“True enough,” Aaron said. “It’s still a conjecture, this so-called similarity between species. But a persuasive one. Have other species experienced this feeling reported by Seashaws?”
“One of the Locrians spoke of a city which is not apparent to Erthuma eyes. The Locrians are the most visionary of the species. It’s that huge single eye, visionary equipment if there ever was any. That eye can look into and through anything. Like some sort of X-ray, I suppose.”
“I know about the eye,” Aaron said. “What are you trying to say?”
“Have you ever wondered how, to an eye like that, the alien city must appear? A Locrian reported that to his three-dimensional and stereoscopic vision of his inner eye, Alien City is like no other sight he has ever seen. Not even on his home planet. He said the alien city reveals itself to his view as three-dimensional architecture of the most beautiful and ethereal sort. They can see it; we can’t. Interesting, eh? Even the Crotonites, who are not noted for their sensitivity to landscape, have remarked on a strange feature of Alien City. They say the air there appears to be denser in some places than in others. It’s the sort of thing a flying species would be bound to notice. They claimed that the densities have shape and meaning, though they couldn’t tell me what that meaning was.”
“Don’t we have any reports on what Alien City is like to an Erthuma?” Aaron said.
“All the Erthumoi who have been there have proven maddeningly reticent. Even your son, Aaron. Lawrence phones in from time to time, and always sounds well. But he never talks about what is happening or how he feels.”
“Is it possible that he has been taken over in some way?”
“He gives no sign of being under someone else’s control. Or if he is, he shows no signs of knowing it.”
“Surely you can get a straight answer out of some of them,” Aaron said.
“I hasn’t worked out that way. Some of the early investigators have vanished, you know.”
“I didn’t know that,” Aaron said. “Lawrence never reported it to me.”
“It’s an ambiguous situation,” Matthew said. “Some of the investigators seem to have vanished. But we can’t be sure even of that. We don’t know if they’ve been killed or just gone native. And if killed, by whom? There are many ambiguities running through the whole program, Aaron.”
“Why don’t you send in another team of investigators?”
“The situation is not sufficiently clear-cut to permit that. The investigation of Myryx is no longer directly under our control.”
Aaron stared at him. “Now that is news. How could you permit control to slip out of your hands?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Aaron,” Matthew said. “It’s easy enough to criticize when you stay out of the battle and judge from afar. You have not even seen fit to inform yourself about what has been happening on Myryx. I hear it’s a nice farm you’ve got there on Sestes. Big as an entire country back on Earth, that’s what they say. I hope it stands you in good stead if the situation on Myryx comes apart on us.”
Aaron thought that Matthew was overreacting. But he realized he didn’t have the right to say so since he didn’t know what, exactly, Matthew was reacting to. The man was right; he had absented himself from the struggle. He had thought that giving a son to the mystery of the alien unknown was enough for one family. He’d had to do his son’s work as well as his own. There had been plenty on his own world to claim his attention. But even though that might all be true, it didn’t excuse him from informing himself about these issues.
“Let’s back up a little,” Aaron said. “I haven’t paid much attention to Myryx or Alien City since Lawrence went there two years ago. What has been happening that I should know about?”
“That’s a little difficult to sum up in a sentence. But I’ll try. Basically, a lot of people have been coming to Myryx. Not just Erthumoi from our two planets; also representatives of the other species. At first it was only Naxians. Then the Cephallonians set up a tank hotel. The latest arrivals on Myryx are the Samians.”
“I might have expected that. A Samian brought me the message from the Council.”
“I know the fellow you’re talking about, Octano Halfbarr. What else did he say?”
“He implied, even if he didn’t directly state, that the Council will request me to go to Myryx, presumably to say something on their behalf to Lawrence. The Samian seems to expect to go to Myryx with me.”
“Yes,” Matthew said. “I suppose you noticed how the Samians have been changing recently.”
“I can’t say that I’ve noticed much,” Aaron said. “I’ve been curious about them, however. I think we all have. You and I have commented on how there’s no apparent correlation between the Samians’ almost nonexistent manual skills and their exquisitely engineered ships.”
“Quite right,” Matthew said. “It’s possible, of course, that they had manual skills many ages ago, and lost them through atrophy. I don’t believe that myself, but quite a few people do. As though spaceship construction was a skill a species could outgrow!”
“They have the so-called magnetic function,” Aaron said.
“Yes, I know. They can make themselves part of things. An interesting skill, but a long way from being able to use an arc welder. Or to make an arc welder, for that matter. And now they have become extremely interested in the alien city on Myryx. You might think it doesn’t matter what the Samians are interested in, so negligible are they as a species. Some of the thinkers from the Humanoid Institute think differently, however. It is believed by some—a minority view, I’ll admit, but an alarming one—that the Samians may be the most formidable competition to mankind among the civilized species.”
“Because they seem so inoffensive?” Aaron asked. “That’s carrying paradox a little far, isn’t it?”
