The Ship Who Saved the Worlds

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Narrow Leg is head of current space program. Answer questions."

  "At last," Keff said, happily. "How do you do, sir?"

  "Pleased to meet you," said Narrow Leg. "Wanting to converse on spaceships." He described with a few graceful signs the contours of craft much like Carialle's. Keff stared. Even for a race that had unusually large and long hands, Tad Pole's were extraordinary. When his hand was closed the tips of the fingers seemed to reach partway down the wrist. The gold filigree amulet circuitry looked like an ancient Chinese aristocrat's fingernail stalls. "May I hope for some increment of your time?"

  "At some point, I would love to compare our programs with yours," Keff said. "I expect that we'll be discussing the possibility of Cridi joining the Central Worlds for a while longer."

  "Ah!" Narrow Leg squeaked. "A unity of many peoples. Will there be a vote?" he asked the councillors.

  "No. Nothing will be settled today," Smooth Hand signed.

  "Why not?" Narrow Leg asked.

  His daughter made an impatient gesture. "They say reading of archives takes time, then the conclave must discuss everything to death. We and Keff shall be hauled back here again and again. Negotiations held up because there are factions who don't believe Tall Eyebrow and Keff are who they say they are. non-ex-planetary."

  "Nonsense!" Narrow Leg gestured definitely. "Of course they are! To what purpose, to what end to create an elaborate charade of this nature? Do you think such a creature as this," he indicated Keff, "arose from primordial ooze without us noticing? He is from beyond atmosphere, and, if you will believe your beacons—and you should—from beyond our system. Human," he turned to the brawn. "Will you take me to your spaceship? I would like to see it."

  "I should be honored, gentle-male," Keff replied.

  "Bring him," Carialle said. "He's one of the few so far who is making sense."

  "And my partner will welcome you, also," Keff added. Narrow Leg looked gratified.

  "Not settled yet the questioning about sharing Sky Clear," Big Voice interrupted with an alarming shriek meant to regain the floor. "Do you not realize the offense given by involuntary sharing of Sky Clear?"

  "Offense?" Keff asked. "Hadn't you better ask Tall Eyebrow about the cooperative colony? Right now humans and Cridi are coexisting rather well. And without much consultation you could abort an experiment that has the possibility of breaking new ground in interspecies cooperation."

  Big Voice wasn't interested. "We explored that sector. It is the first of our colonies we have heard from for fifty years. We want it to revert to Cridi, with no interference."

  "Fifty years again," Carialle said urgently. "Ask why it's been so long since there's been contact outside the system."

  "Yes," said Keff. "Why isn't space program running?"

  All the elders except Narrow Leg turned to glare at Big Eyes.

  "I have told nothing," she signed indignantly. "He is not stupid. He sees negative indications."

  Smooth Hand shook his head, and turned to Keff. "Too many problems, too little funding."

  "Too many natural resources are used up," Snap Fingers added. "We have few heavy metals. Send to colonies in centuries past, get no return." He chattered a complex series of descending notes which Keff didn't need IT's help to translate as a losing program. There were outcries of protest, and the brawn kept turning his head to see everyone who wanted his attention.

  "Don't think of it in terms of immediate return," Tad Pole complained, pursing his wide lips distastefully. He turned to the crowd. "See here, my friends, you have no respect for the world as it was fifty years ago, when we had a working program. You're ignorant of your own history. So many strides forward were made as a result over hundreds of years of space study! You forget your past!"

  "You do not look to the real future! Program failed. Bad use of funds, of the best minds!" signed Snap Fingers. "I and other members of Cridi Inward see no reason to continue burying good food under the swamp. It's a waste of time. Equipment doesn't work properly."

  Big Voice took immediate umbrage. "The equipment is properly made and maintained!"

  "Well, we keep seeing anomalies on scopes, like other spacecraft," Snap Fingers said, seeing that he had offended the blustering councillor.

  "Well, now we know that those could be true," Smooth Hand signed, with a polite nod to Keff.

  "That is true. Yet it does not change facts." With less bombastic gestures, Snap Fingers continued. "Our economy could not support any more failures."

  "Yes!" Smooth Hand said. "We would like to recoup losses from space program."

