
in and see the first nonhuman civilized beings that any man had ever looked
upon.
But what he saw was simply a flat plate
on which thin red glows crawled here and there in seeming aimlessness. His
helmet phones emitted a startled exclamation. The skipperłs voice:
“Very good, Mr. Dort. Fix your scanner
to look into that plate. They dumped out a robot with an infra-red visiplate
for communication. Not risking any personnel. Whatever we might do would damage
only machinery. Maybe they expect us to bring it on boardand it may have a
bomb charge that can be detonated when theyłre ready to start for home. Iłll
send a plate to face one of its scanners. You return to the ship."
“Yes, sir," said Tommy. “But which way
is the ship, sir?"
There were no stars. The nebula obscured
them with its light The only thing visible from the robot was the double star
at the nebulałs center. Tommy was no longer oriented. He had but one reference
point.
“Head straight away from the double star,"
came the order in his helmet phone. “WeÅ‚ll pick you up."
He passed another lonely figure, a
little later, headed for the alien sphere with a vision plate to set up. The
two spaceships, each knowing that it dared not risk its own race by the slightest
lack of caution, would communicate with each other through this small round
robot. Their separate vision systems would enable them to exchange all the
information they dared give, while they debated the most practical way of
making sure that their own civilization would not be endangered by this first
contact with another. The truly most practical method would be the destruction
of the other ship in a, swift and deadly attack in self-defense.
- The Llanvabon, thereafter, was
a ship in which there were two separate enterprises on hand at the same time.
She had come out from Earth to make close-range observations on the smaller
component of the double star at the nebulałs center. The nebula itself was the
result of the most titanic explosion of which men have, any knowledge. The
explosion took place some time in the year 2946 B.C., before the first of the
seven cities of long-dead Ilium was even thought of. The light of that explosion
reached Earth in the year 1054 A.D., and was duly recorded in ecclesiastical
annals and somewhat more reliably by Chinese court astronomers. It was bright
enough to be seen in daylight for twenty-three successive days. Its lightand
it was four thousand light-years awaywas brighter than that of Venus.
From these facts, astronomers could
calculate nine hundred years later the violence of the detonation. Matter blown
away from the center of the explosion would have traveled outward at the rate
of two million, three hundred thousand miles an hour; more than thirty-eight
thousand miles a minute; something over six hundred thirty-eight miles per
second. When twentieth-century telescopes were turned upon the scene of this
vast explosion, only a double star remainedand the nebula. The brighter star
of the doublet was almost unique in having so high a surface temperature that
it showed no spectrum lines at all. It had a continuous spectrum. Solłs surface
temperature is about 7,0000 Absolute. That of the hot white star is 500,000
degrees. It has nearly the mass of the sun, but only one fifth its diameter, so
that its density is one hundred seventy-three times that of water, sixteen
times that of lead, and eight times that of iridiumthe heaviest substance
known on Earth. But even this density is not that of a dwarf white star like the
companion of Sirius. The white star in the Crab Nebula is an incomplete dwarf;
it is a star still in the act of collapsing. Examinationincluding the survey
of a four-thousand-year column of its lightwas worthwhile. The Llanvabon
had come to make that examination. But the finding of an alien spaceship upon a
similttr errand had implications which overshadowed the original purpose of the
expedition.
A tiny bulbous robot floated in the
tenuous nebular gas. The normal operating crew of the Llanvabon stood at
their posts with a sharp alertness which was productive of tense nerves. The
observation staff divided itself, and a part went half-heartedly about the
making of the observations for which the Llanvabon had come. The other
half applied itself to the problem the spaceship offered.
It represented a culture which was up to
space travel on an interstellar scale. The explosion of a mere five thousand
years since must have blasted every trace of life out of existence in the area
now filled by the nebula. So the aliens of the black spaceship came from
another solar system. Their trip must have been, like that of the Earth ship,
for purely scientific purposes. There was nothing to be extracted from the
nebula.
They were, then, at least near the level
of human civilization, which meant that they had or could develop arts and
articles of commerce which men would want to trade for, in friendship. But they
would necessarily realize that the existence and civilization of humanity was a
potential menace to their own race. The two races could be friends, but also
they could be deadly enemies. Each, even if unwillingly, was a monstrous menace
to the other. And the only safe-thing to do with a menace is to destroy it.
En the Crab Nebula the problem was acute
and immediate. The future relationship of the two races whuld be settled here
and now. If a process for friendship could be established, one race, otherwise
doomed, would survive and both would benefit unmensely. But that process had to
be established, and confidence built up, without the most minute risk of danger
from treachery. Confidence would need to be established upon a foundation of
necessarily complete distrust. Neither dared return to its own base if the
other could do harm to its race. Neither dared risk any of the necessities to
trust. The only safe thing for either to do was destroy the other or be
destroyed.
But even for war, more was needed than
mere destruction of the other. With interstellar traffic, the aliens must have
atomic power and some form of overdrivó for travel above the speed of light.
With radio location and visiplates and short-wave communication they had, of
course, many other devices. What weapons,did they have? How widely extended was
their culture? What were their resources? Could there be a development of trade
and friendship, or were the two races so unlike that only war could exist
between them? If peace was possible, how could it be begun?
