Taking advantage of the sea breezes, the pilot, Flight Sergeant Ivan Kokovtsov, throttled back almost to stalling speed and adjusted his stabilizers to literally hover over the boat
“Well, you took your sweet time,” Van der Merwe told Kokovtsov over the hum of the engine. Slinging his knapsack, he went down and opened the boat’s sea cocks. Then as Kokovtsov skillfully rested the plane almost on the boat’s deck, Van der Merwe climbed on board.
He watched his boat sink into the Tethys Sea. Her name was the Seebodem, as if Van der Merwe had always known in his heart that the sea bottom would be her resting place. “I'll miss her a little,” he told Kokovtsov. He might have been talking about the boat, and he wasn't sure himself.
When Kokovtsov made no reply, he said, “I’m sorry I had to bring De Ia Rey down. He was the only honorable one of the bunch, you know.”
“I don't follow politics,” Kokovtsov admitted, breaking his habitual silence when flying. “What name do you want to use?
Aksu says that with the Imps and scientists around, you might as well get used to it on board ship.”
“I’ll have to give it some thought,” Van der Merwe confessed, sorting through the possessions he had brought away. “Some thing Finnish, I think.”
Late in the evening, the final shuttle took off for Zuiho.
Transit (Day 1), HIMS Zuiho
REVERTING TO OLD HABITS, VERESHCHAGIN'S PRIVATE COUNSEL of war met at 5 A.M., ship's time, over tea in his cabin. As The Iceman rubbed ointment into his hands, Hans Coldewe asked, “How did your scientific group meetings go?”
Sipping his tea, Vereshchagin involuntarily rolled his eyes. “We added the Suid-Afrikan scientists to the workiing groups yesterday. Although I would prefer to wait before initiating changes--”
“How bad was it?” Kolomeitsev inquired.
“Bad. In addition to the initial contact team, we have four working groups; linguistics, social sciences, biological sciences, and physical sciences. I suggested to Dr. Seki that integrating the Suid-Afrikan scientists had increased the size of the groups to awkward levels, and that we should create an interdisciplinary group to investigate specific issues.”
The Iceman chuckled. “And you will stuff the recalcitrant and stupid into the interdisciplinary group in the hope that they will merely annoy each other instead of keeping everyone else from getting anything done.”
After a moment’s silence, Vereshchagin said, “I sincerely hope, Piotr, that no one else on board knows me as well as you do.”
Coldewe smiled and stirred sugar into his tea. “Of the five groups, who takes the palm?”
“The linguists,” Kolomeitsev guessed.
Vereshchagin shuddered, remembering. “They had a presentation of sorts for me. As they carefully assured me, English has a chaotic sentence structure and is replete with synonyms, hom onyms, and words that convey very little meaning. Accordingly, they recommended against using English as our mechanism for communicating with Neighbor’s inhabitants.”
“Did they suggest a substitute?” Kolomeitsev asked.
“They advanced several, which is to say that they offered no solution at all. Doctor Marais, who was sitting in for the first time, suggested teaching the aliens Afrikaans because it is a 'purer' language; I think he was making a joke. Someone else mentioned Japanese.”
“Japanese often fail to comprehend what is being said in Japanese,” The Iceman reflected. “What was the final verdict?”
“The team piously suggested that we consider developing an artificial language to facilitate communication.”
Coldewe's hand shook, spilling some of his tea. He pulled out a handkerchief and began dabbing at it “Dear God. I've tried reading Finnegan's Wake.”
“Exactly. I told them politely that if some sort of lingua franca develops, well and good, but that we do not have the time--”
“Or talent--” The Iceman commented.
“To create a new language from scratch. I firmly suggested that we use English supplemented by standard English sign language for the deaf as an additional means for conveying meaning.” Vereshchagin shook his head “I confess that I had the devil's own time making them think it was their idea.”
Coldewe grinned. “I assume we have someone on board who knows how to sign.”