  "And that is why laying sole claim to Sky Clear is important to Big Voice," Narrow Leg's daughter said, making a distasteful moue. Big Voice emitted his shriek of protest once again, this time with a five-times multiplier attached. Keff winced.

  "There is nothing wrong with honest profit!" Big Voice said.

  "If profit does not come at the expense of lives," Snap Fingers retorted.

  "Gentles, gentles," Keff said, and held up his hands, "please. Facts? I know nothing of your recent history."

  Through the confused mixture of Cridi music and gesture, Keff managed to discover that the last successful launch of a spacecraft had been fifty years past. Several tries had been made thereafter, but no vehicle had managed to clear the system since then.

  "Have received no messages, no artifacts from other colonies," Narrow Leg added, spreading his hands at shoulder level. "Abandoned? Destroyed? Technological setbacks like Sky Clear? We do not know."

  "Three launches, three expensive disasters," indicated Snap Fingers. "I blame the equipment."

  "As do I," Narrow Leg said.

  "No," Big Voice said emphatically. "Not in the last one! It must be because of radiation or ion storms or some unknown natural menace!"

  Narrow Leg turned to Keff. "Our space program is crippled. There is something wrong with the drives, or the shielding, that it cannot carry a craft swiftly enough out of the way of space storms, or protect them well. Once out of range of the Core of Cridi, have to rely upon actual machinery, and it has been shoddy."

  "How dare you?" Big Voice demanded, embarrassed.

  Narrow Leg pointedly turned his back on the other. "The technicians who built can ignore small faults, like badly fitting seals or insufficiently tightened components. Astronauts don't know about them, can't guard using their own devices because range of power is limited to atmosphere of Cridi. Fault—boom! Again and again, just out of atmosphere."

  "Storms have become more virulent," Snap Fingers said. "Can we trade with the humans for better technology? We have much to offer."

  "There is nothing wrong with the technology!" Big Voice said furiously.

  "No," Narrow Leg said, coolly, watching the yellow-brown Cridi swell until he looked as if he might pop. "Only with the construction management."

  Keff, ever the diplomat, wanted to follow upon Snap Fingers's suggestion. This was much more of what he hoped would happen in council. "Yes, of course we'd be happy to offer machinery or advice, or whatever you need. I know we'd love to exchange goods and ideas with you. We are fascinated with your power control system. We've never seen anything like it. Our, er, brothers and sisters on Ozran have learned to use it, and I know our government has shown an interest in what we've told them."

  "And you?" Big Eyes asked.

  "Well, at present I can't use it," Keff said, trying to explain his lack of the necessary telekinetic spark.

  "Modification?" One frog signed quickly to another. The topic spread around the room, even superseding the discussions in which the three Ozranians were involved.

  The room filled with the cheeping of formulae and wild signing of hands.

  "There is virtue in the notion of trade, Core technology for superior Central Worlds spacecraft," Smooth Hand said, stroking his jaw with his long fingers.

  Big Voice protested once more, but his argument was losing ferocity as he was ignored by everyone around him. "No, not super
ior! I tell you, it is the ion storms!"

  "Sounds unlikely to me," Carialle told Keff, after running her telemetry. "I didn't notice any undue amounts of radiation, or that much floating debris on the outskirts of this system. I'll contact Central Worlds about ion storms in this area. Warn the council I'm about to launch a message probe. Ask them to let it out of atmosphere. I don't want it returned to sender."

  Keff conveyed Carialle's information. At once, there was a fresh flurry of argument, which Smooth Hand quickly put down.

  "Of course you may communicate with your government," he said genially. "Convey our compliments, and thank them for their assistance."

  Tad Pole perked up. "I should still like to witness the launch of your message rocket," he said. "In fact, may I not have a tour of your ship?"

  "Tell him he's very welcome," Carialle said. "I'll tidy up. I might even bake a cake."

  "I'll tell him," Keff said. "Cari, do you know what it means that the Cridi have lacked a space program for the last fifty years?"

  "Yes," Carialle said with such gusto that Keff winced. "Nothing out of system in all that time. It means the Cridi weren't my salvage squad. I can't tell you how glad that makes me. That only leaves me wondering all the more who they were."