The men on the Llanvabon needed
factsand so did the crew on the other ship. They must take back every morsel
of information they could. The most important information of all would be of
the location of the other civilization, just in case of war. That one bit of infcirmation
might be the decisive factor in an interstellar war. But other facts would be
enormously valuable.
The tragic thing was that there could be
no possible information which could lead to peace. Neither ship could stake its
own racełs existence upon any conviction of the good will or the honor of the
other.
So there was a strange truce between the
two ships. The alien went about its work of making observations, as did the Llanvabon.
This tiny robot floated in bright emptiness. A scanner from the Llanvabon
was focussed upon a vision plate from the alien. A scanner from the alien
regarded a vision plate from the Llanvabon. Cornmunication began.
It progressed rapidly. Tommy Dort was
one of those who made the first progress report. His special task on the
expedition was over. He had now been assigned to work on the problem of
communication with the alien entities. He went with the shipłs solitary
psychologist to the captainłs room to convey the news of success. The captainłs
room, as usual, was a place of silence and dull-red indicator lights and the
great bright visiplates on every wall and on the ceiling.
“WeÅ‚ve established fairly satisfactory
communication, sir," said the psychologist. He looked tired. His work on the
trip was supposed to be that of measuring personal factors of error in the
observation staff, for the reduction of all observations to the nearest
possible decimal to the absolute. Lie had been pressed into service for which
he was not especially fitted, and it told upon him. “That is, we can say almost
anything we wish to them,, and can understand what they say in return. But of
course we donłt know how much of what they say is the truth."
The skipperłs eyes turned to Tommy Dort.
“WeÅ‚ve hooked up some machinery," said
Tommy, “that amounts to a mechanical translator. We have vision plates, of
course, and then short-wave beams direct. They use frequency-modulation plus
what is probably variation in wave formslike our vowel and consonant sounds in
speech. Wełve never had any use for anything like that before, so our coils
wonłt handle it, but wełve developed a sort of Code which isnłt the language of
either set of us. They shoot over short-wave stuff with frequency-modulation,
and we record it as sound. When we shoot it back, itłs reconverted into
frequency-modulation."
The skipper said, frowning:
“Why wave-form changes in short waves?
How doyou know?"
“We showed them our recorder in the
vision plate; and they showed us theirs. They record the frequency modulaton
direct. I think," said Tommy carefully, “they donÅ‚t use sound at all, even in
speech. Theyłve set up a communication room, and wełve watched them in the act
of communicating with us. They made no perceptible movement of anything that
corresponds to a speech organ. Instead of a microphone, they simply stand near
something that would work as a pick-up antenna. My guess, sir, is that they use
microwaves for what you might call person-to-person conversation. I think they
make short-wave trains as we make sounds."
The skipper stared at hlm:
“That means they have telepathy?"
“M-m-m. Yes, sir," said Tommy. “Also it
means that we have telepathy too, as far as they are concerned. Theyłre
probably deaf. Theyłve certainly no idea of using sound waves in air for
communication. They simply donłt use noises for any purpose."
The skipper stored the information away.
“What else?"
“Well, sir," said Tommy doubtfully, “I
think wełre all set. We agreed on arbitrary symbols for objects, sir, by the
way of the visiplates, and worked out relationships and verbs and so on with
diagrams and pictures. Wełve a couple of thousand words that have mutual
meanings. We set up an analyzer to sort out their shortwave groups, which we
feed into a decoding machine. And then the coding end of the machine picks out
recordings to make the wave groups we want to send back. When youłre ready to
talk to the skipper of the other ship, sir, I think wełre ready."
“H-m-m. WhatÅ‚s your impression of their
psychology?" The skipper asked the question of the psychologist.
“I donÅ‚t know, sir," said the
psychologist harassedly. “They seem to be completely direct. But they havenÅ‚t
let slip even a hint of the tenseness we know exists. They act as if - they
were simply setting up a means of communication for friendly conversation. But
there is.. . well . . . an overtone"
The piychologist was a good man at
psychological mensuration, which is a good and useful field. But he was not
equipped to analyze a completely alien thought pattern.
“If I may say so, sir" said Tommy
uncomfortably.
“What?"
“TheyÅ‚re oxygen brothers," said Tommy, “and
theyłre not too dissimilar to us in other ways. It seems to me, sir, that
parallel evolution has been at work. Perhaps intelligence evolves in parallel
lines, just as well ,. . . basic bodily functions. I mean," he added
conscientiously, “any living being of any sort must ingest, metabolize, and
excrete. Perhaps any intelligent brain must perceive, apperceive, and find a
personal reaction. Fm sure IÅ‚ve detected irony. That implies humor, too. In
short, sir, I think they could be likable."
The skipper heaved himself to his feet.
“H-m-m," he said profoundly, “weÅ‚ll see
what they have to say." . . -
He walked to the communications room.
The scanner for the vision plate in the robot was in readiness. The skipper
walked in front of it. Tommy Dort sat down at the coding machine and tapped at
the keys. Highly improbable noises came from it, went into a microphone, and
governed the frequency-modulation of a signal sent through space to the other
spaceship. Almost instantly the vision- screen which with one relayin the
robot showed the interior of the other ship lighted up. An alien came before
the scanner and seemed to look inquisitively out of the plate. He was
extraordinarily manlike, but he was not human. The impression he gave was of
extreme baldness and a somehow humorous frankness.
