"Aha!"
Tucking the big revolver into the sling holding his injured arm, Kamanov spoke across the campfire to Gutierrez. "Horatio, this is an opportunity such as I had hoped for when I told you I wished to see about keeping the peace." He glanced about at the "circled" shuttles, grinning at a random thought. "Shall we not have a friendly powwow, Semlohcolresh?"
It seemed to Kamanov that the others around the fire were holding their breaths. With the nautiloid's harsh words ringing in his memory, Gutierrez raised his shoulders and dropped them. "Take your best shot, Pete. Just try and keep in mind who the Indians are, here."
" `We have met the Indians and they is us,' " the geologist winked at the general and laughed, "to paraphrase the philosopher. I shall remember, my friend, never fear." He turned. "Semlohcolresh, I accept you as a being of your word. Let us withdraw to a quiet place where you will allow me to try some of that convincing you mentioned."
In response, the tentacle made a sinister humping motion like an obscene gigantic inchworm, its remote alien voice crackling through the anxious stillness among the humans. "As you wish, Dr. Kamanov, although I warn you, I hold little hope that—"
"Then you will also allow me to do the hoping for both of us, at least for the time being." The geologist sprang to his feet, showing no sign of his earlier injury or weariness. "Where would you feel most comfortable conducting a long conversation?"
Gutierrez and the others couldn't hear whatever reply the entity made as the unlikely pair shuffled off across the leaf-strewn forest floor. They passed between two of the grounded spacecraft and into the mysterious surrounding jungle darkness. "We can converse as we convey ourselves, if you find that suitable, Dr. Kamanov. My personal quarters aren't far from here, and we'll continue the discussion we've begun, once you and this extension of myself have arrived."
"Indeed." The Russian followed the serpentine organ over a slight rise and through the trees. "Will I, too, be expected to immerse myself in—"
The tentacle halted on the trail. "On the contrary, Doctor, you'll not be put to such a thoughtless inconvenience in my house. For reasons of my own, having to do with my position relative to others of my kind, with whom I presently find myself in disagreement, it's my wish to convey, to everyone concerned, every impression of cordiality, hospitality, and a sincere willingness to negotiate with you humans."
Kamanov grunted understanding and their walk resumed. Dodging a low-hanging branch which tore at his sling, he raised his bushy eyebrows, a gesture lost in the darkness, even had his odd companion been prepared to understand it. "Every impression, you say?"
"Every truthful impression, I assure you, sir. Kindly do me the courtesy not to mistake the firmness of my opinion—regarding a proper and pragmatic course—for a pathological eagerness on my part to initiate or even witness the gratuitous slaughter of other sapients. The position I've taken was arrived at after much thoughtful reflection, and not without a measure of ethical and emotional discomfort."
"I see. You mean killing us will hurt you," Kamanov chuckled; having no idea where they were headed, he was careful to keep an eye on the glistening surface of the tentacle's silvery plastic covering as the limb squirmed through the underbrush, "more than it hurts me or my cosapients."
"I mean that—excuse me, Doctor, here we are."
The artificial forest, never very heavy, had opened onto a broad, well-manicured, grassy surface. At the back of this clearing, a long, low, half-cylindrical structure lay, where yellowish light shone from small, round windows. Kamanov suspected the building was filled with liquid of some kind. A few pale white globe lamps, hanging from tree branches, shed their own soft light over a dark, ripple-surfaced pool.
"These are the grounds of my quarters," Semlohcolresh continued. "I'm resting at the moment at the bottom of the decorative body of salt water you see before us. I'm quite an old organism, Dr. Kamanov, older than you can imagine. I'm inclined to pamper myself, and have never much cared, in any event, for the artificial sensation of liquid fluorocarbon. Now I'll summon refreshment. There are chairs beside the water which I believe you'll find comfortable."
The tentacle gathered itself and plopped over the side, into the water. Kamanov lowered himself into one of the sturdy, yielding chairs at the pool-edge. Before he was fully aware of it, a creature of a variety he hadn't seen before—in the dim light he had a fleeting impression of many glittering compound eyes, a hard carapace, thin, coarse hair, and an uncounted number of spindly legs—had appeared at his elbow proffering an engraved metal tray holding a number of colorful bottles and a variety of empty drinking containers. The Russian chose a tall, transparent glass and something that looked and smelled like vodka.
He nodded at the creature. "Thank you, very much."
"Your courtesy's appreciated, Doctor." Semlohcolresh's voice came, still filtered and distant, from a patch fastened to the creature's carapace. "However, this is a bright and well-trained animal, not an intelligent being. The species is known scientifically as Leru obilnaj."
Kamanov sipped his drink. It tasted like vodka, too, to the extent vodka tasted like anything. Between where he sat and the forest edge, he made out the pleasant twinkling of ordinary fireflies. "Your people are capable," he asked, "of drawing that line?"
