Subspace Encounter Part 8

"What can they be like, do you suppose? Some kind of unspeakable monstrosities? Perhaps even indestructible ent.i.ties of pure force."

"That would be guessing and I'm a little afraid to guess. Okay, Here, flip it-I'm set to flip her back in a musecond." Jones flipped it. Nothing happened except the peculiar "feel" of Second s.p.a.ce, which, to the relief of all, subsided rapidly into normality. Deston lifted his mental grip from the IMMERGE breaker and glanced at his board.

"Hey!" he yelped the thought.

"These instruments have gone haywire for fair! How about yours, Here."

"Here too." Jones' eyes expressed his consternation.

"The kickouts ought to be yanking us out of here."

"They can't. We're in s.p.a.ce-a kind of s.p.a.ce; anyway remember."

"Okay. So let's get the h.e.l.l out of it, then."

"Not for a sec. Didn't they act that way before."

"I don't know." Jones glanced at Bernice.

"We don't know. We weren't here long enough and we were too busy to look. Let's jet."

"Jetting!" Deston snapped the thought and snapped his finger down at the manual switch-and in that instant a far questing synchronizing feeler of thought impinged upon their telepathic linkage and tuned itself precisely to it, and a razor-sharp, crystal-clear communication came in.

"Intelligences from another s.p.a.ce, we greet. But please either stop that frightful emanation or get out of our s.p.a.ce..."

"Excuse it, please, we were already leaving." Deston's finger had kept on moving, and fast, but so incomprehensible is the speed of thought that the message was finished in full before the cruiser's machinery could act. "... but stay in subs.p.a.ce, please, and do not block this communication channel. We wish to confer with you as much as you must wish to confer with us. We follow you."

14 - FIRST ENCOUNTER.

The Galaxian cruiser hung poised in subs.p.a.ce, with just enough power on to keep her from emerging into Second s.p.a.ce. Her crew of eight psiontists stood or sat frozen for perhaps fifteen seconds. Their expressions varied from astonishment to stupefaction. Even Adams the Imperturbable was no longer writing down pothooks and symbols. He sat motionless, with notebook in left hand and ballpoint in right. Deston, the first to recover, drew a tremendously deep breath.

"That scared me a dime's worth. I claimed I expected it, but I see now that I didn't... I said they'd be intelligent, but I'm not a d.a.m.n sure they don't suit me quite as much too well." White-faced Barbara licked her lips and began to breathe again.

"Brother, I hear you testify. I'm scared witless. Intelligent! Listen-I quote- 'Intelligences'-plural, you'll note-'from another s.p.a.ce'-and if you don't think that made cold chills run up and down my back you're out of your mind-'we greet'-that bit helped a little-I've never in my life seen so much meaning packed into six words. I wonder how many of them there were."

"Two," Cecily said. Her hands were still fists, her freckles stood out boldly against the whiteness of her skin.

"Male and female-they'd have to be, of course, to work the Fourth Nume-in perfect sync. As perfect as Perce and I can do it." Bernice relaxed.

"That makes me feel better. If they're s.e.xual they can't be too monstrous or incomprehensible."

"That doesn't necessarily follow," Stella Adams put in.

"Any two nonconjugate incommensurate three-dimensional s.p.a.ces could very well be so variant that our numes would not."

"Ps-s-s-st!" Jones cut in.

"They're here'." The visitors came in sharp and clear, on the same extremely narrow, non-revealing band they had used before.

"We thank you, visiting intelligences, for waiting, and for the privilege of this contact. It is well that your customary mode of thought is diffuse, and not, like ours, on a sharply limited."

"Tighten it up!" Cecily snapped.

"Ah? You can?" The Second s.p.a.cers' thought went clearly on.

"It is vastly more difficult to synchronize eight minds than two. Fortunately, however, the sidebands and leakages were enough to embolden us sufficiently to seek a meeting of minds, to a.s.sure us that our two races have some things in common. This is your first transspatial encounter, as it is ours. You are as apprehensive-to be truthful, as frightened-as we are. We have physical bodies based on the liquid state of the water that is two atoms of hydrogen ma.s.s one and one atom of oxygen ma.s.s sixteen... Thoughts-chemical, physical, and mathematical-flew lightning fast. Then came the coordination and comparison of basic standards. Temperature, of course, was easy. Water, nearly enough for a first approximation, froze at zero degrees and boiled at one hundred. Time and length, from unique spectral lines, were fairly simple. Pressure, by barometry, was very easy. Ma.s.s was a bit more difficult, but that of one cubic centimeter of ordinary water was close enough. From that point on, progress was very rapid. Both races were warm-blooded oxygen breathers. Both were bis.e.xual and were made of flesh. Of, as nearly as they could tell-neither Rodnar nor Starrlah knew too much biological chemistry-the same kind of flesh. The two atmospheres were very much alike in composition, temperature, and pressure. Body temperatures were, within human variation, the same. And, to the utter amazement of each side, the other was not only people-sized, but also near-people-shaped; erect, bifurcate, bilaterally symmetrical, one head on a neck, two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth... Both sides lowered their screens enough to permit pseudo vision. The first reaction, of course, was one of almost stunned amazement. Then came a flashing exchange of thought, both between the groups and intragroup. The three First s.p.a.ce girls looked first at Rodnar, but abandoned him quickly. They had much better men, they thought as one, of their own. Then: "My G.o.d!" Cecily exclaimed.