“IÅ‚d like to say," said the skipper
heavily, “the appropriate things about this first contact of two dissimilar
civilized races, and of my hopes that a friendly intercourse between the two
peoples will result."
Tommy Dort hesitated. Then he shrugged
and tapped expertly upon the coder. More improbable noises.
The alien skipper seemed to receive the
message. He made a gesture which was wryly assenting. The decoder on the Llanvabon
hummed to itself and word-cards dropped into the message frame. Tommy said
dispassionately:
“He says, sir, Ä™That is all very well,
but is there any way for us to let each other go home alive? I would be happy
to hear of such a way if you can contrive it. At the moment it seems to me that
one of us must be killed."
The atmoaphere was of confusion. There
were too many questions to be answered all at once. Nobody could answer any of
them. And all of them had to be answered.
The Llanvabon could start for
home. The alien ship might or might not be able to multiply the speed of light
by one more unit than the Earth vessel. If it could, the Llanvabon would
get close enough to Earth to reveal its destinationand then have to fight. It
might or might not win. Even if it did win, the aliens might have a
communication system by which the Llanvabonłs destination might have
been reported to the aliensł home planet before battle was joined. But the Llanvabon
might lose in such a fight. If she were to be destroyed, it would be better to
be destroyed here, without giving any clue to where human beings might be found
by a forewarned, forearmed alien battle fleet.
The black ship was in exactly the same
predicament. It too, could start for home. But the Llanvabon might be
faster, and an overdrive field can be trailed, if you set to work on it soon
enough. The aliens, also, would not know whether the Llanvabon could
report to its home base without returning. If the alien were to be destroyed,
it also would prefer to fight it out here, so that it could not lead a probably
enemy to its own civilization.
Neither ship, then, could think of
flight. The course of the Llanvabon into the nebula might be known to
the black ship, but it had been the end of a logarithmic curve, and the aliens
could not know its properties. They could not tell from that from what
direction the Earth ship had started. As of the moment, then, the two ships
were even. But the question was and remained, “What now?"
There was no specific answer. The aliens
traded information for informationand did not always realize what information
they gave. The humans traded information for informationand Tommy Dort sweated
blood in his anxiety not to give any clue to the whereabouts of Earth.
The aliens saw by infrared light, and
the vision plates and scanners in the robot communication-exchange had to adapt
their respective images up and down an optical octave each, for them to have
any meaning at all. It did not occur to the aliens that their eyesight told
that their sun was a red dwarf, yielding light of greatest energy just below
the part of the spectrum visible to human eyes. But after that fact was
realized on the Llanvabon, it was realized that the aliens, also, should
be able to deduce the Sunłs spectral type by the light to which menłs eyes were
best adapted.
There was a gadget for the recording of
short-wave trains which was as casually in use among the aliens as a
sound-recorder is among men. The humans wanted that badly. And the aliens were
fascinated by the mystery of sound. They were able to perceive noise, of
course, just as a manłs palm will perceive infrared light by the sensation of
heat it produces, but they could no more differentiate pitch or tone-quality
than a human is able to distinguish between two frequencies of heatradiation
even half an octave apart. To them, the human science of sound was a remarkable
discovery. They would find uses for noises which humans had never imaginedif
they lived.
But that was another question. Neither
ship could leave without first destroying the other. But while the flood of
information was in passage, neither ship could afford to destroy the other.
There was the matter of the outer coloring of the two ships. The Llanvabon
was mirror-bright exteriorly. The alien ship was dead-black by visible light.
It absorbed heat - to perfection, and should radiate it away again as readily.
But it did not. The black coating was not a “black body" color or lack of
color. It was a perfect reflector of certain infrared wave lengths while
simultaneously it fluoresced in just those wave bands. In practice, it absorbed
the higher frequencies of heat, converted them to lower frequencies it did not
radiateand stayed at the desired temperature even in empty space.
Tommy Dort labored over his task of
communications He found the alien thought-processes not so alien that he could
not follow them. The discussion of technics reached the matter of interstellar
navigation. A star map was needed to illustrate the process. It would not have
been logical to use a star map from the chart roombut from a star map one
could guess the point from which the map was projected. Tommy had a map made
specially, with imaginary but convincing star images upon it. He translated
directions for its use by the coder and decoder. In return, the aliens
presented a star map of their own before the visiplate. Copied instantly by
photograph, the Navy officers labored over it, trying to figure out from what
spot in the galaxy the stars and Milky Way would show at such an angle. It
baffled them.
It was Tommy who realized finally that
the aliens had made a special star map for their demonstration too, and that it
was a niirror-image of the faked map Tommy had shown them previously.
Tommy could grin, at that. He began to
like these aliens. They were not humans, but they had a very human sense of the
ridiculous. In course of time Tommy essayed a mild joke. It had to be
translated into code numerals, these into quite cryptic groups of short-wave,
frequency-modulated impulses, and these went to the other ship and into heaven
knew what to become inteffigible. A joke which went through such formalities,
would not seem likely to be funny. But the alien did see the point.
