Encounter With Tiber

by Buzz Aldrin

  Mejox asked impatiently, “So where’s their spaceship?”

  “Where was ours a hundred years ago?” Soikenn demanded. “As I see it, the only thing we can do is land as far from their settlements as we can—probably on islands in the big ocean—and try not to let them see too much more of us. We can capture huge amounts of scientific information here—both about the huge variety of ecosystems this planet has, and about the development and deployment of the intelligent species here. The information is absolutely priceless. But once we’ve done that, we need to remove whatever traces our base has left. I’d suggest building it close to a coastline and simply blowing it up after we leave with one of the spare sail-deployment fusion charges, so that whatever isn’t blasted or burned can wash into the sea. The little bit of residual radioactivity won’t have any effects you could detect after a couple of decades.

  “Then we take all that data we’ve acquired, and all eight of us head back to Nisu. I know we older ones will die on the way, and the idea of being buried in the cold dark between the stars gives me chills, but we don’t dare leave our bodies or camp behind for those people to find. We’ve got to leave them free to find their own road to civilization, first of all because they have a right to it just as we did, and secondly because we’ll be able to study them while they do it. When we radio our reports back to Nisu, I have no doubt they’ll dispatch a small permanent colony to observe these people as they develop—probably a main base on the moon of this world, and then various surface bases anywhere where they can operate without interfering. And in a few thousand years, probably, we’ll be ready to talk.

  “Meanwhile, though, this ought to get those idiots back home off their self-satisfied rumps and get the five other scouting missions restarted. Intelligence is obviously not as rare as we thought it would be, but living worlds are still very common and we can find a more suitable one. Better yet, several suitable ones, with a big ship going to each one. Do you see it, everyone? If we treat these people fairly, learn from them and study them—well, then. It can be a model for our whole new civilization, for a future when Nisuan ships sail between ten different stars, and when we bring them in as our partners, maybe twenty thousand years from now.”

  There was a long pause before Captain Osepok spoke. “I’m not sure I’m so optimistic about the people back home doing the right thing. This Fereg Yorock isn’t likely to want to do anything that doesn’t pay off in two eightdays, preferably at two hundred percent. But at least it will get them to dispatch one or two more scoutships, and maybe to think a little about the future. And we can follow the course of action that’s right … and just hope that the people back home and in the next generations will follow through.” Her voice seemed to gain confidence as she thought about it. “And I don’t suppose we’re responsible for what people will do in the future.” She smiled at Soikenn. “That’s a great solution to the problem.”

  Soikenn seemed to relax.

  Poiparesis drew a deep breath and let it out. He was sitting with his arms folded across his chest. “Well, I’m not sure that it’s the best course.”

  I felt a deep relief and I noticed Otuz relax as well. At least all the adults weren’t going to be irrational.

  “It seems to me,” Poiparesis said, “that there’s no special reason why these people should have to fall over the same bumps in the road as we did. Sooner or later, just to mention the most obvious example, one of their civilizations will get ahead of the others militarily, and will probably conquer and enslave everyone else—and they’ll have the same kind of horrible relations within their species that we have between Shulathian and Palathian.

  “I mean, we didn’t train the children by letting them touch hot stoves or leaving out sharp knives to play with. We didn’t force them to repeat every experiment in the history of physics or chemistry, especially not the poisonous or explosive ones. Why should we let this younger species make the same mistakes we did, the ones we’re all still paying for? I say we should study them—and then make contact, tell them who we are and why we’re coming, perhaps even make a point of asking their permission to land.” He smiled warmly and looked from face to face; it was clear that somehow he thought he had found a compromise position, or the best of all possible ones. Perhaps if we had all heard his argument first, things might have been different—I thought that often, many years later. But probably not; however kind and gentle Poiparesis’s words often were, the actions of the other adults shouted them down. “But,” Poiparesis added, “we old ones have been doing all the talking. Perhaps we should hear from the younger generation.”

