V

There were frequent discussions of routines and objectives, with a Wais always present to clarify and explain nuances that might escape the electronic translators. One thing that did not have to be debated was course. Destinations had been determined by the astronomers of the Weave long before the ship had been readied for departure. Isolating suns likely to have planets was difficult enough. Trying to determine from aboard a ship in Underspace which were likely to support life was an impossibility.

There were many reasons why this was so, not the least of them being that the presence of an oxynitro atmosphere was not necessarily a prerequisite for the development of intelligence, the heliox-breathing Chirinaldo being the most prominent exception to the usual but far from absolute atmospheric rule. Then there were the amphibious Lepar, and another intelligent but not yet mature species who extracted all their oxygen directly from water.

Nor could the possibility of encountering even more exotic sentient types be ruled out. Among the allies of the Amplitur, for example, was a race of methane-breathers. So every system that boasted planets had to be closely inspected, lest a potentially useful … or dangerous … world be overlooked.

He rarely showed the uncertainty he felt. It was not easy being less experienced than many of those he was expected to command. But being Massood, he appeared naturally jumpy and nervous to others, and so it was impossible for any but members of his own kind to tell when he was feeling uneasy. The extremities of a Massood were in constant motion: twitching, curling, quivering. Movements were jerky and swift, not smooth like those of a Hivistahm or languorous in the manner of the Wais.

There was no hesitancy in the orders he issued, however, and the ship sped on through Underspace devoid of troubles mechanical or psychological.

Upon reaching a new system and emerging into real space, a well-defined procedure was followed. Whether the subject to be studied was a gas giant, a moon thereof, or a smaller independent world, the ship would assume an orbit a safe several planetary diameters out. Masking would be engaged so that they could not be observed from the surface. The process bent light around the ship. In the unlikely event its location was crossed by astronomers or other observers on the ground it would not occlude any stars, thereby preventing detection.

Usually it was only necessary to execute a single slow equatorial and a backup circumpolar to establish that a world was uninhabited. The presence of nonintelligent life could be duly noted and recorded from orbit, much to the dismay of Hivistahm biologists eager to examine and collect specimens from every new ecosystem.

Caldaq sympathized with his scientific staff, but time could not be allotted to pure research. There were too many systems to be searched. The sum total of all such studies would be rendered meaningless by a final Amplitur victory. Their assignment was to seek out potential help, however limited. To find out potential allies. Not to learn.

There were times when he questioned the work himself. Not because he was not doing what he’d been trained to do, which was fight, but because he was afraid he might not be doing his work well enough. In combat it was easy to determine if one was performing. His present assignment provided no such simple hallmarks from which to judge accomplishment.

It was the same with running. He moved his legs, fought gravity, and the clock charted the degree of his success. Much more difficult to decide if he was, for example, settling arguments properly.

There was constant trouble between the Hivistahm and the Lepar. It was in the nature of the Hivistahm to criticize, and they were particularly rough on the slow amphibians. Though patient, the Lepar would take such abuse only so long before reacting. Then there would be a fight, with the bulkier, stronger Lepar unable to get a grip on the slighter but far more agile Hivistahm. This only raised the Lepar’s level of frustration.

Caldaq found himself spending much of his time mediating such confrontations, which nearly always ended harmlessly if noisily. The skills he was forced to call upon differed greatly from those demanded of a fighter. He was much more comfortable in the role of combatant than referee, especially when members of another race were involved.

The usual result was that the Hivistahm would trot off muttering and whistling to itself while the Lepar would sulk back to join its fellows as if nothing had happened, leaving their commander to wonder if his intervention had done any good at all. At least when dealing with Massood you always knew where you stood following an argument.

Whenever his sense of inadequacy or insecurity grew too great to internalize, Jaruselka was always there to comfort and reassure him, and Soliwik to offer sound, practical advice. He could also turn to his other seconds, the S’van T’var and Z’mam.