“In that we do not know whether the aliens communicate as we do, we have two of the best available on Suid-Afrika. They appear to be nice women. One has never been married and the other was recently divorced. Both of them knew Hanna Brower Sanmartin in her teaching days. I reminded them of this and of the fact that they would be two unattached women on a ship full of bachelor scientists and soldiers without shame, Hans, or hesitation.”
Coldewe laid his head on Vereshchagin 's desk and laughed himself silly.
The Iceman commented, “You realize that on Earth, there is a complete plan for how to contact an alien species in some bureaucrat’s drawer.”
“Where it has moldered for the past fifty years.” Vereshchagin shook his head wryly. “Can you imagine what it must read like?”
Coldewe slapped the top of the desk. “Can we get a copy? It would liven up parties for decades.”
Vereshchagin set his cup down. “I hear footsteps. That must be Dr. Seki.” He looked at Kolomeitsev. “Apparently, it did not initially dawn on Dr. Seki that our curbs on water usage would also apply to scientists. Last night, the good doctor told Simon Beetje and others that my decision to turn off the taps was nonsensical and should be reversed, so I think that I am about to throw a fit”
“Oh, dear,” Coldewe said.
Vereshchagin raised his voice. “Dr. Seki, please, come in.”
Seki opened the door and looked around. Even with Vereshchagin 's hammock neatly rolled and hung, the cabin did not seem large enough to hold five chairs, a small table, and a field desk.
Vereshchagin waved him to an unoccupied seat. “Doctor, this is my operations officer, Major Piotr Kolomeitsev. I do not believe that you have met”
“My pleasure,” Kolomeitsev said politely. Kicking the door shut, be pulled a fourth cup from a receptacle in the wall, which he handed to Coldewe to fill.
“Yes, of course,” Seki replied, clinging to his chair.
“We were just discussing the difficulties inherent in contacting an alien species,” Vereshchagin explained.
“Yes, Dr. lwao mentioned your interest in this problem.” The tea steadied Seki. “Dr. Iwao appeared quite disturbed by the interest you took. Indeed, be mentioned that the linguistics group
reached an important decision to use spoken English and English sign language as the primary means of communication, but he felt that your interference with the discussion nearly prevented them from reaching this conclusion.”
“Excuse me.” Coldewe coughed. pointing to his throat. “Something got stuck.”
“Dr. Iwao would be an excellent choice to head the interdisciplinary team,” Vereshchagin said. “Perhaps there are a few matters I should clarify.” His manner changed perceptibly. “Our resources are severely constrained. As I understand it, the art of science consists of framing problems, proposing solutions, and gathering information to prove or disprove these solutions. Although I will solicit advice, it is fair to state that the problems that I deem essential to completion of our mission will receive priority, and that ultimately, I will decide how we will allocate resources, including scientists' time.”
Seki swallowed hard.
Vereshchagin laid his cup aside. “Regrettably, a few scientists regard data as personal property. Yesterday, I even noticed researchers taking what appeared to be a proprietary interest in lines of inquiry. The computer system on board currently allows researchers to restrict access. I have asked Senior Communications Sergeant Poikolainnen to remove these restrictions, and I would direct you to subtly make each researcher aware of my strong feelings.”
He paused. “To better regulate such matters, I would like you
to chair a three-person committee to promulgate standards and review complaints on data sharing and similar matters. The committee will have the power to impose sanctions. I will hear appeals from the committee's decisions. Please think about this overnight and let me know who you would propose as committee members.”
“The committee will handle minor infractions,” Kolomeitsev explained, amused by Seki's reaction, “and operate as a safety valve for personality clashes.”
“Honored Vice-Commissioner, indeed, we cannot do this!”·
Seki protested.
“Indeed, we can, Doctor.” Vereshchagin stared at him coldly. “Failure to do this could ultimately cost lives, and this I will not allow. To avoid misunderstandings about what I can or cannot do, I will ask each person not already subject to military law to sign a form consenting to the imposition of military discipline.” He passed one across. “The Suid-Afrikan scientists have already signed.”
”Vice-Commissioner, one simply does not court-martial scientists and throw them in jail!”
