Besides his research notes, which he entered in the general database, Sundaram kept a journal. At first it was for himself, later he shared it with Yu. In it he set down subjective impressions, tentative ideas, ruminations, remarks, speculations, the raw stuff of knowledge.
"Now that we and the Tahirians have developed the basic structure of Cambiante" — the common language, with the parleurs its means of expression —"and are rapidly increasing and refining its vocabulary, we can try to explain what we are to each other," he wrote one day. "This may well prove the most difficult task of all, perhaps not entirely possible, but we must try, for it is the ultimate purpose of Envoy's journey.
"Herewith a fragmentary rendition of what I believe our collocutors have been attempting to tell us.
"Their species evolved to cope with the changeable, often harsh, occasionally murderous environments on this planet. Omnivorous but largely vegetarian, they lived in groups with a dominance hierarchy. However, alpha, beta, etc. obtained their ranks not directly by strength and aggressiveness, but by contribution to the group. Thus, in a jungle the primitive alpha might be the strongest fighter against predators, while in a desert en might be the best water finder. This appears to have helped drive the evolution of higher intelligence. The primal psychology persists, cooperative, with solitary individuals rare, usually pathological cases. The normal, optimal ordering of a Tahirian society appears to be an interaction between what I may very roughly call clans, the ultimate units, as families are the ultimate human units.
"Inevitably clashes occurred between bands, cultures, ideologies.
However, they were always less ferocious than among humans. Empathy is too natural when so much of language is somatic and chemical. Civilizations did rise and fall, with accompanying ruination. I suspect that more often than not the causes were environmental catastrophes, perhaps triggered by misguided agricultural and industrial practices.
"Be that as it may, Tahirians are no more born to sainthood than humans are. When a society no longer works smoothly, respect for the established order decays, the underlying mystique disintegrates, and chaos and suffering follow. This world, too, has known dark ages.
"When science opened a way to the stars, it gave the race unprecedented opportunities, but also enormous challenges.
"Probably in us humans the basic motivations for most of what we do, including science and exploration, fall into two general classes. One is the hope of gain, whether wealth, power, fame, freedom, or security. The other is the need to make sense of the universe, a need that expressed itself originally in myth and religion. I imagine corresponding urges are present in the Tahirians, but not in the same degrees and ways, and more for the group than the individual. To them, I think, science is as much communion as discovery. One shares findings and achievements with one's society, thereby enhancing it as well as one's own standing in it. Let us remember that science is itself creative art.
"Thus, I think — in the most vague and general terms, subject to endless qualifications and exceptions — the Tahirians went forth more in search of newness, inspiration, spiritual refreshment, than profit. And for thousands of years their ships traveled among the stars.
"Why, then, did they go no farther? Why did their voyaging fade out as their colonies were abandoned?
"I can only guess. Rather, we can, for our crew has discussed the riddle over and over. Let me list a few considerations.
"The sheer number of stars. Granted that most planets are barren, and most of the living ones bear little more than microbes, still, the variety, the puzzles, the possibilities, within just a few light-years are overwhelming. Data saturation begins to set in.
"As for going farther, one reaches a radius where nobody on the mother world will live long enough to hear about one's discoveries. Motivation flags.
"The economics is, at best, marginal. Interplanetary enterprise saved human civilization by bringing in material and energy resources that Earth could no longer supply, as well as industrial sites outside the biosphere. But given a recycling nanotechnology, how much is a cargo hauled across light-years worth?
"Planets where people can settle — without needing an investment in life support that goes beyond feasibility — are very rare.
"Will such limitations close in on humankind? Have they already? We do not know.
"Nor do we know whether they were enough by themselves to bring about the extinction of Tahirian starfaring. We have hints that, early on, Tahirians encountered yet another interstellar civilization, which lost heart and gave up for reasons of its own. We also have clues to something else the Tahirians found, something terrible, to retreat and hide from; but this is barely an intimation, and I may be quite wrong about it. We shall have to learn more, pebble by pebble.
"Suffice it now that the Tahirians have long since recalled their colonists, ended their voyagings, scrapped their starships, and settled down into stability. Their clans are globally coordinated, population and economy are steady-state, they do not seem to fear the future. Indeed, they plan on continuing essentially as they are for as long as imagination reaches. By the time, perhaps a billion years hence, that their aging sun has grown so hot that Tahir is uninhabitable, the third planet will be ready for them. No doubt they look beyond even this. Humans could not. Tahirians are not human.
