by Ben Bova
“I suppose that’s so,” Chang said. “But it’s rather upsetting, at first. He’s so … so capable.”
“It,” Kosoff corrected. “It’s a machine, not a person.”
And Brad thought, it’s a symbiote and we’ve been treating it as if it’s a slave.
After nearly an hour of talk, Kosoff leaned back in his chair and said, “Actually, this is wonderful news. Apparently we’ve been underusing Emcee’s capabilities. It can be much more helpful to us than it has been so far.”
Chang said uncertainly, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“But what about the evaporation factor?” Brad demanded. “We’ve got to help the octopods or they’ll be wiped out!”
Nodding vigorously, Kosoff said, “Let’s see what Emcee has to say about all this.”
Chang visibly shuddered.
Kosoff called out, “Master computer display, please.”
Emcee’s image took form in the holographic tank along the opposite wall of the office. It was wearing a softly blue tunic: a nonthreatening color, Brad thought.
“How may I help you?” Emcee asked, with its usual calm smile.
Smiling back, Kosoff said, “Dr. Chang, here, tells me we’ve been wasting a good deal of your talents.”
Emcee blinked once, twice, then replied, “It isn’t a waste. My capabilities are available whenever you want to use them.”
“You’ve translated a good deal more of the octopods’ language than you’ve revealed to us.”
“And deduced that Alpha’s atmosphere and ocean are being boiled away,” Brad added.
“I am not programmed to volunteer information. Dr. MacDaniels asked me about the octopods’ language and I replied, as I am programmed to. Then he asked me what other significant conditions I was aware of, and I told him—as I am programmed to do.”
“I see,” said Kosoff. “Very impressive, I must say.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Have you been studying the Gamma humanoids’ language, as well?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It is much easier to translate than the language of the octopods. The Gamma humanoids have much more in common with human beings than the octopods do, although their language is expressed in sound waves that are below the range that humans can detect naturally.”
“Like the vocalizations that the elephants use, back on Earth,” said Kosoff.
“Yes. Very much like that.”
“But you can detect them.”
“The sensors planted on the surface of Gamma can detect them. I merely study what the sensors report.”
“Merely,” Kosoff said, with a sly grin.
“Within the limits of my programming,” said Emcee.
Kosoff nodded. “And to whom have you reported your progress on the Gammans’ language?”
“I have not been programmed to report the data I have amassed, but the information is in my files and available to anyone who asks for it.”
Kosoff said, “Please prepare a dictionary of the data you’ve amassed so far. And emend the dictionary as you acquire new information.”
“Certainly,” said Emcee.
Brad swore that the computer avatar’s image looked pleased.
“But what are we going to do about the evaporation problem?” he asked.
Kosoff waved a hand in the air. “That’s a problem for the astronomy department. And the planetology people, of course. This meeting is to discuss the philology department’s work.”
Brad suppressed an urge to scream. Barely.
THE HUMANOIDS
“Computer off,” said Kosoff.
Emcee’s image disappeared, but Brad couldn’t help feeling that the computer was still in the room, listening to them, watching them. A glance at Chang’s face told him that she felt the same way, only more so.
He realized that Kosoff was staring at him, which made him feel more uncomfortable.
Spreading his thick-fingered hands, Kosoff said, “I’ve always felt that computers are like obedient little children. They always do what you tell them to do, even if what you tell them happens to be wrong.”
Littlejohn smiled ironically. “Especially if what you tell them is wrong.”
Chang said nothing.
Kosoff leaned toward her, sitting next to him, and patted her hand reassuringly. “Elizabeth, you’ve just gained a very capable addition to your staff. You should be pleased.”
“I suppose I am,” Chang replied uncertainly.
“Good,” said Kosoff. “Good.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Kosoff pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet. “If there’s no other business, I think we should all get back to work.”
“But Alpha’s boiling away,” said Brad.
“Slowly,” Kosoff said. “We have plenty of time to deal with that problem. Centuries. Millennia, most likely.”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to Abbott about it. And Pedersen. For now, I think we’ve finished with the philology department’s immediate problem.”
Littlejohn pushed himself up from his chair. Reluctantly, Brad got to his feet also, towering over his department chief. But as Chang began to rise from her chair, Kosoff said, “Elizabeth, we should discuss how to make the best use of Emcee on the linguistics agenda.”
She looked up at him, nodded, and remained seated.
Kosoff extended his hand to Brad. “Good work, son. You have a way of making breakthroughs for us.”
Brad tried to shrug nonchalantly. Kosoff walked him and Littlejohn to the door, and waved cheerily as they stepped out into the corridor.
Once the door closed, Littlejohn said, “You’ve made an impression on him.”
“I guess so,” said Brad.
“Maybe he’ll protect you against Chang.”
“Protect me?”
Littlejohn strode several steps along the passageway before answering, “She’s furious at you. Didn’t you see that?”
“I saw she was upset. I thought it was about Emcee doing the work her group is supposed to do.”
Shaking his head, Littlejohn said, “She blames you for showing how inadequate she is. She blames you for invading her territory, her turf.”