“An assault transport has no jail,” The Iceman pointed out. “In space, we shoot people who give us adequate cause.”
Dr. Seki clutched at his chest
Vereshchagin smiled very slightly. “We appear to have basic differences in assumptions, which leads me to a different point. Soldiers and scientists are often ignorant of each other's professions. Soldiers will gather much of the data that the scientists will interpret. For this expedition to succeed, the military personnel and scientists aboard must work closely together and understand each other's cultures. To this end, I intend to assign the personnel on board to discussion groups. Hans, would you care to add anything?”
“Yes, my people know a lot about staying alive under hostile conditions, and discussions will allow them to pass along survival skills.” Remembering some of the truly fey spirits from old
No. 2 platoon, Coldewe added, “For example, certain scientists on board ought to know what observations about soldiers are likely to get them half killed.”
Vereshchagin nodded. “Doctor, as a final matter, inasmuch as there is a military dimension to our first contacts with the aliens, I have selected Company Sergeant Wanjau to be the military representative on your initial contact team. Please provide him with copies of committee minutes and any other relevant documents.”
Isaac Wanjau was a special kind of soldier, and Vereshchagin intended to convey a very subtle message to Neighbor by his presence on the team. .
He inquired politely, “Would you care for more tea?”
Seki bowed his head, visibly shaken. “No, thank you, honored Vice-Commissioner. Indeed, if I might be excused.”
Vereshchagin nodded his head. “Certainly, Doctor.”
The Iceman poured himself another cup of tea. “I think he understood.”
Transit (2), HIMS Zuiho
PERHAPS MORE WORRIED ABOUT THE FEY SPIRITS FROM OLD No. 2 than he was willing to admit, Vereshchagin scheduled the first discussion group after supper and asked Simon Beetje, the new head of the biological sciences working group, to be the moderator. Beetje and Dr. Seki agreed to select Dr. Tomomi Motofugi, a linguist on the contact team; Pia Szuba, head of the social sciences team; a graduate assistant, Takanobu Ohkata; and chemical technician Ijo Kumata. Coldewe, in tum, picked Lieutenant Mika Hiltunen, Section Sergeant Dmitri “Bory” Uborevich, Assistant Section Sergeant Kalle Kekkonen, Superior Private Brit Smits, and Corporal Makato Omori from Major Aichi's company.
After introductions, Beetje explained, “I really do not have a set agenda. Today, I would just like for us to talk before I go back to Dr. Seki and Colonel Coldewe with specific recommendations as to how to structure future discussions.”
Hiltunen nodded. “That’s fair.”
Beetje looked around the table. “Would anyone like to hazard an opinion as to why we are here?”
Motofugi, staring at the far wall, allowed himself a smile.
“Anyone?” Beetje repeated.
Hiltunen, the archetype of a dour Finn to all outward appearances, scowled. “Colonel Hans likes to call it citizenship training. I guess we're here to see if you're worth dying for.”
Dr. Motofugi smiled. “But the mission of this expedition is to establish peaceful relations with Neighbor’s inhabitants, the naturales, so obviously there is no question of anyone dying.”
Dr. Seki had selected the name “naturales” for Neighbor’s inhabitants. The soldiers had accepted it with a carelessness that suggested their devotion might prove insincere.
“They shot at the probe. Might shoot at you, too,” Hiltunen pointed out.
“But because we are there to reach out a hand in peaceful friendship, there is no reason for them to do so once we establish our peaceful purpose,” Motofugi said, obviously believing that he had scored a point
Hiltunen looked down his long nose at the linguist. “You been shot at, Doctor?”
“No, however-”
“I have. Often. Don't like it much. Do know that when human beings shoot at you once, they tend to do it again.”
Motofugi appeared annoyed. “But these are not humans!”
“Don't know that that matters. I do know that their shooting at the probe gives me a better reason to say they might shoot at us than it gives you to say that they won't.” Hiltunen bared his teeth in what was intended to be a pleasant manner. “Colonel Hans said to be polite, so I won't argue, but there are different ways to make these people want to establish peaceful relations. If your way works, I play a few hands of tarok and catch up on my reading. If it doesn't, we have ours.”