That was one thing about the S’van: If you wanted them to be your true friends, all you had to do was plead ignorance or confusion and ask for their advice. They loved to give advice. Some postulated it was a physiological necessity for them, like inhaling. It was bearable only because the advice was usually sound.

The troubles the expedition experienced fell well within the range of the anticipated. Things were going as smoothly, Caldaq thought, as even an experienced captain could have wished.

They surveyed many dead worlds but also a surprising number that supported some form of life. One system of seven planets consisted of two outer gas giants, two inner seared rocks, and three worlds in between, all of which harbored life: an unprecedented occurrence.

The Hivistahm and S’van scientists all but mutinied in their desire to examine the remarkable trio, frantic to compare evolution on one world with its neighbor, to measure similarities and differences. Once again Caldaq was required to deny their requests.

Each of the three worlds was studied from orbit, and then it was time to move on. The grumbling of the scientists continued in Underspace, but the volume of complaints soon subsided. Everyone knew it was useless to argue with a Massood. Had a S’van been in charge there at least might have been some intelligent debate on the issue.

Their reaction was not lost on Caldaq, whose admiration for Regional Commander Brun’s abilities rose another notch.

The science staff’s disappointment was forgotten when the next system they entered proved to be home not merely to life but to intelligent life.

The newfound species resembled the Hivistahm physically, but they were far too immature to be of any use in the battle against the Amplitur. They were living in tribal groups, primitive hunter-gatherers stuck at the spear-and-axe level of technology. Contact revealed a language primitive enough for the Wais to decipher in a couple of days.

The natives treated the visitors as gods, refusing to accept that they were as mortal as themselves. It was conceded by the Hivistahm that these people would require several millennia of maturation on their own before they would be able to help in any way, a pronouncement rendered with more Hivistahm solemnity than usual.

The ship continued on, burrowing through Underspace to check one world after another, following the complex course programmed into the ship’s navigation system by the very best of the Weave’s astronomers. Frustration levels among the crew waxed and waned with clocklike regularity, leading Caldaq to believe a psychologist should have been appointed captain rather than a fighter.

The only member of the crew who never gave him any trouble was Pasiiakilion.

On those occasions when he felt the need to get away from everyone else, including Jaruselka and Soliwik, he would go and visit the Turlog in its dimly lit artificial burrow. Squatting in a corner, it would regard him with one eye from the tip of its supportive stalk while the other concentrated on another task entirely. Though it appeared to be ignoring him, Caldaq knew the alien was devoting as much attention to him as it was to its studies.

An inflexible, crustaceanlike exoskeleton gave Pasiiakilion little range of motion. The large, clumsy claws were hard put to operate the simplest switches and controls. Special amplifiers magnified as well as translated the scratchy Turlog voice. Compared to Pasiiakilion, the clumsiest Lepar on the ship was the very picture of grace.

It had admitted him without greeting, neither rude nor accommodating. Caldaq responded to the subsequent silence with measured words delivered in an unchallenging tone. He was rewarded by a response, however unenthusiastically delivered. He could not tell how much of its attention the Turlog was devoting to his visit and how much to its reading, but at least Pasiiakilion responded. Its usual reaction was on the order of abyssal indifference.

Sometimes he wondered how the Turlog might have evolved had it developed a more flexible body. As it was, they were highly dependent on sophisticated instrumentation to help them carry out the most menial personal tasks. Nor did he care for the Turlog’s quarters, feebly lit by faint reddish light.

But it was quiet there. He could relax, isolated from the numbing details of command, and talk via translator with the one member of his crew who never gave him trouble.

Sometimes he even received a reply.

Discouragement and ennui finally gave way to excitement and expectation among the crew when the ship reached a small world circling a star of medium age, which was home not merely to intelligence but to a real civilization.

Orbital observations revealed that while they had not yet acquired the ability to travel through Underspace, or indeed even between the worlds of their own system, the inhabitants had achieved a level of technology amenable to formal contact. There was ample evidence of the presence of aircraft and other sophisticated means of surface transportation. Furthermore, the natives responded to the eventual appearance of a shuttle above one of their principal urban centers with an appealing mix of curiosity and shyness.

