Peter’s mane bristled more than was needful to convey ens feelings. “(In a sense, every race is. We have seen several other, more distant signs of it fading. A new one has sprung up in the past three thousand years, but we expect it will likewise prove mortal.)”
“(Why?)”
“(Probably always the cost becomes too great for the gain. The nature of the highest, least bearable cost may well vary from race to race, but in the end, either necessity or wisdom will call a halt, and starfaring will have been no more than an episode in the history of a planet’s life.)”
Nansen’s grip tightened on his parleur. “(Ours will not.)”
“(It should, on moral(?) grounds alone. What we have learned of your past, the cruelty(?) and slaughter, fills us with horror. Best for you as well as for the cosmos that you retire and study how to live with yourselves.)”
Nansen bit his lip but responded with the calm that this mode of discourse usually enforced. “(Are you afraid of us? We would never threaten you. How could we, across the gap between? Why should we?)”
“(You are already a threat. By your very existence.)”
“(I do not understand.)”
“(You have made some among us eager to travel anew, regardless of the infinite danger. The sane wish you would go away.)”
Nansen hesitated before asking outright, “(You cannot simply kill us, can you?)”
Peter flinched. A rank smell, like acid on iron, blew from en. “(That you can imagine that exemplifies the horror.)”
“(Have you and those who think like you absolutely never even considered it?)”
Peter seemed to draw on some inner source of composure. “(It would be counterproductive, an act almost as destabilizing as your presence.)”
So Tahirian society isn’t as perfectly balanced as it seemed, Nansen thought.
“(Only go away,)” Peter said. “(We ask it of you, who have not treated you ill.)”
The plea touched Nansen and eased him a little. “(We plan to leave in another three (Tahirian) years, you know.)”
“(Will you? And what of those who may come afterward? What of your whole ruthless(?), willful race?)”
“(We few cannot speak for all.)” All who are to live after us.
“(Yes, that is part of what makes you terrible.)”
Resolution rose. Peter’s torso drew erect. The middle eyes speared Nansen’s. “(It is well, it is like providence(?), that wherever starfaring has begun, in a cosmically short time it has died,)” en said. “(The causes are surely many; but through them, does reality preserve itself?
“(I cannot now say more. You would not believe me. I am not versed in the subject. First, under proper tutelage, you must learn how to read the mathematical proof. You shall. Then your voyage here will have been not for harm but for good. You will bring a message back to your people and make them, too, call their ships home forever.)”