The Starfarers Quartet Omnibus

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  “So many questions!” Europa said.

  “Yes,” J.D. replied. “Of course. That’s why I came here. To ask questions. To find answers.”

  “We have questions, too,” Androgeos said. “In fairness, we should trade. Each ask one in turn.”

  “That’s all right with me,” J.D. said. “I’m not going anywhere — I’ve been waiting all my life to get here.”

  “We’ve been waiting all our lives for you to come,” Europa said. “I just wish —”

  Androgeos interrupted. “Which question do you want us to answer?”

  “How did your ancestors get into space?”

  “The other people rescued us,” Androgeos said.

  J.D. waited a moment. The meerkats peered at her across a flat-topped boulder. Androgeos had finished his reply.

  “What other people?” J.D. asked. “And what did they rescue your people from?”

  Androgeos frowned, as if he might object to her wanting some elaboration, but he could not deny that the answer contained very little information.

  “There are many other people out here,” Europa said. “Some of them are awfully strange. Frightening to look at, even. But you learn that it doesn’t make much difference.”

  J.D. repressed a twinge of irritation at getting a lecture on prejudice.

  “I think I already know that,” J.D. said carefully. “You and Androgeos surprised me only because you were so familiar.”

  I suppose I can’t blame Europa for what she assumes about me, J.D. thought. She’s a hundred generations removed from Earth. She probably thinks I’m a barbarian.

  J.D. smiled to herself. With their physical features, their Hellenic names and no doubt ancestry, Europa and Androgeos probably did think she was a barbarian. A barbarian by definition: someone who did not speak Greek. Except that thirty-seven hundred years ago would have been well before Classical Greek times. Probably even before the Classical Greek language.

  J.D. sent her bits of information to Arachne, asking for speculation, and returned her attention to Europa and Androgeos.

  One of the meerkats bounded onto the flat-topped boulder and stood atop it, staring at J.D.

  “The other beings took humans off Earth?” J.D. said.

  “They rescued us,” Europa said again. “They only take people who were going to die.” She leaned back, exposing her face to the intense light of Sirius, bathing in it. Her eyes closed, she spoke dreamily. “It was terrifying, the air trembled and the sea rose up and roared. We saw the darkness striding toward us across the water. And then there was nothing to breathe, only hot ash all around us, falling, and no light...” She shivered. “So no one saw, when the people came down to save us.” She opened her eyes again and gazed at J.D. intently. “They’re always very careful about that.”

  Santorini, Arachne said to J.D. The eruption on Thera. The destruction of the civilization on ancient Crete. Knossos, the Minoans.

  The labyrinth.

  “At other disasters? Do you mean that they...” She hesitated, and chose a word less heavily charged than “kidnap.” Besides, if she were about to die, she would welcome someone who swooped down and took her away, kidnapper or not.

  “They want a representative of every new sentient species,” Europa said. “To do what we will do. To welcome their own kind into civilization. Gently, gradually, without too much distress and fear.”

  J.D. resisted the idea that she could not be trusted to meet alien beings, real alien beings. She had spent her life preparing to accept being frightened. She struggled to accept Europa and Androgeos as a kindness, a gift; nevertheless, their explanations, their condescension, distressed her. She felt dismay. No: more than that. She felt cheated.

  “If there are so many other people out here, how can you be sure none of them have let themselves be seen visiting Earth?” J.D. asked, thinking of the rashes of UFO sightings over the past decades.

  “They didn’t,” Androgeos insisted. “It’s agreed.”

  “Agreed by who? How do you know so much about us? You speak English... Surely you didn’t learn it in the last couple of days.”

  “We never visited you,” Androgeos said. “I didn’t say we didn’t watch you.”

  “Sometimes we sent a ship through your solar system,” Europa said. “A contained one, not an open one like ours. For the last few years you would have noticed that it was not an ordinary Apollonian asteroid. So we’ve stayed away. But we’ve been waiting.”

  “Still, maybe one of those other people felt curious and came to Earth to take a look.”

  “Never.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because they wouldn’t,” Androgeos said, as if that wrapped the subject up.

  “Why do you think they have?” Europa asked.

  “Some humans — back on Earth — think they’ve seen alien spaceships.”

  “Ships like this?” Europa exclaimed.

  “No.” J.D. laughed, remembering the team’s conversation about alien spaceships. She thought she could detect a resonance of amusement from Victoria, back in the Chi, listening to everything.

  “No,” J.D. said again. “Nothing like this. But they see what they think are spaceships. And alien beings.”

  “Have you,” Europa said hesitantly, “seen such apparitions yourself?”

  “Me?” J.D. said. “No, of course not.”

  “If we had shown ourselves to Earth,” Androgeos said. “then we would never know that humans see these fantasies.”

  “Is it important to you? To know some of us see fantasies?”

  “Not particularly,” Androgeos said offhand. “I use it only as an example. In simpler words, we leave you alone so you might discover something we don’t know. Which you would never do, under our influence.”

  Against her will, J.D. had taken a sincere dislike to this arrogant young man. Though she felt insulted by his tone and his dismissive attitude, she had to respect his aims.

