“We must continue our investigation.”
Sundaram keyed off, leaned back in his chair, and blew out a breath. “Enough for today,” he said. “Tomorrow I will make it into a lecture for the troops.”
Yu came up behind him. “Must you?” she asked. “You work too hard.”
“Well, true, they know most of it already, but in bits and pieces, unsystematic. Perhaps a synthesis will provoke fresh ideas.”
“Meanwhile,” she said, “what you need is some nonscientific meditation, followed by tea and a bite to eat and what else goes with having a good night’s sleep.” Her fingers closed on his shoulders and began to massage, firmly, lovingly.
It was late fall at Terralina when Ruszek returned from space. He had fared about with a pair of Tahirians, partly to see something of robotic mining in the asteroids — if “mining” was the word for extraction and refining processes largely on the nano level — and partly to learn some of the practical characteristics of a Tahirian spacecraft. There might be useful hints for human engineers, and even a clue to the mysterious driving force.
He found the settlement abuzz. Nansen was absent, visiting a historic and artistic center, perhaps a kind of Florence or Kyoto. That was not tourism; with the help of his guides, he would bring back a rich store of referents to enlarge and strengthen the Cambiante language. The others greeted Ruszek cordially.
Yet he could not make complete sense out of what he heard from them. Sundaram was preoccupied with the latest semantic bafflement he had come upon, Yu with the improvement of scientific-technological vocabulary. Dayan, Kilbirnie, Cleland, and Brent were in their various ways so enthusiastic about their wish that Ruszek lost patience with sorting out what struck him as babble. Zeyd was analyzing his latest biochemical acquisitions. That left Mokoena. She was busy, too, working up her notes, searching deeper into the patterns of Tahirian life. But she was willing to take a break.
He wanted to get her aside anyway.
Dressed against chill, they walked out into the woods. A game trail had become familiar to the humans; their passages had widened it till two could go side by side. Trees and undergrowth walled it in. The bronze, russet, amber foliage was now mostly gone, though, the walls left open to the wind. It whittered, boughs swayed and creaked, a pale sun in a pale sky cast fluttering shadows. From the damp soil rose a scent as of an oceanside on Earth, early decay, nature’s farewell.
The two were silent for a while, awkward after apartness. When at last Ruszek spoke, it was of the least personal matter. “This about the pulsar,” he said roughly. “Can you explain it to me?”
“Why, you’ve heard. They’ve made their proposal public. To go there and study it.”
“Halal es adook!” Ruszek exploded. “Why? We’re supposed to have a good, useable language in another year or less. Then the Tahirians can tell us everything about it, down to whether it takes cream or sugar in its coffee.”
“That is the point,” Mokoena said. “They can’t. I see this wasn’t made clear to you.” She smiled. “Well, everybody talking at once, and also wanting to hear what you had to tell.”
“They can’t?” His stride missed a beat. He stared at her. “When it’s next door?”
Mokoena gathered her words as she walked. The wind shrilled.
“Ajit and Wenji have inquired into this lately, at Hanny’s request,” she said with care. “They have learned — Yes, the Tahirians were there more than once, thousands of years ago. When they stopped starfaring, they left robots to observe and beam back the data. But the robots wore out. Radiation, electronics degraded, I don’t know. Either they weren’t meant for self-repair and reproduction, or the materials are lacking in that system. The Tahirians haven’t sent more.”
“Are they that petrified? Those I’ve been with haven’t acted like it.”
“I don’t know,” Mokoena sighed. “None of us does, yet. I have an impression that their ancestors . . . recoiled from everything to do with starfaring. They didn’t want reminders. So curiosity died in them.”
Ruszek shook his head. His mustache bristled against the wind. “That just is not true. I deal with them. They’re fascinated.”