“We don’t know that,” said Ela with perhaps too much pleasure in correcting Quara.
“I know it,” said Quara. “Anyway, it gives us a known context, doesn’t it? We know what that language is about, even if we haven’t been able to decode it.”
“Well, now that you’ve said all that,” said Ela, “I still have no idea how this new wisdom will help us decode the language. I mean, isn’t that precisely what you’ve been working on for months?”
“Ah,” said Quara. “I have. But what I haven’t been able to do is speak the ‘words’ that the descolada virus recorded and see what answers we get back.”
“Too dangerous,” said Jane at once. “Absurdly dangerous. These people are capable of making viruses that completely destroy biospheres, and they’re callous enough to use them. And you’re proposing that we give to them precisely the weapon they used to devastate the pequeninos’ planet? Which probably contains a complete record, not only of the pequeninos’ metabolism, but of ours as well? Why not just slit our own throats and send them the blood?”
Miro noticed that when Jane spoke, the others looked almost stunned. Part of their response might have been to the difference between Val’s diffidence and the bold attitude that Jane displayed. Part of it, too, might have been because the Jane they knew was more computerlike, less assertive. Miro, however, recognized this authoritarian style from the way she had often spoken into his ear through the jewel. In a way it was a pleasure for him to hear her again; it was also disturbing to hear it coming from the lips of someone else. Val was gone; Jane was back; it was awful; it was wonderful.
Because Miro was not so taken aback by Jane’s attitude, he was the one to speak into the silence. “Quara’s right, Jane. We don’t have years and years to work this out — we might have only a few weeks. Or less. We need to provoke a linguistic response. Get an answer from them, analyze the difference in language between their initial statements to us and the later ones.”
“We’re giving away too much,” said Jane.
“No risk, no gain,” said Miro.
“Too much risk, all dead,” said Jane snidely. But in the snideness there was a familiar lilt, a kind of sauciness that said, I’m only playing. And that came, not from Jane — Jane had never sounded like that — but from Val. It hurt to hear it; it was good to hear it. Miro’s dual responses to everything coming from Jane kept him constantly on edge. I love you, I miss you, I grieve for you, shut up; whom he was talking to seemed to change with the minutes.
“It’s only the future of three sentient species we’re gambling with,” added Ela.
With that they all turned to Firequencher.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m just a tourist.”
“Come on,” said Miro. “You’re here because your people are at risk the same as ours. This is a tough decision and you have to vote. You have the most at risk, actually, because even the earliest descolada codes we have might well reveal the whole biological history of your people since the virus first came among you.”
“Then again,” said Firequencher, “it might mean that since they already know how to destroy us, we have nothing to lose.”
“Look,” said Miro. “We have no evidence that these people have any kind of manned starflight. All they’ve sent out so far are probes.”
“All that we know about,” said Jane.
“And we’ve had no evidence of anybody coming around to check out how effective the descolada had been at transforming the biosphere of Lusitania to prepare it to receive colonists from this planet. So if they do have colony ships out there, either they’re already on the way so what different does it make if we share this information, or they haven’t sent any which means that they can’t.”
“Miro’s right,” said Quara, pouncing. Miro winced. He hated being on Quara’s side, because now everybody’s annoyance with her would rub off on him. “Either the cows are already out of the barn, so why bother shutting the door, or they can’t get the door open anyway, so why put a lock on it?”