  We had prepared for this carefully; Otuz, Priekahm, and I all turned to Mejox as one, making it clear that we expected him to speak for all of us.

  Mejox drew a slow, deep breath, and said, “All right, then. Let me make this as simple and as clear as I can.

  “No doubt if the people back on Nisu had kept the Migration Project on track, we would be able to reserve this planet as a scientific preserve, send probes to lots of others, and find somewhere that was more comfortable. And I’m sure many Nisuans, scientists particularly, would greatly prefer that. I suppose the animals down there would prefer it if we just went away.

  “But we have to think of Nisu. That’s what this mission is about. And from that standpoint, I think that the discovery of intelligent animals on Setepos is not a drawback but a tremendous advantage. I propose that we land right where the most advanced groups of the animals live, attack and subjugate their civilization, domesticate the survivors, and establish an economic basis for a colony that will exploit these animals to the fullest, for the benefit of all our people. Then I propose that we simply radio back to Nisu, explain what we have done, and tell them to come join us. We undo our sterilizations, settle down to run the plantation, and our great-grandchildren will be there to greet the colony—with a vast economic base set up so that everyone can live in comfort.

  “Now, obviously it’s better for us because we don’t have to spend the rest of our lives in this metal box. Just as obviously it’s better for the settlers to come, because they arrive on a planet that’s ready to accommodate them. But what it’s really—”

  “You aren’t going to try to claim it’s better for those people?” Poiparesis broke in sarcastically.

  “What people?”

  “The ones on Setepos.”

  “There aren’t any, yet. There are some unusually smart animals,” Mejox said firmly. “And that’s the point I’m getting to. What has been the great disaster in Nisuan history? The split between Palathian and Shulathian, the failure to see that we’re united by being Nisuan. So here we have animals smart enough to have a kind of primitive religion and government, and do all kinds of work, but not smart enough to have ascended from living the way our remotest ancestors did.

  “They are not Nisuan, nor can they ever hope to become Nisuan. And though we’ll need their labor, the most important thing they will do for us is they make it clear that we’re all Nisuan. The differences among ourselves are nothing compared to the difference between us and these animals—”

  “If you consider them animals—” Poiparesis began.

  Otuz glared at him. “What else are they? They aren’t people. We couldn’t possibly have a common ancestor. We came here to claim Setepos, and it’s ours, and just because some of the animals are building fires and using pointed sticks—”

  Poiparesis seemed to be struggling for self-control. Finally he managed to squeak out, “So to give equality to Shulathians, you’ll make slaves out of a whole other intelligent species? One thing—”

  “A domestic animal is not a slave,” Priekahm said, firmly.

  A glance passed among the adults. After a long pause, Osepok spoke. “This sounds very much as if all of you have decided something, together, and we are just now being told what it is.” She looked directly at me. “Zahmekoses, do you agree with this?”

  “Yes,” I said flatly. “And yes, we did discuss
it before. A lot of you won’t talk to us anymore, remember? So don’t be surprised if we arrived at some agreement.”

  They all looked angry; Poiparesis in particular seemed furious. “I would think a Shulathian might object to slavery,” he said, staring directly at me. “Not plan for it.”

  I ignored that, as it deserved, and started to explain. “If we use these animals—”

  “People,” Soikenn said.

  “Animals,” I said firmly. “And I’m a little tired of hearing all this ranting about rights, and insisting that we have to treat them like people, when all of you act like we’re criminals for mating with a different race.”

  Kekox stood up and glared at me; for a moment I thought he was going to lunge and attack me, but then he deliberately crossed the room so he could speak only to Mejox, with his back to the rest of us. “I see what you’re after. I should have seen what it was leading to when you were a little snot-nosed brat—which of course you still are. Emperor Mejox! And if not Emperor Mejox of Nisu, then Emperor Mejox of Setepos. Oh, better yet, Emperor Mejox of Setepos, the first emperor in more than a century to own slaves. Oh, yes. You can probably get the poor superstitious bastards to worship you as a god. With a Shulathian whore for an empress, of course, and by the time the colony ship gets here a whole bunch of mixed-race mongrels to be the aristocracy, and millions of slaves, so that decent people—”

  “That’s enough,” Mejox said. It was strange—I had expected him to scream or shout, but his voice was low, even, and angrier than I had ever heard before. It chilled me to the bone, even knowing he was on my side.

