The Mammoth Book of 20th Century SF II (54 page)

“Don’t be frivolous. And, yes, you told me all that.”

“I have to be frivolous. Otherwise, it sounds too ridiculous. I made an agreement with them. I wanted to learn to talk to the sun. I told them, since I lived here, I could find out what
they wanted to know better than they could. I could tell they were doubtful, but they let me go ahead. In return for my favor, when I was done, whether I succeeded or failed, they would give us
what we wanted. A team of men could go and freely examine their ship. They would describe their voyage to us – where they had been, what they had found. They promised cooperation in return
for my chat with the sun.”

“So, then nothing happened?”

“I didn’t say that. I talked with the sun today. And saw it. And now I’m not going to do anything except sit on my hands. You can take it from here.”

“What are you talking about?”

He knew he could not answer that. “I failed,” he said. “I didn’t find out anything they didn’t know.”

“Well, will you go with us or not? That’s all I want to know right now.” She was losing her patience, but there was also more than a minor note of pleading in her voice. He
knew he ought to feel satisfied hearing that, but he didn’t.

“Oh, hell,” Reynolds said. “Yes – all right – I will go. But don’t ask me why. Just give me an hour to get ready.”

“Good man,” O’Hara said, beaming happily.

Ignoring him, Reynolds opened his closets and began tossing clothes and other belongings into various boxes and crates.

“What do you think you’ll need all that for?” Kelly asked him.

“I don’t think I’m coming back,” Reynolds said.

“They won’t hurt you,” she said.

“No. I won’t be coming back because I won’t be wanting to come back.”

“You can’t do that,” O’Hara said.

“Sure I can,” said Reynolds.

It took the base’s entire fleet of seven shuttle tugs to ferry the delegation from Washington up to the starship. At that, a good quarter of the group had to be left
behind for lack of room. Reynolds had requested and received permission to call the starship prior to departure, so the aliens were aware of what was coming up to meet them. They had not protested,
but Reynolds knew they wouldn’t, at least not over the radio. Like almost all mechanical or electronic gadgets, a radio was a fearsome object to them.

Kelly and Reynolds arrived with the first group and entered the air lock. At intervals of a minute or two, the others arrived. When the entire party was clustered in the lock, the last tug
holding to the hull in preparation for the return trip, Reynolds signaled that it was time to move out.

“Wait a minute,” one of the men called. “We’re not all here. Acton and Dodd went back to the tug to get suits.”

“Then they’ll have to stay there,” Reynolds said. “The air is pure here – nobody needs a suit.”

“But,” said another man, pinching his nose. “This smell. It’s awful.”

Reynolds smiled. He had barely noticed the odor. Compared to the stench of the first few days, this was nothing today. “The aliens won’t talk if you’re wearing suits. They have
a taboo against artificial communication. The smell gets better as you go farther inside. Until then, hold your nose, breathe through your mouth.”

“It’s making me almost sick,” confided a man at Reynolds’ elbow. “You’re sure what you say is true, Doctor?”

“Cross my heart,” Reynolds said. The two men who had left to fetch the suits returned. Reynolds wasted another minute lecturing them.

“Stop enjoying yourself so much,” Kelly whispered when they were at last under way.

Before they reached the first of the tight passages where crawling was necessary, three men had dropped away, dashing back toward the tug. Working from a hasty map given him by the aliens, he
was leading the party toward a section of the ship where he had never been before. The walk was less difficult than usual. In most places a man could walk comfortably and the ceilings were high
enough to accommodate the aliens themselves. Reynolds ignored the occasional shouted exclamation from the men behind. He steered a silent course toward his destination.

The room, when they reached it, was huge, big as a basketball gymnasium, the ceiling lost in the deep shadows above. Turning, Reynolds counted the aliens present: fifteen . . . twenty . . .
thirty . . . forty . . . forty-five . . . forty-six. That had to be about all. He wondered if this was the full crew.

Then he counted his own people: twenty-two. Better than he had expected – only six lost en route, victims of the smell.