There was one of the aliens to whom
communication became as normal a function as Tommyłs own codehandllngs. The two
of them developed a quite insane friendship, conversing by coder, decoder, and
shortwave trains. When technicalities in the official messages grew too
involved, that alien sometimes threw in strictly nontechnical interpolations
akin to slang. Often, they cleared up the confusion. Tommy, for no reason
whatever, had filed a code-name of “Buck" which the decoder picked out
regularly when this particular one signed his own symbol to the message.
In the third week of communication, the
decoder suddenly presented Tommy with a message in the message frame:
You are a good guy. It is too bad we
have to kill each other.
BUCK.
Tommy had been thinking much the same
thing. He tapped off the rueful reply:
We canłt see any way out of it. Can you?
There was a pause, and the message frame
filled up again:
If we could believe each other, yes. Our
skipper would like it. But we canłt believe you, and you canłt believe us. Wełd
trail you home if we got a chance, and youłd trail us. But we feel sorry about
it.
BUCK.
Tommy Dort took the messages to the
skipper.
“Lookhere, sir!" he said urgently.
“These people are almost human, and theyÅ‚re likable cusses."
The skipper was busy about his important
task of thinking things to worry about, and worrying about them. He said
tiredly:
“TheyÅ‚re oxygen breathers. Their air is twenty-eight
percent oxygen instead of twenty, but they could do very well on Earth. It
would be a highly desirable conquest for them. And we still donłt know what
weapons theyłve got or what they can develop. Would you tell them how to find
Earth?"
“N-no," said Tommy, unhappily.
“They probably feel the same way," said
the skipper dryly. “And if we did manage to make a friendly contact, how long
would it stay friendly? If their weapons were inferior to ours, theyłd feel
that for their own safety they had to improve them. And we, knowing they were
planning to revolt, would crush them while we couldfor our own safety! If it
happened to be the other way about, theyłd have to smash us before we could
catch up to them."
Tommy was silent, but he moved
restlessly.
“If we smash this black ship and get
home," said the skipper, “Earth Government will be annoyed if we donÅ‚t tell
them where it came from. But what can we do? Wełll be lucky enough to get back
alive with our warning. It isnłt possible to get out of those creatures any
more information than we give them, and we surely wonłt give them our address!
Wełve run into them by accident. Maybe if we smash this ship there wonłt be
another contact for thousands of years. And itłs a pity, because trade could
mean so much! But it takes two to make a peace, and we canłt risk trusting
them. The only answer is to kill them if we can, and if we canłt, to make sure
that when they kill us theyłll find out nothing that will lead them to Earth. I
donÅ‚t like it," added the skipper tiredly, “but there simply isnÅ‚t anything
else to do!"
On the Llanvabon, the technicians
worked frantically in two divisions. One prepared for victory, and the other
for defeat. The ones working for victory could do little. The main blasters
were the only weapons with any promise. Their mountings were cautiously altered
so that they were no longer fixed nearly dead ahead, with only a 5Å‚ traverse. Electronic
controls which followed a radio-locator master-finder would keep them trained
with absolute precision upon a given target regardless of its maneuverings.
More, a hitherto unsung genius in the engine room devised a capacity-storage
system by which the normal full-output of the shipłs engines could be
momentarily accumulated and released in surges of stored power far above
normal. In theory, the range of the blasters should be multiplied and their
destructive power considerably stepped up. But there was not much more that
could be done.
The defeat crew had more leeway. Star
charts, navigational instruments carrying telltale notations, the photographic
record Tommy Dort had made on the sixmonthsł journey from Earth, and every
other memorandum offering clues to Earthłs position, were prepared for
destruction. They were put in sealed files, and if any one of them was opened
by one who did not know the exact, complicated process, the contents of all the
files would flash into ashes and the ash be churned past any hope of
restoration. Of course, if the Llanvabon should be victorious, a
carefully not-indicated method of reopening them in safety would remain.
There were atomic bombs placed all over
the hull of the ship. If its human crew should be killed without complete
destruction of the ship, the atomic-power bombs should detonate if the Llanvabon
was brought alongside the alien vessel. There were no ready-made atomic bombs
on board, but there were small spare atomic-power units on board. It was not hard
to trick them so that when they were turned on, instead of yielding a smooth
flow of power they would explode. And four men of the Earth-shipłs crew
remained always in spacesuits with closed helmets, to fight the ship should it
be punctured in many compartments by an unwarned attack. -
Such an attack, however, would not be
treacherous. The alien skipper had spoken frankly. His manner was that of one
who wryly admits the uselessness of lies. The skipper of the Llanvabon,
in turn, heavily admitted the virtue of frankness. Each insistedperhaps
truthfullythat he wished for friendship between the two races. But neither
could trust the other not to make every conceivable effort to find out the one
thing he needed most desperately to concealthe location of his home planet.
And neither dared believe that the other was unable to trail him and find out.
Because each felt it his own duty to accomplish that unbearableto the
otheract, neither could risk the possible existence of his race by trusting
the other. They must fight because they could not do anything else.
