“There is no physical . . . ah . . . ?”
“There is no physical ah,” Benita confirmed. “Beyond what might amount to a scratch behind the ears. Not that intimacy would be impossible. Chad says he’s fairly well convinced there’s a point to point correspondence between their actual forms and any morphed form they adopt. Morphing isn’t natural to them, you know. It’s something they’ve discovered how to do, and it takes some kind of implanted electronic assist.”
“Why do they do it?” he demanded.
“I think it has to do with exploration. If you’re going to a planet that’s all water, you need gills. If you’re going to one that’s all desert, you need a body that conserves moisture. And on any new planet, you need to be able to look like the natives while you’re finding things out.”
Though the Big SA had a very odd look on his face when she finished, Benita was quite satisfied with her analysis. It was probably as close to the truth as she could get.
The Big SA went on to ask her what she knew about the Pistach religion.
“Chiddy calls the Pistach god, Aitun. It means The one who is.’ Chiddy says the Pistach don’t presume to know what Aitun is up to or desires. They have a duty, however, to infer purpose from what they see and discover. They have inferred that as an intelligent race who can see that intelligence is a rarity among the stars, they must help spread intelligence throughout the galaxy. They read this as Aitun’s possible intent without ever unequivocally saying it is Aitun’s intent. They avoid saying what God wants or means. They regard races who do as prideful and arrogant.
“Chiddy also says there are over five thousand picky little gods among the races ai knows of,” she said. “A lot of them inceptorish . . .”
“Inceptorish?”
“You’ve read the journal, Reverend. Inceptorish. Virile. Arbitrary, egocentric, and often belligerent. Anyhow, Chiddy says none of the five thousand have sufficient universality to be the god of everyone. Chiddy includes our Earthian gods in the five thousand.”
“There is only one Earthian God,” said the SA, in a ponderous tone.
“You are no doubt correct,” said Benita. “But Chiddy says none of the ones humans talk about in the Western world are it, and none of the hundreds they talk about in the Eastern and undeveloped worlds are it, either.”
They stopped on Inkleoza, to drop off the Inkleozese and their brooders and to pick up a couple of replacement assessors who were beyond breeding age. Chiddy said Inkleozese were needed on board, as they were the Confederation’s accepted witnesses and attestors, but he thought the president and the male members of his entourage would be more relaxed with non-breeding Inkleozese. Even though the Inkleozese and their brooders had stayed in a separate section of the ship, Benita and Chad noticed a definite lowering of tension when they were in transit again. The new Inkleozese were very jolly, fatter than their predecessors and much less austere.
The balance of the trip was over far too soon. Each one of those playing the part of a little SA complained that he or she wasn’t ready. Each one dithered, getting all his or her supplies packed into the smallest possible volume. When everyone was ready to disembark, each took his or her predetermined place in the procession. First the two Inkleozese, escorting the president, who was robed in blue with a blue headdress, looking like someone on a Mardi Gras float, but very dignified. Then Chiddy and Vess, escorting the Big SA, also clad in blue, also dignified, though more meditative. Then the little SAs in robes of a lighter and less piercing sapphire, two by two, thirty-six of them, including the specialists from Hollywood, carrying their special paraphernalia, all looking solemn and dedicated, some of them bearing “altars,” large chests that held the equipment. Blue was a high caste color on Pistach planets, so Chiddy had told them, and the plan required that the Pistach realize these Earthians were very high caste and dead serious about the whole thing. Chad and Benita, being of infinitely lower rank, brought up the rear.