He spoke directly to the alien who stood in front of the others. “Greetings,” he said. The alien wasn’t Vergnan, but it could have been Jonathon.

From behind, he heard, “They’re just like giraffes.”

“And they even seem intelligent,” said another.

“Exceedingly so. Their eyes.”

“And friendly too.”

“Hello, Reynolds,” the alien said. “Are these the ones?” “Jonathon?” asked Reynolds.

“Yes.”

“These are the ones.”

“They are your leaders – they wish to question my people?”

“They do.”

“May I serve as our spokesman in order to save time?”

“Of course,” Reynolds said. He turned and faced his party, looking from face to face, hoping to spot a single glimmer of intelligence, no matter how minute. But he found nothing.
“Gentlemen?” he said. “You heard?”

“His name is Jonathon?” said one.

“It is a convenient expression. Do you have a real question?”

“Yes,” the man said. He continued speaking to Reynolds. “Where is your homeworld located?”

Jonathon ignored the man’s rudeness and promptly named a star.

“Where is that?” the man asked, speaking directly to the alien now.

Reynolds told him it lay some thirty light-years from Earth. As a star, it was very much like the sun, though somewhat larger.

“Exactly how many miles in a light-year?” a man wanted to know.

Reynolds tried to explain. The man claimed he understood, though Reynolds remained skeptical.

It was time for another question.

“Why have you come to our world?”

“Our mission is purely one of exploration and discovery,” Jonathon said.

“Have you discovered any other intelligent races besides our own?”

“Yes. Several.”

This answer elicited a murmur of surprise from the men. Reynolds wondered who they were, how they had been chosen for this mission. Not what they were, but who. What made them tick. He knew what
they were: politicians, NASA bureaucrats, a sprinkling of real scientists. But who?

“Are any of these people aggressive?” asked a man, almost certainly a politician. “Do they pose a threat to you – or – or to us?”

“No,” Jonathon said. “None.”

Reynolds was barely hearing the questions and answers now. His attention was focused upon Jonathon’s eyes. He had stopped blinking now. The last two questions – the ones dealing with
intelligent life forms – he had told the truth. Reynolds thought he was beginning to understand. He had underestimated these creatures. Plainly, they had encountered other races during their
travels before coming to Earth. They were experienced. Jonathon was lying – yes – but unlike before, he was lying well, only when the truth would not suffice.

“How long do you intend to remain in orbit about our moon?”

“Until the moment you and your friends leave our craft. Then we shall depart.”

This set up an immediate clamor among the men. Waving his arms furiously, Reynolds attempted to silence them. The man who had been unfamiliar with the term “light-year” shouted out
an invitation for Jonathon to visit Earth.

This did what Reynolds himself could not do. The others fell silent in order to hear Jonathon’s reply.

“It is impossible,” Jonathon said. “Our established schedule requires us to depart immediately.”

“Is it this man’s fault?” demanded a voice. “He should have asked you himself long before now.”

“No,” Jonathon said. “I could not have come – or any of my people – because we were uncertain of your peaceful intentions. Not until we came to know Reynolds well
did we fully comprehend the benevolence of your race.” The alien blinked rapidly now.

He stopped during the technical questions. The politicians and bureaucrats stepped back to speak among themselves and the scientists came forward. Reynolds was amazed at the intelligence of
their questions. To this extent at least, the expedition had not been wholly a farce.

Then the questions were over and all the men came forward to listen to Jonathon’s last words.

“We will soon return to our homeworld and when we do we shall tell the leaders of our race of the greatness and glory of the human race. In passing here, we have come to know your star and
through it you people who live beneath its soothing rays. I consider your visit here a personal honor to me as an individual. I am sure my brothers share my pride and only regret an inability to
utter their gratitude.”

Then Jonathon ceased blinking and looked hard at Reynolds. “Will you be going too?”

“No,” Reynolds said. “I’d like to talk to you alone if I can.”

“Certainly,” Jonathon said.

Several of the men in the party protested to Kelly or O’Hara, but there was nothing they could do. One by one they left the chamber to wait in the corridor. Kelly was the last to leave.
“Don’t be a fool,” she cautioned.

