The Florians. Brian Stableford
face.”
“I’m sure they will,” said the biologist. “Qualitatively speaking. But why only two? If there are two crew members and Parrick, that leaves one berth unaccounted for, doesn’t it? Or does Parrick have an assistant?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Pietrasante. “The seventh member of the expedition will, in fact, be under his authority. But she is not exactly an assistant. Her name is Mariel Valory. She’s a talent.”
“What kind of talent?”
“It’s what they call in common parlance ‘the gift of tongues.’ She is extraordinarily adept with languages. She is, of course, very young, and the idea of giving her a place on the expedition was opposed by some members of our team. I myself was doubtful of the wisdom of including her. But in view of the questions raised by Kilner’s reports it seemed most important that we should provide the second expedition with better information-collecting facilities. We want to provide as broad a base to the areas of intellectual inquiry as possible. It is obvious that Kilner completely failed to open up any constructive areas of communication with the colonists which he contacted. He arrived to find them hostile, and despite the help he gave them he never overcame that hostility. We hope that Mariel will help to offset this difficulty.
“In addition, there is another compelling reason. You are scheduled to recontact six colonies. Two of these colonies were established on worlds where the reports of the survey teams suggested that there were already intelligent life-forms. Although these species had no discernible culture or civilization, it was suggested that they had language and a certain degree of social organization. The framework within which the survey teams operated did not permit further investigation of these lines of inquiry, but the colonists dispatched to these worlds were instructed to make all possible attempts to open channels of communication with these life-forms. On these two worlds, if nowhere else, Mariel’s talent may prove to be of crucial importance.”
“How old is she?” asked Alexander.
“Fourteen. I know that it’s very young, Alex, but she’s advanced for her age in the intellectual sense. And fourteen is not only above the age of consent but above the age of majority in a great many countries. Talents burn out, Alex and if we want to use them we have to use them young.”
After a pause, Alexander said, “You’re certainly hitting me with everything at once, aren’t you? I’ve been in on this project for months, and this is the first I’ve heard of any of this. Oh, I know that I joined when plans were still in a very fluid state, and that my ideas don’t count for much in the planning because I’m only the poor bastard that has to go out there, and not one of the UN execs with a career in politics to think about...but, Nico, this is the eleventh hour! Only now do you show me Kilner’s reports. Only now do you tell me my staff’s been cut, that I’m now only joint leader of the expedition with your pet diplomat, and that there’s a child on the strength as well. Do you think that’s fair? Suppose I were to turn around now and tell you that if this is the way things are going to be you can count me out?”
“You won’t do that,” said Pietrasante.
“No,” said the other. “I won’t. You know damn well I won’t. But you’re sure as hell trespassing on my good nature.”
“Nathan Parrick is a good man,” said the UN man. “And he’s not a pet diplomat. He is a diplomat...but he’s also a brilliant social scientist. You have a good deal in common. And a lot of the work he’ll take off your shoulders is work you wouldn’t want to be bothered with in any case. You’re a scientist, not a politician. You don’t want to get bogged down in petty disputes with the colonists, in negotiations and recriminations. You want to get on with your job. If only Kilner had been allowed to get on with his job instead of being involved in constant hassles with the people he was trying to help...This is all for the best, Alex. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner, but you don’t realize the amount of backstage argument that has gone into this. The UN is run by committees—the whole world is run by committees—and nothing ever gets done or decided until the eleventh hour. You know the way things are.”
“Oh sure,” said Alexander wearily. “I know exactly how things are. It’s a wonder the whole damn world doesn’t grind to a halt.”
“It has,” said Pietrasante. “That’s part of the problem. Perhaps the most desperate part of all.”
Outside the car, night was gathering. Very slowly, darkness consumed the daylight. But the stars never came out, for the sky never lost the ruddy glow that was the reflection of the lights of sprawling civilization. Over the cities, the air was always hazy. Only the moon occasionally shone through.
There were no horizons in the sky, but from the city streets there was no glimpse of infinity either.
CHAPTER ONE
The air in the hall was heavy with heat and odor. At first, it had been a welcome change from the cool, sterile air aboard the ship, but it didn’t take long before I began to feel slightly sick. I wasn’t acclimatized, and I hadn’t drunk enough...or maybe I’d drunk too much.
I kept looking for an opportunity to get outside and take time to recover, wondering whether they’d be offended. But Nathan Parrick was playing the star role—the ambassador from Earth—and the time came when I figured that they’d hardly miss the odd spear-carrier. Several heads turned to watch me go, but their glances were incurious and nobody tried to haul me back into the party with an excess of drunken zeal.
I don’t like parties, anyhow.
The noise seemed somehow louder as it oozed out after me than it had been when I was in the middle of it. I suppose that was because I had the silence to compare it to. Outside, there was a light breeze and the sun was going down. There was not a soul in sight. To get away from the intrusive sound I went down the steps and began to walk away, into the village. I was, I suppose, walking down what one day might become the main street, but for the time being the conglomeration of buildings lacked that much organization. The hall where the welcoming party was staggering on toward the evening hours was simply the geometrical center of a loosely knit community extending on all sides. The distribution of homes and outhouses obeyed—in a rough and ready fashion—the inverse square law. Even the farm where the ship rested, which was something more than a mile to the west, was “in” the village,—a part of the community whose focal point this was.
I’d gone maybe twenty or thirty paces when I heard someone coming after me. The feet fell lightly, and I knew without looking back that it wasn’t one of the natives. I waited, but didn’t turn until she was level with me. It was Karen Karelia, the spare ship-jockey.
“Fleeing in disgust?” she asked. The hint of irony was rarely missing from her voice. Peter Rolving, whose position as captain she affirmed by fulfilling the role of “crew,” described her as a space freak, implying that she wanted off Earth largely because she wasn’t fond of her fellow men. She was crazy enough, of course—you have to be certifiable to want to ride a starship—but she wasn’t really a volunteer alien.
“I just want to look around before it gets dark,” I told her. “Why should I be disgusted?”
“Doesn’t it strike you as being a little over-extravagant? The food...the people...the way they’re working s hard to pretend that it’s a momentous occasion?”
“It is,” I pointed out. “First contact in five generations, maybe six. The first of the sardine cans must have landed nearly a hundred and eighty years ago, the last...well maybe one-forty, give or take a few.”
“But it isn’t quite what we expected, is it?” she said.
I looked around, at the neat buildings grouped about the hall. There was a store, which had been extended within the last few years so that it now looked like two buildings tacked together. Its business must still be expanding as more and more goods came in from outside. There was a blacksmith’s shop. There were three great barns, semicircular in section, which—at the proper season—might be filled with the produce of the whole village, preparatory to its being