"Just look at that emerald!" indicating the jewel hanging on a chain around Starrlah's neck. It's as big as an egg and it's genuine! And those gratings."

"Those clothes-if you can call them that," Barbara cut in.

"They're positively shrunk on; they're."

"That hair!" Bernice said.

"Doesn't that three-tone job give you twinges of envy, Bobby."

"A few, at that," Barbara admitted.

"Maybe I'll try something like that some day. And aren't those bracelets and anklets simply fabulous? She's really something. But who ever heard of an earchain? Lobes never pierced or clamped doesn't she want to, I wonder, or didn't it ever occur to them over there." And so on, and Starrlah, after scarcely a glance at the women, scanned the other-s.p.a.ce men.

"Death of Eagles!" she tight-beamed to Rodnar.

"Just look at the size of those two men-and the quality of the bigger one-the craggy-faced one. Why, he could tear Laynch apart with those hands and eat half of him for lunch." Rodnar; however, was not communicating. He was observing with every sense he had; reading every side band available, and filing every datum for future reference. He and Starrlah had just begun their search for the Garshan planets-a quest that inevitably had to be long and frustrating-and this had happened. This incredible contact with Other-s.p.a.ce beings was of tremendous importance, and he was taking advantage of every moment. After a second or two, Stella Adams a.s.sumed the position of hostess.

"It was a very pleasant surprise, friends of another s.p.a.ce, to find people so much like ourselves. Will you please 'port yourselves aboard our ship so we can get acquainted? Strict protocol may perhaps call for the reverse, but you haven't room for all of us and we have plenty of room for you."

"A second, please," Deston said.

"I will, I think, second the invitation to you of the Justiciate; but first there is the matter of arms. The worn grips of your blasters and knives show that they are not merely ornamental. Will you join me in lowering shields sufficiently to reveal intentions."

"Very gladly indeed." Ten shields were lowered a little, revealing a tremendous amount of additional information, and the two Justicians smiled truly human smiles. Rodnar went on, "I thought of suggesting a better contact myself, since there are eight of you and only two of us. You're not trying to make me think, are you, that physical weapons would be of any use against such minds as yours."

"Frankly, I was wondering. I couldn't be sure, from such a superficial contact, whether they would be or not. Anyway, it'd be extremely embarra.s.sing to invite supposed friends aboard and then have to throw them out."

"It would be, at that," and the two Slaarans came aboard. There was a moment of cautious sniffing...

"Okay?" Deston asked.

"Except for some strange-very peculiar-odors, which of course were to be expected, it seems perfectly satisfactory. Have a whiff?" and Rodnar held out his rose-quartz flask-at the sight of which Cecily whistled expressively.

"Hold everything, man of other sp..." Starrlah broke off, flicked a feeler of thought at Deston, and went on, "Deston? Carlyle? Carl? Babe? Squirt? Runt-surely not Runt." Destori laughed.

"Keep on digging, Starrlah, and you'll find I've been called lots of names worse than that. Since this, I hope, is only the beginning of a long acquaintanceship, either Carl or Babe will do very nicely."

"No." Starrlah shook her headeven that gesture belonged also to Second s.p.a.ce! "I don't know why, but your complement Daughtbar... no, Barbara of Newmars-wouldn't like it, so we'll call you Mister Des... Now what have I done? I see-I read a side band of thought, 'The Slaaran mode of thought seems to be one of truth rather than diplomacy'... Your diplomacy, then, is in one-to-one correlation with lying." Adams laughed deeply.

"That, young lady, is putting it right into the well-known nutsh.e.l.l."

"I'm sorry, Starrlah," Barbara rushed over and took both of the strange girl's hands in hers.

"Really I am. I was a little shocked, I admit, but I didn't understand you then. You'll both call him Babe, like the rest of us do. I'm Bobby Deston, the platinum blonde over there is Bun Jones, and the redhead is Curly Train. That big bruiser is Perce Train, the still bigger one is Herc Jones. This is Stella Adams...

