“Yes, I’ve heard that discussed, of course. But still — bien —”
“They have voices,” Sundaram said. Nansen nodded, recalling whistles and rumbles. “However,” the linguist went on, “I am beginning to think their language is only partly vocal, perhaps only in minor part. It gives me the impression of being principally a body language, employing especially the countless possible configurations of those leafy, erectile manes. And what other elements does it have? How do they write it? The eyes suggest that they see the universe differently from us. What are their pictorial conventions? No, we will not quickly be able to speak in their manner. I doubt we ever will be.”
Nansen sighed. “I suppose we are just as weird to them.”
“Well, now, there the situation may not be quite so difficult. That is why I believe they will take the lead. Their ancestors went to hundreds or thousands of stars. They doubtless have a far larger database to work from than we do.”
“Do you mean they can retrieve parallels to us? I wonder. How many intelligent races, primitive or civilized or — whatever else — did they ever find?”
“That is one thing we have come here to learn.”
“Let’s begin, then!”
“Give us time. They appear to be willing, interested —”
“As well they might be.”
“We may see some action reasonably soon.” Sundaram spoke into Nansen’s sudden hopefulness: “But as for proper communication, you must give us time.”
“Us.” He includes the Yonderfolk. Already he feels a kinship across all foreignness.
The crew were gathered. Nansen spoke straight to the point.
“It went better than we anticipated. Icons, animations — We’re invited to come down and settle in.”
Ruszek’s hand shot up. “First landing!” he roared.
“Again?” Kilbirnie said. She shrugged. “Aweel, if you must. There should be lots more, shouldn’t there, skipper?”
“We still have details to work out,” Nansen cautioned. “First and foremost, I suppose, the actual landing site.”
“They ought to have one in mind already, given their experience in the past,” Mokoena said. “Selim and I have established that the biology and biochemistry here are the same as in the anomalous plants we collected at our previous stop.” This, too, though not unexpected, was a new announcement; knowledge had been leaping forward. “And the architecture — That was a colony of theirs. They are the Yonderfolk.”
Nobody asked why that world lay forsaken. They had raised the question wearisomely often. Nevertheless, for a moment it spooked around them.
Cleland pushed it aside. “Uh, this may be silly,” he ventured, “but have you found out the name of this planet, Ajit?”
Sundaram smiled. “Silly but natural,” he replied. “No, of course not. Perhaps we never will. It may have many names in many distinct languages. Whatever they are, I doubt we can ever pronounce any, if pronunciation is even appropriate — and if the Yonderfolk bestow names.”
Zeyd half rose from his seat, sank back, and declared, “We want one to use among ourselves.”
Yu nodded. “We have talked about this also.”
“We should decide. You know what I propose. Tahir.”
“That seems fitting,” Nansen said, “and out in these parts we don’t have to go through registration procedures. Shall we agree on Tahir?”
Assent murmured around the half-circle.
“Well,” Nansen said gladly, “we can start planning and preparing for descent, and thinking what to do down there.”
“Five years,” Brent growled.
Eyes went toward him. “What?” demanded Dayan.
He glowered back. “You know. The contract, the ship’s articles. We are not obliged to stay more than five Earth years after we’ve reached our goal. Which we have.”
“We may be at the start of the real, the greater search,” Sundaram said.
“Five years,” Brent insisted. He looked around from face to face. “Then we can go home if we choose. Wouldn’t you like to be back where you can dare have children, before you’re too old?”
CHAPTER 23
Year one.
The site was a broad opening in an expanse of woodlands on the eastern seaboard of a northern continent. A stream flowed through, clear and pure although the human palate sensed a slight pungency. A stand of trees screened an area that had been paved overnight to provide a field for spacecraft and aircraft. When violent weather was on its way, as happened not uncommonly, a flexible sheet extruded from one end, arched over to form a transparent dome, and grew rigid. It opened for you wherever you approached, closing again behind. After the storm was past, it softened and withdrew. Otherwise the Tahirians had prepared nothing, and raised no objections to whatever their guests did.