The Devil's Eye

THIRTY-FIVE

Borkarat was where I'd met Selotta, who still oversaw the Museum of Alien Life-forms and where Kassel enjoyed an apparently pleasant life in government unlike anything a human politician could know. Bare-knuckle politics didn't really work among the Mutes. And that, I hoped, would prove our salvation. Maybe a quiet, reasonable approach to the issue of war and peace could be managed. The problem was that the Ashiyyur considered us an inferior species. "How is that possible?" asked Giambrey. "Our technology is on a level with theirs. And they had a head start. They were living in cities several thousand years before we got down out of the trees." Alex was looking at an image of the Mute world, afloat in the center of the common room. "They don't measure civilization the way we do," he said. "Technology is a minor consideration. They see themselves as essentially spiritual creatures. As more philosophical, more curious, more concerned with living the right sort of life, than we are. That notion got reinforced when they actually sat down with us-with humans-and felt their skin crawl and discovered we couldn't communicate the way they can. I think they see our way of communicating the way we might see a cat's." "We're not telepaths." "Sure. That puts us considerably lower on the evolutionary ladder. They've had a long-standing debate over whether we'll ever achieve what they have. Some of them think we have the potential to reach their level of development, but they're in a minority." "How about the people on the street?" asked Circe. "When I was here," I said, "they treated me okay. That is, they left me alone, for the most part. Some actually tried to put me at ease. But you'll be made aware you're not to be taken seriously."

Less than an hour after we'd come out of jump status, we were hailed by a patrol vehicle. Alex followed me onto the bridge after Belle sounded the warning. "Range is 1.2 million kilometers," she said. The weapons warning system began blinking. They were keying something on us. "Try to look friendly," Alex said. The patrol boat was even smaller than we were, but I could see arrays of particle-beam cannons and lasers and God knew what else on its hull. Its lights began blinking. Moments later Belle put a message on screen: INTERLOPER: STATE DESTINATION AND PURPOSE OF ARRIVAL. "Not very friendly," said Circe. Giambrey dictated our reply: "We are the Belle-Marie , a private vessel in the service of the Administrator, representing the Coalition at Salud Afar. We are on a diplomatic mission, and your government has been notified. We request permission to proceed to port." I directed Belle to transmit it in text form. Minutes later, she put a reply on-screen. It was short: MAINTAIN COURSE. Then, after another few minutes: PLEASE FOLLOW US. A few hours later they handed us off to another ship. Borkarat was only a bright star when we retired for the night.

We followed the escort in. And gradually, Borkarat split into two stars, which grew into a pair of disks , one large, one small. We went through a second cycle of meals and sleep before it became a discernible globe, adorned with seas, continents, and clouds, attended by the inevitable moon. Watching the world grow larger, as I'd watched so many others over the years, I couldn't avoid a sense of order and disposition. Worlds floated serenely in the vast womb of the universe. They did not bang into one another, did not plunge into suns, did not get lobbed into the outer darkness. Generally. Generally. I guess I felt some bitterness there. In a Darwinian universe, safety is an illusion.

Borkarat could have been Rimway, with differently shaped continents. Its gravity variance was a bit higher, but not so much that we wouldn't adjust fairly easily. When we were only a few hours from orbit, we received a live transmission. From Kassel. It was good to see him. We were going to need friends. "Chase and Alex," he said. "I was surprised when your message arrived. Selotta and I are delighted to see you again so soon. We welcome you and your associates. Although I wish circumstances could be better. I'll be waiting when you get in. The Planning Board has been in touch with me, and I've been appointed guest liaison. A meeting with one of the Board members has been arranged for you. We've reserved a room for you at the finest hotel in the capital. How was your trip?"

"Uneventful," said Alex. There was a delay of a minute or so while the signal traveled to the world, and the response came back. "The best kind." You don't spend much time on small talk when you have delays built into the conversation. "Alex, I'm curious about the purpose for your visit. Not that Selotta and I aren't delighted to see you. She'll be coming in later to say hello. But it seems a dangerous time. If major hostilities break out, you could be interned here."

That was a possibility that hadn't crossed my mind. In the past, hostilities had sometimes dragged on for decades. "We've become diplomats," Alex said. "Nobody can touch us." Kassel laughed. "So I've heard. Well, that's good. In any case, we'll take charge of you as soon as you get in."

Our escort stayed with us. When we were an hour or so out we received a text message from the operations center: PLEASE TURN CONTROL OF THE VEHICLE OVER TO US. I complied, and Giambrey sucked in some air. "Isn't that a little dangerous?" "You want me to tell them we don't trust them?" "No." "It's okay. It's pretty much routine procedure at most of the bigger stations." Just before we passed between the launch doors into the docking area, another message came in, this one for Giambrey, from Salud Afar. It was encrypted, using a system that had been downloaded into Belle before we left Samuels. It was from Kilgore: GIAMBREY, GOOD LUCK. OUR PEOPLE ARE STILL WORKING ON THE CONFEDERATES, BUT TO DATE THEY ARE IMMOVABLE. EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON YOU.

