“Quite simply, the answer is: because they are there!”
White light from the helical fixtures struck down at the professor’s bony face.
“But—” began Joneny.
“But no,” the professor interrupted. They were alone in the office. “It isn’t that simple, is it? The reason is that many of them were once there, and they did something that had never been done before—that will never be done again—and because remnants of them are still there now. That is why you will study them.”
“But, sir,” Joneny persisted, “that’s not what I asked. I’m requesting a personal dispensation that will exempt me from research work on this unit. I expect to be held accountable for all examination questions on the Star Folk; but I’m already an honors student, and on the strength of that, I’m asking to skip the detail work on them. I’m perfectly willing to put in the time on my thesis topic, the Nukton Civilization of Creton III, or anything else that’s reasonable, sir.” Then, as an afterthought: “I realize it would be a privileged exemption that only you can grant.”
“That’s quite correct,” the professor said coolly; he leaned forward. “On the strength of your ‘honors,’ Joneny—and you’re more than a good student, you’re an amazing one—I’ll listen to your objections. But I have to admit that there’s something about your request that annoys me.”
Joneny took a breath. “I just don’t want to waste my time on them, sir. There’s so much needed research in a field like Galactic Anthropology; and, as far as I can see, the Star Folk are a dead end, with no significance at all. They were a very minor transition factor that was eliminated from the cosmic equation even before the terms were fully written out. Their ‘contributions to the arts’ are entirely derivative—and they produced nothing else. All that remains of them is a barbaric little settlement, if you can call it that, which the Federation sentimentally allows to exist out near Leffer VI. There are too many cultures and civilizations crying to be researched for me to waste time poking through dozens of chrome-plated eggshells, documenting the history of a…a bunch of chauvinistic, degenerate morons. And I don’t care what anyone says, sir. That’s all they are!”
“Well,” the professor said. “Well. You are vehement on the subject.” He glanced at the screen on his desk, flicked a few notes across it, then looked sternly at Joneny. “I am not going to grant your request. But I’ll tell you why. In fact, I’ll even argue with you—because of your ‘honors’ status. You say that the culture of the Star Folk was an insignificant transitional factor, superseded before its purpose was achieved. Why?”
“Because, sir…”—Joneny was prepared for that question—“they left Earth for the stars in their ships early in 2242, expecting to cruise through space for twelve generations before reaching an uncertain destination. They’d been gone only sixty years when the hyperspace drive became a large-scale reality. By the time the ten remaining generation-ships arrived in the Leffer system, Earth had already established a going-business of trade and cultural exchange, already a hundred or so years old, with scores of planetary systems. And it was just as well too, because the level of civilization on the starships was at a primitive-barbaric stage; and the descendants of the Star Folk who had left Earth with such exalted goals would never have been able to survive on alien planets, much less make friendly contact with any of their cultures. So the ten ships were herded into orbit around Leffer and, with the imbecilic remnants of their population, allowed to dodder toward extinction. From all reports, they are as contented as such creatures can be; I say leave them there. But I personally am not interested in knowing much more about them.” Certain that he had made his point, he waited for the professor’s—perhaps reluctant—acquiescence to his request; but the silence lengthened.
When the professor spoke, it was in a tone more distant than before. “You assert that they produced no significant contribution to the arts. Are you completely familiar with all the records?”
Joneny’s face reddened. “I’m hardly an expert, sir. But again, you’d think that in twelve generations there would be one poem, one painting, something—other than those insipid, maudlin, derivative exercises in nostalgia.”
The professor raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Joneny went doggedly on. “I’ve looked through the collection of their ballads Xamol Nella made in ’79, and there’s not a single metaphor or simile in any of them that could be called original or even relevant to life on a starship. There’s nothing but semimythical folktales couched in terms of sand and sea and cities and nations—some of them very interesting, no doubt, but complete fantasies with no relation to the people living and dying on the ships. I couldn’t be less interested in such cotton-candy effusions.”
The professor raised his other eyebrow. “Oh? Well, before I give you your assignment, I want to stress what I said in the beginning: the Star Folk did something never done before or since. They traveled through space—a lot of it—for a very long time. No one else has ever really been there, because the hyperspace drive actually takes you around interstellar space.” He laughed softly. “So perhaps they did find all the sand and sea and cities and nations there.” He raised a hand as Joneny started to object. “You haven’t been there, so you can’t disprove it. At any rate, they made what is perhaps the most dangerous journey imaginable, and for that alone they deserve to be studied.”
“What could be safer than interstellar space, sir?” Joneny’s tone was slightly contemptuous. “There’s nothing in it.”
Both the professor’s eyebrows fell. “Even if we knew that to be true—which we do not—what in blazes makes you think it would be safe for Earthmen in Earth starships? It’s within the realm of possibility that there were others. I remind you that although twelve ships left Earth, only ten reached the Leffer system, and two of those arrived empty. Perhaps there was something in the ‘safety’ of interstellar space—in the sand and the sea—which we do not know about yet.” Bony fingers pushed buttons below the screen. More notes flicked across. “You say you are familiar with the Nella’s ballad collection? Then no doubt you know ‘The Ballad of Beta-2.’ ” I want a complete historical analysis of that ballad—from primary sources. That will be your detail assignment for this unit.”
“But, Professor—!”
“Dismissed.”