"This is getting spooky," Torwald said. "You think she's able to communicate with them telepathically?"
"Do you have a better explanation?" Michelle asked. "She's shown plenty of indications before now, and she knew they were there long before we saw them."
"People with esper sensitivity aren't all that uncommon," Nancy said,'"but I've never heard of a case where someone could.send and receive actual words and sentences."
"Perhaps it's not actually words Kiril is receiving," Michelle said. "In fact, I think it rather unlikely, since she is communicating with an alien. She may be picking up concepts and then her mind puts them into understandable word form."
"What about their name for themselves, 'Dzuna,' " Torwald said. "She got that."
"She heard that word spoken," Michelle said. "Maybe what she picked up with that word was a concept of racial identification. Homer speculated that the odd pauses in their language might be bridged by telepathic means. It may be that Kiril is our
only hope of ever communicating with these people."
"Kiril," Torwald said, "no more talking with them until we've worked out what to say." She nodded.
"First we have to convince them that we don't want war with them, that it was the treachery of one power-crazed maniac," Michelle said.
"They may not even have such a concept," Nancy said.
"Then," said Torwald, "Kiril's going to have to educate them about just what a contrary species we are. Once we have them convinced, or at least half convinced, that we want peace, we have to get them to search for the Angel."
"You think that's a good idea?" Kiril said doubtfully.
"It's our only chance. The Angel's never going into space again, with a thrusterout. They have to have help, and they sure can't go calling the navy for rescue. And hasn't it occurred to the rest of you that Izquierda's got to get rid of the evidence?"
"You're right," Michelle said. "He can't afford to have two Space Angels in existence. His fake ship is undoubtedly wreckage by now, so he has to eliminate the real one."
"How does he explain the fact that there's no bodies to recover from the fake ship?" Nancy asked.
"There'll be bodies," Kiril said. "Remember those mercs I ran into? There were at least a dozen, probably more. Only six went to take the Angel."
"Even if they're in no shape to recognize," Michelle protested, "it'd never stand up to a test. Even if all you have is a few skin cells, you can tell race, sex, and age with the most basic analysis."
"Remember," Torwald said, "when you said there was at least one med officer on that navy ship who was taking bribes? Who do you think will be in charge of the navy's autopsy? I have to hand it to Izquierda, he's thorough. He covers all the possibilities and he gets rid of evidence and witnesses as soon as they've served their purpose. I'd sure" hate to have him take a personal dislike to me. Look at the position he's put me in, and he hardly even knows I'm alive."
An hour later, the two medics arrived. The guard spoke to them and their faces produced the eye-widening expression. One went away and the other came in, carrying a platter. He said something to them, and the others pointed to Kiril. He repeated the words, and she frowned in concentration. "He says they think we can eat this stuff, but he'll keep an eye on us just in case."
"I suppose that's the best we can hope for at this point," Torwald said. "I guess I'll go first. It's that or die of hunger." He picked up something that looked like a pale root that had been washed and scraped, and bit into it. He chewed awhile, then swallowed with some effort. "About as tasty as a raw potato," he reported, "but I guess it's edible."
Kiril lifted the lid from a small bowl. Inside were a number of fat, writhing grubs. She slammed the lid back down. "I've been hungry before, but I've never been that hungry!" The rest of it was roots or what might have been fruits or vegetables. Some was agreeable. Most was too bitter or acid to eat. The grubs were the only food of animal origin, and nothing had been cooked. It was not a satisfying meal but, if there were no long-term effects, it might keep them alive.
When they had finished eating, Michelle took a small locket from a chain around her neck and passed around tracetabs. The tiny tablets contained the trace elements required to keep a human being healthy when eating food raised on alien worlds. Even when local food supplied the carbohydrates, vitamins, and protein necessary to life and health, it rarely had sufficient trace elements. It might take a while, but a human could die from lack of zinc, phosphorus, or any of dozens of other elements required in infinitesimal amounts by the human body as it evolved on Earth. The medic showed interest, and Michelle gave him several tabs, which he carefully placed in a small canister.