“Look beneath the obvious paradox, Aaron. How did a species like the Samians ever get as far as they did? They seem to have no real strengths. Physical strength, yes. But that seems almost negligible, something of no worth in this age of manipulated megaenergies. They are not particularly fast thinkers. They have little ability at locomotion or manipulation. They have no apparent skills. They can’t swim by their own powers or fly; they can’t throw a baseball. They’re pitiable, laughable.”
“I agree,” Aaron said. “How can anyone hold a different view?”
“Species have different strategies for surviving against nature and their fellows. How did the Samians get as far as they have? They seem no better equipped than flounders.”
“This is rhetorical,” Aaron said.
“I have no proof to offer. I can only tell you that the philosophers of the Humanoid Institute have asked us to take a much closer look at the Samians.”
“What is it the Council wants me to do?”
“They will make it formal at the meeting later. But it’s better for you to know now, so that you can accept or decline later on the basis of exact information. We want you to go to Myryx and take in the situation for yourself. Then we want you to proceed to the alien city and meet with your son Lawrence, and the others.”
“So I had imagined.”
“We want you to take the Samian with you.”
“To what end?”
“Study him, Aaron. I can assure you, he will be studying you.”
“And what am I supposed to say to Lawrence?”
Matthew thought awhile before answering. At last he said, “You are a man of our generation. You know our views and we know yours. The people of the expedition to Alien City are young, visionary. We want you to go to their city as the representative of the rest of us. See what they’re up to. Tell us about it. And if the situation seems out of hand or dangerous to our species—”
“This seems to be very wild talk,” Aaron said.
“These things must be said. You must look over the situation, tell us what you think.”
“And if I think the situation is dire?”
“More than one philosopher,�
�� Matthew said, “has come up with the view that the humanoid race would be better off if Myryx and its ancient city never existed; that the best thing that could happen to Myryx would be to see the entire planet fly apart in a near-instantaneous atomic explosion.”
“I hope you are not advocating it,” Aaron said.
“I? Certainly not. I only tell you how far we will go to protect our kind. You, Aaron, must let us know what kind of a threat, if any, exists for us on Myryx.”
“Well, and suppose one does? Whoever’s plot it is, he’d know enough to neutralize me before I could send off a message with warning. It’s not inconceivable he’s done that with Lawrence.”
“We have considered the possibility. Please hold out your hand. Take it. Aaron, you are now in a position to do something about it if your feel the Erthumoi are in danger.”
“What is this? What have you given me?”
“It is a bomb. You know how these are operated.”
Aaron looked at the tiny object in the palm of his hand. “Fusion?” he asked.
Matthew nodded.
“What range?”
“It’ll take out everything in the alien city.”
“Take this thing back!”
“You would let your own race go to destruction?”
“It wouldn’t come to that. You’re being alarmist.”
“You’ve heard some of our speculations on the Samians. Do you deny the possibility of a conspiracy against our species?”
“No such thing is happening.”
“But if it were happening, do you believe it ought to be stopped? Suppose we could convince you that an alien influence is poisoning your people, undermining their morality, making them less and less fit to survive in the galaxy along with the other species. Suppose that, if you permitted this state of affairs to continue, your species’ survival would be adversely affected, doomed to extinction. Assuming that, would you still refuse to carry a bomb? Would you still say, ‘I can’t be bothered with dirty little practicalities like killing aliens to preserve my own kind’?”
“You are sounding very extreme,” Aaron said. “But if you really think it possible that such a threat against us might exist . . .” Aaron put the miniature bomb into a pouch at his belt.
The council room itself was not very large. It had a long oval table in the middle, under a bank of lights. There were fifteen Erthuma delegates present, two of whom were from the ancestral planet itself, the Earth of song and legend. They took no part in the discussion that followed. Aaron supposed they felt too distant from events in the Minieri system, and wisely left discussion to those who were directly affected by what happened at Myryx.
“Tell us, Aaron,” said Clarkson, the chairman, a fair, portly man from Magister II, one of the largest of the humanoid associations, “what is your own opinion of what Matthew told you earlier?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Aaron said. “The situation appears to exist in a considerable degree of ambiguity.”
“And how does one handle that?” Clarkson said.
“One tries to gather information in order to dispel the unknowns,” Aaron said.
“That is the sort of answer we hoped to hear from you,” Clarkson said. “There are quite a few elements in this situation—Myryx with its uncertain new status; the alien city, which we seem to learn less about every year; Lawrence’s disturbing silence; why the city exists; and why the Samians, among others, have taken a lively interest in this project.”
“I know very little about these things,” Aaron said. “It would perhaps be better to send one of yourselves.”
“We don’t think so,” Clarkson said. “We have argued about these matters for a long time. We consider ourselves too close to see the big picture, if there is one. You are known to all of us. We respect your intelligence. You will see the situation for yourself, and take what action seems best to you. We would like to be a part of the decision process, of course. But we know this might not be possible. There are many immediate decisions that may have to be taken. There may be no time to consult with home authorities. Nor may the home authorities be competent to act, since they won’t be in the picture. You are our general, Aaron, you lead our armies. Maybe the first thing you have to find out is, are we in a war?”
