Foreigner - Explorer. Part 17

Then one ran for one's life. If fear was the guiding principle.

Primary mistake to make any third species behave like humans or atevi. But a third point, a third species, could close a geometric figure, make an enclosure, bend lines back to intersect everyone's positions, over and over and over. Three points could close a circle. Two points might be part of that circle-but one had to guess where the third might land.

Primary mistake to expect them to behave the same. Primary mistake to think there was no logic-that their their behavior didn't make sense within their culture. Give them the same set of circ.u.mstances and they'd always do the same thing. Chaos and chaotic response didn't get a species out of the swamp and into a s.p.a.ce program. There was logic in the behavior. That there was any willingness to signal at all was a fair indication that they expected response in kind. behavior didn't make sense within their culture. Give them the same set of circ.u.mstances and they'd always do the same thing. Chaos and chaotic response didn't get a species out of the swamp and into a s.p.a.ce program. There was logic in the behavior. That there was any willingness to signal at all was a fair indication that they expected response in kind.

He drew a breath. "One is grateful, aiji-ma.-Thank you, Gin-aiji."

Nods from both. To that extent, Gin had taken in the adjacent culture. And both understood the value of a tea break.

"Takehold, takehold minor, takehold, three minute warning."

He stood up quickly, turned over his teacup-bowed, and with Banichi and Jago, headed back to his borrowed quarters.

Braking. What the senior captain called a gentle braking. One hoped the teacups were safely put away.

Chapter Seven.

THE BRIDGE WAS CALM WHEN HE ARRIVED, the captains momentarily converged at the edge of the corridor. "It's braked," Jase reported. "It's braked, we've braked."

"Excellent news." It was. Thank G.o.d, he thought.

"Our courses are not head-on. Closest approach in three hours fourteen minutes. We signaled with all lights, then braked. They mirrored all actions."

"Good. Very good."

"Glad you approve," Sabin said dryly.

"It was was the right answer, captain," Bren said, deliberately oblivious. Then: "Is the station armed, captain?" the right answer, captain," Bren said, deliberately oblivious. Then: "Is the station armed, captain?"

Sabin gave him an odd look. "Yes. I would be, wouldn't you?"

"We're human. We're both human. I can say atevi would be, too. We don't know what it expected. What would Reunion have done, back then, if something like this just showed up and came close?"

Small silence. "I frankly don't know."

"They could have fired?"

"I have no way to know."

"They're human. They could have fired."

"Not ours to estimate, Mr. Cameron."

Near white-out of thought. It was was possible. "We have to be careful not to give that impression, captain. My advice-last thing we want to do," Bren said, watching that central monitor, "is send anything substantial outside our hull. If, on the other hand, they do it-don't shoot at it. Evade." He had no desire to divert any energy into a debate with Sabin. He had more faith Jase was on his side-if sides there were. The train of actions from the alien craft so far mirrored theirs, all the way. Now they paused. Waiting, both ships careening along a converging diagonal, facing one another. possible. "We have to be careful not to give that impression, captain. My advice-last thing we want to do," Bren said, watching that central monitor, "is send anything substantial outside our hull. If, on the other hand, they do it-don't shoot at it. Evade." He had no desire to divert any energy into a debate with Sabin. He had more faith Jase was on his side-if sides there were. The train of actions from the alien craft so far mirrored theirs, all the way. Now they paused. Waiting, both ships careening along a converging diagonal, facing one another.

They had to do something something before someone made a frightening move, something one side or the other might misinterpret. before someone made a frightening move, something one side or the other might misinterpret.

"Blink lights one and eight," Bren said. "Any possible confusion of communications with attack, if we try to talk to them in a voice transmission?"

"At low energy," Jase said. "Not likely."

"I take it that it still hasn't transmitted." He heard traffic via the earpiece: blink sent. And very quickly answered. They were that close.

"Negative," Sabin said.

"They've been sitting here for six years. I'd think they'd have learned something about our communications. At least our frequencies."

He didn't know the capabilities of the equipment.

"Nandi," Banichi said. "Our line is thus far infelicitous eight. Multiply by felicitous nine. One has television."

"Television, nadi?" Line by line transmission. Black and white, yes/no. Blank s.p.a.ce off. Object area on. Or reverse.

d.a.m.n. Yes Yes.

"I have a proposition," he said to Sabin. "Banichi suggests a matrix. Line by line. Like television." have a proposition," he said to Sabin. "Banichi suggests a matrix. Line by line. Like television."

Jase had already heard. Now Sabin listened, frowning intensely.

"Tell it to C1," Sabin said, and he went to that console and made his request, not even betting the alien's hearing was compatible. Light was. Bright dark. They had a matrix of eight by eight, and a black line. Then a new image.

He made a block of eight by eight, image of a man.

"Transmit," Jase said.

A delay. A delay that stretched on into seconds. Half a minute.

Flashes came back. Image of a man.

"Do you suppose they get it?" Jase asked.

There was no way they could do a matrix entire. It had to be a.s.sembled to be read.

"Try sound," Bren said. "Can we transmit a series of beeps, Imitating the lights? Eight by eight? Simultaneous with the lights?"

C1 looked at Sabin, who nodded.