The fireflies winked out and disappeared. A deep, bone-felt rumbling vibrated the chair Kamanov sat in and the ground beneath his feet, agitating the surface of the water. It was joined, first by a mechanical hissing, then by a long series of gurgling splashes as the center of the pool seemed to hump upward two meters and became a streaming dome of striped and colored calcium at the base of which, facing Kamanov, lay two huge, luminous golden eyes, set over a tangle of wet, thick, fleshy tentacles.
Kamanov felt belated sympathy for his friend Gutierrez, as the first human on 5023 Eris to confront such a monster. And the general had done it without any warning or preparation. Kamanov's earlier feeling of absurdity at the prospect of addressing one of these creatures now turned to barely controlled horror.
"Yours are not?" Semlohcolresh stretched a sinuous limb across the shimmering surface of the pool to take a strangely shaped glass from the leru's tray. The nautiloid spoke through yet another thin-film communicator, this time fastened somewhere on himself. "Tell me, then, Dr. Kamanov, on what foundation your science of ethics reposes? Take care, lest you confirm my opinion of your kind."
In the distance, one by one, the fireflies seemed to recover their courage and begin twinkling again. Sipping his drink, trying to quiet a yammering subconscious and recover his own courage, the geologist took his time replying. "If you have observed my species with the conscientiousness you claim, Semlohcolresh, then you know perfectly well that we have not as yet developed a science of ethics. This does not mean that we have, as you also claim, corrupted ourselves beyond salvaging, so that our eradication represents an act of mercy. It indicates only that we are a younger species than your own. Surely there must have been a time, sir, however long ago, when your people had developed no ethical science. Would your extermination, at the behest of an elder race, have constituted a positive benefit to the rest of the universe?"
The Russian became aware of a metallic, chipping noise, as if someone were striking a cinderblock with the tines of a steel fork. After a moment, he understood that this was the sound of a nautiloid chuckling to itself. Almost at the same time, another noise distracted him. "Semlohcolresh, is there someone or something in the woods behind us?"
"Yes, Dr. Kamanov, there is. I believe it's your Col. Richardson, who appears to be peering at us from behind a tree. My instruments tell me that she's in a highly agitated state. And almost as well armed as yourself. Do you think she's dangerous?"
Kamanov shook his head, now free to shift the heavy revolver in his sling to a more comfortable position. He had an odd sensation, as if a pistol were being pointed at the back of his neck. "I do not know. Vivian has not been well. There are searchers looking for her. I trust that they will find her and take her back."
"So I see. I hope you're right. I'll continue to monitor her location and activity, in any event. Now, where was I? Ethics: you may be aware," his host informed him, "that we cannot cover our figurative ears to exclude undesirable and distracting conversation. That facet of our `hearing' is electronic in character, and can, at times, be very sensitive. You'd entertain a different opinion of your own race, Dr. Kamanov, were you compelled, as we have been, to incorporate dense shielding molecules in our environmental canopy, to shut out the incessant, disgusting, wheedling—"
Kamanov raised a warning hand. "Sir, it would be foolish to judge the unique collection of heroic human beings—your guests on 5023 Eris—by the sniveling signals you receive from Earth, which is now embarrassed by its heroes, and has discarded them."
It was as if the giant mollusc hadn't heard him. "—of the puny territorial agglomerations of collective subsapient incompetence, and huddled cowardice which bluster and threaten those they fail to cajole, imagining themselves unanswerable powers in a universe they haven't even begun—"
"And more foolish still," Kamanov insisted, "to underestimate them."
A surprised-sounding Semlohcolresh choked himself off in the midst of his tirade. "Why do you say that?"
"Take my friend Horatio," the geologist replied, "most heroic of the lot. He appears no more than an aging bureaucrat. Yet, as celebrated leader of the infamous Redhawk Squadron at Kearnysville, Long Beach, and Fort Collins, in refutation of the fashionable view that airpower is inefficacious in quelling popular insurrection, he was responsible for crushing the remaining opposition to the ascendency of the ASSR. That he now questions the wisdom of his achievement, as I do, does not diminish its remarkability."
"If I take your meaning, you warn me that this general of yours is a more formidable opponent than you believe we estimate him to be." Semlohcolresh paused, resting on the water in thought or at a loss for words, the Russian wasn't certain which. "Dr. Kamanov, I find these inappropriate words for a self-styled man of peace."
"As a student of history, Semlohcolresh," the geologist sipped his drink, wondering how marine organisms like the nautiloids had invented distillation, "I am a man of peace who nevertheless understands that a visible willingness and ability to wage war can often preserve the peace. It was a wide lack of this understanding which gave Marxism—an inferior philosophy by every measure of such things—its victory over America, although the latter was superior by all of the same measures."
"Agreed," the nautiloid replied, "but willingness and ability at what cost, or rather, what practical limit can there be to such a cost?"
