The crowd around Broadtail thins. Nothing is happening, and the crowd gets bored and loses interest. Ridgeback’s friends are satisfied with the verdict and nobody wants to join a hunting posse to chase the outlaw in cold water. The apprentices have work to do. By the time he reaches the edge of town, Broadtail has only his escort and a couple of friends left.
At the boundary stones they pause for good-byes. Roughshell asks, “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure,” says Broadtail. “I don’t wish to be a scavenger like Bentpincer 89.” He flicks his tail toward the little hovel where the old outlaw manages a half-starved existence just beyond the boundary.
“What about fishing?”
“No. Not here, anyway. Too many of Ridgeback’s friends are fishers or netmakers. I don’t wish for trouble. For now I will go visit some of my scientific friends and find out if they can help.” Broadtail takes momentary comfort in knowing that even if he is a murderer and outlaw, he is still a scientist, the author of a respected work.
“Good luck to you,” says Thicklegs. Spineback gives Broadtail a bag of roe balls and strips of swimmer flesh. They all brush feelers in farewell, then Broadtail turns and begins swimming steadily out into cold water. The others stand and listen for a moment, then turn and head back toward the warmth of the vent.
Rob was just heading for the galley to meet Alicia for another private breakfast together when the master alarm sounded. All over the station, lights flicked on. The seldom-used public-address system came alive.
“Attention, please, everyone!” said Dr. Sen’s voice from every terminal and comm button in Hitode Station. “I would like everyone to meet in the common area in Habitat Four in ten minutes. The station is not in danger but there is something extremely important I would like to talk to everyone about as soon as it is practical to assemble.”
Rob hurried, and since he was already dressed and halfway to the common room, he and Alicia were the first ones to show up.“What is this all about?” she wanted to know.
Rob pulled out his computer and did a quick check of station systems. “Everything’s nominal—we’re not about to drown or anything. Supplies look good.”
“Look at orbital tracking page,” said Josef Palashnik, coming in just behind Rob. He had a bad case of bed hair, but was dressed and functional.
Alicia and Rob nearly knocked heads as they looked at his computer. The gas giant Ukko was a big red disk, surrounded by green circles marking the orbits of the moons. Ilmatar was a smaller gold disk creeping along one of the green paths, but Rob could see that there was now a little red circle around Ilmatar, with a red triangle moving along it. He tapped the triangle and his computer obligingly opened a new window. SPACECRAFT: Sholen (Aquilan) interstellar vehicle, UNICA class identification INFLUX.
Rob skimmed the technical description of the alien vehicle—most of which was guesswork, anyway. One thing was certain: the Sholen craft was a big one, a giant doughnut a hundred meters across, with fuel tanks and motors filling the hole in the middle. It had room for up to a hundred people, two landers, and immense fuel reserves. The intel said it probably didn’t mount any weapons—but of course any spacecraft could carry combat drones as cargo.
Sending a vehicle like that across thirty light-years cost a fortune. What was it doing here? Rob suspected he knew, and began to feel queasy.
The room was filling up. Rob and Alicia had claimed seats at one of the tables, but with all twenty-eight members of the Hitode staff crowding into the room, they soon could see only backs and stomachs. So Rob stood up and helped Alicia stand on her chair.
Dr. Sen climbed onto the big dining table, and stood with his bald head nearly touching the ceiling. “Thank you all for coming here so promptly. First, let me reassure everyone that there is no danger or emergency. We are all perfectly safe.”
Behind Rob someone muttered, “I sure as hell hope he didn’t get me out of bed just to tell me that.”
“Now,” continued Dr. Sen, “some of you may already know that there is a spacecraft in orbit.” The room erupted in clickings and mutterings as people pulled out pocket computers to check. “It is a Sholen interstellar vehicle, and a lander is just putting down at the surface station. I have received a message from the Sholen commander. Apparently they have learned about what happened to poor Dr. Kerlerec, and have come to evaluate the situation and make sure that we have not violated any of the treaties governing contact with alien species and that sort of thing.”
“How’d they find out so fast?” asked Angelo Ponti. “We haven’t even been able to send word to Earth yet.”
“Actually I have already sent a message. Dr. Castaverde and I agreed that Dr. Kerlerec’s death was important enough to use one of the message drones, so I sent it off just two days after the incident.”
There was a moment’s silence as twenty-seven people did mental arithmetic. Ilmatar was thirty light-years from Earth, but cutting through gimelspace divided that distance by almost a million, so call it about 300 million kilometers. The drones were big solid-fuel boosters carrying a tiny transmitter, and could hit a hundred kilometers per second. That meant a trip time of only a month, which meant…
“The Sholen have been eavesdropping!” Dickie Graves yelled. “There’s no way they could get a message from Earth and send a ship here.”
“I don’t know if we can necessarily make that assumption,” said Dr. Sen. “They could have better boosters than ours, or have transmitters positioned in gimelspace to relay messages. At any rate, that is not the most important issue at this moment. What is important is that two Sholen are coming down to Hitode as we speak. The elevator is on its way up to collect them right now. We have two days to make everything ready for their visit.”
“What if we don’t let them come down?” Dickie called out. “Tell them to fuck off and send them right back home again!”
“Taking a confrontational attitude like that will accomplish nothing, Dr. Graves. The treaty gives both species inspection rights outside our respective home systems. We are obliged to let them examine the station and interview everyone involved in the Kerlerec incident.” At that particular moment, everybody managed to be looking at something other than Rob Freeman. “However, I think we can avoid a great deal of difficulty if the Sholen find nothing which might indicate contact with the Ilmatarans, or create any mistaken impression. We should place all the artifacts from the city sites out on the seafloor, encrypt any recordings of Ilmatarans, and relabel the cadaver sections. I also need a group to make a thorough sweep of the area around the station to make sure none of our equipment or waste has been left outside.”
“Why do all this hiding?” asked Alicia. “We haven’t done anything wrong. All that research is allowed by the treaty, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, Dr. Neogri. But there is a certain amount of public relations involved here. If the Sholen make a complaint about us and can present things like cadaver samples and artifacts, it will affect public opinion back on Earth. I’m afraid it is not enough to simply be innocent of wrongdoing; we must be sure to avoid anything which could be misinterpreted.”
Since everyone was still not looking at him, Rob cleared his throat and raised his hand. “Dr. Sen? The Sholen are going to need someone to show them around, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they will certainly need a guide. I had intended to perform that task myself but if you have a suggestion I’m sure we all would like to hear it.”
“Since they’re going to want to debrief me anyway about what happened to Henri, why not let me be the tour guide?”