  Kekox’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. The Emperor of Three Brats objects to what I’m saying. Well, just listen to this, because I will only point it out to you once. For most of our history, we made do with pointed sticks and fire. You have no evidence that they are less bright or capable than we are. In fact, from what I have seen, they seem to be a lot smarter than you kids. So think about this. You may be products of a much more advanced civilization, but you have no experience with fighting. None. You’ve got three steam rifles and nowhere on the ship where you can practice using them. You’ll have to use them right the first time. They’ve been practicing all their lives with stone-tipped spears. And at their stage of civilization I would bet warfare happens every summer. It’s probably a whole tribe of combat veterans. They know what it’s like to see their friends die beside them. They know how to keep fighting when they’re hurt. They know their weapons so well that they’re like extensions of their bodies. You may have twenty thousand years of technology on them, but they’ve got all the skill and experience that really matters. So before we talk about the fact that your plan is disgusting—and that you’re disgusting, Emperor Mejox, Consort of Her Majesty the Long-Eared Whore—let’s just make sure you know that it won’t work. The Seteposians are the ones with all the advantages. Do you understand that?” As he said it, he stabbed his finger into Mejox’s chest. Mejox, glaring, slapped Kekox’s hand away.

  Poiparesis stepped between them, pushing them apart. “Stop it!”

  “Oh, yes, hide behind daddy,” Kekox said, reaching around Poiparesis to flick Mejox under the nose.

  “Stop it right now,” Poiparesis said. “We can’t fight in here, and you know it. We are only disagreeing about where to land and what to do on Setepos. We don’t have to talk about everything else in the universe.”

  “Sit down, Kekox,” Osepok said. “Please sit down. We will talk it out. Please.”

  Kekox took a step back. Mejox was backing away, too, and Poiparesis had stepped out of the way, when Kekox drew a knife and struck at Mejox, a hard, sharp, underhanded blow. But Mejox had been training in combat sports for twenty years now, more seriously than any of the rest of us, and he had been training mostly against Kekox. His hands slapped closed over Kekox’s wrist in a fast, hard disarm; with a crunch, the old guard’s wrist shattered, and the knife fell to the deck.

  Mejox snatched it up, his eyes burning at Kekox, and struck upward. Poiparesis turned and lunged into the fight, trying to stop Mejox, I think, or to keep him from using the knife. I’m not sure whether he slipped and fell, or misjudged the distance, but the blade sank deep under his ribcage, into his blood mixer; a great gout of dark purplish blood washed over Mejox’s arm, and, as he and Kekox stared in horror, Poiparesis fell dead on the deck.

  Kekox, still clutching his wrist, stared down for a long moment, and then said softly to Mejox, “See what you’ve done.”

  None of the rest of us could move. Mejox turned him over, but from the sheer volume of dark blood we knew what had happened: the blood mixer is up inside the rib cage, usually a safe spot, but if it is pierced, since it’s where the body’s whole blood supply returns to the hearts, the loss of blood pressure alone is fatal in moments. Probably he had been dead before he struck the deck.

  The puddle of dark blood spread across the floor, huge and thick, and Mejox stood in the middle, his arm drenched with blood and the rest of him spattered with it.

  “See what you’ve done,” Kekox repeated.

  Mejox looked up at us, face distorted with grief, as if he hadn’t heard Kekox, and said, “Let’s move him up onto this table.” Looking sick, he drew the knife from Poiparesis’s abdomen and dropped it into a waste slot.

  “That’s evidence,” Osepok said dully.

