Space Opera (11 page)

Space, that dark emptiness which when related to a system of stars seems almost as palpable as an ocean separating a group of islands, passed astern — if emptiness can be said to do anything whatsoever. And yet, something passed astern, for Sirius receded and Phi Orionis approached, and in order to achieve this effect, a significant process evidently was underway. Roger, wandering through the saloon, picked up a book and read a trifle of speculation from the pen of the eminent cosmologist Dennis Kertesz: “Infinity is a fascinating idea with which all of us have struggled, especially the infinity of extension, which cannot be evaded by proposing a universe of finite circumference. Less carefully considered is an infinity in the other direction: the infinity of smallness, and it extends as far and is as bemusing as that other infinity.

“What happens to matter at the lower reaches? Matter exhibits a constantly finer texture, until it no longer can be dealt with experimentally, or even mathematically. Eventually, or so it would seem, all matter, all energy, all everything, even space itself, must be expressed by some single antithesis: a basic yes or no; back or forth; in or out; clock-wise or counter-clock-wise; fourth-dimensional coiling in, or fourth-dimensional coiling out. Even at this level, the infinite recession into smallness continues. No matter how small is anything it serves only as a gauge by which to define extremes (if only formal extremes) a hundred times smaller …”

Roger, already suffering melancholy, found the cosmic immensities appalling, and laid aside the book.

Bernard Bickel pointed out to him that space as observed from the
Phoebus
was essentially no different from space as observed from the terrace at Ballew on a clear night. Roger agreed in principle, but became only slightly less depressed in consequence.

Ahead Phi Orionis grew bright, and the day came when the second planet Zade could be seen, and presently the
Phoebus
went into landing orbit.

The Resident Commissioner at Earth-town radioed up a landing clearance; down to Zade settled the
Phoebus
.

Like most inhabited planets of the galaxy, Zade was a highly diversified world physiographically. There was a single continent which sprawled around two-thirds of the globe, with dozens of arms, inlets, peninsulas, extensions, fjords, capes and bays. Earth-town, a complex of warehouse, dormitory and administrative buildings, was situated on the banks of a river a few miles inland from the South Ocean. The Resident Commissioner, Edgar Cam, a tall thoughtful man with a big nose, big chin, big hands and feet, and a manner of cautious deliberation, attempted to discourage Dame Isabel from her purpose.

Sitting in Dame Isabel’s cabin he explained his pessimism. “Theoretically I have no argument with your goals. The natives of Zade are by and large neither hostile, nor uncooperative: they are simply unpredictable. There are at least sixteen variations of the intelligent species, much more disparate than the races of man, and with their differences of color and anatomy go cultural differences. I couldn’t even begin to generalize on them.”

“They are a humanoid people?”

“Yes indeed. No question about that. From a distance of a hundred yards you can hardly distinguish one from a man.”

“And I understand they are, in a sense, artists? That is to say, they understand the creative process, the sublimation of fact to symbol and the use of symbol to suggest emotion?”

“Absolutely, though here again there is great diversity as to ways and means. One of the peculiar facets of life on Zade is the lack of cultural interchange. Each tribe seems to live sufficient to itself, and except for an occasional slave-raid, takes very little notice of its neighbors.”

Dame Isabel frowned. “Do I understand you to say that in performing before audiences on Zade we would be in danger of physical harm or personal molestation?”

“Quite possibly, if you were rash enough to venture into the Brownback Mountains, or attempt to play before the Stagag-Ogog Clawbills. But these are isolated cases, and in general the folk of Zade are no more and no less to be feared than the people of Earth — if you assiduously heed their special conventions and habits — and herein lies the unpredictability of Zade.”

“I think you can trust us on that score,” said Bernard Bickel. “We are not exactly greenhorns, and naturally we will make every conceivable allowance for native peculiarities.”

“Nevertheless,” said Dame Isabel, “I would be happy if you would arrange a suitable itinerary for us, so that we could play before those tribes which would profit the most.”

