The Sails of Tau Ceti (17 page)

The chairs in which she and her shipmates sat were standard designs. The Phelan, on the other hand, were seated in chairs — for want of a better name — that fit their frames better. As soon as everyone was settled, other Phelan entered the hall and began moving among the diners. They carried pitchers of rose colored liquid, which they poured into long stemmed wineglasses. Before she realized it, one of the waiters stepped up behind her and filled her glass. The action caused her to drop her attention to the table setting. It was, she realized, a perfect rendition of the place setting to be found at swank restaurants. At each plate were several forks, two types of knives, and spoons in three sizes. All the flatware appeared to have been carved from crystal. The plates, cups, and saucers had floral designs around the edges, although the flowers were like none Tory had ever seen before. She picked up the small plate normally used for bread. It massed but a few grams and was constructed of a material that seemed to be neither metal, nor porcelain, nor plastic.

“What’s this made of?”

Maratel glanced down at the plate and said, “I lack the vocabulary to give the proper chemical name. However, it is cast from the same material that is used in our light sails.”

Two positions to Tory’s right, Garth overheard the comment and began a close examination of his own crockery. Meanwhile, Tory put the plate down and gazed out across the hall. Those at the lower tables appeared to be engaged in their own conversations as they ignored those at the head table. Still, she caught occasional surreptitious glances. She wondered if the Phelan had been taught that it is impolite to stare.

“I am struck by how much this reminds me of home,” she told Maratel. “I presume that is no accident.”

The female Phelan’s chuckle was very human sounding. “You are correct in your presumption. We have copied this from one of your old movies. I can find out which one if you are interested.”

“It isn’t necessary. Why have you gone to all of this trouble for us?”

“Because this is the most important day in the history of our species since the nova. In addition, we thought familiar surroundings would aid in calming your natural apprehension toward us. Have our analysts erred in their reading of the human psyche?”

Tory lifted the smallest of her forks and let the light play across its surface. Every detail was perfect. The three carefully sculpted tines flowed smoothly into the shank, and then down to the lavishly detailed handle.

“No, you haven’t erred.”

Tory raised the wineglass to her nose and sniffed. The red liquid inside had a definite alcohol smell to it. She lifted it to her lips and sipped. It turned out to be a good imitation of a rosé. As she experimented with her wine, she listened to Eli talking to Faslorn to her right.

“Phela? That was your world orbiting Tau Ceti?”

“As I’m sure you must realize, Professor, most of our names have been chosen for ease of pronunciation in your language. In our own language, Phela is (snort) and we ourselves are the (snort wheeze).”

Guttieriz’s linguist trained ears pricked up at the sudden alien sound. “Quite a difference.”

“I’m afraid our language will be a difficult one for you to learn. We will be glad to teach you if you would like.”

“Damned right, I would like! Isn’t that what you speak among yourselves?”

“Actually, no. We use Standard for most day-to-day activities. The old tongue is used only for ceremonies and formal occasions. There are many aboard who have spoken nothing but human speech since they finished schooling.”

“Don’t you find learning the human speech as difficult as we will find learning yours?”

“No, why should we?”

“Because it is axiomatic that speech reflects the thought processes of the speaker. As aliens, you must look at things quite differently from us, and those differences should be reflected in our two languages.”

“You may be surprised at how much alike our two species are, Professor.”

“How can that be?”

“Quite simply. Both cultures have their basis in the self-interest of the individual, even though you humans tend to be much more individualistic. Part of that is cultural. Living as we do in a closed ship, we cannot afford the same degree of liberty that most humans take for granted. However, we still identify closely with you. We even laugh at some of your jokes, although often not for the same reasons.”

“What about our tendency toward belligerence?” Guttieriz asked with deceptive composure. “Do you have that human trait as well?”

“We have our quarrels. Arguments are inevitable whenever two individuals perceive their self-interests lie in different directions. Also, any species that survives to dominate a world learns to be assertive.” Faslorn noticed the exchange of looks between Eli and Garth. The captain was seated on the other side of Faslorn from the linguist. “Would you have believed me had I claimed otherwise?”