  “I suppose not,” she said. “No doubt you’re right, and we needed the protection. Culture shock has destroyed—”

  Androgeos interrupted. “Do we look culture shocked? It has nothing to with culture shock. Nor with protecting you. If we wished to protect you, we would have come to Earth, solved your problems, and led you out of barbarity.”

  “In the past, civilization helped new worlds reach space,” Europa said. “But we found it wasn’t good for us.”

  “‘Us’ — humans?”

  “No, us — civilization.”

  “Young cultures sometimes stumble upon new knowledge. Valuable knowledge.” Androgeos shrugged. “Unlikely. But it does happen.”

  “Unlikely,” J.D. said dryly.

  “But you don’t see, J.D.!” Europa said. “You have one chance to offer civilization unique work. Then you’re unique, too. You earn respect. If all you do is jump out into space and say, ‘Here we are, give things to us,’ then you are ordinary.”

  “We thought we were doing pretty well to jump out into space,” J.D. said.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I know. Never mind.”

  “Why did you come,” Androgeos asked, “if not to gain honor and recognition and acceptance among other people?”

  “We came for a lot of reasons,” J.D. said. “Not only because we hoped to meet other people. In fact, there’s always been a controversy about that, back on Earth. Some people think other intelligent beings can’t possibly exist.”

  Androgeos snorted. “And do they still believe the sun circles the Earth?”

  “Those of us who thought there must be other people out here had to answer the question, Why haven’t any of them visited? We thought it might be a benevolent gesture — because the other beings didn’t want to overwhelm and destroy our culture.”

  “The other beings do not much care about your culture,” Androgeos said. “And they will have no reason to care, unless you prove yourselves worthy of attention.”

  “You
r culture will change now,” Europa said. “Nothing can stop that from happening. Even if you never meet any other people, just knowing we exist out here will change things. You did understand that, when you set out, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It will be up to human beings whether you change it the way you want it, or let it be changed around you.”

  “What do you mean,” J.D. said to Europa, “‘Even if you never meet any other people’?”

  Europa glanced away, glanced back, shoved her hands between her knees, and hunched her shoulders.

  “You ran away from us,” J.D. said. “When we arrived at Tau Ceti, and the missile exploded, we frightened you —”

  “You frightened us not at all!” Androgeos exclaimed.

  “Then why didn’t you stay?”

  “Didn’t you understand what you were supposed to do?” Androgeos cried. “Why did you have to come after us and make things so much more complicated? Why didn’t you go back to Earth?”

  “Go back to Earth!”

  “The message was clear.”

  “What message?”

  “You can’t come to civilization with weapons. You can’t hunt people down. Your aggression is revolting! You aren’t ready to join us. You were supposed to go home and grow up some more!”

  “But that’s why we followed you. Not to be aggressive, not to attack — ! To explain about the explosion. It was a mistake.”

  As she spoke, she wondered, if what he’s telling me is true, why is he talking to me at all?

  “How could a nuclear explosion be a mistake?” Europa scowled at her. “That’s just as bad as being armed. No, it’s worse.” She shook her head. “You are awfully careless with your weapons.”

  “Starfarer isn’t armed!”

  The dispute around that question had gone on for years, in public and private, in legislatures and parliaments, in the press and in living rooms. J.D. had followed the discussion even when she believed she had no chance to belong to the expedition.

  “I understand that,” Europa said. “But —”

  “I don’t think you do! For Starfarer to leave the solar system unarmed is a leap of faith and trust for human beings. It’s a qualitative change in our behavior.”

  “And yet,” Androgeos said, “you brought the warhead.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry!” Europa exclaimed, genuinely distressed. “We’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. I’d make an exception for you if I could. J.D., I don’t make the rules.”

  “Who does? What are the rules?”

  “We can’t tell you that,” Androgeos said.

  “Oh — !” J.D. exclaimed, exasperated, outraged.

  “We don’t know,” Europa said.

  “You — what?”

  “There’s no galactic overlord, making decrees, like in one of your movies. There’s no list, one, two, three. What we have is a body of experience and observation.”

  “Such as — ?”

  “The cosmic string, of course.”

  “Then it is deliberate,” J.D. said, amazed. “The strand that came within Earth’s reach... someone sent it.”

  “And placed the intersections around Tau Ceti,” Europa said. “Yes.”

  “And withdrew them when you exploded your bomb,” Androgeos said, deliberately, cruelly. “As a protection for all of us. Protection against barbarism.” His voice held an undertone of pain and anger: it hurt him as much to point out the reasons as it hurt J.D. to hear them.

  “You must go back to Earth because we know, from the experiences of other people, what will happen if you don’t go back to Earth. Almost any behavior is permitted —”

  “Ignored,” Androgeos said.

  “As you will. Perhaps ‘ignored’ is a more accurate description. Weapons of mass destruction, though, attract... notice.”

  “So if we go home and persuade our governments to give up their arms, their armies —”

  “That will help not at all,” Androgeos said. “They are welcome to keep their toys. Use them on each other.”