  "Don't worry about that now, Cari. We're doing so well with the Cridi. Let's tackle one problem at a time. When this is all shipshape and Bristol fashion, to everyone's satisfaction, I still say we should go out looking for your boojums."

  "You bet we will," Carialle said. "But I'm so relieved about the Cridi, I love them all, even that squeaking blowhard, Big Voice."

  "I'll tell him so, although I don't think he'll appreciate your description very much."

  "Well, think of some diplomatic way to tell him. I'm recording the message to CW now. See you in a few nanos."

  Chapter Five

  Before he left for the ship with Narrow Leg, Keff collected Tall Eyebrow and the others. Smooth Hand, seeing that all were now on fire to discuss exchanges with the Central Worlds, adjourned the meeting. Tall Eyebrow seemed as if he welcomed the rescue. All four outworlders were grateful to leave, but had to promise to appear in the great hall again in the morning to continue the discussion on citizenship. Narrow Leg led Keff and the Ozranians out of the damp hall and into what was left of the day. It had been raining hard. The air still smelled like a gym locker, but Keff took a deep breath, glad to expand his lungs.

  Sunshine glittered on the ornamental paving surrounding the Main Bog building, picking up light from bright specks of mica or quartz. The sculpted, multicolored granitelike rock felt rough and uneven under his boot soles, but the visual effect was one of undulating ocean waves, most soothing to the eye. Design was important to the Cridi. Keff appreciated their painstaking attention to detail. Plants sprouted out of pillar tops and along the guardrails of ramps. Tall buildings containing hundreds of apartment flats poked up through the thick trees, looking as though they had evolved organically themselves. Since all Cridi had access to Core power and therefore could fly, entrances to the flats were as likely to be up as down: on protruding ledges of smooth stone, in sculpted baskets like giant nests, carved like a child's slide through a miniature waterfall. Mosaics seemed to have been formed by stratification in the rock walls instead of being imposed upon them by artistic hands. Huge golden insects with multiple wings like living jewels hovered over V-shaped blossoms in the many planters, sipping nectar. Keff half-expected one of the Cridi to dart out a long tongue and devour one.

  Long Hand looked around her, nodding approvingly. Small Spot just sat down on the sidewalk with his long legs collapsing under him, turning his amulet, a long, thin fingertrap, between his hands. Tall Eyebrow seemed drawn and tired. His skin looked dull amid all the bright stonework.

  "How has it been going?" Keff asked him in Standard, once they were out of earshot of the other delegates. Clusters of Cridi hung around the pillared entrance, signing to one another, but more than one cast a curious eye toward the strangers.

  "I feel lost," the Frog Prince replied in the human tongue, with a glance at Narrow Leg. The elder Cridi up-nodded politely, after understanding that they were having a private conversation, and turned his head the other way. Keff blessed the old one's tact.

  "Why?" Keff asked Tall Eyebrow.

  "Technology so far beyond ours," he replied, his small face screwed up, searching for the correct words. "I am at disadvantage to show what my people have done."

  "Technology isn't everything," Keff said, soothingly. "You have experience and intelligence. You have overcome incredible obstacles to survive. You've rejuvenated a planet."

  "And what is that here?" Tall Eyebrow turned his palms upward. "Nothing."

  He paused at the edge of the pavement and looked up and down the main thoroughfare passing the Main Bog of Greedeek, the Cridi capital city. It had been raining again, and the lanes ran with multiple streams of muddy water. Around him, delegates were taking leave of one another, gliding out or upward toward their homes. Keff could tell that the Frog Prince wished he wasn't groundbound. The taste of power over the last two years on Ozran had spoiled the globe-frog. On the other hand, the mudflow was daunting even to a human. Keff looked down and took a deep breath before raising a foot over the ooze. Tall Eyebrow, too, paused, reaching for his amulet. When he realized it wouldn't work, he glanced up at Keff with a shamefaced expression. Neither of them wanted to test the depth of the viscous goo.

  "Here goes anyhow," he said. "I'd better go first."