"How they reconcile such an endlessness, which is also such a narrowness, with what I believe is an instinctual need for a hierarchy with meaningful functions, we do not yet know. I suspect that multisensory electronic communications are necessary for dynamic equilibrium. Are they sufficient? Beneath the calm surface, are there tensions and contradictions, as there surely would be in humans?
"We must continue our investigation."
Sundaram keyed off, leaned back in his chair, and blew out a breath. "Enough for today," he said. "Tomorrow I will make it into a lecture for the troops."
Yu came up behind him. "Must you?" she asked. "You work too hard."
"Well, true, they know most of it already, but in bits and pieces, unsystematic. Perhaps a synthesis will provoke fresh ideas."
"Meanwhile," she said, "what you need is some nonscientific meditation, followed by tea and a bite to eat and what else goes with having a good night's sleep." Her fingers closed on his shoulders and began to massage, firmly, lovingly.
It was late fall at Terralina when Ruszek returned from space. He had fared about with a pair of Tahirians, partly to see something of robotic mining in the asteroids — if "mining" was the word for extraction and refining processes largely on the nano level — and partly to learn some of the practical characteristics of a Tahirian spacecraft. There might be useful hints for human engineers, and even a clue to the mysterious driving force.
He found the settlement abuzz. Nansen was absent, visiting a historic and artistic center, perhaps a kind of Florence or Kyoto. That was not tourism; with the help of his guides, he would bring back a rich store of referents to enlarge and strengthen the Cambiante language. The others greeted Ruszek cordially.
Yet he could not make complete sense out of what he heard from them. Sundaram was preoccupied with the latest semantic bafflement he had come upon, Yu with the improvement of scientific-technological vocabulary. Dayan, Kilbirnie, Cleland, and Brent were in their various ways so enthusiastic about their wish that Ruszek lost patience with sorting out what struck him as babble. Zeyd was analyzing his latest biochemical acquisitions. That left Mokoena. She was busy, too, working up her notes, searching deeper into the patterns of Tahirian life. But she was willing to take a break.
He wanted to get her aside anyway.
Dressed against chill, they walked out into the woods. A game trail had become familiar to the humans; their passages had widened it till two could go side by side. Trees and undergrowth walled it in. The bronze, russet, amber foliage was now mostly gone, though, the walls left open to the wind. It whittered, boughs swayed and creaked, a pale sun in a pale sky cast fluttering shadows. From the damp soil rose a scent as of an oceanside on Earth, early decay, nature's farewell.
The two were silent for a while, awkward after apartness. When at last Ruszek spoke, it was of the least personal matter. "This about the pulsar," he said roughly. "Can you explain it to me?"
"Why, you've heard. They've made their proposal public. To go there and study it."
"Halal es adook!" Ruszek exploded. "Why? We're supposed to have a good, useable language in another year or less. Then the Tahirians can tell us everything about it, down to whether it takes cream or sugar in its coffee."
"That is the point," Mokoena said. "They can't. I see this wasn't made clear to you." She smiled. "Well, everybody talking at once, and also wanting to hear what you had to tell."
"They can't?" His stride missed a beat. He stared at her. "When it's next door?"
Mokoena gathered her words as she walked. The wind shrilled.
"Ajit and Wenji have inquired into this lately, at Hanny's request," she said with care. "They have learned — Yes, the Tahirians were there more than once, thousands of years ago. When they stopped starfaring, they left robots to observe and beam back the data. But the robots wore out. Radiation, electronics degraded, I don't know. Either they weren't meant for self-repair and reproduction, or the materials are lacking in that system. The Tahirians haven't sent more."
"Are they that petrified? Those I've been with haven't acted like it."
"I don't know," Mokoena sighed. "None of us does, yet. I have an impression that their ancestors . . . recoiled from everything to do with starfaring. They didn't want reminders. So curiosity died in them."
Ruszek shook his head. His mustache bristled against the wind. "That just is not true. I deal with them. They're fascinated."