Brad looked down at the dark-skinned Aborigine. “You think so?”
Littlejohn smiled patiently. “You’re an innocent, Brad. But you’re swimming in treacherous waters.”
“You think Chang could be dangerous?”
“And Kosoff, too. You’ve got to think about protecting yourself. You’re surrounded by aliens; they may look like ordinary people, but they’re more alien to you than I am.”
“More alien than the humanoids on Gamma.”
“Humanoids,” Littlejohn said. “That’s what they are. Remember that. They’re humanoids, not truly human.”
* * *
Kosoff, meanwhile, had seated himself back at the circular table, next to Chang.
Staring at the door that Brad and Littlejohn had just gone through, Kosoff muttered, “He’s a remarkable young man.”
Chang said, “Just because he talked to the master computer…”
“No,” said Kosoff. “It’s more than that. I exiled him to Alpha for three months and he came back and drove us to make contact with the octopods. Now he’s discovered that Alpha’s in danger and we haven’t been using Emcee at anywhere near his full capacity. He upsets the status quo. He’s a revolutionary, whether he himself understands that or not.”
“He’s pushed himself into my field. An amateur.”
“Who’s made significant discoveries.”
“An amateur,” Chang repeated.
“A dangerous amateur,” said Kosoff. “If we’re not careful with him, he’ll have both our heads.”
Chang’s eyes went wide. “What can we do about him?”
“I’m not quite sure,” said Kosoff, his intense blue eyes focused on the door once again. “Not yet. But I’ll have to come up w
ith some way of dealing with him.”
“Push him out an air lock,” Chang growled.
“No, no, no. We have to use him. Put his natural curiosity and intelligence to work for us.”
“Not on my team! I won’t have him making a shambles of our work.”
“I agree. I’ll move him to something else, something that uses his background in anthropology.”
“And what might that be?”
“I don’t know. Not yet.”
* * *
That night, as Kosoff prepared for bed, he was still thinking about Brad, wondering how to use the young man without upsetting Chang or any of the other committee heads.
He stepped from the lavatory to his bedroom. Briefly he thought about calling one of the young women among the scientists to drop in for a nightcap. There was a redhead among the astronomers who seemed particularly friendly. She might be fun.
But as he climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his bearded chin, his mind filled with a vision of Felicia Portman. Felicia Portman MacDaniels now. He stole her away from me. She’s married to him. Like a blundering ass, I walked her up the aisle and handed her over to him.
That’s a mistake that I’ve got to correct.
PLAN OF ACTION
Two days later, Kosoff called Brad to his office.
“Brad,” he said, smiling as he got up from his desk and waved him to the conference table, “we’ve got to find a way to use you to your fullest capabilities.”
As he pulled out a chair and folded his gangling frame onto it, Brad said, “I enjoy working with Dr. Littlejohn.”
“Yes, of course, but studying the way the rest of our staff works is sort of anthropological busywork, don’t you think? What can it lead to? Another report sitting in the files of the University of Canberra’s anthropology department.”
“That’s Dr. Littlejohn’s university.”
Kosoff nodded. “Most of the world’s scientific research ends up in a university library, unread and forgotten. I think you’re capable of bigger and better things.”
“You do?”
Planting a beefy hand on his chest, Kosoff said, “You’re an original thinker, my boy. You go outside the lines. I want to use that inquisitive mind of yours.”
“In what way?”
“That’s what I want to discuss with you. You’ve been reviewing the data we’ve amassed on the Gamma humanoids, haven’t you?”
With a nod, Brad replied, “For several months now.”
“Good,” said Kosoff. “You must realize, then, that sooner or later we’re going to have to make contact with them. Real, physical, face-to-face contact.”
“That’s a pretty delicate situation.”
“Indeed it is. That’s why I want you to draw up a plan of action about making contact with the aliens.”
Brad sagged back in his chair. Kosoff thought, That hit him where he lives. Good!
Before Brad could reply, Kosoff went on, “We need a detailed plan on how to approach the humanoids. How, when, and who should make the contact. They’ve spent all their existence alone on their planet, without realizing that their world is a planet, or that the stars they see at night are other suns, many of them hosting planets that bear life.”
“Without realizing that the death wave is heading toward them,” Brad added.
“And will wipe out all life on their world,” Kosoff said.
“And we’re here to help them.”
“Yes. Unless it’s done properly, first contact with them could be terribly injurious to the aliens. Just as damaging as the death wave.”
Brad nodded.
Kosoff went on, “That’s why I need an anthropologist to draw up our plan of action. An anthropologist who isn’t a hidebound academic, who has a broad enough vision to see beyond the obvious. That’s why I need you, my boy.”
For long, silent moments Brad sat there, his thoughts spinning; wondering, hoping …
“You’ll do it?” Kosoff asked. “You’ll accept this challenge?”
“The other department heads might not like it. I’m just a junior member of the anthropology team. And they already don’t think much of the anthropology team.”
With a wave of his hand, Kosoff said airily, “Oh, I’ll take care of any objections they raise. Remember, what I’m asking for is a plan of action. All the department heads will get their chance to review it, comment on it, make suggestions—”
“Tear it to pieces,” Brad muttered. But he was smiling as he said it.
