“Pretty good,” Denton said. “But shouldn’t you say something to pick up their morale? I believe that is one of the functions of the head of a planet.”
“Oh, very well, if you really think I ought to.” Aftenby grasped the branch again. “It is usual in times of danger for your leader to speak words of comfort and wisdom. But the fact is, I’m scared as hell and you should be too. Aliens are bad news. But we’ll cope somehow, never fear.”
He released the branch and turned to Denton. “That ought to buck them up, eh?”
“It certainly had its effect on me,” Denton said. “Come on, let’s get down to the operations room.”
“What on earth for?” Aftenby asked.
“Because that’s where we plan how to deal with the aliens. You as lord of the planet and me as your prime minister.”
“It’s a comfort to have you,” Aftenby said. “You always know what to do.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to bear the responsibility,” Denton said. “That, my lord, is your lot.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” Aftenby said. “Let’s get to operations.”
VII.
The ivy tickled Tony the Contactman into wakefulness. Probably not on its own, of course. Not enough internal musculature. Aided no doubt by the breeze. And the breeze directed by the universal interaction of the Eleroi intelligence with Gaia, the gestalt composed of all the subsystems of the planet and its ethereal surround. Or so Tony the Contactman surmised.
It could have been no more than a happy accident—fortuitousness—or did he mean serendipity?
The vine tickled his foot again. “Damn your impudence,” Tony said in the tone of a man speaking to his beloved cat. He stretched, put on a light robe, and made himself a cup of tea. The vine was tapping impatiently against the wall. “Wait a minute,” Tony called out. “I’m no good till I’ve had my coffee.” But the vine couldn’t understand. It had no ears and not much intelligence, either, despite the latest boost from the Universal Intelligence Upgrade Program, whose existence could be inferred but not verified.
Tony the Contactman was about to lose himself for an hour or so in speculations about cosmic upgrading. He was fat and physically lazy and less inclined toward kinetic activity than his fellows and very fond of thinking about generalizations. Of course, he was only fourteen; he might outgrow it. You could never tell what the Universal Program had in mind for you next.
Tap tap tap.
“All right, I’m coming!”
Without haste, Tony walked into the living room and crossed it to the open window through which the ivy had thrust green fingers. Tony took one of the green fingers in his own and was immediately patched through to the headquarters of the lord of the planet. It was Aftenby this year, he remembered, and Denton was his prime minister.
Aftenby, himself, was, on the vine line. “Tony! How are you?”
“I’m very well,” Tony replied. “What’s up?”
“Brace yourself,” Aftenby said.
“I’ve already inferred what you’re calling me about,” Tony said. “It was simple enough, especially with the additional clue of your admonition, or should I call it an exhortation. It’s aliens, isn’t it? Are they on the ground yet?”
“Not yet,” Aftenby said. “They will be soon.”
“What bloody luck!”
“Well, it has been it thousand years since the last one.”
“I suppose so,” Tony said. “Well, what have you done?”
“Initiated Defense Procedure A. We’ve set up signal flares so that when the aliens are close enough for visual contact, they can see where to land.”
“Where we want them to land, you mean,” Tony said.
“Well, of course. But they usually tend to follow our landing suggestion. We bring them down in the north bay flats, close to the city of Dungruel.”
“”Dungruel? I don’t seem to remember any place of that name.”
“That’s because nobody lives there. Don’t you read the ‘Procedures for Dealing with Aliens’? Dungruel is the model city left us by the ancients. It’s where we show the aliens the tawdriness of our civilization.”
“How will you explain the lack of people? Can’t have much tawdriness without people.”
“Stop being silly. Of course we’re sending a population over right away, and they’ll be in place by the time the aliens get here.”
“Cutting it a little fine, weren’t you?”
“Our watcher had a little trouble with an avalanche and a blood feud, and there was some delay getting word of the sighting back to us. Don’t worry, there’s time. You know what you have to do?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “But must I? I mean, isn’t there someone else around who’d really get a kick out of doing it and would probably do it a lot better than I would?”
“No. Anyhow, it’s your job. The lottery selected you as contactman for this year. Don’t try to weasel out of it.”
“Of course I’m going to do it. I was just complaining, that’s all. I’m leaving right away. Is that fast enough for you?”
“Just a minute. Do you know what to do?”
“Of course I don’t know what to do,” Tony said. “Do you think I lie around all day studying up on what to do in case aliens show up? When they haven’t been around in a thousand years? But of course I’ll access the information before I leave. When I said I was leaving right away, that was a metaphor for leaving as soon as would be consistent with the necessary preparation for doing the job right. Or perhaps you missed the inference.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I miss any of your inferences, kid,” Aftenby said. “I asked if you knew what to do, knowing beforehand that you didn’t but were planning to learn, but I wished to underline the importance of taking more than a cursory glance at the material. Or did my tone of voice fail to make that clear?”
“Aftenby,” Tony said, “you have succeeded in making me lose my temper. Thank you. I needed that jolt to my constitutionally phlegmatic system to energize me to where I can deal adequately with what is happening.”
