Authors: James White
Standing isolated in what had been a small park, and dwarfing the dingy and dilapidated structures around it, was the gleaming white cube of the area's Federation examination and induction center.
The lander dropped slowly toward a dry area of rabble in a city which resembled nothing so much as a muddy, two-dimensional map and touched down, rocking gently as its landing struts adjusted to the uneven surface.
"The people are hiding in surface and basement shelters positioned above high tide level," Beth said, "and the body scans show no hand weapons other than gardening implements and long, wooden staves. The sensors also show a number of small collections of metal, mostly subsurface debris, but a few of them are small-scale power generators which are currently inoperative."
"Civilization is not yet dead," Martin said softly. "They still light their homes at night."
"And notice the perimeters of their gardens," Beth went on. "I'd say that they are having trouble with night visitors who think it easier to steal than to grow food."
They were being watched by a growing number of Keidi, all of them wrapped in cloaks which concealed everything but their heads and all carrying, or armed with, staves. None of them seemed curious enough to want a closer look at the ship.
"The longer we stay here," Martin said, "the more time we give them to worry about who or what is coming out and to get nervous about it. Ready?"
Beth held back for a moment. "These suits are a joke so far as protection is concerned. They're too tight-fitting and are effective only against low-velocity, solid-projectile-firing weapons, provided the shots are not aimed at our heads. A body hit would inflict painful, perhaps disabling injuries. The fabricator could produce a weapon which would outwardly duplicate those staves they all carry and, even though we might never use them, we would have the reassurance of-"
"Exactly," Martin broke in. "We would feel reassured, confident, protected, and unafraid. Those feelings would be reflected, however subtly, in our behavior, which would appear unnatural and suspicious for two people who are apparently unarmed and among strangers. It is better that we go in politely, with our hands empty of weapons and trying to project a high degree of natural caution."
"I won't have to try very hard," Beth said. "Test your watch."
Martin raised one arm and spoke briefly to his wrist-watch, checking that its communication and translation functions were on standby. He said gently, "It might be better, during the initial contact, if you stayed in the tender while I-"
Tin ready," Beth said.
They emerged together and made an elaborate production or securing the lander's airlock behind them-an unnecessary precaution since the ship had much more effective methods of protecting itself from unauthorized entry or damage. The act was designed to show the distant watchers that their vessel had been left unoccupied, and that they were alone. When they were clear of the lander they stopped, looked all around them, then walked unhurriedly toward the watcher who had moved closest to the ship.
This was Keida, Martin reminded himself firmly, and judging by the contours of the watcher's speaking horn, this is a male Keidi Undesirable. It might be much more difficult to make friendly contact with this being than with an enormous, fierce visaged Teldi or a tiny, soil ingesting, and even more alien Blind One.
The ground underfoot was a thick, lumpy stew composed of dark brown mud in which floated pieces of rotting vegetation and small, soft objects which were probably not what he thought they were. He was glad, nonetheless, that his nose filters were in place.
When they had approached to within speaking distance, Martin raised one arm, fist clenched, to point at the Keidi. Before he could say anything he slipped, lost Us balance, and landed on his hands and knees in the mud.
"I would suggest," the Keith called, lifting his staff and using it as a pointer, "that you take five paces to the right, where you will feel a section of level foundation just below the surface. Follow it for twenty paces, then turn at right angles to face me, and approach. Unless your species enjoys playing in the muck."
"We don't," Martin said as Beth helped him to his feet. "And thank you."
Close up, the watcher was a large Keidi whose loose-fitting cloak made it difficult to tell whether the garment concealed fat or muscles. His narrow, horn-tipped feet were planted wide apart so as to form a balanced tripod with its staff, which he grasped in a gauntleted hand.
"Are you organic?" the Keidi asked.
"Yes," Martin said.
"I thought so," the Keidi went on, briefly swiveling an eye in the direction of the lander and the silver and black symbol emblazoned on its flank. "A Federation World robot would not be so clumsy. Your species is unfamiliar to me since it is not portrayed in the white building, but you must be one of those all-powerful and all-knowing Federation Citizens. You will excuse me if I don't prostrate myself in abject awe. Why are you here?"
The other's hostility was all too plain. Martin said carefully, "My species is a fairly recent addition to the Federation, but we two are not Citizens, and neither are we all-powerful or all-knowing. It is in an attempt to reduce our lack of knowledge that we have come here."
Always tell the truth. That was the primary rule in other-species contact situations, because to do otherwise and be discovered in a lie could be disastrous so far as future friendly relations were concerned. But there was no need to tell all of the truth, at least not all at once.
"We have been instructed by the Federation to visit a number of your city sites," Martin said, "to report on conditions generally and to find out if you need anything. The fabricators on our mother ship are capable of producing virtually anything you require, excluding weapons, of course. But there is no need to be frightened of us or-"
"I have already implied by my behavior," the other broke in, "that I am not frightened by you. That sanctimonious bunch of other-species do-gooders would never allow you to harm us. But, strangers, the opposite does not hold true."