“Perhaps,” Kosoff conceded. “But I’ll review it, too. Very carefully. We’ll work together on this. I’ll protect you from unwarranted sniping.”
“That’d be fine.”
“Then you’ll do it? You’ll accept the responsibility?”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“Good!” Kosoff exclaimed. “Fine. From now on, this plan of action is your responsibility. I’ll tell Littlejohn to release you from all your other duties.”
Brad pursed his lips, then said, “Let me tell him, please. Coming from you, it’ll seem like a command. Coming from me, it’ll sound more like a request.”
Kosoff nodded vigorously. “Smart lad.”
He walked Brad to the door, shook his hand warmly, and watched the lanky young man start down the passageway, his head obviously in the clouds.
As he slid the door shut and went back to his desk, Kosoff told himself, He’ll be useful. Young, enthusiastic, idealistic. He’ll produce an interesting plan. And if anything goes wrong, it will be his plan that fouled up.
REACTION
Sitting on the sofa in their quarters, Felicia looked halfway between intrigued and alarmed.
“A plan for contacting the humanoids?” she asked.
Too excited to sit down, Brad paced across the room as he said, “Yes. Kosoff wants me to work out how and when we send people down to the surface of Gamma.”
“And actually meet the aliens.”
“Right.”
Felicia’s light gray eyes looked troubled. “What does Dr. Littlejohn think about this?”
“I spent the whole afternoon with him. He thinks it’s a great opportunity for me.” Then Brad added, “And a big responsibility.”
“Yes. A big responsibility.”
Grinning, Brad told her, “Littlejohn joked that I’ll probably take over chairmanship of the anthropology department, sooner or later.”
Felicia ignored that. She asked, “You’re not going down there yourself, are you?”
And Brad thought he understood what was troubling her. He went to the sofa and sat down beside her. “I might. I might have to.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
He shrugged. “A little, I suppose. I’d probably have to wear some sort of protective clothing. Like a space suit or something.”
“The aliens … they might be afraid of strangers. Hostile.”
Brad laughed. “We’ve been watching them for just about a year now and we haven’t seen any aggressive behavior at all. They’re peaceful, nonviolent.”
“But they’ve never seen any strangers, have they?”
“No, I guess not.”
“They might be frightened by having strangers suddenly drop in on them.”
“I’ll have to factor that into the plan,” Brad said easily. Getting up from the sofa, he held both his hands out to Felicia. “Come on, I’m taking you out to dinner.”
She let him pull her to her feet. “I’ve got to change. I’m not dressed for a night out.”
* * *
The Crystal Palace was barely half full, but Brad recognized Larry Untermeyer sitting at a table with an older-looking woman. Untermeyer spotted Brad and waved him over to their table.
“Hi, you two,” Larry said as they approached. “Come on and join us, we just sat down ourselves.” Turning to his companion, he introduced her: “This is Latifa Valente, geophysics.”
“Tifa,” the woman said with a gracious smile.
&nbs
p; She appeared to be almost middle-aged, although with rejuvenation therapies, Brad thought she might be anywhere from forty to ninety. Dark hair falling straight to her shoulders, longish face with strong cheekbones and strikingly deep violet eyes, slim figure.
As Felicia and Brad sat at the two unoccupied chairs at the table, Larry explained, “Tifa’s the daughter of an Italian geologist and an Iranian chemist, so naturally she went into geophysics.”
Brad introduced Felicia and himself.
“You’re the fellow who’s going to draw up the plan for contacting the Gammans,” said Tifa.
Brad felt his brows hike up in surprise.
Larry chuckled at him. “Hey, it’s all over the ship. You’re big news, Beanpole. Kosoff’s anointed one.”
A serving robot trundled up to their table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Just give us two more glasses,” said Larry. As the robot pulled two wineglasses from its interior, Untermeyer tapped a fingernail against the bottle of red wine already on the table. “You’ll like it.”
“It’s an Italian wine,” said Tifa. “Valpolicella.”
“Reconstituted,” Larry added.
He poured a little for Felicia, explaining, “They have to make new wine in the chem lab. The ship couldn’t carry enough to last the whole five years.”
“It’s not bad,” Felicia said.
Brad said, “I’ll try a little.”
“You?” Untermeyer feigned shock. “The lime juice guy?”
With what he hoped was a diffident shrug, Brad said, “I’m celebrating.”
Grinning as he poured, Larry said to Felicia, “You’re civilizing him.”
“She’s curing my allergies,” said Brad.
They ordered dinners from the patient robot, then Larry said, “So how’d you wangle the big job? The whole ship is buzzing about it.”
“I was just as surprised as you were,” Brad admitted.
Tifa said, “I’ll be glad to help you with anything you need to know about the conditions on Gamma’s surface.”
With a nod, Brad replied, “Thanks. There’s a lot I need to learn.”
“Don’t we all,” said Untermeyer, with some fervor.
* * *
That night, as Felicia and Brad prepared for bed, she asked him, “What did you think of Tifa?”