Hal Clement - Natives of Space

“Did you get anything?” asked Boss eagerly, as the tension relaxed. He watched impatiently as Talker walked to the control desk, opened a drawer, and helped himself to a tablet of accelcrine before answering.

“As much as I expected,” he replied finally. “I was able to isolate the radiations of his optical section, when he first looked at the single light at this end — that was why I arranged it that way.

Concentrating on those emanations, I think I know the patterns corresponding to some of the more simple combinations of straight lines and circles — the impressions he got while examining the corridor and doors. It is still difficult, because he is highly intelligent and continuously radiates an extremely complex and continually changing pattern which must represent not only the integration of his various sensory impressions, but the thought symbols of abstract ideas; I don’t see how I can master those. I think all we can hope to do is to learn his visual pattern, and try to broadcast to him pictures that will explain what we want. That will take long enough, I fear.”

“It better not take too long,” remarked Boss. “We can breathe the air and eat the food of this planet, tough as the latter is. But we will live under this gravity just as long as the accelerine holds out, which won’t be too many weeks.”

“You can synthesize accelerine out of those plants with the straight needlelike leaves,” answered Talker. “Doc told me this morning; that was some of his product that I just ate. Accelerine won’t be enough, however. It speeds up our metabolism, makes us eat like power furnaces, and gives us enough muscular strength to stand up and walk, or even fly; but if we keep taking it too long, it’s an even bet whether we die young of old age, or get so accustomed to it that it becomes useless.

Also, it’s dangerous in another way — you were telling me that two of the fighters have broken legs, from landing too hard or trying to stand up too quickly. Our muscles can stand the gravity, helped by the dope, but our skeletons can’t.”

“Can’t you ever deliver a little good news, without mixing it so thoroughly with bad that I feel worse than ever?” asked Boss. He stalked aft to the engine room, and relieved his feelings by promising a couple of unfortunate workers the dirty job of replacing the main attractor bar in the power converter, the next time the flood of incoming radiation from space riddled it into uselessness.

Talker squatted where he was, and thought. Learning a language was a new form of exercise to one who had never before dreamed of its necessity. He guessed, from the attitude of the native as he departed, that it would be necessary to reveal the presence of the aliens aboard if the man’s interest in the ship was to be maintained. Thinking the matter over, it suddenly occurred to Talker that the man himself must have some means of communicating with his kind; and there had been no antennae visible. If the method were different from that employed by Talker’s people, it might be more suited to present requirements. Yes, revealing their presence was definitely indicated, the more so since, finding himself unable to solve the ship’s mystery alone, the man might go off to obtain others of his kind. It was no part of Boss’ plan to reveal his presence to the main population of the planet in his present nearly defenseless condition.

It would be easy enough to induce the man to return. One of the crew, flying toward the ship, could “accidentally” pass over his camp. Whether, on finding the vessel inhabited, he would be bold enough to venture near any of the aliens, was a matter that could be tested only by experiment; Talker believed he would, since he had shown sufficient courage to enter the ship in ignorance of what lay within.

The herald crept to the controls, and pressed the signal switch indicating that the commander’s presence was desired in the control room. Perhaps a minute later, Boss struggled up the spiral, air hissing from his breathing vents as his lungs tried to cope with the results of his haste. If he had had to rely on vocal speech, he probably couldn’t have spoken at all.

“Careful,” warned Talker; “remember those broken legs among the crew.”

“What is it now?” asked the captain. “Come to think of it, why do I always have to come to you?

I’m in command here.”

Talker did not bother to dispute the statement. The feeling of superiority ingrained in every member of his class was, through motives of prudence, kept very much under cover. He informed the captain of the results of his cogitation, and let him give the necessary orders — orders which had to be relayed through Talker, in any ease.

There were no communicating devices on the ship; the herald had to radiate all of Boss’ commands to the proper individuals. There was no machine known to these beings which was capable of receiving, analyzing and transmitting through wires or by wave the delicate impulses radiated by their minds. They had the signal system already referred to, which was limited to a few standard commands; but in general, messages to be transmitted more than a few yards, or through the interference of metal walls, had to pass through the antennae of a herald. It is conceivable that the heralds themselves had subtly discouraged, for their own ends, research in mechanical communication.

One of the fighters was ordered to the air lock. Talker and Boss met him there, and the former carefully explained the purpose of the flight. The soldier signified his understanding, made sure that his tiny case of accelerine tablets was securely fastened to his leg, and launched himself from the sill. He rose almost vertically, and disappeared over the trees. Talker, after a moment’s thought, rose also, and settled on the bank opposite the air-lock door. Boss started to follow, but the other “advised” him not to.

“Stay in the doorway,” said Talker, “but be sure you are in plain sight. I want him to concentrate his attention on me, but I don’t want to give him the impression that you are trying to hide. He might misinterpret the action.

When he gets here, keep quiet. I’ll have other things to do than listen to you.”

The wait, which Talker had expected to be a few minutes, grew into half an hour, without any sign from the decoy. Boss, true to his nature, fumed and fidgeted, providing his companion with a good deal of — well-concealed — amusement. His temper did not improve when the fighter, appearing with a rush of wings, settled in front of Talker, instead of the commander, to make his report.

“He was still in the woods when I went out, sir,” said the flier. “I found a spot where I could watch an open place on the trail. I was sure he hadn’t come by yet, so I landed on a ridge — the place was near the cliffs — and waited. When he appeared at the edge of the clearing, I flew low; out of sight from the ground, to the other side of the hills; then I came back, quite high, toward here. I’m sure he saw me; I passed directly over him, and he stopped in the middle of the clearing with his whole head tipped up — I suppose he had to, in order to look up with those sunken — in little eyes.”

“You have done well. Did you see the creature turn, as though to come back this way?”

“He turned to watch me as I passed overhead; he was still standing motionless the last I saw of him. I don’t know what he was going to do. So far as I can tell, he doesn’t think at all.”

“All right. You may return to your quarters, and eat if you wish. Tell the rest of the crew they are free to move about in the ship, but the ports must be left closed — no one but Boss and me must be visible from the outside.”

The soldier vanished into the vessel, showing his near exhaustion in the clumsiness of his movements. Boss looked after him.