“I can suggest an itinerary,” said Cam rather pedantically; “I cannot arrange one. Our situation here by no means affords us automatic respect. In fact, quite the contrary: certain of the tribes are sure Earth is a place of desolation and misery; why else would we go to such exertion to come to other worlds? In any event I have no authority beyond the precincts of the enclave, and if you ran afoul somewhere I’d be powerless to help you. By and large, there is no particular risk, but I stress the fact that the people of Zade are various, complex and unpredictable.”

Dame Isabel said, “As Mr. Bickel stated, we are hardly tyros. I am sure that our good intentions will be recognized everywhere.”

Cam nodded without any great conviction. “So long as you are careful, patient and discreet you should have no difficulties. I can even spare you a man to serve as interpreter. As to specific areas to visit — let me think a moment … The Water-people definitely. They have a well-developed music of their own. In fact music plays an important ceremonial part in their lives. And the Striads: a gentle, intelligent folk. And — who else? The Tree-walkers? Probably not. They’re shy and not too intelligent … The Mental Warriors. Yes. Don’t be troubled by the name; it refers to their ritual of status by ordeal. They are a vigorous resourceful folk — probably the most intelligent of the planet.”

“That should do nicely,” said Dame Isabel. “What is your opinion, Bernard?”

“I agree. And we must definitely avoid the mistakes we made on Sirius Planet.”

“Quite right. There will be no more tampering or adjusting; we will perform the operas precisely as they are performed at home.”

Cam rose to leave. “I’ll send Darwin Litchley over at once. He can take you to the districts I’ve mentioned, and he’s an excellent linguist. Naturally I wish you all the best of luck.”

He departed, and presently Darwin Litchley appeared: a short round man with a grave pink face and a bald pink scalp. “Commissioner Cam has explained your objectives,” he told Dame Isabel in a portentous voice, “and while I applaud them in the abstract, I fear that problems of a lower level, the sheer ponderosity of the project, are almost certain to cause misunderstanding and difficulty.”

Dame Isabel looked at him in frigid disdain. “You are a peculiarly confident man, Mr. Litchley. After weeks of meticulous planning, dedicated rehearsals and not inconsiderable expense, as well as a voyage across many miles of space, we are finally here on Zade, prepared to present our program. You now make your pessimistic enunciations, and apparently envision us reeling back in doubt and dismay, abandoning all our plans and returning to Earth.”

“Madame, you misunderstand me,” sputtered Litchley. “I merely hoped to present a realistic picture, in order that you should have no reason to reproach me later for irresponsibility. The peoples of Zade, while intelligent, are rather narrow in their perspective, and some are both uncertain and unreliable, and even volatile.”

“Very well; you have made your point. Now let us examine the maps which I see you have brought.”

Darwin Litchley gave a stiff nod, unfolded a Mercator projection of the single continent. “We are here.” He indicated a point to the south and east. “Mr. Cam probably described the extreme diversity of the local aborigines, and I believe he recommended that you visit the Striads, the Water-folk and the Mental Warriors. I might have made other recommendations, but be that as it may. The Striads of the Tercera Zone —” he tapped the map “— are perhaps as good as any to visit first, and undoubtedly they are a picturesque folk.”

While the
Phoebus
slid majestically across the black, orange and lime-green rain-forest, Darwin Litchley gave a brief description of the Striads.

“The folk of this planet are biologically more flexible than the people of Earth, for while all are of the same basic stock, the physical, as well as the psychological variations among them are quite extreme. The Striads, for instance, have adapted remarkably to their special circumstances. The Tercera Zone is a region of considerable volcanic activity; there are extensive hot springs and puddles of boiling mud, which the Striads use to build their castles. They are a mild people, and highly expert in the use of sound, which they project from an organ unique to them.”

Ahead the rain-forest dwindled to a parkland of black bamboo-like trees and great balls of orange fluff. In the distance a line of gray mountains raised into the sky, and Darwin Litchley indicated a drift of floating mist. “That’s the thermal area. Look close and you’ll see the Striad cities rising out of the steam.”