The term Assemblage didn't describe the reality of the Ashiyyurean universe, which consists of a loose group of worlds, outposts, orbiting cities, and scattered settlements. It's as much a social as a political entity. But a threat to one is a threat to all, and they can react with lethal efficiency. Some people think they'll eventually evolve into a group mind. A few hold the opinion it has happened already. But nobody who's had a personal relationship with an individual Ashiyyurean, as Alex and I have, would believe it. A major part of the problem between us and them is that it's so hard for us to get to know one another. There are Ashiyyurean-Human friendship societies on worlds in both systems, but progress has been limited. At best.

We docked and, for the first time in my career, I received a text message granting me permission to leave my ship. Belle wished me luck, and we climbed out through the hatch and walked down the egress tube, and there was Kassel. The robe was gone, replaced by a shirt and short breeches gathered in at the knees. They were a favorite form of casual dress among both males and females on Borkarat, but there was something absurd in seeing a seven-foot Mute, complete with fangs, looking as if he was headed out for a day in the park. I've never been good at reading Ashiyyurean nonverbals. But it wasn't hard to pick up his mixed feelings on that occasion. He came forward and shook hands and squeezed my shoulder in a way that suggested however difficult things might get, he would support me. We did the introductions. Giambrey bowed and smiled, but all the charm was gone. He was trying hard to control his revulsion. Not to think about it. Not to look too closely at Kassel or at any of the other Mutes in the area. I'll confess that Mutes still gave me a chill. Still knotted my stomach. Even Kassel. But it was kind of a joke between us, and he glanced my way and touched his heart twice with a fist. It was his me, too signal. Circe did pretty well, as far as I could see. She shook hands with Kassel, told him she was pleased to meet him, and, I thought at the time, was amused at surprising me . You got any other challenges, Kolpath? "Selotta would have liked to be here," he said, "but her duties will not permit it. She asked me to say hello." "How is she?" I asked. "Doing well, as always. She is kept busy watching for aliens trying to penetrate the museum." That was a reference to how we'd met, when I was trying to get a flight record out of an interstellar that was on exhibit. "She says she will make sure to see you before you leave. Incidentally, you are all welcome to visit our house. We would like very much to have you."

Mute body temperatures are about ten degrees lower than human, so their skin always feels cool. Add a bit of clamminess, and it's easy to imagine they're not delighted to see you. Toss in the fangs and the black diamond eyes located close together, predator style, and your instincts go to red alert. A crowd was forming around us, at a discreet distance. The reception area was absolutely silent, save for their clickety-clack music playing at a low level over the sound system. Public areas in Mute worlds are, of course, routinely quiet. One never hears a voice, and for a human that can be disconcerting. There was nevertheless plenty of communication going on, of course. I could see it as Mute eyes turned in our direction. Their expressions changed, eyes narrowed, and fangs became more prominent. Parents moved closer to kids. I tried to think happy thoughts, but what kept running through my mind was the conviction that maybe their telepathic abilities with regard to us were overrated. I did not get the sense, for example, that they could see that I would have liked very much to be somewhere else, and that as threats went, I was nowhere on the scale. They were disturbed at the sight of the creatures that had suddenly appeared in their midst. With the mayor, yet. Circe tried a smile and a wave. Nobody waved back. It struck me how difficult it must have been for Kassel to come personally to meet us. I gained new respect for him. He might have stayed in his office and sent an escort in his place. Instead, here he was. That meant, in his culture as well as ours, that this was a personal rather than simply a political event. "This way," said Kassel, speaking through his voice box. He said something about idiots as we walked through the crowd toward the shuttle launch area. Alex commented that he appreciated Kassel's presence, and Kassel remarked that "they" should all be locked up somewhere so they wouldn't be a danger to themselves or anyone else. "They" obviously picked up the thought because they all looked in his direction. "I'm sorry they brought you all the way in from Provno," said Alex. Kassel's home was located on that island, in the southern seas. "It's okay," he said. "They thought you would want to see me, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Besides, it gives me a chance to educate these morons." Giambrey asked whether Kassel had heard what was happening on Salud Afar. "I know about the hypernova. If you mean conditions on the ground, among the people, we haven't heard a whole lot. We don't have a direct connection with the media at Salud Afar the way we do with the Confederates. And the reporting in yours is sparse. Mostly they run reconstructed images of the hypernova and ask people whether they're scared. What kind of answer would they expect? I did hear this morning that one of the spaceports was destroyed." "Destroyed?" asked Alex. "How?" "Somebody with a bomb." We walked into an elevator and everybody else got out. "There was no additional explanation." He glanced in my direction and I read it in his eyes: Dumb-ass monkeys. Yep. That's us. I was used to cranks and nitwits. You have large populations, you're going to have a few nutcases. The Mutes had an advantage, of course: Among their own, they could spot lunacy right away-before it could get around to making a bomb. I stared back and made no effort to conceal what I was thinking: Two billion people were going to die even though the means to save them were probably available. But they'd die anyway because there really was no intelligent life in the cosmos. Not in the Confederacy, and not in the Assemblage. The Mutes and the Confederates would continue sniping back and forth, and the carnage would happen, and everybody would pretend it was inevitable. He touched my shoulder. "I fear you're right, Chase. I wish I knew how to help." Abruptly, out of nowhere, tears ran down my cheeks. Kassel wrapped me in his arms and held me.