"But that's her real name... Oh, I see. We, too, respect old people if they deserve it... Oh! I've made another what do you call it? A break. A social error."

"Think nothing of it, my dear." Stella Adams laughed, and meant it.

"Variations in the proprieties are of course inevitable between two such widely variant cultures as our two. I can only hope that when we come to visit you I won't commit much more serious social errors than those."

"That's true." Starrlah nodded and went on, "I like that idea of nicknames. We don't have anything like that, except just to shorten our own names-Rod for him and Starr for me. But I'm going to. I'm going to think up a good one for him. But Babe, about that noisome squampf Rod's offering you. If you're not lined with chemically pure lead, sniff it easy-it tears at the lungs like the beak and claws of a wild mountain king eagle." Deston sniffed cautiously, then inhaled deeply. The stuff was good! It was entirely different from anything he had ever had in his lungs before, but it was very good. Barbara tried it too, but she didn't like it at all.

"I don't like your poisonous Mexican cigarettes, either," she said, "and that stuff 'squampf' is exactly the right word-is even worse."

"He is lined with lead," Starrlah said, and went on explaining her emeralds-particularly her emerald flask-to the fascinated Cecily.

"Dress is a weakness with me," she admitted.

"And emeralds are expensive, yes. Worked and carved like this, extremely so. But none of this cost me anything, it's been handed down from mother to daughter for over six hundred years..." And very shortly several brands of cigarettes and two flasks of inhalant were circulating freely. This partic.i.p.ation in social amenities did more to cement a friendly relationship between the mankinds of two s.p.a.ces than any amount of purely cerebral exchange could have done. Then they got down to business. First the Justicians went into the matter of the Galaxian interference-the X-storms with their incredible disruptive power, how they had studied them, finally building the mighty counter-generators which they had placed in the areas of s.p.a.ce indicating greatest activity. They told of the Great X-storm and the destruction of fifty-nine of the sixty defensive structures, of the finding of the ma.s.s of rhenium alloy, of their tentative deductions. Earlier storms, it now appeared, had been caused by leakage of the inimical energy generated by Galaxian liners from subs.p.a.ce into their s.p.a.ce. When the Galaxian supervessel was actually in their s.p.a.ce the damage was of course much greater and vastly more widely spread. In turn the Galaxians told of their problems-the occasional vanishing without trace of a subs.p.a.cer; of Adams's deductions concerning the zeta field, created, it would appear, by the near pa.s.sage of vessels from First and Second s.p.a.ce, unlikely as this approach seemed in the vast emptiness. At this point Adams spoke aloud, wonderingly, "But why, really, the accompanying zeta field? In some way the Grahams must be involved, since those same Grahams create X-storms in the world of the Justiciate." Adams halted, startled.

"Why did I say that? I don't know that the Grahams cause the Xstorms! Or do I?" He fell silent, scowling blackly. One thought persisted, hidden, revealed to no one. The Operator! Starrlah entered the discussion.

"May I ask-how long has subs.p.a.ce travel existed among the Galaxians." Deston answered.

"Approximately one hundred and seventy-five years-but really extensive commerce has had a far shorter span. It was accelerated by the growth of colonization throughout the galaxy. I suppose really heavy travel is no more than fifty or sixty years old."

"Ours has a longer history-but it is significant that the scourge of X-storms seems to have intensified with the greater activity in your s.p.a.ce."

"An important datum," Adams commented.

"It makes more logical the elementary a.s.sumption that our subs.p.a.ce losses sprang from our own increase in flights." Referring to their current experimental venture into Second s.p.a.ce, Deston asked, "How did you detect us-become aware of our entry? There obviously was something... Rodnar nodded emphatically.

"There certainly was! We detected the very beginnings of an X-storm. Our instruments went wild. Impossible readings. Your interference, however; was of such short duration-and at the first sign we began scanning, and fortunately were able to detect your thought pattern almost instantly-and your departure followed so promptly that no real damage was done to our cruiser."

"It's quite understandable, I think," Adams said.

"Your sixty generators were designed specifically to block some one component of our drive. Our own energies acc.u.mulated and backfired. The Explorer encountered such intense fields and put out so much energy that she was crippled, the energies involved here were not of a magnitude to do your cruiser any real harm."

"That's probably it," Deston agreed.

"But they've got a drive that doesn't interfere with..."

"Naturally," Adams said, dryly.

