The Boat of a Million Years

by Poul Anderson

  Hanno nodded. He had been aware of this; his explorations with Alloi companions had taken him near the vast gossamer web they had made to circle Tritos, while Yukiko was searching into their arts, philosophies, dreams. “There’s a primitive version in the Solar System,” he reminded her. “Or was, when we left. After they start receiving our ‘casts, they can upgrade it and join the community.”

  “If they care to.” She looked out to where stars drowned in the icy cataract of their own numbers, and away again, with a slight shudder. What she and he had learned here gave scant hope of that.

  Hanno was less daunted. “What is this news?” he asked avidly.

  “A ship came to the rendezvous,” Lightfall told. “All do thus from time to time, that they may take in the fresh data; for the stations cannot well broadcast continuously to those who may be anywhere, at any velocity. Such of. our report on this system as had arrived by then determined the crew on proceeding next to Tritos. We have encountered them before; it is clear to us that the Xenogaians hold special interest and promise for them. May we have an image?”

  “Provided,” agreed Star Wing, and activated a projector.

  A hulking form sprang forth. Hanno’s immediate thought was of a rhinoceros. Granted, the resemblance was faint and fanciful, like comparing a man to a caterpillar. The body was of minor interest in any case, except insofar as it was the matrix of mind, of spirit.

  “Y-yes,” he ventured, “they’re from a big planet too, aren’t they? I daresay they see just enough cultural similarity here to themselves that they may reap a harvest of ideas from the differences.”

  Yukiko’s eyes shone. “When will they come?”

  “Their message is that they wished to spend a few years at the rendezvous first, studying and thinking about the data,” Lightfall imparted. “That is usual, to take advantage of facilities that no vessel can accommodate. Doubtless they are on their way at this moment. Since they are accustomed to high accelerations, they should arrive just a few months later than their announcement that they have set forth.”

  “Several years yet, then.” Yukiko smiled. “Time to prepare a festive reception.”

  “Do they travel by the same doctrine as you?” Hanno Inquired.

  “Yes,” Lightfall answered, “which we recommend you also adopt.”

  “I’m thinking about it. We’d need some basic modifications hi our ship, you know.”

  “More in your thoughts.”

  “Touche!” Hanno laughed. “Conceded, we are impatient parvenus.”

  The Alloi did not boost continuously between stars. They got close to tight speed, then went on free trajectory, using centrifugal weight. The saving in antimatter allowed huge hulls, with everything that that implied. The price was that time dilation became less. A journey that might have been accomplished in ten shipboard years would take perhaps twice as long; and the farther you went, the larger the factor grew. All voyagers were ageless, but none escaped from time.

  The practice accounted for observers at Sol never having picked up sign of starcraft. Enormous though the energies were, radiation was only at beginning and end of a passage, a candle-flicker; and starcraft were very few.

  “Perhaps you do yourself an injustice,” suggested Volant.

  “Perhaps your hastiness will fill a need we older spacegoing races did not know we had. You may go beyond this tiny segment of the galaxy that we have reached, from end to end of it, in less than a million cosmic years. You may be those who weave it together.”

  Yukiko’s hands fluttered. “No, no. You honor us far beyond what we deserve,”

  “Let us abide the future,” flowed from Star Wing: the patience of ancientness. These beings had left Pegasi fifteen thousand years ago; no individual lifetime of theirs was shorter than half of that. They knew of explorations that had been going on, in other directions, a hundred times as long.

  “Well, this is ... wonderful,” Hanno said. Glancing at Yukiko: “Maybe you can find words, dear. I’m dumbstruck.”

  She caught his hand. “You brought us here. You.”

  They had become able to sense when AHoi turned grave. “Friends,” Lightfall told them, “you must make certain decisions among yourselves. Soon after the—(?)—arrive, we will leave.” Through shock and suddenly racketing pulse, they gathered: “You may remain if you desire. They will be rapturous at meeting new members of the fellowship. You can help them, and they help you, to know Xenogaia and its awarenesses, quite likely even more than you and we have helped each other. Everything that we have built in this system shall stay for your use.”