“Your honesty is most … refreshing,” Garth said.

“My honesty is self serving, Captain. We seek a home. For that, we must demonstrate to your people the benefits of helping us. To gain your trust, we must speak plainly. I hope that you will not be offended and that you will return the favor.”

“Far from being offended, we are honored that you respect us enough to be honest. Now then, there are some things my superiors wanted me to ask as soon as possible.”

“By all means, ask.”

How many of you are there?”

“
Far Horizons
’s population is 112,365.”

Tory had a sudden flashback to the night she had first learned Tau Ceti had been inhabited. She remembered the sense of loss at the thought of an entire intelligent species wiped out.

Faslorn noticed the sudden change in mood among his guests. “Grieve not for us, our newfound friends. They died a very long time ago. We, their descendants, must see to it that they did not die in vain.”

The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. One of the advantages of training as a synthesist, Tory had a keen eye for detail. She noticed that each of the guides casually engaged their charges in conversation while also changing the subject. Once again, Tory had the impression she was watching a well-oiled machine.

The waiters returned, some balancing a chafing dish on each of four arms. These Phelan moved as bipeds. Tory waited for her own food to be served before picking up a fork. “Are you sure we can eat this?” she asked Maratel as she poked at the lime green substance on her plate.

“Our biochemistries are similar, but not precisely the same. You humans can eat most of our foods. Still, they lack essential proteins you need for your health. The same is true of your foods, of course. We can eat them but not sustain ourselves on them. However, everything you will consume this evening is guaranteed safe and nutritious. I am afraid that I cannot vouch for the taste. You may want to face this meal in the spirit of a scientific experiment.”

Tory smiled. “This won’t be the first banquet I’ve attended in that spirit.”

#

The meal turned out to be one of the most memorable of Tory’s life. As Maratel had said, the Phelan understood how human taste buds worked, but not the combinations that people found appealing. Even so, they did remarkably well. Only twice did Tory feel the sudden urge to retch — once from a dish that had the odor of rotting garbage, and again when she bit into a nondescript square patty and was nearly overcome by the taste of half cooked liver. To confuse matters, Eli Guttieriz gave the latter dish his highest recommendation.

Generally, however, the first sign of a wrinkled nose or a sour expression was sufficient to whisk a course from sight and replace it with something new. Even the Phelan’s successes proved interesting. While the tastes were generally palatable, the combinations were odd. Who had ever thought of mixing soy sauce with chocolate, for instance? Or flavoring meat loaf with root beer? There was a purple pear-like fruit that possessed a peppery flavor and a citrus tang; a clear broth that might well have been eggnog mixed with tartar sauce; and a meat dish that had overtones of vanilla ice cream. The general impression was of some Phelan chef sprinkling flavorings over food at random, hoping to discover the optimum combination by trial and error.

The Phelan guides made a show of eating their own food, but mostly they watched their human charges. Following each course, they quizzed Tory and the others as to their reactions. Tory noticed that their mistakes became less noticeable as the meal progressed. Whatever the Phelan were doing, they seemed able to make corrections in real time. Tory filed this observation under the category, “How well do the Phelan understand us?” So far, she had been forced to conclude they understood human beings too damned well.

After “dessert,” which came fairly close to apple pie alamode, Faslorn rose from his seat and moved to the lectern that had been set up in the middle of the head table. There was none of the slow ebb of dinner conversation that usually greets a human speaker. The Phelan audience ceased talking, dropped their utensils and turned their attention to Faslorn. It was as though they had rehearsed this whole banquet a thousand times — which, considering the time they’d had to prepare, was a quite possible.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow shipmates, friends…” Faslorn began in traditional fashion. “We meet here tonight for a most auspicious occasion. We celebrate the first meeting of two great races — we, the refugee peoples of Phela and these representatives of
Homo sapiens Terra
. It is a Phelan tradition that two strangers who partake of sustenance together are no longer strangers. The breaking of bread with travelers is also a very ancient human custom. I hope this meal is but the first of many in our long journey of mutual understanding.