"Considering that the number of possibilities is very large, it would be strange indeed, even if the two s.p.a.ces were exactly alike-which is highly improbable-if their system would be the same as ours. Indeed, the fact of the interference would preclude the possibility of their being alike." Minds united then and flashed over the two systems. At the Chaytors, both Justicians were profoundly shocked.

"Eagledeath!" Rodnar snapped. The thought was perfectly clear, but all that the Galaxians got out of it was that it was an oath.

"What power! But of course you wouldn't..." Deston grinned.

"But of course I would. Except for the few items we've been hiding from each other so carefully and so politely-planets, coords, and so on, you know-I'll tell you anything you want to know. In exchange, that is-you've got a lot of stuff we want to know about, too."

"Such as?" Starrlah asked.

"You don't use Grahams or any facsimile thereof, and that's... Jones whistled.

"They don't, at that. InStell'd give a megabuck to get rid of 'em-cut maintenance ninety percent, as well as saving carrying spare units and five hundred miles of Graham wire on every liner... And maybe, as Doc suggested, the Grahams are the cause of the trouble in Second s.p.a.ce."

"Almost certainly we'll find the Grahams at fault!" Adams displayed rare excitement.

"The Grahams interacting with something, some phase of Other s.p.a.ce. As you know, I try to avoid coming to conclusions without adequate data-but in this instance I believe we'll find that the Grahams are behind both the X-storms in Second s.p.a.ce and the zeta fields in subs.p.a.ce. And if this is so, the elimination of Grahams in our drive should solve both problems." Adams hesitated.

"Call it a hunch if you will-but I shall be greatly disappointed if I'm mistaken."

"I'd bet on a hunch of yours any day," Deston exclaimed.

"And given a little time I think you'll come up with math to prove it."

"Before continuing with mechanics," Rodnar said then, "I am emboldened to ask you a question of psionics. Your Chaytors, in some way or other, give you all the power you want. But how can you possibly control- direct and handle enough power to whiff out fifty-nine of our sixty generators in almost no time at all? I am a Subs.p.a.ce Technician First, and Starr and I are Psiontist Firsts, yet we can't understand it." Deston, Jones, and the Trains linked up and showed them, and since the explanation was purely psionic, both Rodnar and Starrlah understood it instantly. Discussion went on. Neither side could understand the subs.p.a.ce drive of the other. Nor did that fact surprise any of them, since all knew that each drive was the product of many decades of work by thousands of specialists. Hence, after only a few seconds of struggle, Deston said, "No use. None of us knows enough detail. All of us together don't. I'll give you the manual." He 'ported the "manual"-a tri-di projector and miles of tape-out of its cabinet and said.

"Better not try to study it here or to get it all at once. Take it home with you. We'll pick up another one back at Base. You carry something similar, I suppose."

"Yes." A metal-bound carrying case, about the size and shape of a steamer-trunk, appeared.

"That will give you everything you need, I think. May I suggest that we set up a communications relay in subs.p.a.ce, so that either side can get in touch with the other in case of difficulty."

"That'd be smart-and easy." It was easy and they set it up. Then Deston said, "One more thing. Those blasters of yours. Plasma-jets. We have plasma-jet projectors, but they weigh a hundred metric tons per each and take myriakilowatts of power We have miniaturization, too, but it hasn't got that far.. I don't suppose you have a manual on the blaster."

"No. Something better." Rodnar grinned and one of the utterly vicious handguns appeared on the low table at Deston's elbow.

"Here you are. Now we'll say goodbye and thanks."

"Not quite yet, please," Adams said.

"An operating manual, however complete, will not be enough. We will need much basic material, such as..." He told them at length what he wanted, and they got it for him. Then the Justicians left, and, back in their little subs.p.a.cer, gave way to emotions that were mixed indeed. During a long technical discussion they steadied down, and after they were back to normal Rodnar said, "They impressed you, too, tremendouslyespecially their Captain Jones."

"Yes. Very much so... in strange and contradictory ways... and yes, Herc Jones especially. If you weren't my complement, and if I were an experimenter, I would have suggested an experiment." Starrlah was remorselessly, uncompromisingly honest with herself and with her mate. She did not like "diplomacy."

"But I couldn't really like him... or respect him. I can't understand how such really able psiontists can possibly be so weak-kneed. So wishy-washy. So... so senselessly squeamish. Can you."

"No, I can't. From side bands, however, I read enough to know that their civilization is vastly different from ours. It's much weaker... softer...gentler."

"But how can they get anything done that way."

"I don't know. We'll have to visit them some day-maybe and find out." A pause, then Rodnar added, "In the meantime, you realize of course that this must interrupt our search for the Garshan planets. If we can get the Other s.p.a.ce power source, their Chaytors, and some other improvements they may perhaps provide, it will make our job much easier...