“Because we’re Earthmen,” Bernard said sharply. “Maybe they don’t have the same ideas about politeness. Maybe they don’t see anything wrong with what they’ve done this afternoon. We can’t judge them by our own behavior norms.”
“You sociologists don’t seem to think anyone can be judged by any norms,” Dominici retorted sourly. “Everything’s relative, isn’t it? There aren’t any absolute standards, you say. Just individual patterns of behavior. Well, I say…”
“Quiet,” Laurance interjected. “Someone’s coming!”
The tentflap parted and three aliens entered. The first was Zagidh. Behind him came two Norglans of massive stature, their skins a deep, rich bluish-purple. They were clad in elaborate gem-encrusted robes, and their entire bearing was regal. Zagidh sank into the familiar heels-to-thighs squat. The newcomers remained standing.
Grimacing terribly, Zagidh said, “Two—kharvish— have come from Norgla. To speak. Time taken—learning the Terran talk. They—we will talk to you.”
Still squatting, Zagidh duck-waddled out of the tent. The two big Norglans lowered themselves now in one smooth simultaneous motion into the standard squat.
The Earthmen regarded them uneasily. Bernard gnawed his lower lip. These two obviously were Very Important Norglans indeed.
Haltingly, but in a voice whose tone was the mellow boom of a fine ’cello, one of the big Norglans said, “I am label Skrinri. He is label Vortakel. He—I—we both—label kharvish. How you say? One-who-comes-to-talk-to-others-of-other kind.”
“Ambassador,” Havig suggested.
Skinri repeated it, making the big word his own. “Ambas-sa-dor. Yes. Ambassador. I label Skrinri, he label Vortakel, he-I-we label ambassador. From Norgla. From home planet.”
“You speak Terran very well,” Stone said in widely separated syllables. “Were you taught by Zagidh?”
“No—meaning…”
“The past participle,” Havig murmured. “They don’t know that one. Try, Did Zagidh teach you?”
“Did Zagidh teach you Terran?” Stone asked.
“He teach him-I-we,” Skrinri affirmed. “We are here since highest of sun.”
“Since noon,” Havig translated.
Stone said, “You have come to talk to us?”
“Yes. You are from Earth. Where is Earth?”
“Much distant,” Stone said. “How can I convey it to him, Havig? Would he know what a light-year means?”
“Not unless he knows what a year is first,” Havig said. “Better let it go by.”
“Okay,” Stone said. Facing the Norglans he said, “Your world is close?”
“All worlds are close. It takes no time to travel there to here.”
Stone looked around, startled. “So they’ve got a transmat too!”
“Or something that has the same effect,” Laurance said.
Sweltering in his corner of the tent, Bernard followed the evolving chain of reasoning. One thing was certain: these two Norglans were pretty special, perhaps as far above Zagidh and the other blueskins in general superiority as the blueskins were above the green laborers. Skrinri and Vortakel learned the language with enormous speed, picking up hints of pronunciation and sentence order from byplay between the Earthmen as well as from the formal statements Stone framed.
Gradually, the similarities between the two empires began to unfold.
The Norglans had the transmat, it seemed: Skrinri and Vortakel had come from the mother world only a few hours ago via some form of instantaneous transportation. The spaceship looming above the settlement was testimony that the Norglans also had some form of conventional space travel, probably a near-light drive but nothing faster-than-light.
Concrete information on distances was a good deal more difficult to elicit. But it was reasonable to guess that the home world of the Norglans was somewhere within three or four hundred light-years of the present planet, maybe less, probably not more. Which meant that the Norglan sphere of colonization was roughly of the same order of magnitude as the Terran.
So much was clear. But yet the real issue had not even been mentioned yet. Stone was working up to it closely, building a dazzling pattern of ideas and communicated information before he got down to actual business.
As they spoke, Bernard followed every word, trying to construct a picture of the Norglans as a people that might be of some use in further negotiating. They were a stratified race, that was certain: the variation in color was not simply a difference in pigmentation but one of complete genetic makeup. The greenskins were shorter, stocker, and evidently not intellectually gifted; they made ideal workers for this kind of labor. The blueskins were shrewd, good organizers, quick thinkers—but they lacked the inner authority, the decisiveness of personality, that marked a true leader. The big bluish-purple ones had the necessary strength.
Were they the top of the pyramid? Or did they, in turn, depend for guidance on some still more capable kind of Norglan? How far did the stratification extend?
No telling; but it was likely that Skrinri and Vortakel represented pretty close to the pinnacle of Norglan evolution. If there were others who came much better, then the Norglans would be further along the scale of development than they were.
Outside the tent, night was falling. The temperature drop came swiftly. A cold wind scudded across the clearing, flicking open the tentflap. Hunger-sounds growled in Bernard’s belly. But the Norglans showed no indications of wishing to suspend negotiations for the night; as for Stone, he was in his element now, tirelessly advancing the chain of communication until he could bring the discussion to its vital point.
And that moment was approaching. Stone was sketching diagrams in the packed-down dirt floor of the conference tent, a dot with a circle around it: Earth’s sphere of colonization. At a distance of several yards, another dot, another circle: Norgla’s sphere.
Beyond those, other dots; no circles. These were the uncolonized stars, the terrae incognitae of the galaxy, which neither Earthman nor Norglan had reached at this stage of the galactic expansion.
Stone said gravely, “Earth people spread outward from Earth. We settle on other worlds.”
He drew radial spokes projecting from the circle that was the Terran sphere of dominance. The spokes reached into the neutral area.
“Norglan people spread outward too. You build your colonies, we build ours.”
Spokes grew from the Norglan sphere as well. Dragging his stick doggedly through the ground, Stone extended the Norglan spokes until some of them all but grazed Terran ones.
“You settle here,” Stone said. “We settle there. We continue settling new worlds. Soon this happens…”
Stone sketched it graphically. Two spokes met, crossed. Others intersected as well.
“We reach the same territory. We fight over this world or that. There would be war between Earthman and Norglan. There would be death. Destruction.”
Skrinri and Vortakel stared at the diagram on the ground as if it were the symbology of some complex rite. Their fleshless faces gave no hint of the thoughts passing through their minds. The Earthmen waited, silently, hardly daring to draw a breath.
Vortakel said slowly, “This must not happen. There must be no war between Earthman and Norglan.”
“There must be no war,” Stone repeated.
Bernard leaned forward, chafing a little at his role as a spectator, but as tense as if he were conducting the negotiations and not Stone. Despite the chill, despite the hunger, he felt a pounding surge of triumph swelling in his breast. The aliens had understood; there had been two-way communication; the Norglan ambassadors realized the grave dangers of war. The conflict would be averted. The paths of empire would swerve from their collision course.