Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

When he was finished, the imager pulled back, and we saw that four senior Council members were in the room with him. It was a display meant to signal unity. He thanked us for our attention, reassured us that the Confederacy would continue to do whatever was humanly possible, and delivered his signature "good night," looking away as he did so, as though other decisions required his immediate attention. That quickly, it was over.

In the morning, we heard the reactions from Assemblage representatives and other prominent Ashiyyureans:

"An opportunity has been missed. And it will not come again." "What else can be expected from a race of yappers?" "The truth is that the Confederacy does not wish to help Salud Afar. That world has, after all, remained outside the human politique. And now they will pay the price. And their politicians, of course, will try to blame it on us." "The real reason for the Director's reluctance is that he intends to move against the Assemblage and hopes this may give him the opportunity."

The attacks gathered force. We were noisemakers, barbarians, savages, troglodytes, and something that Kassel translated-with an amused glitter in his eye-as Yahoos. We were not to be trusted. We were fanatics. We were hopelessly low on the evolutionary scale. One young female, interviewed at a flight school, commented that eventually it would become necessary to exterminate us. She went on, according to Kassel, to suggest that the coming catastrophe at Salud Afar would be exactly what humans deserved. That Salud Afar had nothing to do with the Confederate decision seemed to have gotten past her. Late in the afternoon of the third day after Whiteside's announcement, a group of Kassel's neighbors showed up outside. These were the same ones who'd celebrated with us earlier in the week. They gathered at the front door and waited patiently for Selotta to answer. (Mutes, of course, don't need to knock to signal their arrival.) We were in the living room. Alex and Kassel were playing chess. Kassel, who could see the reason behind every move Alex made, had tried to level the playing field by wearing a blindfold. But it didn't matter. Alex was still getting hammered. Circe had rejoined us. She, Selotta, and I had been talking about what we thought would come next, when Selotta detected our visitors. I got up with her, and when I saw them at the door, my first thought was that they'd come to run us out of town. Or worse. Selotta stopped to glance back at me. Her diamond eyes were simultaneously amused and sad. "It's all right, ladies," she said. "They're still friends." There were six or seven of them. They came in, and they all stood looking at one another and at Selotta, exchanging something. Then, as if they were a single organism, they turned in our direction. One came forward, with a voice box prominently displayed on his collar. "Circe, and Chase, and Alex," he said, "we know what you are going through, we have listened to the slurs that are going around, and we want you to know that we are aware you're not cruel idiots." He stopped. Looked behind him at the others. Touched his lips with a forefinger. "Perhaps I didn't phrase that as I should have." One by one they reached out and touched us. By human standards there wasn't much to it, simply pressing fingers against a forearm, or a shoulder. But it was not an Ashiyyurean gesture. "We want you to know," he continued, "that, if need be, we will stand with you."

There probably weren't more than two dozen human beings in that entire world. Alex said he'd seen two, a young couple, during his first day at the Museum. They'd been delighted to introduce themselves and spend a few minutes with him. Three others showed up at different times on the omicron. They all tried to defend the Confederacy's action, arguing that surely anyone could understand their caution. They expressed their dismay that hostilities continued between the two species, but they were all certain that a peaceful future lay just over the horizon. They themselves of course found individual Ashiyyureans to be unfailingly polite and, as one said, "good people." We just have to give it time.

Give it time.

While a tsunami of gamma rays raced toward Salud Afar at light speed.

Giambrey also showed up on the omicron, doing an interview. The one dicey moment came when he was asked to comment on the decision by Whiteside to send only a handful of naval ships to Salud Afar. "I understand why he did it," said Giambrey, seeing no advantage in criticizing the Confederate leader. "I'm sure it doesn't reflect a lack of trust in the Ashiyyurean leadership, but is simply an act of caution. I would have preferred he send more assistance, but I think we have to admit at least that it's a start in the right direction."

I couldn't help wondering how the fractals were playing for the Mutes. It's a lot harder to deal in nonsense when you're sitting on a nudist beach. Alex grinned at me. "Dead on, Chase," he said. I hadn't realized I'd said it aloud, and thought for a moment that Alex too had been poking around in my mind. "The nudist beach?" I said. "No. Not nudist. They got you off that raft. When the, what was it, the vacabubu , was there. Right?" "Vooparoo," I said. "My point is, they came to your rescue." "Of course they did. What would you expect, Alex?" Alex looked at Kassel. "When you guys are on the omicron, your thoughts are picked up and broadcast, right?" "That's correct," said Kassel. "How about Giambrey? Did the system pick up his thoughts as well? Or did he have to be translated in some way?" "The interviewer reads Giambrey. It's the interviewer's reading that gets broadcast rather than Giambrey directly." "Why?" Kassel hesitated. "Because," he said, and trailed off. "Because the system simply doesn't work with human brains." "We're too dumb?" suggested Alex. "I wouldn't put it that way." Selotta broke in: "Human brains operate at a different energy level. I don't know the details, have never been good at fractals, but that's the reality." "Tell me," said Alex, "do you read humans as easily as you do each other?" "No." She shifted her position on the chair. Tried to get comfortable. "No. Humans are more difficult." "How about human nonverbals? Are you able to interpret them?" Her eyes grew luminous. "You mean like how the pitch in your voice changed when you asked whether we think you're not too bright?" "That's what I thought." He turned back to Kassel. "Why has no one been here to interview us ?" Kassel took that one: "They have Giambrey. When they found out a delegation was here, they'd naturally want to talk primarily to the ambassador." Giambrey was still talking. Selotta had lowered the volume, but I caught part of it. "I'm sure," he said, "we can find common ground to get over this difficulty. We simply need to dialogue more often." " Dialogue 's the wrong verb," I growled. "We need to talk ."

Alex looked far away for a moment. "Kassel," he said finally, "could an interview be arranged for us?" "Sure. You're thinking about Chase on the beach?" "Yes" "Ah," he said. "It might work." "Me on the beach? What are we talking about?" Alex got that look in his eye that I associated with a request to run off to Backwater IV to secure an ancient cooling system. "Chase," he said, "would you be willing to do an interview?" "Me? Not on your life, sweetheart. I'll take on sea monsters, if you want, and ride taxis into the upper altitudes, and I can even deal with ghosts in the woods. But I don't do interviews." "All you have to do is say what you think." "Alex, why?" "Trust me." "Why don't you do it? You do this kind of thing all the time." "That's the problem. I might be a bit jaded. You are the one who was out on the raft. Nobody else can do it. Anyhow, you're a much more sympathetic person than I am." Selotta squeezed my shoulder. "Chase," she said, "he knows what he's talking about."