They could raise the stakes of the
battle by an exchange of information beforehand. But there was a limit, to the
stake either would put up. No information on weapons, population, or resources
would be given by either. Not even the distance of their home bases from the
Crab Nebula would be told. They exchanged information, to be sure, but they
knew a battle to the death must follow, and each strove to represent his own
civilization as powerful enough to give pause to the otherłs ideas of possible
conquestand thereby increased its appearance of menace to the other, and made
battle more unavoidable.
It was curious how completely such alien
brains could mesh, however. Tommy Dort, sweating over the coding and decoding
machines, found a personal equation emerging from the at first stilted arrays
of word cards which arranged themselves. He had seen the aliens only in the
vision screen, and then only in light at least one octave removed from the
light they saw by. They, in turn, saw him very strangely, by transposed
illumination from what to them would be the far ultraviolet. But their brains
worked alike. Amazingly alike. Tommy Dort felt an actual sympathy and even
something close to friendship for the gill-breathing, bald, and dryly ironic
creatures of the black space vessel.
Because of that mental kinship he set
upthough hopelesslya sort of table of the aspects of the problem before them.
He did not believe that the aliens had any instinctive desire to destroy man.
In fact, the study of communications from the aliens had produced on the Llanvabon
a feeling of tolerance not unlike that between enemy soldiers during a truce on
Earth. The men felt no enmity, and probably neither did the aliens. But they had
to kill or be killed for strictly logical reasons.
Tommyłs table was specific. He made a
list of objectives the men must try to achieve, in the order of their
importance. The first was the carrying back of news of the existence of the
alien culture. The second was the location of that alien culture in the galaxy.
The third was the carrying back of as much information as possible about that
culture. The third was being worked on, but the second was probably impossible.
The firstand allwould depend on the-result of the fight which must take
place.
The aliensł objectives would, be exactly
similar, so that the men must prevent, first, news of the existence of Earthłs
culture from being taken back by the aliens, second, alien discovery of the
location of Earth, and third, the acquiring by the aliens of information which
would help them or encourage them to attack humanity. And again the third was
in train, and the second was probably taken care of, and the first must await
the battie.
There was no possible way to avoid the
grim necessity of the destruction of the black ship. The aliens would see no
solution to their problems but the destruction of the Llanvabon. But
Tommy Dort, regarding his tabulation ruefully, realized that even complete
victory would not be a perfect solution. The ideal would be for the Llanvabon
to take back the alien ship for study. Nothing less would be a complete
attainment of the third objective. But Tommy realized that he hated the idea of
so complete a victory, even if it could be accomplished. He would hate the idea
of killing even non-human creatures who understood a human fitting out a fleet
of fighting ships to destroy an alien culture because its existence was
dangerous. The pure accident of this encounter, between peoples who could like
each other, had created a situation which could only result in wholesale
destruction.
Tommy Dort soured on his own brain which
could find no answer which would work. But there had to be an answer! The
gamble was too big! It was too absurd that two spaceships should fightneither
one primarily designed for fightingso that the survivor could carry back news
which would set one race to frenzied preparation for war against the unwarned
other.
If both races could be warned, though,
and each knew that the other did not want to fight, and if they could
communicate with each other but not locate each other until some grounds for
mutual trust could be reached.
It was impossible. It was chimerical. It
was a day-dream. It was nonsense. But it was such luring nonsense that Tommy Dort
ruefully put it into the coder to his gillbreathing friend Buck, then some
hundred thousand miles off in the misty brightness of the nebula.
“Sure," said Buck, in the decoderÅ‚s
word-cards flicking into space in the message frame. “That is a gooddream. But
I like you and still wonłt believe you. If I said that first, you would like me
but not believe me, either. I tell you the truth more than you believe, and
maybe you tell me the truth more than I believe. But there is no way to know. I
am sorry."
Tommy Dort stared gloomily at the
message. He felt a very horrible sense of responsibility. Everyone did, on the Llanvabon.
If they failed in this encounter, the human race would run a very good chance
of being exterminated in time to come. If they succeeded, the race of the
aliens would be the one to face destruction, most likely. Millions or billions
of lives hung upon the actions of a few men.
Then Tommy Dort saw the answer.
It would be amazingly simple, if it
worked. At worst it might give a partial victory to humanity and the Llanvabon.
He sat quite still, not daring to move lest he break the chain of thought that
followed the first tenuous idea. He went over and over it,excitedly finding
objections here and meeting them, and overcoming impossibilities there. It was
the answer! He felt sure of it.
He felt almost dizzy with relief when he
found his way to the captainłs room and asked leave to speak.
it is the function of a skipper, among
others, to find things to worry about. But the Llanvabonłs skipper did
not have to look. In the three weeks and four days since the first contact with
the alien black ship, the skipperłs face had grown lined, and old. He had not
only the Llanvabon to worry about. He had all of humanity.
“Sir," said Tommy Dort, his mouth rather
dry because of his enormous earnestness, “may I offer a method of attack on the
black ship? Iłll undertake it myself, sir, and if it doesnłt work our ship
wonłt be weakened."
The skipper looked at him unseeingly.