This conversation was not going well. Not only was this Keidi unafraid and apparently unimpressed by the virtually limitless resources available to them, he was so well-informed that Martin was losing the initiative. It was ridiculous and utterly wrong that an Undesirable should place him at such a disadvantage. He was still trying to think of a reply when Beth broke the lengthening silence.
Thank you for the warning," she said quietly. "If you think there is danger for us here, we shall leave at once. But is there something we can do for you before we go?"
"Return our city," the Keidi said.
Beth shook her head. "I'm sorry, its inhabitants prefer it where it is. But could we move all this mud, perhaps, or dry it out for you so that-"
"No," the other said sharply.
Martin glared at Beth and tried to send nonverbal signals for her to be silent and leave the communicating to the one who was trained for it. He had not intended that they take unnecessary risks but neither, as she had implied, was he intending to turn tail and run at the first tint of danger-at least, not without knowing what exactly they would be running from. But the silence was lengthening again still he could not think of anything positive to say. And Beth, he saw angrily, was turning to leave.
"No," the Keidi repeated in a quieter tone. "But you are in no immediate danger, and now that you're here may as well stay for a while. Long enough, at least, for me to find you a couple of sticks." He turned and pointed toward the entrance to a shelter which, until then, they had mistaken for a large heap of rubble. "I'll lead the way. Follow me, exactly."
They did as they were told, but were soon falling further and further behind the more sure-footed Keidi. Martin said quietly, "We nearly lost the contact back there, when you started to turn back. Please let me do the talking from now on."
"Back there," Beth said, "you didn't have anything to say. But the risk was small. I had a strong feeling that it wanted to go on talking to us...he's going into his shelter. Are we supposed to follow or wait outside until we're invited?"
Before Martin could reply, the Keidi emerged carrying three light, stacking chairs which it placed in a line outside the entrance. The red plastic upholstery and armrests were stained and worn, and the metal framework was losing the battle against encroaching rust. They were large for the average Earth-human body, but did not look too uncomfortable. The Keidi disappeared again, this time returning with two staves which he placed carefully across the armrests of the outer chairs before seating himself in the middle one.
"Sit," he said.
The Keidi watched Martin intently as he lifted the wooden staff from the chair, then placed it across his lap as he turned and sat down. It was about two meters long and smelled faintly of some oily preservative. About one-third of the distance from one end it had been tightly wrapped with thin rope to give a secure and comfortable grip to a Keidi hand, and the other end came to a blunt point which was tipped with metal. The Keidi's watchful attitude made him wonder if the staff represented more than a mere aid to travel, and if the gift might be a test of some kind. Slowly, he lifted it from his lap and laid it on the ground at his feet. As he sat back, Beth hesitated then did the same.
"Thank you," he said, leaving it unclear whether he was referring to the invitation to sit or the gift of the staff.
Beth slapped suddenly at the side of her neck and the
Keidi said, "They breed in the mud and are particularly hungry at this time of year. Later I can give you an ointment to repel them, but you may well prefer the insect bites to the smell."
"I'd appreciate that," Beth said.
Martin thought of the variety of chemical and vibratory insect killers available to them on the ship, and forced himself to remain silent. For some reason the Keidi preferred talking to Beth.
"Your offer to dry out our mud was refused," the other went on, "because we do not like or trust Galactics, and will do everything in our power to avoid obligating ourselves to them."
It was time he rejoined the conversation, Martin thought. He said, "This is our first landing on your world. Can you tell us anything about the situation here? If such a question is not deemed to be an impertinence or an intrusion on your privacy, that is, and you are free to talk about it."
"I am free," the Keidi said, "to talk."
But he did not talk again for several minutes, during which Beth and Martin watched him attentively and more and more people came out to watch the three of diem. Finally, he widened the focus on his horn to include them both, and spoke.
"I have skills which are important to this community," the Keidi said, "and for that reason I am not completely trusted, and that is why we are sitting out here in the cold. It is to show them that I have nothing to hide, that you are not trying to bribe, threaten, seduce, or otherwise influence me to leave them and not, as you may have thought, because I am ashamed to show you the inside of my home.
"Why did you lay your staff on the ground?" he added, swinging the horn around to bear on Martin. "Your familiarity with the local customs makes me uneasy."
..Martin looked down at the staff, then said quietly, action wasn't calculated, it was simply that battle staff on my lap felt awkward and unnecessary, the natural thing to do was to place it on the floor.
The horn and the eyes remained focused on him for a long moment, then the Keidi said, "The natural thing for someone like you to do would have been to drive the staff into the ground beside your chair, where it would have been within easy reach in case of sudden attack on you. This action would have symbolized a bloodless attack on our territory and signified to us that, while you were presently unguarded, you had powerful support and any harm or insult offered you would have brought dire retribution. You are Galactics, after all; such power is available to you."
He looked toward the lander and the black and silver emblem prominently displayed on its hull, and went on. "Had you done the natural thing, we would have exchanged a few words about the weather or something equally unimportant, then you would have had to return to your ship because nobody else would have spoken to you. But you did not do the natural thing, you did the right thing. You voluntarily disarmed yourselves as is the custom when one is among family or close friends. It is unusual for complete ignorance and correct behavior to go together."