The other medic returned. This time he was accompanied by another alien, who wore the coverall and harness of their captors. They could make out nothing that was an indicator of rank, but something in his bearing and the attitude of the other Dzuna suggested that he was a senior officer.
"Careful, now," Torwald cautioned. "I think we're about to be interrogated by the boss." The head alien squatted and stared at them. His lipless mouth turned sharply down at both corners. They had no way of knowing what his expression signified, but it looked forbidding. Kiril sat in front of him, with her friends close beside her.
The alien began to speak. What Kiril heard was:
"I am (incomprehensible) Kantli . . . Dzuna . . . protector
force ..."
"He's saying his name is Kantli, near as I can say it. He said something else, I think it was his rank or position, but it's a concept so alien I couldn't make anything of it. And he's part of a protection force, or maybe this is all protection force, I can't be sure."
"Why you . . . bring war?" She realized that she was able to understand it was a question by a distinct feeling rather than by word order or intonation. There was a quick conference on what her answer should be.
"We do not start war," she said slowly. "Rogue human make attack. Rogue human want war. Blame us. We victims, like you." When she used the word "rogue," she concentrated as hard as she could on the idea of aberration, of villainy, that this human was a criminal and not representative of the rest. Kantii's cheekbones worked sideways, and she knew that this was a gesture of puzzlement.
"We see. . . . little ship attack . . . same little ship . . . peace talk."
"Not same ship! Rogue bring little ship. Like ours, not same! Rogue attack our ship. Our ship crash. Must find ship. We can prove ship not same. You make ..." She sought the right word to use. ". . . image of ship attack?"
"We have (incomprehensible)."
"1 don't know what it is, but it must be some kind of picture or holo or something," Kiril said after she had translated. She turned back to Kantli. "Find ship. Image prove not same. Must find quickly! Rogue destroy! Rogue not want Dzuna or human to know."
"Why rogue . . . want war?" She translated.
"This isn't going to be easy," Torwald said. "It seemed utterly crazy to us; imagine how they'll take it." They conferred and came up with the simplest possible explanation.
"Vengeance, greed, insanity." Apparently Kantli was familiar with all three concepts.
"How rogue . . . vengeance on Dzuna . . . never . . . human before ..."
"Not Dzuna!" Unconsciously Kiril made a hand gesture she had never performed before. "Rogue want vengeance on our
leader. Want for long, long time. Want to make her outcast by blaming war on her. Humans not want war with Dzuna."
"Why rogue . . . want . . . vengeance . . .?"
"This is going to be difficult," Michelle warned, "but if you can get it across right, it could help us look good."
"Long ago," Kiril said, "rogue kill many, many humans. Our leader denounce. Could not prove."
"Why rogue . . . kill humans?"
"Greed. Insanity." Couldn't get much simpler than that, she thought.
Kantli stood and looked down at Kiril. "Send . . . teacher. You . . . learn (incomprehensible). We . . . look . . . ship." He
turned and left. The medic took up the platter and followed him. Kiril translated his last speech.
"He wants me to learn, well, he used a word that isn't exactly 'language.' It means that and a lot more."
"Not surprising," Torwald said. "I'm wondering, though, why they refer to our negotiations as a 'peace talk,' as if we were settling a war, or avoiding one."
"Maybe because we showed up with a warship," Nancy said.
"Or maybe," Torwald said, "these people are so warlike that the first thing they settle when they meet somebody is that there is or isn't going to be a war. Let's hope not."
"I may not have translated it quite right," Kiril said, "but that was the meaning I got."
"Did that last statement mean he's instituting a search for the AngelT' Nancy asked.
"I'm pretty sure," Kiril said.