“The tactics are all worked out, Mr. Dort,"
-he said heavily. “TheyÅ‚re being cut on tape now, for the shipÅ‚s handling. itÅ‚s
a terrible gamble, but it has to be done."
“I think," said Tommy carefully, “IÅ‚ve
worked out a way to take the gamble out. Suppose, sir, we send a message to the
other ship, offering"
His voice went on in the utterly quiet
captainłs room, with the visiplates showing only a vast mistiness outside and
the two fiercely burning stars in the nebulałs heart.
The skipper himself went through the air
lock with Tommy. For one reason, the action Tommy had suggested would need his
authority behind it. For another, the skipper had worried more intensely than
anybody else on the Llanvabon, and he was tired of it. If he went with
Tommy, he would do the thing himself, and if he failed he would be the first
one killedand the tape for the Earth-shipłs maneuvering was already fed into
the control board and correlated with the master-timer. If Tommy and the
skipper were killed, a single control pushed home would throw the Llanvabon
into the most furious possible all-out attack, which would end in the complete
destruction of one ship or the otheror both. So the skipper was not deserting
his post.
The outer air lock door swung wide. It
opened upon that shining emptiness which was the nebula. Twenty. miles away,
the little round robot hung in space, drifting in an incredible orbit about the
twin central suhs, and floating ever nearer and nearer. It would never reach
either of them, of course. The white star alone was so much hotter than Earthłs
sun that its heat-effect would produce Earthłs temperature on an object five
times as far from it as Neptune is from Sol. Even removed to the distance of Pluto,
the little robot would be raised to, cherry-red heat by the blazing white
dwarf. And it could not possibly approach to the ninety-odd millions miles
which is the Earthłs distance from the sun. So near, its metal would melt and
boil away as vapor. But, half a light-year out, the bulbous object bobbed in
emptiness.
The two spacesuited figures soared away
from the Llanvabon. The small atomic drives which made then minute
spaceships on their own had been subtly aItered, but the change did not mterfere
with their funotioning They headed for the communication robot. The skipper,
out in space, said gruffly:
“Mr Dort, all my life I have longed for
adventure. This is the first time I could ever justify it to myself."
His voice came through Tommyłs
space-phone receivers. Tommy wet his lips and said:
“It doesnÅ‚t seem like adventure to me,
sir. I want terribly for the plan to go through. I thought adventure was when
you didnłt care?ł
“Oh, no," said the skipper. “Adventure
is when you toss your life on the scales of chance and wait for the pointer to stop."
They reached the round object. They
clung to its short, scanner-tipped horns.
“Intelligent, those creatures," said the
skipper heavily. “They must want desperately to see more of our ship than the
communication room, to agree to this exchange of visits before the fight."
“Yes, sir," said Tommy. But privately,
he suspected that Buckhis gill-breathing friendwould like to see him in the
flesh before one or both of them died. And it seemed to him that between the
two ships had grown up an odd tradition o~ courtesy, like that between two
ancient knights before a tourney, when they admired each other wholeheartedly
before hacking at each other with all the contents of their respective armories.
They waited.
Then, out of the mist, came two other figures.
The alien spacesuits were also power-driven. The aliens themselves were shorter
than men, and their helmet openings were coated with a filtering material to
cut off visible and ultraviolet rays which to them would be lethal. It was not
possible to see more than the outline of the heads within.
Tommyłs helmet phone said, from the
communication room on the Llanvabon:
“They say that their ship is waiting for
you, sir. The air lock door will be open."
The skipperłs voice said heavily:
“Mr. Dort, have you seen their space
suits before? If so, are you sure theyłre not carrying anything extra, such as
bombs?"
“Yes, sir," said Tommy. “WeÅ‚ve showed
each other our space equipment. Theyłve nothing but regular stuff in view,
sir."
The skipper made a gesture to. the two
aliens. He and Tommy Dart plunged on for the black vessel. They could not make
out the ship very clearly with the naked eye, but directions for change of
course came from the communication room.
The black ship loomed up. It was huge,
as long as the Llanvabon and vastly thicker. The air lock did stand
open. The two spacesuited men moved in and anchored themselves with
magnetic-soled boots. The outer door closed. There was a rush of air and
simultaneously the sharp quick tug of artificial gravity. Then the inner door
opened.
All was darkness. Tommy switched on his
helmet light at the same instant as the skipper. Since the aliens saw by
infrared, a white light would have been intolerable to them. The menłs helmet
lights were, therefore, of the deep-red tint used to illuminate instrument
panels so there will be no dazzling of eyes that must be able to detect the minutest
speck of white light on a navigating vision plate. There were aliens waiting to
receive them. They blinked at the brightness of the helmet lights. The
space-phone receivers said in Tommyłs ear:
“They say, sir, their skipper is waiting
for you."
Tommy and the skipper were in a long
corridor with a soft flooring underfoot. Their lights showed details of which
every one was exotic.
“I think IÅ‚ll crack my helmet, sir,"
said Tommy.
He did. The air was good. By analysis it
was thirty percent oxygen instead of twenty for normal air on Earth, but the
pressure was less. It felt just right. The artificial gravity, too, was less
than that maintained on the Llanvabon. The home planet of the aliens
would be smaller than Earth, and by the infrared data circling close to a
nearly dead, dull-red sun. The air had smells in it. They were utterly strange,
but not unpleasant.