"I likewise," she replied. "And, in fact, the plans for a pulsar expedition include several Tahirians. But we — naturally, we see the most those who are interested, who're glad of us." Her voice sank. "I have a feeling that other Tahirians wish we'd never come to rouse forgotten emotions from their graves."
"An expedition, why? There are space observatories. I've seen them."
"Well, Hanny and Tim say the system, neutron star and planets both, must be in very fast, early evolution, and the instruments here aren't adequate to track it properly. At least, a close look should provide data that'll make the local observations a great deal more meaningful."
Ruszek grinned. "Mainly, they want to go see."
"Scientific passion." Mokoena lowered her voice further. She gazed ahead, in among the bare, tossing boughs. "Also, what better have they to do?"
If flared in Ruszek. "Isten, what a jaunt!"
Mokoena laid a hand on his arm for a moment, the merest touch. "I'm afraid you shall have to forego it, Lajos," she said gently. "The captain would never let both our boat pilots go, and Jean has already spoken for that berth. Hanny, the physicist; Tim, the planetologist; Al, the engineer and general assistant — it cannot be more. We don't dare."
Ruszek's mouth twisted. "I wasn't alert enough. Ah, well."
"Besides," Mokoena said, "perhaps you didn't understand it in all the cross talk, but the captain opposes the idea. He says it can't justify risking our ship."
Ruszek narrowed his eyes against the bitter air. "Hm. I should think — we do know a lot about pulsars, this one especially, don't we? — we could program Envoy so she can't endanger herself."
"We don't know everything. We can't foresee every hazard."
"Nor can we here. I'll speak to Nansen when he returns. He should at least let us vote on it."
Mokoena gave Ruszek a long look. "Although you can't go?"
He shrugged. "I am no dog in the manger. And I do now have plenty to keep me out of mischief."
The wood opened on a glade where turf grew thick and soft, still deeply red-brown. A spring bubbled forth near the center, to rill away into the forest. In summer it was a favorite spot for humans to seek peace and, sometimes, human closeness. Man and woman stopped. Slowly, they turned toward one another.
"You've become a happier man than you were," she said.
"I'm doing something real again, and enjoying it," he replied. "Like you."
"I'm glad, Lajos."
Her eyes were very bright in the dark face. His words began to stumble. "You — us — I asked if we could go for this walk so we could talk alone —"
"I know." Sudden tears glimmered. "I'm sorry, Lajos."
His countenance locked. He spoke as nearly matter-of-factly as he was able. "You don't want to try again, we two?"
"I —" Mokoena swallowed. "Lajos," she said in a rush, "I am not casual. Whatever you may have supposed, I am not."
"You mean you have somebody else in mind."
"I mean only — No, Lajos, we'll be friends, God willing, but only friends."
After a bit, he shrugged again. "Well, I said I have enough to keep me busy."
Impulsively, she caught his hands. "You are more than a man, Lajos. You're a gentleman. I could almost wish —"
He disengaged. "No harm if I hope, is there?"
With the suddenness of the seasons in these parts, the first snow fell soon afterward and the land lay white when Nansen returned. He had stayed in radio contact; his folk were waiting to greet him as he stepped out of the Tahirian aircar. One by one the men shook his hand, then one by one the women embraced him — Yu shyly, Mokoena heartily, Dayan with eagerness and a long kiss while Zeyd went impassive, Kilbirnie unwontedly hesitant. As they left the landing field, the car took off.
A banquet was ready in the common room, as there had been for Ruszek earlier. Any occasion for a celebration was to be seized. Business could wait. News took over the conversation, gossip, small talk, babble and cheer, drinks clinking together. After dinner they set music playing and danced for a while. As she swayed in Nansen's arms, Kilbirnie whispered, "Could we talk alone later?"
His pulse jumped. "Why, of course."
"I'll leave soon and meet you under the lightning tree."
She could visit my office tomorrow, but we might be interrupted, or we might not have time afterward to mask ourselves. Or she could come to my cottage tonight, or I to hers, but that might be too intimate; it might confuse whatever she has to say. The thoughts and questions tumbled in him. He became rather absentminded company for the rest of the evening.