  “But, but you go away?” Yukiko stammered. “Why?”

  Stalky limbs traced symbols. Membranes quivered; opalescences ran over them. The declaration was calm, inexorable, and maybe, maybe regretful. “We have spent more than four centuries at Tritos. I believe you realize that was partly because of what we had detected from Sol: our hope, which was fulfilled, that we could call travelers from there to us. Meanwhile we explored these planets and above all the diverse Me-ways, histories, achievements, horrors, glories of the sentients on Xenogaia. It was effort richly rewarded, as we foreknew it would be. Another whole concept of the universe opened for us. Something of what we learned has entered our inwardness.

  “And yet you humans, in your decade and a half, have gathered more than we imagined was there. It happens your home world, your evolution, more closely resembles theirs. Nature has better prepared you to comprehend them.

  “For our part, we found ourselves drawn to you as never to them. You too are the kind of beings who reach for the stars.

  “We could stay here till this sun begins to die, and not discover all that there is to discover; for it is so much, and always changing. Life is a rare thing, sapience more seldom yet. Why, then, will we not linger?

  “It is that we hope for more than we have gained here; and we know that if we seek long enough, we shall find it.”

  Hanno had nothing but merchant words. “I see. You’ve gone past the point of diminishing returns. Your best strategy is to start fresh.”

  As it seemed mother civilizations did not, could not.

  “Will you go on to Sol?” Yukiko asked unsteadily.

  “Someday, perhaps,” Star Wing conveyed.

  “Likelier not,” Quicksilver asserted. “I think that what you have revealed to us will suffice—for they have been evolving onward.”

  “Let Sol and Pegasi communicate,” Volant scoffed.

  “No, you are too impetuous, and too thoughtless of our friends,” Lightfall admonished. “We have years ahead of us in which to consider.” To the mimans: “You too, with your kindred down on the planet, you must take thought. Do you wish to commence at once?”

  Hanno and Yukiko traded a look. Mutely, she nodded. After a moment, he did likewise. They bowed, one of many motions that had gradually acquired eloquence, and went from the coralline room.

  A passageway took them along the great curve of the ship. Past the part of it that was alive stretched, today, a simulated vista of ruddy hills, lean crags, fronds rippling around a frozen pool, beneath a violet-blue sky where rings arched tike undying rainbows—a world the AJloi had once come upon and found beautiful, for it was much as their mother world was before the machines. They had left colonists.

  Beyond lay a room of exercise equipment made for the humans. It could be spun through a hollow ring around the hull to provide higher weight. Thus did they maintain a physical condition that allowed them to visit the planet without being too badly handicapped in relation to those who lived there.

  Farther on was their home section, Yukiko’s little garden, a post upholding the model of a caravel that Hanno had once constructed, the compartment that housed them. Air inside it remained thin and dry, but it was warm and to their eyes the lighting was pure white.

  The three rooms held their possessions, a few carried from Earth, more that were remembrances of their years here, but there was no clutter. He kept his sailo
r’s tidiness, she her basic austerity. Opposite the electronic complex a calligraphic scroll hung above a low table where a bowl of water contained a single shapely stone.

  They removed their outer garments. “Shall I make tea?” she proposed.

  “Do, if you like.” His face drew taut. “I want to call plan-etside now.”

  “Well, it is tremendous news, but we shall have to talk about it over and over—”

  “In person. We’re going down and stay a while, you and I.”

  “That will be very welcome,” she sighed. “Yes, I admit I’ll enjoy some unfaked shirtsleeve outdoors, a sea, a salt wind.”

  “And our comrades, not images but real flesh again. How the children must have grown.”

  He missed the wistfulness, and not until later did he recall how ardently she entered into the life around her when they touched down. The occasions had been infrequent and brief. You must live with the Alloi, work side by side with them, share hardships and dangers as well as victories and celebrations, if you would reach an understanding of them and of what they had won on their endless voyage. To him the sacrifices were small.

  “Never mind how many years we may have to make ready,” he said. “We’d better begin straightaway.”