Kamanov shrugged. "The one limit that makes sense, Semlohcolresh, the willingness of individuals—as individuals—to pay the cost. It cannot be by group decision or coercion. I know, for I am also a social being who nevertheless understands that civilization depends upon the individual for its very existence, whereas the individual is capable of doing fairly well without civilization. And it was widespread lack of this understanding which doomed those few Americans who, even understanding the relationship between war and peace, misunderstood the relationship between the individual and civilization, coming to believe that defense of the latter required imitating Marxism's disregard for the former."
"By the Predecessors, a civilized analysis!" In the center of the pool, tentacles stirred, splashing their owner with water. For the first time, Kamanov noticed that the nautiloid wasn't wearing any sort of protective covering, but was content simply to keep himself moist in the cool evening air. "And the result?"
"What any rational observer would expect. Taxed to a subsistence level, where no real hope for individual advancement was possible, bound hand and foot by ten million laws rendering any difference between their culture and its opposition academic, when the time came, no one was left in America who had anything to gain by defending it."
"This might," the nautiloid offered, "have been foreseen."
Kamanov shook his head, beginning to feel weary again. "I am sure some did foresee it. Perhaps I flatter myself, Semlohcolresh, that, for the rest of us, it represents wisdom won the hard way, never soon to be forgotten. Even so, it is rare wisdom, for my conclusions are not much shared, even today. A species may be young or old. It may have learned little of the universe or much, and, to be certain, its individual members may share in that knowledge and benefit by it, or not. Yet I have an idea that, at some fundamental level, individual beings stay much the same over millions of years. Tell me, if you will, how long did it take your people to discover these things for themselves?"
"Such persistence." In the pool, the creature seemed to heave a sigh. "Despite contrary expectations, you begin to interest me after all, Doctor."
Kamanov sat up, voice sharp. "It was never any part of my intention, Semlohcolresh, to amuse you! Nor to defend my species, like a lawyer, against your blanket accusations, for that would acknowledge a right, to which you have merely arrogated yourself, to judge them!" Startled by Kamanov's tone, the serving animal shrieked and ran off toward the dwelling.
With an abrupt, angry gesture, Kamanov set his half-finished glass on the pool surround and arose, turning on a heel to face the human encampment. As if struck by a final thought, he paused. "I am disappointed, Semlohcolresh! It was my understanding that you nautiloids were rugged individualists! Scheming capitalists! This was the basis for my conviction that we could bargain with one another! Believe me, on such a splendid evening, I would far rather be with a female of my own species."
Semlohcolresh lifted one of his long, spatulate tentacles into the air, his voice as emotional as electronics allowed. "Wait, Doctor! There may be justice in what you say, I confess it, do you hear me? At least insofar as your present understanding of us permits. Do please sit down."
Kamanov heard the same slithery whisper as when Semlohcolresh had reached across the pool for a drink. He felt a feathery tentacle touch on his shoulder. Still facing away from the pool, he allowed himself a small, self-satisfied grin before he turned back, exhibiting great reluctance, and sat again. He had the feeling once more that a gun was being pointed at him. "Tell me, is Col. Richardson still back there in the trees?"
"Not unless she's well shielded by minerals or vegetation. It's possible, my instruments are limited in range and penetration. But she appears to have left us. Your searchers are also gone."
"Very well." Kamanov tried to disregard that eerie feeling, with only partial success. "Enlighten me, then, O Elder. Answer the question I have asked you three times. Wisdom cannot grow in a vacuum. A species which has learned as much as yours must have a great deal of mayhem and bloodshed somewhere in its background. How long did it take you to arrive at an idea of ethics which would not insult the word `science'?"
Relieved, the nautiloid lowered his long arm, summoned the leru back, and accepted another drink. "And if I were to say that it took us a million years, would that make you feel precocious? It took, in fact, even more time than that before the ideas you've just expressed came to be universally agreed upon, although their origins may be discovered among what remains of our earliest faltering attempts at civilization."
"So you, too," the human nodded, "are a student of history."
"Yes. And, as I'm certain you've discovered for yourself, Dr. Kamanov, the great tragedy of sapient history, one of them anyway, is that ethical innovations, unlike technical ones, take rather a long time to make their value apparent to their potential recipients."
"Nor," Kamanov agreed, "is progress along those lines ever assured, the way it often seems with technology. People will speak, without thinking, of the swings of a pendulum, but more often it seems like a dance consisting of one step forward and two steps back."
"A great pity, too," Semlohcolresh told him in an absent, musing tone. "I suspect, Dr. Kamanov, that the respective histories of our species might have turned out rather different had it been the other way around."
Kamanov threw back his shaggy head and laughed, slapping the arm of his chair with his good hand, frightening the leru again, and almost upsetting his half-finished drink. "So your civilization, too, my friend, has skeletons in its ethical closet! This was my point from the beginning, if you will recall." He leaned forward and peered into the luminous golden disks floating in the center of the pool. "Now, old mollusc, at last I believe we have a basis for understanding one another!"
"Dr. Kamanov," the nautiloid said, "you are indeed a dangerous being."