Poul Anderson: The Boat of a Million Years

“Well, this is ... wonderful,” Hanno said. Glancing at Yukiko: “Maybe you can find words, dear. I’m dumbstruck.”

She caught his hand. “You brought us here. You.”

They had become able to sense when AHoi turned grave. “Friends,” Lightfall told them, “you must make certain decisions among yourselves. Soon after the—(?)—arrive, we will leave.” Through shock and suddenly racketing pulse, they gathered: “You may remain if you desire. They will be rapturous at meeting new members of the fellowship. You can help them, and they help you, to know Xenogaia and its awarenesses, quite likely even more than you and we have helped each other. Everything that we have built in this system shall stay for your use.”

“But, but you go away?” Yukiko stammered. “Why?”

Stalky limbs traced symbols. Membranes quivered; opalescences ran over them. The declaration was calm, inexorable, and maybe, maybe regretful. “We have spent more than four centuries at Tritos. I believe you realize that was partly because of what we had detected from Sol: our hope, which was fulfilled, that we could call travelers from there to us. Meanwhile we explored these planets and above all the diverse Me-ways, histories, achievements, horrors, glories of the sentients on Xenogaia. It was effort richly rewarded, as we foreknew it would be. Another whole concept of the universe opened for us. Something of what we learned has entered our inwardness.

“And yet you humans, in your decade and a half, have gathered more than we imagined was there. It happens your home world, your evolution, more closely resembles theirs. Nature has better prepared you to comprehend them.

“For our part, we found ourselves drawn to you as never to them. You too are the kind of beings who reach for the stars.

“We could stay here till this sun begins to die, and not discover all that there is to discover; for it is so much, and always changing. Life is a rare thing, sapience more seldom yet. Why, then, will we not linger?

“It is that we hope for more than we have gained here; and we know that if we seek long enough, we shall find it.”

Hanno had nothing but merchant words. “I see. You’ve gone past the point of diminishing returns. Your best strategy is to start fresh.”

As it seemed mother civilizations did not, could not.

“Will you go on to Sol?” Yukiko asked unsteadily.

“Someday, perhaps,” Star Wing conveyed.

“Likelier not,” Quicksilver asserted. “I think that what you have revealed to us will suffice—for they have been evolving onward.”

“Let Sol and Pegasi communicate,” Volant scoffed.

“No, you are too impetuous, and too thoughtless of our friends,” Lightfall admonished. “We have years ahead of us in which to consider.” To the mimans: “You too, with your kindred down on the planet, you must take thought. Do you wish to commence at once?”

Hanno and Yukiko traded a look. Mutely, she nodded. After a moment, he did likewise. They bowed, one of many motions that had gradually acquired eloquence, and went from the coralline room.

A passageway took them along the great curve of the ship. Past the part of it that was alive stretched, today, a simulated vista of ruddy hills, lean crags, fronds rippling around a frozen pool, beneath a violet-blue sky where rings arched tike undying rainbows—a world the AJloi had once come upon and found beautiful, for it was much as their mother world was before the machines. They had left colonists.

Beyond lay a room of exercise equipment made for the humans. It could be spun through a hollow ring around the hull to provide higher weight. Thus did they maintain a physical condition that allowed them to visit the planet without being too badly handicapped in relation to those who lived there.

Farther on was their home section, Yukiko’s little garden, a post upholding the model of a caravel that Hanno had once constructed, the compartment that housed them. Air inside it remained thin and dry, but it was warm and to their eyes the lighting was pure white.

The three rooms held their possessions, a few carried from Earth, more that were remembrances of their years here, but there was no clutter. He kept his sailor’s tidiness, she her basic austerity. Opposite the electronic complex a calligraphic scroll hung above a low table where a bowl of water contained a single shapely stone.

They removed their outer garments. “Shall I make tea?” she proposed.

“Do, if you like.” His face drew taut. “I want to call plan-etside now.”

“Well, it is tremendous news, but we shall have to talk about it over and over—”

“In person. We’re going down and stay a while, you and I.”

“That will be very welcome,” she sighed. “Yes, I admit I’ll enjoy some unfaked shirtsleeve outdoors, a sea, a salt wind.”

“And our comrades, not images but real flesh again. How the children must have grown.”

He missed the wistfulness, and not until later did he recall how ardently she entered into the life around her when they touched down. The occasions had been infrequent and brief. You must live with the Alloi, work side by side with them, share hardships and dangers as well as victories and celebrations, if you would reach an understanding of them and of what they had won on their endless voyage. To him the sacrifices were small.

“Never mind how many years we may have to make ready,” he said. “We’d better begin straightaway.”

She smiled. “You mean that you cannot sit still for a cup of tea.”

Ignoring the gentle gibe, he settled before the complex and ordered a beam to Hestia. The ship was at present above the opposite hemisphere, but the Alloi had long since orbited relay satellites. The screen came alight. “Summoning,” said the artificial voice. A minute passed, and another. “Summoning.”

Yukiko brought up an outside view. The planet shone blue-veined white. Lightnings threaded the darkened edge. She smote hands together. “We forgot!” she cried. “It’s night where they are.”

“Damn,” said Hanno without remorse.

Svoboda’s likeness entered the screen, three-dimensional, as if she herself stood behind a shut window. Her hair was tousled. A robe hastily thrown on gaped over milk-heavy breasts. “What’s wrong?” she exclaimed.

“No emergency,” Hanno replied. “News. I’ll tell you, you tell whoever else got roused, and then go back to sleep if you can.”

She bridled. “It couldn’t wait?”

“Listen.” He made his announcement in short, clanging words. “We need to begin studying what information the Alloi can give us about these other beings, as soon as they’ve assembled it. Before then we need to confer. Yukiko and I— Expect our boat, m-m, shortly after sunrise... What’s the matter?”

“What is the hurry?” Svoboda’s response crackled. “Aren’t you aware this is harvest season? We’ll be working ourselves sweatless, people an8 robots both, for the next several days. We already are. I heard the summons only because I’d just fallen asleep after the baby kept me awake for hours. Now you want us to sweep and garnish quarters for you and meet in instant council.”

“Don’t you core? Why in hell’s name did you sign on?”

“We’re sorry,” Yukiko interjected. “We were so excited, everything else dropped from our minds. Pardon us.”

The other woman fleered. “Is he sorry?”

“Hold on,” Hanno said. “I made a mistake. But this that’s happening—”

Svoboda cut him off. “Yes, it’s important. But so is your arrogance. The main thing you’re forgetting is that you, sit-ttag up there in the sky, are not God Almighty.”

“Please,” Yukiko begged.

Hanno spoke coldly. “I am the captain. I’ll have respect ,ftom you.”