"For whatever that's worth," Torwald said. "He may just be the CO of this little outpost. If I was an officer like that, and I had a whole planet to search for a single ship, I'd have my work cut out for me. By the way, every time we talk about one of these guys, we say 'he.' Actually, we've no way of knowing what gender they are, or even if they have such. We've run across plenty of life forms that don't have our setup."
"How about that, Kiril?" Michelle said. "Did you pick up on anything like that?"
Kiril shook her head. "I said 'she' when I mentioned the skipper, but I don't know what he heard."
"Until we know better," Torwald said, "I guess 'he' will
have to remain our pronoun of choice, it' makes them seem like nonintelligent creatures, and I hate to think of burly, tough-looking characters who have guns on me as 'she.' Irrational, I admit."
Kiril was feeling burned out. She was stumbling from one appalling responsibility to another. Everything, not only their immediate future but maybe even the future of humanity, might hinge upon her ability to communicate with the Dzuna.
10
The instructor arrived the next morning. There had been comings and goings during the night. Dzuna on foot had arrived, presumably patrols reporting in. Small craft that hovered on some kind of suspensor field had moved about at night, showing no lights. All of it showed evidence of wartime conditions and discipline.
"I hope this means contact is being kept with the main settlement," Torwald said. "We're sunk unless we can get in touch with their highest authorities."
"How do we know there are any higher authorities?" Michelle had asked. "We don't know how devastating Izquierda's attack was. These may be all that's left."
Torwald had mused on that awhile. "Izquierda would have left them some way of getting off-world. This is an outpost. No sense simply blasting them and stranding them here with no way to tell the homeworld who they're supposed to be at war with."
"What's to keep us from taking advantage of that?" Kiril had asked.
"How so?" Torwaid queried.
"I mean, not us, but humans in general. Nagamitsu said that they'd left no way for the aliens to find out where Earth or any of the human colonies were, right? What's to keep the TFCS and the Supernova from skinning out of this system? Why not treat this whole business as a fiasco and just leave? There's lots of galaxy left. Humans could just avoid this sector, and we might not run into the Dzuna for another hundred years."
"That's what I'd do if I was Nagamitsu," said Torwald, "but I'll bet Izquierda thought of that, too. Remember the fuss he made when we landed the first day, how he asked Nagamitsu if he was sure that Angel's records were secure? He was going on record that time. He's found some way to get the coordinates to the Dzuna and blame it on the skipper."
"He engineered the Angel's landing in the first place," Nancy said. "We could have come down on the shuttle like everybody else. But he wanted everybody, human and alien, to get a good look at the Angel, close up. That way when his ringer came in, everybody would know just what to think."
Now they were taking in the morning sunlight streaming through the doorway. They had just choked down a breakfast of cold vegetation. The medics had not brought back any of the items they had rejected the day before, and had brought some others. They had yet to try anything really palatable, but so far they were suffering no unpleasant effects. Kiril had tried to engage their guards in conversation, but they had all reacted with a negative gesture, holding the hand with fingers down, flicking towards her with the back of the fingertips. This, she figured, was the equivalent of shaking their heads. Apparently they were now under orders not to try to communicate with the humans.
The instructor arrived alone, passing through with only a word or two to the guard on duty. He looked like the others, except for differing paraphernalia attached to his harness. He wore none of the presumed weapons that the soldiers had strapped to their forearms. He looked around at them and began speaking.
"I guess the boss couldn't describe which of us is the sensitive," Torwald said. "That makes us even, I can't tell them apart either." He pointed to Kiril, using the back of his hand.
"I am Teacher Aktla," he said. Kiril was amazed at how clearly this came across. "1 will teach you . . . our (language). Must learn . . . quick. There is little time."
She translated for the others. "He's a lot easier to understand than the others."
"Maybe you're improving," Torwald said, "but communicating is probably this guy's specialty."
"Open mouth," Aktla said. Puzzled, she obeyed. He examined the inside of her mouth. The medics had done this as well. "Your . . . structure is different. Never use . . . sound part of (language) properly. Maybe adequately. Start with . . . vocabulary."