Contact was made with the leaders of the new species and formalities exchanged, whereupon S’van and Wais specialists landed to pursue further contact in person. Caldaq did not go, nor did Soliwik. Newly contacted peoples often became uneasy in the presence of the physically imposing Massood. They were much more at ease dealing with graceful Wais and short S’van. So T’var acted in his stead, daily apprising his captain of developments below.

Caldaq’s concerns were exacerbated by the ever anxious Hivistahm. The contact party was virtually helpless without any Massood to protect them, though the S’van could fight if absolutely necessary. Their versatility was another of their admirable traits. If the natives were intent on deception, T’var could probably manage a successful retreat.

His fears were groundless. The natives quickly demonstrated their maturity and friendship. Soon representatives were routinely shuttling back and forth between the surface and the ship, where they marveled at the achievements of the Weave and listened somberly to the history of its confrontation with the Amplitur.

Such information was not restricted to the local elite, but was disseminated by domestic means of communication to the populace at large. Caldaq’s people spent a good deal of time educating and explaining. They were rewarded when the natives decided unanimously to join with the Weave and support the fight against the Purpose. Their enthusiasm was exhilarating and gratifying. The long voyage had not been in vain. Caldaq grew emotional.

The natives possessed good mechanical and learning skills. Upon the introduction of Weave technology and training they would be able to make a significant contribution to the war effort. Fighters they were not, but that would have been too much to hope for.

There was a considerable outpouring of honest affection when it came time for the ship to finally depart. T’var left their new allies with the promise that Weave ships would soon be calling in large numbers. The natives looked forward to receiving such visitations as soon as possible. Their eagerness to help was touching. It was also only sensible, of course, since if they failed to join the Weave they would eventually find themselves dominated by the Amplitur.

Acquisition of a new, intelligent ally was enough to render the expedition a complete success and justify its expense. They would return to applause and commendation. All those good things that Soliwik had told him could come from such a journey now seemed within his grasp.

But it was not yet time for Caldaq to enjoy them. Their mission was not completed. Eleven more systems remained to be scanned and examined before they could begin the long Underspace journey homeward.

With success already assured, the atmosphere on board improved noticeably. The Hivistahm grumbled less and ceased provoking the Lepar. The S’van relaxed, and even the bored Massood were cheered. The latter looked forward to returning to combat, promoted and acclaimed.

They had reached the limit delineated by navigation, a region of few stars and sterile worlds, when to everyone’s surprise and delight instrumentation detected what might be communications signals.

There was nothing remarkable about them. They possessed no extraordinary range or power. Very typically stratified electromagnetic pulses. Nothing to suggest true civilization, of course. That would have been too much to hope for. But they did hint that another world had been located on which electronic means of communication had been developed.

As soon as they arrived masking procedures were initiated and the ship established itself in a safe orbit several planetary diameters out. Initial anticipation fell rapidly when no indications of space-traversing capability were noted.

Everyone was tired, Caldaq knew. Many besides the Hivistahm now spent much time thinking of home, and a predictable but nonetheless very real letdown had followed the discovery and cementing of an alliance with the inhabitants of the world previously visited. Surely any species they encountered subsequently could not be as helpful or friendly. He was tired himself. Despite his twice-daily workouts on the ship’s track, he felt himself steadily losing the muscle tone so carefully established through years of training.

This world could be similar to the last one, but that was too much to hope for. More probably it was less advanced. In any event he knew he was unlikely to see the surface. Formal contact, should the locals prove advanced enough to handle it, would be managed by the S’van. The prevailing attitude on board as survey preparations were begun was one of hopeful boredom.

Preliminary observations produced at least one astonishing discovery: the principal landmass of the planet had disintegrated. For once, the geologists had something to be excited about.