A few minutes later the tall fortress-like dwellings of the Striads could be seen: heavy-walled buildings of six or seven stories constructed of colored mud.

On a flat field in front of the city the
Phoebus
landed. Immediately a group of several dozen Striads stepped forth from an iron gate. Darwin Litchley, with Dame Isabel, Bernard Bickel and Roger, alighted and waited for the approach of the Striads.

They were definitely a humanoid race, tall, thin in arms and legs, but with massive ridged chests. The skins were copper-red with a glossy green sheen; the heads were tall and thin and covered with a black feathery growth; they wore shirts of coarse cloth, bronze shoulder ornaments, leaving the massive chest and the ridged shallow pit of their sound-diaphragm bare. Halting a few yards from the ship they stood rigid. Their diaphragms contracted, jerked, to emit a single soft explosion of ceremonial greeting.

Darwin Litchley spoke in a harsh language which seemed all fricatives and throat-clearings; the Striads replied after a brief consultation among themselves.

Litchley turned to Dame Isabel. “They will be happy to attend a musical performance. I must say I’m rather surprised. They’re quite shy, and they’ve seen very few Earth people — half a dozen commercial missions, perhaps. When do you wish to stage your first performance?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

Darwin Litchley made the inquiry, then informed Dame Isabel that the time she had specified was quite suitable. Meanwhile the Earth folk were made welcome to the city. Litchley indicated a few simple taboos which should be observed: no entry into the buildings, no objects tossed into the thermal springs, no carousing or extravagant behavior; no special attentiveness to children, which according to Litchley were regarded as parasites and frequently eaten. When Dame Isabel expressed horror, Darwin Litchley laughed. “It is no more than tit for tat. The children retaliate by pushing the adults into the boiling springs.” With Darwin Litchley’s precepts in mind most of the company wandered the Striad city during the afternoon and evening. In wonder they saw the lakes of seething mud: the largest mustard-yellow; others of red, gray, chocolate brown. From this mud the tall buildings were built, and the Earth people watched in fascination as the Striads projected beams of sound and ultra-sonic vibration from their diaphragms to crack, stir or compact the mud, in its various stages of usefulness.

The Earth-people seemed to have made a good impression. A spokesman for the Striads invited the group to a banquet. After a hurried consultation with Dame Isabel, Darwin Litchley declined with thanks, stating that the group was accustomed to fasting on the eve of a musical performance.

On the following morning Globe C was opened, the central mast and canopy erected to form a theater. For the Striads Dame Isabel had selected
The Magic Flute
, and with the fiasco at Sirius Settlement fresh in mind, she had resolved that there would be no tampering or alteration. The audience would see and hear the opera precisely as it was performed on Earth. “After all,” Dame Isabel told Bernard Bickel, “it smacks somehow of condescension to make these unpleasant little compromises. Our purpose is to bring the out-world folk our music as we know it, in all its power and majesty, not in some paltry bowdlerized version which the composer himself would be unable to recognize.”

“Precisely my point of view,” said Bernard Bickel. “I haven’t noticed any manifestation of music among these Striads, but they seem, on the whole, a courteous and creative people. Perhaps you’ve observed the murals above the gate executed in various colors of mud?”

“Indeed; highly impressive. I must remind Roger to make photographs, which is the ostensible reason for his presence aboard the ship.”

“He certainly does not appear to be enjoying himself,” said Bernard Bickel. “In my opinion his nose is out of joint because Captain Gondar has been monopolizing Miss Roswyn.”

Dame Isabel compressed her mouth. “I cannot consider the matter without becoming indignant, especially since we cannot dispense with Captain Gondar, who has, as you point out, taken the young creature under his wing.”

Bernard Bickel shrugged. “It seems no great matter to anyone but Roger. She keeps pretty well out of everyone’s way; it’s hard to imagine anyone being less obtrusive.”

“I should hope so,” sniffed Dame Isabel.