An arched opening. A ramp with the same
soft stuff underfoot. Lights which actually shed a dim, dull-red glow about.
The aliens had stepped up some of their illuminating equipment as an act of
courtesy. The light might hurt their eyes, but it was a gesture of consideration
which made Tommy even more anxious for his plan to go through.
The alien skipper faced thent with what
seemed to Tommy a gesture of wryly humorous deprecation. The helmet phones
said:
“He says, sir, that he greets you with
pleasure, but he has been able to think of only one way in which the problem
created by the meeting of these two ships can be solved."
“He means a fight," said the skipper.
“Tell him IÅ‚m here to offer another choice."
The Llanvabonłs skipper and the
skipper of the alien ship were face to face, but their communication was
weirdly indirect. The aliens used no sound in communication. Their talk, in
fact, took place on, microwaves and approximated telepathy. But they could not
hear, in any ordinary sense of the word, so the skipperłs and Tommyłs speech
approached telepathy, too, as far as they were concerned. When the skipper
spoke, his space phone sent his words back to the Llanvabon, where the
words were fed into the coder and short-wave equivalents sent back to the black
ship. The alien skipperłs reply went to the Llanvabon and through the
decoder, and was retransmitted by space phone in words read from the message
frame. It was awkward, but it worked.
The short and stocky alien skipper
paused. The helmet phones relayed his translated, soundless reply.
“He is anxious to hear, sir."
The skipper took off his helmet. He put
his hands at his belt in a belligerent pose.
“Look here!" he said truculently to the
bald, strange creature in the unearthly red glow before him. “It looks like we
have to fight and one batch of us get killed. Wełre ready to do it if we have
to. But if you win, wełve got it fixed so youłll never find out where Earth is,
and therełs a good chance wełll get you anyhow! II we win, wełll be in the same
fix. And if we win and go back home, our government will fit out a fleet and
start hunting your planet. And if we find it wełll be ready to blast it to
hell! If you win, the same thing will happen to us! And itłs all foolishness!
Wełve stayed here a month, and wełve swapped information, and we donłt hate
each other. Therełs no reason for us to fight except for the rest of our
respective races!"
The skipper stopped for breath,
scowling. Tommy Dort inconspicuously put his own hand on the belt of his
spacesuit. He waited, hoping desperately that the trick would work.
“He says, sir," reported the helmet
phones, “that all you say is true. But that his race has to be protected, just
as you feel that yours must be." “Naturally," said the skipper angrily, “but
the sensible thing to do is to figure out how to protect it! Putting its future
up as a gamble in a fight is not sensible. Our races have to be warned of each
otherłs existence. Thatłs true. But each should have proof that the other
doesnłt want to fight, but wants to be friendly. And we shouldnłt be able to
find each other, but we should be able to communicate with each other to work
out grounds for a common trust. If our governments want to be fools, let them!
But we should give them the chance to make friends, instead of starting a space
waxout of mutual funk!"
Briefly, the space phone said: - --
“He says that the difficulty is that of
trusting each other now. With the possible existence of his race at stake, he
cannot take any chance, and neither can you, of yielding ari advantage."
“But my race," boomed the skipper,
glaring at the alien captain, “my race has an advantage now. We came here to
your ship in atom-powered spacesuits! Before we left, we altered the drives! We
can set off ten pounds of sensitized fuel apiece, right here in this ship, or
it can be set off by remote control from our ship! It will be rather remarkable
if your fuel store doesnłt blow up with us! In other words, if you donłt accept
my proposal for a commonsense approach to this predicament, Dort and I blow up
in an atomic explosion, and your ship will be wrecked if not destroyedand the Llanvahon
will be attacking with everything itłs got within two seconds after the blast
goes off!"
The captainłs room of the alien ship was
a strange scene, with its dull-red illumihation and the strange, bald,
gill-breathing aliens watching the skipper and waiting for the inaudible
translation of the harangue they could not hear. But a sudden tensity appeared
in the air. A sharp, savage feeling of strain. The alien skipper made a
gesture. The helmet phones hummed.
“He says, sir, what is your proposal?"-
“Swap ships!" roared the skipper. “Swap
ships and go on home! We can fix our instruments so theyłll do no trailing, he
can do the same with his. Wełll each remove out star maps and records. Wełll
each dismantle our weapons. The air will serve, and wełll take their ship and
theyłll take ours, and neither one can harm or trail the other, and each will
carry home more information than can be taken otherwise! We can agree on this
same Crab Nebula as a rendezvous when the double star has made another circuit,
and if our people want to meet them they can do it, and if they are scared they
can duck it! Thatłs my proposal! And hełll take it, or Dort and I blow
up their ship and the Llanvabon blasts whatłs left!"
He glared about him while he waited for
the translation to reach the tense small stocky figures about him. He could
tell when it came - because the tenseness changed. The figures stirred. They made
gestures. One of them made convulsive movements. It lay down on the soft floor
and kicked. Others leaned against its walls and shook.
The voice in Tommy Dortłs helmet phones
had been strictly crisp and professional, before, but now it sounded blankly
amazed.