Debate as to whether intelligence could even evolve in such a bizarre setting was resolved for a time by initial data which was, disappointingly, predictable and unsurprising. Urban centers and extensive agriculture were present, as were communications relay satellites. Only the distribution of population centers seemed slightly unnatural. More to study the remarkable geology of the planet than the works of its inhabitants, it was decided to add a diagonal circumnavigation to the standard equatorial and polar.

As observation proceeded, further deviations from the anticipated norm were noted. Caldaq was informed of the presence of unusually large population concentrations in regions where, at least from orbit, there appeared no reason for them to exist. Similarly, areas that should have attracted heavy settlement were practically deserted.

Such exceptions were to be expected. The developmental history of each species was different from that of every other. Land use was a subject for a follow-up expedition equipped to carry out advanced studies. Certainly this world, with its unique topography, would draw considerable attention from the specialists.

The level of technological sophistication achieved by the locals and whether it might exceed that of the Weave’s recently acquired new allies quickly became a matter for debate. A certain amount of wagering on the question took place among the Massood, who were prone to that particular amusement. The Hivistahm considered gambling a waste of time, the Lepar did not understand it, and the Wais regarded it with tolerance. The S’van never participated because they might win.

Additional observations resulted in another finding no one could have imagined.

“It certainly is odd,” said T’var. All three Seconds were present at the staff-study meeting.

The Hivistahm chief-of-study whistled into his translator while the others present adjusted their ear-mounted receivers.

“S’van understatement. So far we have documented at least fifteen distinct patterns.”

Soliwik’s nose twitched rapidly. “I see nothing remarkable in that. There are a number of worlds on which that many dialects are spoken.”

“These are not dialects,” Chief-of-Study insisted. Light flashed off her metallic green skin. She wore no personal adornment to the meeting save the ubiquitous eyeshades favored by her kind, tinted to spare her sensitive pupils. “Each a distinct language is, as distinct in some cases as S’van from Hivistahm or Massood is.”

Caldaq had come to the meeting prepared to listen to the usual statistical recitation. Now, on top of the planet’s impossible geology, there was this. He found himself scratching nervously at his left flank as he straightened his tall frame in the high-backed chair.

“You’re quite certain they are not dialects?”

“Absolutely,” said the S’van second-of-study. “Not only have we examined the relevant recordings thoroughly and repeated computer analysis of our findings run, we believe even more individual languages may be encountered as our observations continue.”

Caldaq swallowed. “Surely there could not be more than fifteen.”

“There should not that many be.” Chief-of-Study shifted in her seat. “The largest number of distinct languages developed by any known intelligent race is six, by the Wais. The idea of fifteen or more being spoken on one world is incomprehensible. Yet our observations to that conclusion inevitably lead.”

“Well, we are not here to study languages.” Caldaq regarded the crammed agenda screen in front of him. “The universe is a vast place where any number of sociological aberrations may be expected to be encountered eventually. Perhaps even a world where more than the usual number of languages are in use.

“The Massood have always done nicely with one and its accompanying dialects. Possibly not all these you have recorded are used for general communication. Perhaps some are devoted to specialties. A language for science, another for commerce. Although I am no linguistic historian, I believe there is some precedence for that.” He looked up. “What say the Wais?”

“We are baffled.” Translator-Chief gazed superciliously back at her commander. Bracelets clinked melodiously on her wrists, and her flowing cape was decorated with innumerable personal insignia and designs. All of exquisite taste, of course.

“Your notion, Captain, that certain languages may be used for specialized purposes may prove correct. But initial analysis by my colleagues and I seems to suggest otherwise.” Familiar with the unintentional air of superiority the Wais sometimes affected when imparting information, Caldaq was able to ignore it.

“Admittedly, these are preliminary conclusions, but they are based on the many precedents present in our computer. At least five of the languages recorded thus far are utterly different in structure from the rest and from each other, yet sufficiently complex in content to constitute an efficient means of communication unto themselves. Among the remaining ten there are recognizable relational patterns and soundings, too many for each to constitute a separate language of specialization. In addition there are unexpected cross-references between otherwise utterly dissimilar tongues.”