He squatted before her and she sat cross-legged facing him. He undipped a wide, flat instrument from his belt. It was roughly oval and looked like it was made from some organic substance, like most of the artifacts these people had. Along one side was a series of depressions. He placed it on the ground, then grasped the wrist of Kiril's unwounded arm. He placed her palm flat on the instrument and his long fingers danced over the depressions. "Start with nouns," he said.
Shockingly, a vivid image of an alien ship appeared within Kiril's mind, along with an alien word that meant "ship." She jerked her hand back as if it had been burned.
"What is it?" Michelle said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm okay," Kiril said, "just startled. These people have something that makes books and screens and holos look like scratchings in the dirt."
She placed her hand back on the plate. Aktla's cheekbones were working up and down alternately. This she knew to be an expression of amusement. "Not frightened," she said, "just surprised." His fingers moved across the depressions again, and a series of images and sounds came to Kiril. She repeated the sounds as best she could. Many of the sounds were almost impossible for her to enunciate. Nothing was ever repeated, and there was no need to. She found that once a word and object had been flashed into her mind, she could not forget it.
After an hour she took a break and her friends all gave the teaching machine a try. None of them could get more than a vague, fuzzy picture, not even clear enough to get a real idea of what was intended.
The learning session continued rigorously all day. After a basic vocabulary of several hundred nouns came verbs. Most of these were illustrated by Dzuna performing various actions or of objects going through assorted functions. In a few cases she could not understand what the action was, or else the object illustrated was so alien that she could not understand the concept. She told Aktla when this happened, and he tried again with an alternate illustration. Sometimes the question was cleared up, but there were a few that seemed to be impossible to translate.
The sun was almost down when the teacher brought the lesson to a close. "Your (progress?) is good. Tomorrow we try more difficult parts of (speech?) and . . . concepts. By the day after, you must be proficient." He left. Kiril leaned back against the wall of the hut, exhausted. Her brain ached with the new information, and alien words buzzed in her mind. It was too much in too brief a time.
"H
ow's it coming?" Torwald asked.
"I think I'm doing all right," Kiril said, "but the rest of it won't be as easy as today's lesson. Nouns and verbs were easy, both languages have them. But he says there are other things, I guess you'd translate the word he used as 'abstracts,' and I think they're almost purely mental, not spoken. There's other things, too. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to use their language perfectly, or even well. Maybe I'll be able to get by enough to get us out of this jam, though."
"That's all we ask," Torwald said fervently. "Now, you've been taking in a lot of information. What've you learned about the Dzuna from that instrument?"
"A lot. For instance, you were right when you figured they have a warlike history. I never thought there could be so many words for 'fight.' There's a basic word," she made a gobbling sound, "that just means 'fight.' The image they used was two Dzuna fighting barehanded. Then there was one with two of them fighting with hand weapons, I guess some kind of duel. There were gang fights, then real battles. By the way, those things tied to their arm are weapons, all right. They just make you disappear."
"Disappear?" Michelle said.
"Yes. They point 'em at something and bend their hand down out of the way. No sound and no light, but whatever they point it at just fades away."
"A disintegrator!" Torwald said. "Nobody's ever been able to make one small enough for a man to carry. We've never even developed them as practical weapons. Too much power drain for too little result."
"Let's keep on the good side ofthe.se people," Kiril advised. "They're awfully good with those things."
"What about their technology?" Nancy asked. "Did you see any metal, or does it look like they do everything with synthetics?"
Kiril leaned back and closed her eyes. She was as tired as she had ever been. "Not synthetics; organics. They grow everything. They grow their guns and that teaching tool. Their words for 'grow' and 'manufacture' are the same. It all comes out as some kind of agriculture. You want to hear something that's really hard to take? They grow their ships, too." There was a flabbergasted silence.
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