  She smiled. “You mean that you cannot sit still for a cup of tea.”

  Ignoring the gentle gibe, he settled before the complex and ordered a beam to Hestia. The ship was at present above the opposite hemisphere, but the Alloi had long since orbited relay satellites. The screen came alight. “Summoning,” said the artificial voice. A minute passed, and another. “Summoning.”

  Yukiko brought up an outside view. The planet shone blue-veined white. Lightnings threaded the darkened edge. She smote hands together. “We forgot!” she cried. “It’s night where they are.”

  “Damn,” said Hanno without remorse.

  Svoboda’s likeness entered the screen, three-dimensional, as if she herself stood behind a shut window. Her hair was tousled. A robe hastily thrown on gaped over milk-heavy breasts. “What’s wrong?” she exclaimed.

  “No emergency,” Hanno replied. “News. I’ll tell you, you tell whoever else got roused, and then go back to sleep if you can.”

  She bridled. “It couldn’t wait?”

  “Listen.” He made his announcement in short, clanging words. “We need to begin studying what information the Alloi can give us about these other beings, as soon as they’ve assembled it. Before then we need to confer. Yukiko and I— Expect our boat, m-m, shortly after sunrise... What’s the matter?”

  “What is the hurry?” Svoboda’s response crackled. “Aren’t you aware this is harvest season? We’ll be working ourselves sweatless, people an8 robots both, for the next several days. We already are. I heard the summons only because I’d just fallen asleep after the baby kept me awake for hours. Now you want us to sweep and garnish quarters for you and meet in instant council.”

  “Don’t you core? Why in hell’s name did you sign on?”

  “We’re sorry,” Yukiko interjected. “We were so excited, everything else dropped from our minds. Pardon us.”

  The other woman fleered. “Is he sorry?”

  “Hold on,” Hanno said. “I made a mistake. But this that’s happening—”

  Svoboda cut him off. “Yes, it’s important. But so is your arrogance. The main thing you’re forgetting is that you, sit-ttag up there in the sky, are not God Almighty.”

  “Please,” Yukiko begged.

  Hanno spoke coldly. “I am the captain. I’ll have respect ,ftom you.”

  Svoboda shook her head. A blond lock tossed on her temple. “That has changed. Nobody is indispensable any longer. We’ll accept whatever leader we may need, if we judge that person will serve us well.” She paused. “Somebody will call tomorrow, when we’ve conferred, and make proper arrangements.” With a smile: “Yukiko, this isn’t your fault. Everybody knows that. Goodnight.” The screen blanked.

  Hanno sat staring into it.

  Yukiko went to stand behind him, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take this hard,” she said. “She was simply short on sleep, therefore short on temper. After she has rested, she will shrug it off.”

  He shook his head. “No, it goes deeper than that. I hadn’t realized—we’ve been away too much—down underneath, they carry their resentment yet.”

  “No. I swear not. No more. You did bring them, us to something far more wonderful and meaningful than we had dared hope for. It is true, you are not vitally necessary now. Your captaincy is not unquestioned. And you did act thoughtlessly. But the wound is nothing, it will heal by morning.”

  “Some things never heal.” He rose. “Well, no use brooding.” A crooked grin. “What about that cup of tea?”

  She regarded him in silence before she said, most quietly, “You two can still hurt one another, can you not?”

  His voice went brusque. “How often do you miss Tu Shan?” He drew her to him. “Regardless, these have been good years for me. Thank you.”

  She laid her cheek against his breast. “And for me.”

  He forced a chuckle. “I repeat, what became of the tea?”

  32

  First light grayed the east, made dull silver of the stream. Heights westward hulked black and haze dimmed a sinking huge moon. The waterfall rushed loud down its cuff into the river, which clucked and purled. Coolness blew, laden with silty odors.

  Hanno and Wanderer stood on the dock. Then- tongues felt awkward. “Well,” said Wanderer, “have fun.”

  “You too,” Hanno replied. “Uh, how long did you say you’d be gone?”

  “Don’t know for sure. Three, four days. But you come home this evening, hear me?”

