At this stage of a first contact procedure he would normally project tri-di pictures showing the Federation World in space and the incredible immensity of its interior-pictures so awe-inspiring and self-explanatory that the accompanying words were often redundant. It was a beautiful and impressive demonstration, the key element in both the first contact and preliminary assessment procedures, but it was designed to inform and convince beings who could see.
Sophisticated visual aids, Martin thought as he bent down beside a small pool on the cavern floor and scraped up two handfuls of the damp, claylike soil, were no use at all to the blind.
“The new world is shaped like this,” he said, when the clay had been molded into a sphere with conical projections at each pole. He placed it on the ground, balanced on one of the points, within a few inches of the burrower and went on, “It is extremely large, hollow, and situated close to the center of the galaxy where the stars are very numerous…”
It was a ridiculous and abysmally inadequate description. Martin thought as Cromonar and several others moved up to the clay model, felt its contours briefly, and moved away again. But how could he convey to them the picture of the Federation World as he had first seen it, and its effect on him?
He went on. “All around this world there are countless billions of suns like your own, with vast distances separating them, but from your position in space they would feel close together, like a great carpet of dense, spiky grass. Closer to you, and negating the feel of the distant suns behind it, is the vast, hollow world of the Federation of Galactic Sentients. It cannot be felt so easily because it does not radiate touchings, except for those needed to enable ships to feel their way to the entry ports.
“It is an unimaginably large world,” he continued, “which encloses its own sun. The internal area is such that it will provide more than enough living space for the future projected populations of every intelligent species in the galaxy.
“Even now there are many different species to feel,” he went on, ‘together with their mechanisms, native animal and vegetable life forms, and environments. Or you may prefer, if you are suited to the work, to feel and help operate some of the mechanisms which provide the services for this superworld. For example, you could be trained to…”
“Hold, stranger!” Cromonar broke in. “Surely you exaggerate the importance of the part we would play. And you offer so much. What must we do for you in return? What is the purpose of this superworld, and are you sure that we would be allowed to go there?”
“I cannot promise that you will all be allowed to go there,” Martin said. “As to what you will give in return, let me ask instead what reward you receive from your own people for trying to help them against their will? To certain psychological types, the effort is its own reward.”
More and more of the burrowers had emerged from the soil enclosing their machines and were gathering closely around him as he went on to describe the tremendous philosophical and technological goals of the World and the Federation contained within it.
“Stranger,” one of the burrowers broke in, “is it not a fact that a species contains within itself the seeds of its own destruction? Surely a number of these seeds will take root in your superworld?”
Blind they might be, Martin thought, but they could see a lot farther and faster than many other extraterrestrials he had encountered. He was remembering the shock to the Earth’s population when, a little over a decade earlier, they had been contacted by the Federation. But the initial fear and distrust had been quickly overcome because the Federation psychologists were able people who had not tried to lie, diplomatically or otherwise. He should try to do the same.
“Examination and induction procedures will be devised for the special sensory requirements of your species,” Martin said. ‘These will be aimed at identifying, and where necessary excluding, the small minority of candidates who will be unsuitable for citizenship.
“These will be the sentient predators who turn up in nearly every species,” he went on, “and who cause disruption and suffering out of all proportion to their number. If there are any such beings on this world, here they will stay.”
The burrowers crowding around him had become very still. Perhaps they were worried, or felt insulted and angry at the thought that some of them would not qualify for citizenship. He wondered what he would do, unarmed as he was, if they reacted physically to the insult.
But was he unarmed, when all he had to do to paralyze them with shock was to open his visor and speak loudly?
“There is a third category,” he continued, “which comprises the curious, restless, adventure-seeking minority that is in every intelligent species…”
Briefly he went on to describe the advantages and the few, so far as he personally was concerned, disadvantages of non-Citizen status, and when he finished, the silent stillness of his listeners was Teldin in its perfection.
Bypassing the translator, he said worriedly, “I’m not being totally honest with them, half promising things which… They’re blind, dammit! What can they really do?”
“You’d be surprised,” Beth said. ‘The main computer and I have been considering that very question. It seems that their hypersensitivity of touch, and the psycho-sensory matrix which evolved as a result of having one single and unspecialized receptor, gives them a unique advantage over the four- and five-sensed species. They actually feel the world about them and in time, they will be able to feel the three-dimensional relationships and constituents of space, perhaps time as well. That advantage should enable them to make significant progress toward the complete understanding of the nature and structure of the universe.
“The computer is displaying its equivalent of wild excitement,” she went on, “and is making odious comparisons between the long-term potential of the burrowers and Earth-humans. And I thought that thing was a friend of mine.”
‘These non-Citizens,” Martin resumed, knowing that his smile of visible relief was lost on the burrowers, “are the kind of people who might volunteer to go to the Federation World, to experience the hypership journey there and the interesting touch of beings whose shapes they can scarcely imagine; to touch every part of the situation and to report back on it to the main population. I feel that many of your future non-Citizens are here now.”
“I understand, Martin,” Cromonar said. “But all these matters must be discussed and made known to our people before we can give you our decision about visiting or moving to your Federation World. And you must be anxious to escape from what is for you an unpleasant environment, and to rejoin your life-mate and your vessel. Might I suggest a method which will not bring your violent machine into our research establishment?”
“Please do,” Martin said warily. The thought of another slow, claustrophobic crawl back to the digger was making his pulse hammer again. Cromonar was immediately aware of his discomfort.
“Do not be disturbed, Martin,” it said. “At the other end of the cavern is a fissure leading to within two of your body lengths of the surface. We can eat a path out for you and ensure that the area remains free of dangerous predators while you are waiting to be retrieved. May we retain your digger for examination?”
Just in time Martin stopped himself from laughing out loud with relief. He said, “You may, with all the other models and devices which we will construct and send down to you, so that you can give a full explanation of the situation to your people.”
Cromonar moved closer and briefly touched the side of Martin’s leg. It said, “Please follow my friends. I cannot accompany you because I have already eaten much more than was good for me while clearing the tunnel, and must rest. Thank you again, Martin.”