“Good luck, kid,” Aftenby said. “Go out there and contact those aliens. Remember, we’re all counting on you. But don’t let that get you nervous.”
“I won’t,” Tony said. “After all, the worst they can do is wipe out our entire race. But considering the ancient and well-accepted doctrine of the eternal recurrence of all things, that’s not such a big deal, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Aftenby said. “You are to be commended for the broadness and dispassion of your overview. But despite that, please try to keep our race going a little longer, okay? Now go out there and deal with those folks.”
VIII.
It was only about an hour after landing. Brodsky and Anna were having a light curry dinner, when suddenly there was a knock at the spaceship’s port.
“Who do you suppose that is?” Brodsky asked.
Anna looked up from her Alien Primary Contacts manual, which she was reading propped up on the table in front of her. “One would infer,” she said, “that it is an intelligent alien.”
“How do you figure intelligent?”
“It takes brains to know enough to knock. Not even the cleverest dog on Earth can do that. They bark, you see. Not even our nearest cousins, the big primates, can be trained to knock before entering.”
Brodsky wondered how she knew that. Had a giant ape, trained but not reliable, walked in on her once? There were a lot of things he didn’t know about Anna.
“Might as well see who it is,” Brodsky said, then he undogged the port and pulled it open.
A small, fat boy in his early teens walked in.
“Hi,” he said. “You must be the aliens.”
“Yes, we are,” Brodsky said. “And you must be one of the Khasarians.”
�
��We don’t call ourselves that any more,” the boy said. “We call ourselves the Eleroi. Welcome to our humble planet.”
“How come you speak English?” Anna asked.
“I’m a telepath,” the boy said. “My name is Tony. I’m the contactman.”
Brodsky stood up, looked at Tony, and shook his head. “Aren’t you a little young to be a contactman?”
“Not at all. We Eleroi assign responsibility on the basis of intelligence and motility, not age.”
“That makes sense,” Brodsky said. “I’m Brodsky and this is Anna.”
Anna shook the contactman’s hand. She said, “Having a language in common makes it much easier. We want to know all about your civilization. And we want to tell you about ours.”
“Yes, that’s the usual form, isn’t it?” Tony asked.
“And we want to go sightseeing,” Brodsky said. “Visit your major cities. Look into the music scene, that sort of thing.”
“Yes, that’s what visiting aliens usually want,” Tony said. “Come, let me take you to Dungruel.”
“Delighted,” Anna said. “Will we meet your leader, president, secretary-general, or whatever you call him, there?”
“Actually, he’s rather busy,” Tony said. “I’m supposed to fill in for him.”
“We shall have to see him before we leave,” Anna said, Her tone left no doubt that this would be accomplished in one way or another, peacefully if possible, but any which way if necessary.
IX.
The Eleroians know all about alien invasions. They have had a lot of them. So many that when aliens land from other planets, the Eleroians just shrug their shoulders and say, “Oh, it’s aliens again, trying to involve us in their fugacious embranglements.”
It’s all right if the aliens were just coming for a visit. Curiosity is understandable, though deplorable. Usually they go away if not encouraged. All you have to do is talk to them and pose for photographs and wave when they fly away.
But all bets are off if the aliens find fascinating ruins. Most aliens are crazy about old ruins.
The Eleroi take care to hide their antiquities underneath reservoirs and landfills. Even so, some especially pertinacious races have discovered them.
As often as they have been invaded, even more often have the Eleroi been sent gifts by soft-hearted peoples. The Eleroi have no prejudice against taking things. It makes the giver feel good and does no one any harm. But the gifts pile up in carefully camouflaged warehouses because the Eleroi don’t need this stuff.
Some explorers come to Khasara in order to study Eleroi culture. These aliens tend to be earnest, honest, erudite, and very dangerous, because they often stay on for years and years asking boring questions and bringing in many assistants. The Eleroi try to discourage cultural curiosity by displaying only art objects that a Matagalpan Indian with a bone through his nose wouldn’t spit on, and passing off these monstrosities as their highest cultural treasures. In fact, the Eleroi have learned to produce the sort of painting no intelligent being in his right mind would dream of hanging in his house. It’s the only defense against alien collectors, and a lot of the time even that doesn’t work.
The Eleroi are naturally weak, shiftless, lazy, and too clever by half. Their fatal flaw is the inability to resist leaving clues of their cleverness—tipping off their game—because to be appreciated is the highest reward. Luckily, most invaders are not intelligent enough, or are too opinionated and set in their views to pick up the nuances.
The Eleroi system usually works. Aliens land and stay for a while and then go away again, leaving the Eleroi to their immemorial pursuits. But sometimes fate or chance steps in, something you can do nothing about.
It had to be fate that brought people like Brodsky and Anna to a place like this.
X.
“How far is it to Dungruel?” Brodsky asked.
“About five lii,” Tony said. “Our lii equals l.002 of your standard kilometers. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk.”