Finally he could say good night, don his thermal coverall, and go. Snow glistened crisp, scrunching beneath his shoes. The settlement huddled black by the dull sheen of ice on the river. Air went keen into his nostrils and streamed forth ghostly. The moon was full but tiny; nearly all light fell from crowding stars and argent Milky Way. It blanched the leafless boughs and towering bole of the tree he sought. The scar from which it had its name stood like a rune on high.
Kilbirnie trod from its vague shadow. Nansen halted where she did. They looked wordless into eyes that gleamed faintly in half-knowable faces.
"We missed you, skipper, we truly did," the husky voice said low.
"Thank you. I missed you." He smiled. "But that was personal presence. I continued as bossy as ever on the radio, didn't I?"
"Nay. Ye're a guid leader, the kind who trusts his followers to think and do for themselves."
He saw what was coming, he had guessed it beforehand, but to help her he asked, "What did you wish to talk about now?"
"Surely you know." She gestured at a point in the glittering sky. "Yonder wild star."
"I've heard the arguments to and fro," he said. "We'll repeat them at a formal meeting. Is this the place for any?"
"Not the technical questions, no, like whether we can indeed program Envoy to keep herself safe —"
"Probably we can," he interrupted. "But we can't program you."
Her grin flashed. "Och, I'll be canny. We all will who go. We like being alive."
He decided on a blunt challenge. "Do you, here?"
"Always and everywhere." She plunged ahead: "But we can be part alive or fully alive. Ajit and Wenji, Mam and Selim — you and Lajos, among these planets — The rest of us want something real to do, too."
"You can help," he urged. "We need your help. Dios mio, have we not mysteries everywhere around us?"
"It is less than we could be doing. Fakework, often, which a robot can handle as well or better. Hanny and Tim think we may learn what we'd never otherwise know, yonder. And those Tahirians who want to come along — what might we learn from them, and about them?"
"Also," he said slowly, "you would cut a couple of years off your time of service before we turn home."
She straightened. "Aye, that's at the core of what I wanted to speak of tonight, skipper. The technical matters, the public matters, we've chopped them over and over, and will over and over again, like making a haggis. But what it... means."
Nansen waited.
She looked down at the snow. "Naught I'd care to say in a meeting." The words came out one by one, in small white puffs. "What it means to me."
He waited.
She looked back at him. Her tone steadied. "I'll be away half a year, or thereabouts, more or less as much time as we'll allow ourselves there. For you, two and a half years."
He nodded. "Yes. And you'll send your messages to us, but they'll be almost a year old, and we won't know —"
"Whether the ship that's to bear you home is safe."
"Whether you are."
Silence shivered.
"Aye, 'tis much to ask," Kilbirnie said.
I have to think about more than safety. What will this do to morale?"
Her smile caught the starlight afresh. "You've a high-hearted crew these days, skipper. Make them more so."
"Yes," he said harshly, "if I let this come to a vote, we both know how the vote will go. But may I?"
Her reply was soft. "I understand. The responsibility is on you. And we are being selfish in a way, we four. We'll not be those who suffer a long span of fear for us."
"A long separation," escaped him.
She was mute for a while in the frost. When she spoke, it stumbled. "Skipper, that's what I — I hoped to say — that it is unfair to you, Ricardo Nansen."
He rallied. "But you feel that forbidding it would be unfair to you."
"Not me, not too much. Hanny and Tim — and, yes, poor, lonely Al — and those Tahirians who long to go starfaring ..."
"And perhaps the star itself," he conceded. "It does offer some fantastic opportunities . . . almost as if God is being generous —" He pulled loose from abstractions and returned to her. Breath had caught in stray locks over her brow and frozen to make starlit sparkles. "You burn to go, don't you?"
"I could stay — aye, quite happily — if..."
"But you would always wonder what you had missed, wouldn't you, Jean?"
Her eyes widened when he said her first name. He hurried on: "And your points about the others, and what it could all mean to the mission, yes, they are valid." I can give you this gift, Jean, if I can bring myself to it.
"Always the man of duty, no?" He couldn't tell whether she admired or reproached or tenderly mocked. On Earth he would soon have found out, but this wasn't Earth.
"Let me think further," he said. "Meanwhile, the hour's grown late, and we're tired and cold."
"And you're heavy burdened. Aye, let's go to our sleep."