  “Of course. We Phoenicians never spent a night at sea if we could help it.”

  Wanderer’s shadowed countenance darkened further. “I wish you wouldn’t go at all. Especially alone.”

  “I heard you before. You’re going alone yourself, and not even taking a communicator along.”

  “That’s different. I know those woods. But none of us really know the waters. We’ve just puttered around a little in our boats or taken passage with natives, and that was to study the crew, not the seamanship.”

  “Look, Peregrino, I know perfectly well the conditions aren’t identical with Earth. I’ve tried them out, remember? Please remember, too, that I was sailing, in flimsier vessels than I like thinking about, two thousand years before you were born. Always the second law of the sea is ‘Take care.’ ”

  “What’s the first?”

  “ ‘It’s in the bilge!’ ”

  They laughed together a bit. “Okay, okay,” Wanderer said. “So we both need to go walkabout, in our different ways. I suspect the same’s true for Corinne. She didn’t really have to confer with the Triune at this exact time.” He left unspoken: Escape, relief, slack off the tension that has built up in us through these past days of wrangling. Shall we abide here, shall we accompany the Ailoi when they leave, or what? Seek within ourselves for our true desires. We have years yet in which to decide, but the divisions between us have festered longer than that, ranker than we knew.

  “Thanks for your help,” said Hanno.

  “De nada, amigo.” They shook hands. It was the heartiest clasp Hanno had ever felt, or given, in Hestia. He couldn’t ask outright, but he believed Wanderer had altogether forgiven him. Well, whatever rift had occurred was not over something fundamental to the man’s life, as for some others; and from Wanderer’s viewpoint, events had fairly well vindicated his old friend. At these latest con-daves of the eight, they had argued side by side.

  It wasn’t the same with Macandal, Patulcius, Aliyat, Tu Sfaan, Svoboda—Svoboda— Oh, she was perfectly gracious; after all, in principle she too favored exploring. But by tacit agreement, she and Yukiko stayed abed when their men got up to carry the gear down to the boat.

  Wanderer turned. His stride whispered over the dock, bis tall form strode up the path and disappeared hi remnant dar
knesses. Hanno boarded. Quickly he uncovered and unfurled the mainsail, took the jib from its bag, raised them, cleated the sheets, cast off. Hie fabric stood ghost-white athwart strengthening dawn, slatted, caught wind and filled. Ariadne listed over and slipped downstream.

  She was a sweet little craft, a six-meter sloop that on Earth would once have been an ocean racer (who there went sailing any more?), built at odd moments by Tu Shan with robot help according to plans in the database. Mainly, he had wanted to make something beautiful as well as purposeful. It turned out that nobody found time to use her much, finally not at all. The Ithagene were intrigued, but the layout was wrong for them. Hanno patted the deck beside the cockpit. “Poor girl,” he said. “Did you cry sometimes at night, lying always alone? We’ll take a real run today, we will.” Surprised, he noticed he had spoken hi Punic. When had he last?

  The estuary broadened. Unhindered, the land breeze blew harder. He had it, the current, and the tide to bear him. Ebb should end just about when he reached the sea; stack water for the transition was desirable. Waves, rips, every kind of turbulence went faster, more forcefully, less foreseeably on Xenogaia, under its gravity, than on Earth. The sun rose ahead, blurred and reddened by overcast, not so far to starboard as it would have been on Earth at this latitude and time of year. Though the planet rotated somewhat faster, the axial tilt promised him a long, long summer day. Cloud banks towered murky in the south. He hoped they wouldn’t move northward and rain on him. The wettest season had passed, but you never knew. Xenogaian meteorology was still largely guesswork. The parameters were unfamiliar; the humans and their computers had too much else, too much more interesting, to consider. Also, it seemed the weather was highly unstable. Chaos, in the physics sense of the word, took over early in any sequence. Well, this was a sturdy, forgiving boat; he and Wanderer had carried down an outboard for her; if he got in bad trou- ble, he could call, and an aircraft would come take him off. He scowled at the thought.