  “No one will stop you, you see,” Europa said, “from destroying your own world.” She smiled sadly. “Though I very much hope you will not do so. I’d like to see it again. To return to Crete —”

  The stories she and Androgeos inherited from their ancestors are as powerful for them as the same stories are for us, J.D. thought.

  “They don’t care what you do to other human beings,” Androgeos said. “But you can’t behave that way in civilization.”

  “Civilization” was sounding less and less civilized to J.D. Less civilized, and even more intriguing.

  “We didn’t intend to.” She tried to explain. As she told Europa and Androgeos what had happened before Starfarer reached transition, about the tensions and the attempt of the military to take over the starship, she began to fear that she was only making things more difficult. But she could not think how to make them better, even by lying. She did not want to lie, and she knew that if she did lie, she would find herself in a manufactured story impossible to keep straight.

  She finished her story. Neither of the alien humans spoke.

  “Can’t we ask for a hearing?” J.D. said.

  Androgeos laughed.

  “I get into arguments with friends,” he said, “who claim human beings are so uninteresting that our whole species will never amount to anything. When I tell them what you just said — !”

  “I wasn’t intending to be outrageous,” J.D. said.

  His dismissive comment about his own people disturbed her. If human beings disparaged each other, still, after so many years’ exposure to civilization...

  And then she realized Androgeos had not been talking about friends who were human beings. He had been talking about friends who were not human beings.

  “It will be difficult to find anyone to ask,” Europa said. “Because we have no idea what people, what beings, control the cosmic string. We’ve looked for them. Everyone has.”

  “I don’t believe they exist,” Androgeos said. “Not anymore. They set up controls. Then they vanished.”

  “It makes no difference whether they exist or not,” Europa said. “No more than arguing whether the gods directed the bull during the games.”

  “How many angels can dance on the head of a pin,” J.D. said softly.

  Androgeos frowned, confused. “I thought I knew what an angel looked like,” he said. “From one of our information captures. I would have thought they were too big to stand on the head of a pin, much less dance.”

  So they don’t know everything about us, J.D. thought; they aren’t so omniscient that they even know all our idioms.

  “It’s just a saying,” J.D. said. “A statement about futile arguments. Now we have a new one, I suppose. ‘Where do the ancient astronauts live?’”

  “But no one knows,” Androgeos said. “Why argue about it?”

  “Even if we do go home of our own volition,” J.D. said, “I don’t see a way to preventing Earth’s governments from returning. First they tried to insist that we stay. Now they’ll insist that we go.”

  “It will not be possible,” Europa said. “The cosmic string will withdraw.”

  J.D. jerked up her head, astonished despite herself, despite her thought: Of course. That’s exactly how they’ll do it.

  “And if you stay here,” Androgeos said, “they’ll withdraw it from the Sirius system, too.”

  Victoria was listening to everything J.D. said, everything the alien humans said. She would, without question, already be testing her algorithm for transition points that led back to Earth. J.D. feared she already knew what Victoria would find: the solar system emptied of cosmic string.

  Starfarer would be able to return to Earth, but it would never be able to leave again. Not until “civilization” threw another lifeline.

  “I think you have no choice,” Europa said. “I think you are going to have to go home.”

 
“And grow up?” J.D. said. “Just exactly how long do you expect us to stay in our rooms?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Another saying. If we do go home, how long are we supposed to stay?” She wondered if she could stand waiting for another year, another decade.

  “They might let you try again in five hundred years.”

  “What?” J.D. cried, bolting to her feet.

  J.D. saw the aim of her life’s work held just out of her reach, and about to be snatched away forever.

  Europa rose, too, her hands open and spread, imploring her to understand.

  “It’s all right. Please. We’ll be at Tau Ceti, waiting for you, when you return.”

  “What a comfort! Your twenty-times grandchildren can greet my twenty-times grandchildren, and they’ll reminisce about us! Five hundred years!”

  “It isn’t so much,” Europa said. “Not when you’ve waited as long as we have.”

  J.D. almost sat down again, but she steadied her knees by force of will.

  “I thought you meant your ancestors,” she said. “I thought it was a quaint speech habit, to talk of them as ‘us.’”

  “We never said ancestors,” Androgeos said.

  “You meant yourselves, Europa and Androgeos. You lived on Crete when Santorini erupted. When the tidal wave and the ash from Thera destroyed Knossos. You were the ones the alien people took away with them.”

  “Yes,” Androgeos said, sounding for all the world like Zev when J.D. finally understood something about the orcas or the divers that was, to him, self-evident. “Yes. Of course. We have said so.”

  A second of the meerkats climbed onto the rock and stood beside the first. It dropped onto all fours and tiptoed toward J.D.. It was just the color of the stone. Its pointy, damp nose twitched and glittered as it sniffed at her. Its small dark eyes held wariness, cunning. She held out her hand to it, very slowly, giving it a chance to smell her fingertips.

  “They sometimes bite,” Androgeos said.

  J.D. left her hand outstretched. After a moment, satisfied, the meerkat ran to its companion. They prowled away down the side of the rock, then scampered to join the rest of the group. When they all stood looking at her, black eyes shiny in dark masks, she could not tell which were the two that had come to investigate her.