Surprised at Kosoff’s sudden change of attitude, Brad blurted, “You agree?”
With a grim smile, Kosoff replied, “I’m not the ogre that you think I am.”
“I never…”
Chang interrupted, “I protest. We don’t have enough hard evidence that the octopods actually have a language.”
Waving one hand in the air, Kosoff said, “MacDaniels’ idea of trying to speak to them has some merit. We can determine very quickly whether they actually have a language or if they’re merely making hoots and whistles, like chimpanzees.”
“The chimps have language,” Chang said. “It’s primitive, but it is a working language.”
Kosoff asked Emcee’s image, “What possible damage could be caused by speaking to them?”
“We have insufficient data for a firm answer,” the computer’s avatar replied. “At worst, it might shatter their worldview, cause psychological damage such as that caused by the Spanish conquistadors’ sudden appearance among the Aztecs and Incas of the Americas.”
With an impatient humph, Kosoff said, “We’re not going to be looting their temples for gold or carrying off their women, for god’s sake.”
Littlejohn spoke up. “They accepted the probes easily enough. Perhaps they’d welcome an attempt to converse.”
“Or perhaps they’ll be terrified,” Chang countered.
“I’m going to convene the executive committee and put it to them,” said Kosoff. “If they agree, we’ll try to speak to the octopods.”
“Not the World Council, back on Earth?” Chang asked, her voice hollow with awe. “The World Council has the ultimate authority—”
“No,” Kosoff said firmly. “This is our responsibility.”
Brad realized he was nodding vigorously. “We’ll put our data to the test.”
Littlejohn said softly, “Every experiment is a step into the unknown.”
“A risk,” said Chang, clearly unhappy.
“A risk I’m willing to take,” Kosoff said.
* * *
As he and Littlejohn strode down the passageway from Kosoff’s office, Brad felt almost like dancing.
“He changed his mind!” Brad marveled. “He accepted my idea.”
“Yes,” said Littlejohn. “He accepted your idea. If anything goes wrong, it will be on your head.”
Smiling down on the diminutive Aborigine, Brad said, “What could go wrong?”
“That’s what your General Custer said when he ordered the Seventh Cavalry to attack at the Little Bighorn.”
Brad laughed.
Very seriously, Littlejohn explained, “Kosoff has performed a neat little bit of mental jujitsu on you, Brad. If this attempt at contact works well, he’ll take the credit for it. As far as the World Council back on Earth is concerned, it will be Adrian Kosoff who made the first meaningful contact with an alien race, not you.”
“And if it doesn’t work out?”
“It will be on your head. You insisted on the experiment. You’ll be responsible, if it fails.”