“To our human friends, I again say welcome. You have come far to meet us, and braved dangers on your journey. We appreciate your efforts. Frankly, we had not expected to meet human beings until after we had slowed to intrasystem velocity. That you were able to come out so far and match velocities with us is most impressive. We Phelan have a great deal that we can teach humanity. It would appear that you have much you can teach us, as well.

“To my fellow Phelan, both those in this hall and to all who watch us throughout the ship, I command your cooperation. Our guests are to have the run of the ship. If you are approached by a human, you are to help all you can. Answer their questions honestly and fully, and show them whatever they wish to see.

“And now, my human guests, we have prepared a presentation for you. Sit back and relax while we show you some of the wonders of lost Phela.”

The lights in the banquet hall dimmed as the far wall filled with a deck to ceiling hologram. The scene was a view from space. A star outwardly identical to Sol glowed in the background, while a blue-white water world hovered in the foreground. That world could well have been Earth save for the strange outlines of the continents and the presence of two small moons.

The world expanded suddenly as the camera swooped. A quick pass over the planet’s night side showed a glittering carpet of city lights that limned the coasts of the major continents. Then whatever ship carried the camera returned to sunlight just as it entered atmosphere. It continued to swoop until it was racing across an expanse of azure water toward a white city that stretched horizon-to-horizon.

Tory found herself eyewitness to cities where spindle-spired buildings broached the clouds and wide swaths of purple-green foliage cut across the landscape. There were domes larger than any ever built in the crater of Olympus Mons, and boxlike buildings larger than small mountains. Villages were arrayed much as she had already seen aboard
Far Horizons
, only far larger in extent.

Phela had also been a world of pristine beauty. In quick succession,
Austria
’s crew found themselves looking upon wide bays, snow-capped mountains, and beaches of bright white sand. They saw the glistening blue-white glow of distant glaciers on a horizon, and the sullen red fire of a volcano illuminating the nighttime sky. There was a giant waterfall that tumbled two kilometers into a cloud of perpetual mist and a vast river that wandered like a snake to the sea.

Then came the catalog of Phelan activities and commerce. Massive ships glided silently above steel blue oceans, while small gossamer craft danced before the wind among the islands of some lost archipelago. Long tubes arched across the landscape with swiftly moving shapes dimly perceived through their translucent walls.

There were crowds of Phelan hurrying about their business, much as could be seen in any large city on Earth. Day turned to night and a different crowd dominated the scene. This crowd was in repose on a hillside as hundreds of aliens listening to a curiously lilting music that arose from a rainbow of glittering lights. The next view was of a playground where young beings moved amid the branches of a giant, tangled bush, pursuing some incomprehensible game. There followed a parade of views of daily life among the Phelan.

Then the intimate look into Phelan life was behind them. On the screen, a globular ship rose from a spaceport on a tail of violet-white fire. The ship was soon lost in the bright star of its own exhaust plume. The bright star of the ship exhaust segued into the real thing as the camera zoomed in on the face of Tau Ceti. Even to the untutored, it was apparent that something was amiss. The star’s surface layers were roiled by vast plasma storms and stellar prominences that climbed for millions of kilometers into space.

Tau Ceti exploded in total silence.

The camera pulled back from the exploding star. When it was again something other than a general whiteness, they could see a tiny black circle and two small dots marring the face of the nova. No one had to tell Tory that the circle was the world of Phela. She watched in horrified fascination as the shock wave from the exploding star reached out and engulfed the planet.

The scene changed again. This time it showed a cylindrical ship in mid space. The object was
Far Horizons
, or her twin. The ship was attached to a light sail visibly smaller than the one Tory was used to. The sail began to glow red, then white, and finally indigo as it absorbed the energy of the nova shockwave. The sail billowed as though filled by a strong wind, and the ship began to accelerate outbound. The travelogue ended as the starship dwindled into invisibility.