Emcee was reporting, “Transmissions from Gamma are much more reliable with the new communications satellite in place.”
Kosoff nodded impatiently. “Yes. We can watch all the details of MacDaniels making a shambles of our contact protocols.”
Emcee did not reply.
Turning to Littlejohn, sitting before his desk, Kosoff asked, “What are we going to do with this young man? He’s made a mockery of our chain of command.”
With a shrug of his thin shoulders, the anthropologist said, “Brad’s on his own down there. He’s doing what he thinks is best for the aliens.”
“Is it best for them to shatter their traditions, their way of life?”
“There’s not much we can do about it now.”
Jabbing a finger at his desktop screen, Kosoff grumbled, “The executive committee back Earthside is furious with me. They’re blaming me for allowing MacDaniels to run wild.”
Littlejohn’s dark face contracted into a frown. “You’ve been put into the position of a leader whose people are running off in an unexpected direction.”
“Not my people,” Kosoff snapped. “One man. Him. MacDaniels.”
“It’s not a happy situation for you, I admit. Yet, if you take the long view, Brad just might have saved those people from annihilation. That should be worth something back on Earth.”
“They’ll want my head on a platter.”
Surprisingly, Littlejohn smiled. “Not if Brad succeeds.”
“Succeeds?”
“Get yourself to the head of the parade, Adrian. What would happen if you direct Brad to build a new village for the unborn Gammans?”
Sourly, Kosoff replied, “He’s already telling them that that’s what they’re going to do.”
“All right,” said Littlejohn. “You take the credit for it. You announce that we’re going to study how these survivors develop in contrast to the other villages that were wiped out by the cats from Beta. That would be a real achievement, wouldn’t it?”
“An achievement that would take centuries to bring to fruition.”
“But you would have started it. Under your direction, we can study the development of two alternative societies on Gamma. Anthropologically, it would be fabulous!”
“Two alternative societies…”
“The other villages have been wiped out by the cats, but their next generation is growing in the farms. Once the planet gets through its long winter, those Gammans are going to come out of the ground and restart their societies.” The Aborigine barely paused for a breath. “But in Brad’s village, the Gammans survived the cats. How will they get through the winter? What will their society be like when their next generation wakes up?”
Kosoff stared at the anthropologist. “Study the differences between them,” he mused.
“Yes! You’ve got to get to the head of this parade,” Littlejohn encouraged. “You’re the leader of our group. Lead, even if it’s not in the direction you originally planned to go.”
Kosoff leaned back in his desk chair, fingers steepled in front of his lips. He muttered, “Don’t fight them. Join them.”
“Lead them,” said Littlejohn eagerly.
* * *
All day long and into the lengthening shadows of sunset Brad tussled inwardly with the decision he knew he had to make. His problem was that he didn’t know how to make it.
Sooner or later, he told himself, I’m going to have to show them my true form. I’m going to have to let them see me as I really am, not masquerading inside this biosuit.
How will they react to that? he wondered. Will it shock them? Will it ruin the trust they have in me?
How will they react to having others from the starship coming down to work with them? And study them? Kosoff is right: this is a very complicated, very delicate situation.
How should I handle it?
That night, once he’d returned to the crippled shuttlecraft, Brad peeled himself out of his protective suit and called not Kosoff, nor Littlejohn, but Felicia.
“Show yourself to them?” she asked, looking startled.
“It’s got to be done, sooner or later,” Brad said. “I can’t go decked out in this disguise forever.”
The time lag between them was shorter, now that the starship was returning to Gamma. Still, the delay seemed to drag on forever.
As he waited for her reply, Brad admired her beautiful face. She’s worried about me. For me. She really cares about me. I’m the luckiest man on Earth.
Then he remembered that he wasn’t on Earth. He was two hundred light-years from Earth, on an alien planet.
“Brad,” Felicia replied at last, “you should ask Littlejohn and Kosoff how to handle this. They’re your superiors; you’ve got to get their approval before you take such a big step.”
He nodded, but he thought, Pass the buck upstairs. Let them take the responsibility. And what if they make the wrong decision?
“I suppose that’s the correct thing to do,” he said.
When Felicia’s reply reached him, it was, “You know it is.”
But Brad was already thinking, What’s best for the Gammans? We’ve established contact with an alien race. We’ve helped them survive annihilation. Now we have to help them get through their winter. Are we going to put our decisions up to a committee vote?
He knew what his answer was.
* * *
Long into the night Brad searched for a way to get Kosoff to make the decision he wanted him to make.
At Brad’s behest, Emcee scanned all the mission protocols, seeking a loophole that would give Brad the authority to do what he wanted to do: show himself to the Gammans in his true form, free of the biosuit.
The computer’s bland-looking image smiled at Brad as it reported, “The safety regulations permit you to dispense with the biosuit’s protection once the medical department has confirmed that you can breathe the planet’s air without harmful effects.”
“I’ve done that,” said Brad, sitting in the cockpit’s seat, surrounded by the shuttlecraft’s controls and communications gear.
It took a little more than one minute for Emcee to reply, “But you have not received clearance from the medical department.”
Brad thought for a moment, turning alternatives over in his mind. Then, “Tacit approval.”
After the delay, Emcee’s image actually blinked. “Tacit approval?”
Nodding vigorously, Brad said, “The fact that I’ve exposed myself to the local environment and the medical department hasn’t raised any objections constitutes their tact approval, doesn’t it?”
This time the time lag was noticeably longer. Emcee must be scanning every regulation in the protocols, Brad thought.
“There is nothing in the mission protocols about tacit approval,” the computer said at last.
“Search the legal files,” Brad commanded. “There must be something in there.”
Even scanning the files at nearly the speed of light, it took Emcee several minutes before it announced, “Tacit approval is recognized in the legal files.”
“Then that’s what we’ve got,” Brad declared, grinning. “The medical department hasn’t forbidden me to go outside without the biosuit. That’s tacit approval.”
Emcee’s image froze in the three-dimensional display for almost exactly one minute. Then, “There is a term from old nautical jargon for what you are doing, Brad. You are a shipboard lawyer.”
Brad laughed. “Whatever it takes,” he said. “Get the job done, whatever it takes.”