Simon Beetje intervened to keep the discussion alive. “Dr. Seki suggested that we might talk a little about how each of us perceives authority.”
Pia Szuba laughed nervously. “Subroto writes, 'Within the military tradition there exists the general belief that, heedless of difficulties, all problems can be overcome if the right orders are given.' “
The soldiers present looked at one another. Hiltunen said, “Bory, you've been unusually quiet”
Uborevich leaned back in his chair. “If it’s the Variag or Colonel Hans giving the orders, this Subroto might be right. I can't say I'd trust just anybody.”
Kalle Kekkonen laughed. “There speaks a cautious man. You've been hit, what, twice now?”
“Yeah, once on Ashcroft and once on Suid-Afrika.” Uborevich's lean Kalmyk face appeared troubled. “It’s worse getting shot the second time-then you know they meant it the first time. Sometimes I have dreams.” He shrugged. “It’s my body telling me that I don't want to get killed, right?”
Motofugi stared. “Is this true?”
“Of course, it is!” Uborevich said, with heartfelt indignation. He looked around for support. “Colonel Hans said that you academic types were naïve and credulous folk, and that if I didn't stick to the truth, I'd be eating soggy rice balls.” Uborevich shuddered at the prospect and glared at his colleagues. “And these people would tell him, too!”
Mika Hiltunen nodded solemnly, with a certain light in his blue-gray eyes. “Oh, ja. It would be too much fun not to.”
“Now, the way I look at it,” Uborevich continued, “most people like to fight, unless they think they're going to get their tails kicked doing it--it’s in their genes or something--so why should these people be different?”
Motofugi folded his hands in front of him and said sharply, “To say that human beings act out aggressive behavior patterns that are encoded in their genes is attributable to a paradigm that smacks of biological determinism; indeed, this paradigm appears to have racist overtones.”
Simon Beetje cleared his throat, taken slightly aback.
Hiltunen shrugged. “Kalle, it’s your turn to say something.”
Kekkonen grinned. “I wouldn't know about that biological determinalism stuff--I took engineering courses when I went to school nights. But people have been bashing each other with stone clubs for a long t
ime and haven't stopped yet, so it wouldn't surprise me too much if Neighbor’s people turned out to be unfriendly.”
Pia Szuba gave Dr. Motofugi an irritated look. “I believe what Dr. Motofugi is trying to say is that mankind is capable of rising above the need to kill, and we would hope that the naturales are capable of doing the same.”
“Yes, I hope so, too,” Corporal Omori said.
Ohkata, the graduate assistant, said, “I believe that many of us are not too certain why soldiers had to come at all if our purpose is to establish peaceful relations.”
“I can't say for sure,” Hiltunen said slowly, “but Simon, did Captain Sanmartin ever tell you the story about the kiwi?”
“This all sounds very interesting, but I fail to see--” Motofugi began to say.
Hiltunen's expression stopped him. “Captain Sanmartin was a professor for a while, and I can't remember him ever talking to us like we were idiots.”
“Yes, I heard the story from him,” Simon Beetje said hastily.
“A kiwi's a kind of bird. On New Zealand where they live, there weren't any animals to eat them, so they lost their wings and ran around on the ground.” Hiltunen said. impatient to make his point “The ones that laid the biggest eggs survived best, so after a while, you have two kilogram birds laying eggs weighing half a kilogram.”
Motofugi opened his mouth, but Pia Szuba laid a hand on his arm.
“When people came to New Zealand, some of the dogs they brought went wild and pretty much wiped up the kiwis because they couldn't fly and couldn't lay enough eggs to replace their losses. Captain Sanmartin said that it wasn't healthy for a species to adapt to not having predators around. I think he meant that this applies to people, too.”
“I can envision two equally unfortunate tendencies,” Technician Kumata said unexpectedly. '“The first is the belief that mankind is morally superior to the naturales because we possess the
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