  “It’s all right, I confess. And you’re all witnesses. Help me move him onto the table, and let’s compose his body and cover it.” Mejox’s voice was very soft and gentle. Though if anyone had really killed Poiparesis it had been Kekox, it was clear then that Mejox would take the blame to keep the peace.

  He was talking to all of us, and I stood up; so did Captain Osepok, and the two of us lifted the still warm, heavy body up onto the table. We laid his arms gently across his chest, stretched out his legs to lie flat, and then—surprising myself—I closed the lids of his eyes and pressed his jaw shut. I was having trouble seeing, and my stomach was rolling over. The down on his face was as soft as I remembered from childhood. I gently brushed his long ears out as well, so that they lay straight on the table. Suddenly unable to bear it any longer, I turned away, and found myself huddled against the captain, who was beginning to sob.

  After a long while, hanging onto each other, we both looked up. Mejox and Priekahm were standing side by side, holding hands, still looking down at Poiparesis’s body; Soikenn still hadn’t moved; Kekox stood with his hand dangling from its broken wrist.

  No one had heard Otuz go out, but in a moment she came back with the medical kit. She murmured something to Kekox. He sat down and let her work on his wrist; after she got it stabilized enough, they went down the hall together to where Otuz had already changed one of the convertible chambers to an infirmary, so that she could splint his wrist and sedate him.

  Mejox and Priekahm left silently, quickly, going somewhere to comfort each other. Captain Osepok and I stood for another long moment, and then she said, “I need time alone.”

  “So do I,” I said, feeling heavy and dull. I needed to cry or to sit and stare at a wall for hours, it didn’t matter much which. “Soikenn, do you—”

  She had not even raised her head; her ears had not twitched at the sound of her name.

  “Soikenn,” I said again. She might as well have been carved out of stone.

  “Let her be,” Osepok said. “She has a lot to think about. Soikenn, do you just want to be here alone?”

  Slowly, she worked her mouth a couple of times and finally said, “Yes.”

  “All right, then,” Osepok said. She pulled a blanket down from a locker and I helped her put it around Soikenn’s shoulders. Then the two of us went down the corridor to our separate chambers without speaking again. The last glimpse I had of the common dining area was of Soikenn, still staring at Poiparesis’s body, the blanket wrapped around her, shuddering as if she were terribly cold.

  I spent a long time, perhaps a fifth of a day, lying on my bunk and staring at the ceilin
g, sometimes drifting into brief sleep.

  Three thoughts chased each other around in my mind. Impossibly, feeling foolish even for thinking it, I wanted Poiparesis back. On another level, I wanted someone to tell me what would happen next, and I wanted it to involve no effort or decisions from me. Most of all I remembered the touch of his two fingers on my forehead when he would tuck me in, long ago.

  Mejox must be devastated, but knowing him, he would pull into himself emotionally; only Priekahm could talk to him right now. The captain had always been solitary; I doubted she would have anything to say. Kekox was knocked out at the moment, but when he woke up, I thought it was fairly likely that he would be busy blaming Mejox and too full of anger to talk to any of us; the captain or Soikenn would have to deal with him.

  Soikenn. With a guilty start I remembered how we’d left her. I got up, washed my face, and hurried down to the common dining area to check on her.

  I realized I would have to see the body again and braced myself for that. It was not quite as awful this time; I suppose I was beginning to accept that Poiparesis was dead. I looked at the body again, its face a clotted mess, and felt my heart sink, then turned my attention to Soikenn.

  She had moved a little, pulling up a seat so that she could sit close to Poiparesis. She had not acknowledged my coming into the room. It seemed worse because she did not sob, cry, or keen over Poiparesis—she just stared, seeming to ponder, as if she were trying to decide whether or not to wake him.

  She shivered again, and I went to move more of the wrap onto her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I’m here if you need me,” I said, rubbing her thin bony shoulders and sinking my thumbs into the hard muscles of her back. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Don’t go away,” she said. “I might need to talk.” It was strange; she might as well have been the child, and I the adult. She felt as cold as a block of ice. She didn’t speak at all.