“Don’t you have any transportation?” Anna asked.
“We just haven’t gotten around to inventing any yet,” Tony said. “We were late discovering the wheel, you know.”
“Luckily we brought our own vehicle,” Anna said. “Brodsky, why don’t you show him the altersoar?”
Brodsky went to the storage hold and brought out a large box about the size of a standard Terran coffin. He pushed it outside—it had wheels—told everyone to stand back, removed the safety interlock, and pushed a button marked ARTICULATE. The box exfoliated, revealing itself to be a collection of memory-tagged aluminum struts and a small central driving unit. These quickly assembled themselves into a vehicle.
“Pretty neat,” Tony said. He followed Brodsky and Anna into the vehicle. It was a tight squeeze, but they all made it. Brodsky set the controls to lift, leveling off a hundred meters or so above the ground.
“Dungruel is right over there,” Tony said. “you can steer by the pillar of smoke.”
“What causes that smoke?” Anna asked.
“That’s the new Smoke Factory.”
“What does the factory produce?” Anna asked.
“Nothing. Just smoke.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Anna said.
“It’s perfectly reasonable,” Tony told her. “You can always decide later what a factory should make. The first step is to find out if you can stand the smoke.”
XI.
Dungruel was a large, shabby place of low ramshackle buildings and dirty streets. Tony pointed out the main sights—the Beggars’ Guildhall, the Ministry of Handouts, the Pigout Restaurant. The few people in the streets were mean-featured, loutish, dressed in filthy rags, and sporting an impressive collection of running sores.
“Very interesting,” Anna said at the conclusion of the tour. “Now we must return to our ship. Will you come visit us again first thing in the morning?”
“Certainly,” Tony said. “There are several other sights well worth seeing. Our Clamarang Mountains, for example, which soar almost four hundred feet into the air. And the River Mote, mean depth of ten feet, nearly three hundred meters wide at its widest point.”
“We are not interested in your mountains or rivers,” Anna said.
“And who could blame you for your disinterest?” said Tony, smiling miserably. “After all, it should be obvious that we are not a prosperous people, nor are we inventive or even intelligent. But we’ll try to show you a good time before you depart for more promising places.”
“I don’t know why you run yourselves down so,” Anna said. “There’s nothing wrong with you Eleroians that vitamin supplements and a good education won’t take care of.”
“Vitamins might not be a bad idea,” Tony said. “I suppose you could drop some off before you leave.”
“We are not going anywhere yet, Tony,” Anna said firmly. “Tomorrow we look forward to meeting with your leader and explaining to him the advantages, both physical and spiritual, of joining our Alliance.”
“I have no doubt that Aftenby, the lord of Khasara, will be interested in your views.”
“As well he should be,” Anna said.
“But frankly, I’d better warn you in advance, we Eleroi really aren’t joiners.”
“That will have to change now,” Anna told him. “All over the universe humankind is engaged in a desperate war. Our very survival is at stake, and so is yours. You are going to have to choose sides. You are going to have to join our Alliance.”
“I’ll tell Aftenby,” Tony said. “But he’s not going to like it.”
XII.
“But what did she mean, her alliance?” Aftenby asked. “I mean, it wasn’t literal, was it?”
“I think she was referring to an alliance of which she is a representative,” Tony said.
“It’s obvious that she means
a group of planets,” Denton said. “It’s the sort of things barbarians do: form alliances among themselves in order to overturn other alliances. Obviously they want us to join. That’s how they get members, you see, by forcing people to join them.”
Aftenby shuddered at the thought of joining an alliance. It was precisely the sort of thing the Eleroi had avoided throughout their long existence.
These aliens weren’t convinced of the worthlessness of the Eleroi people and the planet they lived on. It was time for the most extreme measures.
XIII.
“No, I don’t want any more curry,” Brodsky said over breakfast. “And I don’t want any more of your high-handed ways, either.”
Anna stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“We were sent here to explore and report back. Not to coerce people into joining the Alliance.”
“You have your orders and I have mine,” Anna said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Wake up to reality, Brodsky. There really is a war on, you know. Do you think anybody can sit on the fence? What happens to these people if the Khalia or their allies find them before we have time to station a garrison?”
“It’s their own decision,” Brodsky said, “whether to join or not.”
“They can leave the Alliance any time they want,” Anna said. “Those are the rules. But they have to join first before they can quit.”
“There are no standing orders to that effect.”
“It’s a field decision, left to the discretion of the officer on the spot.”
“I’m an officer, too,” Brodsky pointed out.
“Yes, but I’ve held my commission longer than you have. That makes me senior and gives me the right to make a ruling.”
Just then there was a heavy pounding at the spaceship port. Brodsky got up to answer it. As he undogged the hatch, he said to Anna, “I don’t know why we’re quarreling. Our views aren’t so far apart. I think the Eleroi ought to be in the Alliance, too. But you’re going about it in the wrong way.”
The Fleet Book Three: Break Through Page 18