  "Power surge coming up in your direction," Carialle said. At the same time, Keff felt his feet arrested before they sank into the greeny-black mud. His right foot hovered, supported a few centimeters above the surface. He drew his left foot forward. The invisible floor beneath him held.

  A shrill whistle of laughter came from behind them. Big Eyes was lifting them and herself, using her power circuitry.

  "Technology is something," Tall Eyebrow said, gloomily.

  "Go on, go on," the female gestured. "Wish to come to ship."

  Her father, who had halted when he found that the others had dropped behind, turned to see what was going on.

  "How rude of you, daughter," he said. His enormously long fingers folded together.

  "I apologize," Narrow Leg signed quickly. "I forgot. I have not met outworlders before. I forgot you," and he indicated Keff, mainly to save Tall Eyebrow embarrassment, "would not have our advantages."

  "Quite all right," Keff said, politely. "Your daughter has resc—offered her kind hospitality."

  "You mean she has made herself the center of attention," Narrow Leg signed, with a humorous sigh. "Do you think it is easy, after seven children, to find one who stands out so?"

  "I think she would stand out," Tall Eyebrow signed, without looking at either of them, "if there were a million children."

  The female let out a tinkling laugh, and put her long fingertips on Tall Eyebrow's arm.

  "Gallant one," she said, when he raised his head. They looked deeply at one another for a long moment. Grinning fit to pop his jaw, Keff held his breath. Big Eyes tented her fingertips and thumbtips together and dipped her chin toward them. "You're very kind. I am glad you came home to Cridi. Come, let us see the spaceship."

  Tall Eyebrow, buoyed on borrowed power and love, strode proudly in the direction of the landing field with Big Eyes beside him.

  "This is most impressive," Tad Pole said over and over again, as he stumped about the main cabin of Carialle's ship. "Most impressive."

  Possessed of great height for a Cridi, he was able to see over the edges of the consoles from the floor. When he had paced from the food processor to the view tank about a dozen times, he raised himself on a surge of power and floated. Carialle noted the slight surges of power that rose around the old frog's form as he levitated. The homeworld Cridi had such a subtle command of their power system: as different from the Core of Ozran as a scalpel to a sledgehammer. The Cridi generators were, Carialle estimated
, as much as five times more powerful. Yet with all the use the locals made of the system, the local environment seemed to show no signs of deterioration or other ill effects. She would have to question Narrow Leg on the technology when he was finished with his tour. She manifested her frog image next to him over the navigation station to describe what he was looking at.

  "Thank you for the compliments, gentle-male. This indicates the benchmarking codes for this sector," she said, activating the screen to show Cridi's star in relation to the nearest blue lines. "Sector A is considered galactic center, and the others radiate outward from it."

  Tad Pole had accepted the holograph without question, even addressing it directly as if it was a new acquaintance. He pointed at the numerals in the corner of the image.

  "So this is where Cridi lies in your reckoning? What does this designation mean?" he asked.

  Keff, with the help of IT, tried to render the musical notes for the X, Y, and Z axes. Then he whistled it, and shook his head at himself.

  "Oh, fuss and bother," he said. "I can't make an accurate tone when it's important. Well, that's what IT is for." He rummaged around in an instrument locker and came out with the small external speaker that he wore when translation of an alien language was beyond his vocal capabilities. He hooked it into the IT module he wore on his chest next to Carialle's camera eye. "In Sector P, X=248.9, Y=1630.23, Z=876."

  "This means nine-tenths?" Narrow Leg asked, pointing to one of the characters, and voiced a very high minor that indicated the negative logarithm.

  That led to a quick lesson in Standard decimal notation, and the explanation of Arabic versus Roman numerals, which more closely approximated the Cridi system of written notation. Tad Pole, a quick learner, nodded his head several times appreciatively.

  "It is quick and less cumbersome for a screen of formulae," he said. "Very neat. It may serve as your first import to our world. Although I do not want my spacers to become lazy, having an easy way to express formulae."

  "None find it easy to serve Narrow Leg," Big Eyes said, from the weight bench, where she sat curled up with her hands around her thin knees, drawing her red cloak closely against her body. Tall Eyebrow hunched beside her, eyes wide like a wary animal. "He works everyone too hard. Himself, too."