“He says, sir, that it is a good joke.
Because the two crew members he sent to our ship, and that you passed on the
way, have their spacesuits stuffed with atomic explosives too, sir, and he
intended to make the very same offer and threat! Of course he accepts, sir.
Your ship is worth more to him than his own, and his is worth more to you than
the Llanvabon. It appears, sir, to be a deal."
Then Tommy Dort realized what the
convulsive movements of the aliens were. They were laughter.
~It wasnłt quite as simple as the
skipper had outlined it. The actual working-out of the proposal was
complicated. For three days the crews of the two ships were intermingled, the
aliens learning the workings of the Llanvabonłs engines, and the men
learning the controls of the black spaceship. It was a good jokebut it wasnłt
all a joke. There were men on the black ship, and aliens on the Llanvabon,
ready at an instantłs notice to blow up the vessels in question. And they would
have done it in case of need, for which reason the need did not appear. But it
was, actually, a better arrangement to have two expeditions return to two
civilizations, under the current arrangement, than for either to return alone.
There were differences, though. There
was some dispute about the removal of records. In most cases the dispute was
settled by the destruction of the records. There was more trouble caused by the
Llanvabonłs books, and the alien equivalent of a shipłs library,
containing works which approximated the novels of Earth. But those items were
valuable to possible friendship, because they would show the two cultures, each
to the other, from the viewpoint of normal citizens and without propaganda.
But nerves were tense during those three
days. Aliens unloaded and inspected the foodstuffs intended for the men on the
black ship. Men transshipped the foodstuffs the aliens would need to return to
their home. There were endless details, from the exchange of lighting equipment
to suit the eyesight of the exchanging crews, to a final check-up of apparatus.
A joint inspection party of both races verified that all detector devices had
been smashed but not removed, so that they could not be used for trailing and
had not been smuggled away. And of course, the aliens were anxious not to leave
any useful weapon on the black ship, nor the men upon the Llanvabon. It
was a curious fact that each crew was best qualified to take exactly the
measures which made an evasion of the agreement impossible.
There was a final conference before the
two ships parted, back in the communication room of the Llanvabon.
“Tell the little runt," rumbled the LlanvabonÅ‚s
former skipper, “that heÅ‚s got a good ship and heÅ‚d better treat her right."
The message frame flicked word-cards
into position. “I believe," it said on the alien skipperÅ‚s behalf, “that your
ship is just as good. I hope to meet you here when the double star has turned
one turn."
The last man left the Llanvabon.
It moved away into the misty nebula before they had returned to the black ship.
The vision plates in that vessel had been altered for human eyes, and human
crewmen watched jealously for any trace of their former ship as their new craft
took a crazy, evading course to a remote part of the nebula. It came to a
crevasse of nothingness, leading to the stars. It rose swiftly to clear space.
There was the instant of breathlessness which the overdrive field produces as
it goes on, and then the black ship whipped away into the void at many times
the speed of light.
Many days later, the skipper saw Tommy Dort
poring over one of the strange objects which were the equivalent of books. It
was, fascinating to puzzle over. The skipper was pleased with himself. The
technicians of the Llanvabonłs former crew were finding out desirable
things about the ship almost momently. Doubtless the aliens were as pleased
with their discoveries in the Llanvabon. But the black ship would be
enormously worth whileand the solution that had been found was by any standard
much superior even to combat in which the Earthmen had been overwhelmingly
victorious.
“Hm-m-m. Mr. Dort," said the skipper
profoundly. “YouÅ‚ve no equipment to make another photographic record on the way
back. It was left on the Llanvabon. But fortunately, we have your record
taken on the way out, and I shall report most favorably on your suggestion and
your assistance in carrying it out. I think very well of you, sir."
“Thank you, sir," said Tommy.
He waited. The~ skipper cleared his
throat.
“You . . . ah . . . first realized the
close similarity of mental processes between the aliens and ourselves," he
observed. “What do you think of the prospects of a friendly arrangement if we
keep a rendezvous with them at the nebula as agreed?"
“Oh, weÅ‚ll get along all right, sir,"
said Tommy. “WeÅ‚ve got a good start toward friendship. After all, since they
see by infrared, the planets theyłd want to make use of wouldnłt suit us.
Therełs no reason why we shouldnłt get along. Wełre almost alike in
psychology."
“Hm-m-m. Now just what do you mean by
that?" demanded the skipper.
“Why,theyÅ‚re just like us, sir!" said
Tommy. “Of course they breathe through gills and they see by heat waves, and
their blood has a copper base instead of iron and a few little details like
that. But otherwise wełre just alike! There were only men in their crew, sir,
but they have two sexes as we have and they have families, and er . . . their
sense of humor In fact" Tommy hesitated.
“Go on, sir," said the skipper.
“Well. . . There was the one I call
Buck, sir, because he hasnłt any name that goes into sound waves," said Tommy.
“We got along very well. IÅ‚d really call him my friend, sir. And we were
together for a couple of hours just before the two ships separated and wełd
nothing in particular to do. So I became convinced that humans and aliens are
bound to be good friends if they have only half a chance. You see, sir, we
spent those two hours telling dirty jokes."
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