“Despite which you think there may be even more?” murmured Caldaq.

The Wais stared back at him. “Even as we sit here my colleagues are recording suggestions of such. The only way we will know for certain is to initiate a far more intense examination of the population.”

“There are clamorings in other departments,” said T’var, “for exactly that.”

“Each new world prompts a similar ritual.” Caldaq tried not to sound irritable. The whiskers on the right side of his snout flicked upward. “We will do only that which is necessary and we will follow procedure.” He scanned the Hivistahm present.

“Enough of primitive babblings. Have we learned anything more about this world’s unusual appearance?”

Chief-of-Geophysics adjusted her eyeshades. “It is tectonically far more active than it ought to be. The extraordinary physical environment may to a nonstandard ecology rise have given.” She hesitated. “We have the presence of active volcanoes noted. There is also evidence of unpredictable violent movements within the crust and mantle.”

“On an inhabited world,” T’var murmured aloud. “Incredible! How do they cope emotionally?”

Caldaq motioned for his Second to be silent, gestured for Chief-of-Geophysics to continue.

“The single large landmass surrounded by water and small islands that is the norm elsewhere has been replaced on this world by something else, something very different. One can easily note this through a port, without special equipment. This world a treasure house of geologic abnormalities is, such as high mountains on the edges of landmasses instead of near the centers.

“Initially it was thought that perhaps the central landmass had by cometary impact been shattered, but further study a tectonic explanation suggests. The proximity of a moon much too large to be orbiting so small a world another likely influence is.”

Chief-of-Study bobbed her head. “Of course, it is far too soon on a matter of such controversy final judgments to render. When contacted, it may be that the inhabitants themselves will some light on their unique environment be able to shed.”

Caldaq assented with both ears.

“We’ll know more when the remote returns. I know we should complete all three observational passes first, but I think we can bend procedure that much.” He adopted a warning tone. “Staff will do the programming, as always, but according to prior preop. No department gets more space than normally allotted.” He noted the objection gesture from Chief-of-Geophysics and responded. “On later flights we can assign time according to need, but not on this first one.

“I realize there is much knowledge to be gained here, but that cannot be allowed to obscure our objective. Our first task is to make contact with the inhabitants. It would be overwhelming to make contact with not one but two potential allies on a single expeditionary journey, even if neither has advanced far enough to have independently achieved Underspace capability.

“I will not tolerate any interstaff squabbling over time assignments. Everyone has their job to do, myself included.” He eyed Chief-of-Study. “I am depending on the Hivistahm to follow procedure precisely, as always.” She blinked acknowledgment.

Caldaq leaned back in his chair. “No matter what is suspected or theorized, I will not allow the linguists and geologists to assume preference over, say, the botanists or hydrologists or anyone else. We have just begun the study of this place and it is too soon to try and predict what discoveries may prove to be the ones of greatest importance. Am I understood?”

Everyone present touched a finger or claw to their translator receiver to indicate that he was. He gave the order primarily for the benefit of the Hivistahm, who tended to be argumentative. The Wais and the S’van would simply comply.

The meeting was at an end.

Fifteen languages, separate and distinct. His head twitched to the left as he tried to embrace the concept. What species needed fifteen languages in order to communicate effectively? It made no more sense than this world’s shattered topography.

Hopefully the first remote would return with an explanation. The ship carried several of the small, self-contained atmospheric vehicles, each capable of extended flight through calm or turbulent weather, each able to carry out detailed observations of a planetary surface.

The presence of low-flying aircraft had been noted during the early orbits, but the remote would simply avoid them, going about its business without contact. It would scan one, perhaps two of the distinct landmasses and then return to the ship. After careful study of its recordings they could decide how, when, and where to send down a shuttle to initiate contact. With luck, the natives might even have more to contribute than an unnatural diversity of languages.