“I won’t,” he said.

When the men had gone, Jonathon took Reynolds away from the central room. It was only a brief walk to the old room where they had always met before. As if practicing a routine, Jonathon promptly
marched to the farthest wall and stood there waiting. Reynolds smiled. “Thank you,” he said.

“You are welcome.”

“For lying to them. I was afraid they would offend you with their stupidity. I thought you would show your contempt by lying badly, offending them in return. I underestimated you. You
handled them very well.”

“But you have something you wish to ask of me?”

“Yes,” Reynolds said. “I want you to take me away with you.”

As always, Jonathon remained expressionless. Still, for a long time, it said nothing. Then, “Why do you wish this? We shall never return here.”

“I don’t care. I told you before: I am not typical of my race. I can never be happy here.”

“But are you typical of my race? Would you not be unhappy with us?”

“I don’t know. But I’d like to try.”

“It is impossible,” Jonathon said.

“But – but – why?”

“Because we have neither the time nor the abilities to care for you. Our mission is a most desperate one. Already, during our absence, our homeworld may have gone mad. We must hurry. Our
time is growing brief. And you will not be of any help to us. I am sorry, but you know that is true.”

“I can talk to the stars.”

“No,” Jonathon said. “You cannot.”

“But I did.”

“Vergnan did. Without him, you could not.”

“Your answer is final? There’s no one else I can ask? The captain?”

“I am the captain.”

Reynolds nodded. He had carried his suitcases and crates all this way and now he would have to haul them home again. Home? No, not home. Only the moon. “Could you find out if they left a
tug for me?” he asked.

“Yes. One moment.”

Jonathon rippled lightly away, disappearing into the corridor. Reynolds turned and looked at the walls. Again, as he stared, the rainbow patterns appeared to shift and dance and swirl of their
own volition. Watching this, he felt sad, but his sadness was not that of grief. It was the sadness of emptiness and aloneness. This emptiness had so long been a part of him that he sometimes
forgot it was there. He knew it now. He knew, whether consciously aware of it or not, that he had spent the past ten years of his life searching vainly for a way of filling this void. Perhaps even
more than that: perhaps his whole life had been nothing more than a search for that one moment of real completion. Only twice had he ever really come close. The first time had been on Mars. When he
had lived and watched while the others had died. Then he had not been alone or empty. And the other time had been right here in this very room – with Vergnan. Only twice in his life had he
been allowed to approach the edge of true meaning. Twice in fifty-eight long and endless years. Would it ever happen again? When? How?

Jonathon returned, pausing in the doorway. “A pilot is there,” it said.

Reynolds went toward the door, ready to leave. “Are you still planning to visit our sun?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. We shall continue trying, searching. We know nothing else. You do not believe – even after what Vergnan showed you – do you, Reynolds?”

“No, I do not believe.”

“I understand,” Jonathon said. “And I sympathize. All of us – even I – sometimes we have doubts.”

Reynolds continued forward into the corridor. Behind, he heard a heavy clipping noise and turned to see Jonathon coming after him. He waited for the alien to join him and then they walked
together. In the narrow corridor, there was barely room for both.

Reynolds did not try to talk. As far as he could see, there was nothing left to be said that might possibly be said in so short a time as that which remained. Better to say nothing, he thought,
than to say too little.

The air lock was open. Past it, Reynolds glimpsed the squat bulk of the shuttle tug clinging to the creased skin of the starship.

There was nothing left to say. Turning to Jonathon, he said, “Good-bye,” and as he said it, for the first time he wondered about what he was going back to. More than likely, he would
find himself a hero once again. A celebrity. But that was all right: fame was fleeting; it was bearable. Two hundred forty thousand miles was still a great distance. He would be all right.

As if reading his thoughts, Jonathon asked, “Will you be remaining here or will you return to your homeworld?”

The question surprised Reynolds; it was the first time the alien had ever evidenced a personal interest in him. “I’ll stay here. I’m happier.”

“And there will be a new director?”

“Yes. How did you know that? But I think I’m going to be famous again. I can get Kelly retained.”