They transmitted.

Beep.

"Again," Bren said.

They beeped. It beeped. Series of eight eight.

"Long beep. Short beep."

It mirrored.

"One long. Forty-nine fast and short. Do that three times." He didn't wait for confirmation. "Give me our ship and their ship in pixels. Nothing fancy. Forty-nine wide by forty nine high." Felicitous numbers. Entirely arbitrary. His choice. And he hoped to G.o.d the opposition didn't have the atevi's obsession with numbers.

"C2," Jase said. "Create an image."

"Yes, sir." The next man keyed up. A real image appeared-broke up into largish pixels, became a shape.

"S3," Jase said. "Alien ship image to C2. Stat. C2, form the image."

Bren drew a deep breath. Banichi and Jago were near him, Jago in low and quiet tones informing Banichi and their other listeners the gist of what they were doing. Sabin watched as they created their pixel-image. Couldn't rely on perspective-sense, not on anything fancy. Step by step and no a.s.sumptions.

"Transmit?" Bren asked. Sabin nodded.

It went. It came back. The alien mirrored their transmission.

"There was a bird called a parrot," Bren said quietly. "It mimicked. Didn't understand all it repeated. I don't know if they'll understand us. Transmit: one short, forty-nine long. We see if they figure this. Get me a station image."

"What when we've got it?" Sabin asked. "Attach labels?"

"We're going to animate our image," Bren said. "Old-fashioned television. We give them our version of history. We see what they have to say."

"Do it," Sabin said, and for a worrisome few minutes, with a flurry of instructions and corrections, several stations scrambled to produce their images. Reunion Station appeared, a simple ring. An alien ship approached. A jagged dotted line went out from the alien craft. Station showed damaged. Alien ship went off and parked.

Their ship arrived.

Diverted to confront the alien ship.

Now what what? Bren asked himself. It was his script. They reached present-time. They were real-time with events. He had to script the next move. And he was petrified.

"Nadiin-ji. How shall we address these strangers? Shall I offer to go to their ship?"

"By no means," Banichi said. "By no means, Bren-ji. But we would go with you."

By all means they would. And could they look unwarlike?

"Invite one of them aboard," Jago suggested.

"We have no knowledge even what they breathe," he said, sweating, resisting the impulse, uncourtly like, to mop his brow. "We should tell them what we intend," he said. "We should propose our actions to them."

"Reasonable," Jase said.

"Do you mind," Sabin asked, "to conduct the affairs of this ship in some recognizable language?"

"Pardon," Bren murmured-bowed, his mind racing on the problem. "I need to sketch."

"Sketch."

"If you please."

He'd puzzled Sabin. The ship had no paper, to speak of. Didn't work in pen and pencil. Jago Jago came up with a notepad, from an inside pocket, and he never asked what was on its other pages, just sketched a rapid series of images and tore the paper free. "This," he said to C2. "Can you render this sequence? That's a ship. That's the station." came up with a notepad, from an inside pocket, and he never asked what was on its other pages, just sketched a rapid series of images and tore the paper free. "This," he said to C2. "Can you render this sequence? That's a ship. That's the station."

"Yes, sir," C2 said with a misgiving glance toward Sabin for permission: C2 produced the figures: the two ships. Phoenix Phoenix left the alien ship for the station. left the alien ship for the station.

Arrived. Established a link. And a line of human figures appeared one by one, moving from station to ship.

The last human marched aboard. Phoenix Phoenix sucked up its connection. Dotted lines came out from sucked up its connection. Dotted lines came out from Phoenix Phoenix. The station exploded in a series of traveling parts. Phoenix Phoenix then exited the screen, leaving the alien. then exited the screen, leaving the alien.

"This is dangerous," Jase muttered, in Ragi. "This is very dangerous, is it not, nadi?"

"One can hardly a.s.sume anything, nadi-ji." He remembered the senior captain's requirement and changed to ship-speak. "Dangerous, yes, a.s.suming that they're a.s.sembling our images instead of trying to decode. At least I don't think they can put them together wrong."

Sabin shrugged. "Can't be worse than sitting here mute. Transmit."

It went.

All in high and low beeps.

Off/on, black/white on a field limited by a burst of black pixels. Next screen. Next image. One didn't even know if the eyes weren't compound, but if they communicated in light they had to have some sort of light-reception, which all his reading said added up to eyes of some sort.

Light-sensitive patches didn't get a species to communicating starship to starship in light pulses. He hoped.

They waited.

And waited.

"These delays," he murmured finally, "don't seem robotic. There's some sort of thought process that takes time. Living creatures take time. And they're not transmitting otherwise, are they? I'm a.s.suming they're doing things on their own, no consultation outside."

"Maybe. Maybe they'll blow us to h.e.l.l in the next second," Sabin said. "Is the dowager still pa.s.sing out hot tea?"

"She-" Bren began to say.

Then a series of beeps flooded back.

"Display!" Jase said.

One/forty-nine. One/forty-nine. One/forty-nine.

Then variance. A row with two separated black dots. Like theirs.

Next row. More image.

Third row. Image taking shape.

Techs glanced surrept.i.tiously from their consoles, violating the inviolable rule.