James White - Double Contact

They had not reacted adversely while she had been speaking earlier, possibly because they had been too busy stoning and talk-mg among themselves to notice orcare, so she decided to pass on the latest information before they all moved too far from the capture point.

“Danalta,” she said, “the indications are that the GKSDs do not have electric power or radio communication. Another vessel of the same size and shape is entering the bay and a third is on the horizon…”

Murchison broke off as the escort halted. One of them chit-tered loudly at her and began inserting a claw between her body and the strands binding her, possibly checking on their tightness. It was making her very uncomfortable so she shut up.

She didn’t know if her words had been heard, but she hoped that the small patch of beach that was Danalta included a sandy ear.

The captain’s face on the casualty deck’s viewscreen had the darkened pink color characteristic of strong emotion, strong enough to filter down the length of the ship from the control deck.

“Doctor,” it said, “I have an incoming message from the medical station which is being relayed from Danalta who is somewhere else on the island. This, this is ridiculous. It says that Pathologist Murchison has been captured by pirates of some kind. But that world down there shows no evidence of sapient life. Have your medics been using their medical supplies for recreational purposes? Would you talk to them, please, before I say something grossly impolite?”

For an instant Prilicla glanced towards the forms of the unconscious Jasam and the wide-awake Keet, wondering whether or not he should switch off the translator, then decided to leave it on. Secrecy in a first-contact situation was not a good thing.

“Of course, friend Fletcher,” he replied. “Patch them through.”

As Danalta’s report came in, with occasional interjections from Naydrad, Prilicla wondered if he had made the right decision about allowing Keet to overhear it. The Trolanni’s emotional radiation was becoming increasingly disturbed, but that of the captain had changed from irritation to deep concern. When the shape-changer’s report ended, Fletcher spoke before Prilicla could respond.

“Doctor,” it said urgently, “you will agree that this has become a predominantly tactical and military, rather than a medical, problem. That being so, with or without your permission, I must take charge.”

“It is both a medical and military problem, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla. “But the first priority, military or medical, must be to have friend Murchison returned to us safely and soon.”

“My thought exactly,” said the captain. “But the position is delicate. We are now faced with two first-contact situations that are running concurrently. The Trolanni one is going well, but these intelligent spiders… Imagine, a culture based on non-metal technology that possesses fighting ships, gliders, uses crossbows, and has no electric power generation or radio communication. They seem to have fire for lighting and perhaps cooking purposes but make no large-scale industrial use of it. No wonder the sensors found no signs of sapient life down there. An ambulance ship doesn’t carry weapons, naturally, but we’d have no trouble taking them on with our tractor beams and meteorite shield…”

He paused and added, “. if we were allowed.”

Prilicla knew as well as the captain how strict were the rules governing contact with any newly-discovered planet that held intelligent life. If the culture had a space-travel capability and the technology to support it, as well as the mind-set that had prepared them for the possibility of meeting other life-forms among the stars, then the contact procedure was straightforward. But if the indigenous race was primitive, then a careful and covert assessment had to be made regarding the long-term effects of making such a contact and a decision taken on whether or not it should proceed.

There was always the danger that strange beings dropping out of the sky in their thundering ships, even though the entities concerned wanted only to help, would give rise to an inferiority complex in an emerging culture, from which it might never recover. A starship, the wreck of Terragar, had already landed and no doubt been spotted by the reconnaissance gliders, so the Damage might already have been done. But taking hostile action against them, even thought it would be in response to Murchi-son’s abduction, would most definitely be contraregulation-

“The gliders will already have told their mother ships about the medical station,” the captain added, radiating worry. “$ the spiders decide to raid it from the land or sea, it has no defenses

“Regardless of the rules, friend Fletcher,” he said firmly' we must somehow defend our people and patients there without injuring any of the spiders. Agreed? As a tactician, have you a plan for doing that?”

“I’ll need to think about that for a while,” the captain replied. “But what about Pathologist Murchison? We aren’t trained or equipped to send in a rescue party, and getting her out any other way would mean tearing the fabric of that spider ship apart with tractor beams.”

“Friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla, “you have a little til116 to think about defending the medical facility while we are moving Jasam and Keet there or, if necessary, moving the others b^ck on board Rhabwar. Regarding friend Murchison, I want to discuss the pathologist’s situation with friend Danalta, who is still standing by and is close to the ships. It is a resourceful and versatile guardian and intelligence-gatherer.”

“That it is,” said the captain. “I’ll relay my radio traffic to you so that you’ll know what I’m doing. Breaking contact-While he was speaking to the shape-changer, Prilicla could feel Keet’s puzzlement and impatience, but the Trolanni didn’t interrupt with questions even after he had finished talking- He knew that Danalta was concerned for friend Murchison’s safety, out he was worried because the shape-changer rarely worried about anything. He gave the other advice and careful instructions and, hoping for the best, he was flying across to speak to the increasingly impatient Keet when the captain’s voice sounded in the control-deck repeater.

“Courier One,” it was saying. “Regarding my situation report, I have an update for you. An indigenous intelligent species has been discovered on the planet below. They are physiological classification GKSD, possibly warlike, and possessing limited, non-metal technology. Pathologist Murchison has been captured by them but the latest information is that she is unhurt. Two separate first-contact operations are now in progress. The damaged Trolanni vessel and this solar system remain in quarantine. No other vessels are to approach. Leave with this new information at once. Courier Two, you will stand by and listen out for further developments. Off.”

“Prilicla,” Keet said before he could speak, “I have heard and understood every word spoken by you and the druul-like person, but the meaning of the words joined together confuses me. Are Jasam and I in danger, or the Murchison person? Personally I would not find the absence of this Murchison distressing, even though you have assured me that it is a very good healer in spite of looking like a druul. But you told me that this lovely world that Jasam and I have found was empty. Where did these warlike spiders come from? We were wearing the last and best searchsuit. Our people might never be able to build another. What is to happen to us now?”

Even though a large proportion of his feelings were engaged in worrying overfriend Murchison’s safety, Prilicla radiated as much sympathy and reassurance as he could while explaining the situation. He spoke truthfully, but because Jasam and Keet were patients, he laced the truth heavily with optimism.