Aaron agreed to visit Myryx, acting on behalf of the Council along the lines he had discussed with Matthew.
There seemed nothing more to say, and the meeting was brought to an end. Aaron’s work seemed clear-cut enough to him. He was to look into certain matters on Myryx with a view to deciding what they meant for the entire humanoid group. And to take action. As simple as that.
Why hadn’t Lawrence stayed in better contact with him and with the Council? Why was he so evasive when it came to explaining what work he and his committee were doing?
His thoughts jumped so quickly to his son that Aaron became aware of his own unconscious assessment of the situation. Lawrence is involved in my decision. Lawrence is the key to the mystery.
Aaron gave the command, that set the Council ship Artemis on its way. They had already gone by shuttle to point omega, as the jump-off spot for hyperdrive operation was sometimes called. Point omega was the closest to a mass you could come yet still enable the hyperdrive to work. Ships driven by hyperdrive proceeded along an invisible network of point omegas.
It was a point of courtesy for Aaron to come to the main control room to accompany the Samian on this jump. Aaron preferred hyperjumping alone. Although there was no discernible transition, except for a flickering of lights and a sense of a geometric pattern of thin curving lines hanging in front of his eyes, he still considered it a private moment. The transition from here to there, almost instantaneous in the special universe in which hyperjump operated, was perhaps the closest analogue to death that a human could experience and still live to tell of it.
“Ready?” Aaron asked Octano Halfbarr.
“I think so,” the Samian said, the translating machine accurately picking up the faint sense of doubt which had to be present in any creature taking his first hyperjump.
“There’s nothing to it, really,” Aaron said.
“I have heard,” the Samian said, “that it affects some individuals more than others.”
“That is true.”
“That Samians are more prone to hyperjump side effects than the other species.”
“By a few percentage points, yes,” Aaron said. “But it is not an appreciable difference.”
“I have heard that even death is not unknown as a side effect.”
“I have heard that too. Perhaps you should have considered all of these points before volunteering for this flight.”
A ripple passed over the surface of the dark bronze slab of bacon sitting in its net of webbing. Aaron could have sworn the creature had shrugged. “Are we underway yet?” the Samian asked.
“We have been for several minutes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought it better for your peace of mind that I did not.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Octano the Samian said. “So. I have made my first hyperjump and I am alive.”
“Right. Maybe the next time you’ll even think of it as fun.”
“Fun,” the Samian mused. “Yes, I remember from my indoctrination lectures. Your species attaches quite a lot of importance to having fun, do you not?”
“I don’t know that I would put it exactly that way,” Aaron said. “I would say that as a species, we Erthumoi have a well-developed sense of play.”
“And that is another of those important words that we Samians need to study. ‘Play.’ We have always considered it an overdetermination of the work function. But evidently it is more than that.”
“Are you really interested in this idea of play?”
“Oh, yes,” Octano reassured him. “It is important for us to understand it. Our experts agree that play is indispensable to the growth of higher intelligence. We are not ourselves a playful peo
ple. But surely we can learn, and the way to that knowledge is through experimentation.”
“You are not like any other Samian I’ve ever met,” Aaron said. “You are playful while denying it. This is not what your species is noted for.”
“I suppose not. We must have seemed quite doltish at first, when we initially encountered the other intelligent species. We lack the quick ability at repartee that enlivens the thought processes of you Erthumoi, for example. We have noted how quick, nervous, and aggressive you are. Yet you are more than that, somehow. We had to take stock of ourselves, ask how we were doing in the great competition between species.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that idea recently,” Aaron said. “Do you really think interspecies competition is necessary?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the Samian said. “What I do know is that it takes place whether one wills it or not. Each of us wants to be the inevitable form that intelligence will take. Ultimately, each species desires to be god. No one wishes anyone else any harm, but obviously my species can’t be god as long as your species is claiming the title.”
“I must tell you,” Aaron said, “that I find all this talk of competition for highest intelligence and for longest survival to be depressing. Maybe life is nothing but the successful living of it, but it still bores me to hear it.”
“That’s quite an interesting thing to say,” the Samian said. “I thought you Erthumoi were devoted to the concept of species survival at all costs.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“It is common knowledge.”
“It is not correct.”
“Of course you would say that. The point is, a contest of sorts is going on between my kind and yours, and mine isn’t doing very well.”
Aaron was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He had enough work ahead of him without having to hear this sniveling, especially when it was just like the sort of stuff Council members like Matthew had been trying to feed to him.
How long would he be closeted with this creature? Days at the least. Weeks more than likely, perhaps even months. It had to be established at the start that either of them could speak his mind. If the Samian couldn’t take it, it was time to find out about it now, not after they had come to Myryx.
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