"Some kind of wine the Jevlenese drink, that's stocked here. A bit like hock."
"Not bad."
Sonnebrandt indicated the direction of the door with a motion of his head. "I was talking to a couple of the Estonians earlier in the Pit Stop. I never realized before that Ganymeans can't sing."
"Their vocal apparatus is totally different," Hunt said. "It restricts them to that guttural speech that we have trouble reproducing." The voices that VISAR manufactured when it translated were synthesized to sound normal both ways. "And you're right. It doesn't give them a range that would permit song."
"Our choral music awes them. The Estonians are a huge sensation. Did you know?"
"I haven't really been following that side of things much."
"I thought it was strange… not the physiological thing; but that Thuriens should be so surprised. I mean, they've had the Jevlenese around for long enough. They're human."
Hunt shrugged. "Then I can only guess that maybe the Jevlenese aren't so musical. Come to think of it, I didn't see much sign of it when I was there."
"Maybe." Sonnebrandt settled himself back and regarded Hunt over the rim of his glass. "But anyway… So what is it that's so urgent that it can't wait until a more civilized hour of the morning?"
"It's not so much that it's urgent, Josef. But possibly personal. I thought that a little privacy might be in order."
"Oh. Now you have got me intrigued. Please go on."
Hunt had been trying to think of the best way to approach this, but he still found the situation awkward. "Look, first, don't think I'm trying to pry, or that I have any interest in what might be your own personal business. My questions may sound a bit odd, but there's a good reason for asking them."
Sonnebrandt eyed him uncertainly. "Yes…?"
"At dinner earlier tonight, you and Chien…" Hunt gestured briefly. "I couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be, oh… for want of a better word, something a little strained. A bit of edginess; not a lot of talking. Know what I mean?" He waited. Sonnebrandt stared into his glass without responding. Hunt read it as he'd feared-a tacit way of telling him as politely as possible to mind his own business. "Okay, look, I said at the beginning that if I've gone and trodden into something personal that's going on-"
Sonnebrandt cut him off with a short laugh. "You mean with me and Chien? Oh, come on, Vic. I've only known her face-to-face as long as you have, and it isn't as if we've exactly had nothing else to be concerning ourselves with." He took a quick drink. "Mind you, I wouldn't say no, to be honest. She has this magnificently 'spiritual' quality about her, don't you think? A lesson to the women of the world on how grace and attractiveness should improve with the years. At least, that was how I thought until today."
"You went very quiet when I mentioned it. I thought maybe you were offended."
"Hah." Sonnebrandt wrinkled his nose and thought for a few seconds. "A little silly, rather than offended, if you really want to know," he said finally.
"To do with why you had second thoughts about Chien?"
"Well, yes, if you want the truth."
Hunt knew then that his hunch had been right. "Let me guess," he said. "Something so stupid that it should hardly have been worth mentioning. Yet you found yourselves contradicting each other vehemently, like kids. Something that you knew you were right about, and which should have been easily resolved. But she insisted on making an issue of it and wouldn't back down."
Sonnebrandt's eyes widened in surprise. "That's it, exactly! How did you know?"
"I'll tell you in a second. So what happened."
"Earlier in the day, when we were at the Multiporter, we found ourselves arguing about things all the time-as you said, stupid little things. She'd tell me I was repeating something that I knew I hadn't said; or insist that she'd said things that she never had. Another time, she started to explain what had been happening for the last ten minutes, as if I'd been away, when I was there all the time. Anyone can make mistakes, of course. But when someone that you'd think would know that doesn't seem able to admit it… well, after a while, it gets to you."
"I know. Annoying, isn't it."
Sonnebrandt seemed about to go on, then checked himself as he saw the pointed look on Hunt's face. "Are you telling me it's been happening with you too?" He stopped and thought back. "Oh, of course! That business with Chris and Mildred over dinner about the Thurien couple."
Hunt nodded slowly. "I've known Chris Danchekker for years. He can be a bit cantankerous at times, but this isn't at all like himself. There's something very odd going on around here, Josef. It's affecting all of us, not just Chris. And just at this moment, I have no idea what it is."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But it was not affecting all of them. The next morning, Hunt talked discreetly with Duncan Watt and learned that he and Sandy had experienced no problems of the kind that Hunt described. On the contrary, Duncan assured him, their day organizing the work space that they would be using and checking through the various items shipped from Earth had been a pleasant one, with the routine nature of the work being offset by the exhilaration and novelty of being on a new world.
Hunt decided that it was time to talk with Danchekker. A call established that the professor was in a tower of the Quelsang complex adjacent to the block housing the Multiporter, which was where the space assigned for the Terrans was located. They had agreed that they would prefer to work alongside the Thurien scientists that Eesayan had brought together for the project, rather than be segregated on their own. That was fine by the Thuriens, of course. VISAR navigated him across to the other building and up through exotically styled spaces of curving architecture and ornate interiors that gave Hunt more the feeling of an Arabian palace or a Spanish cathedral than anything he was accustomed to thinking of as a scientific working environment. The robelike garb that seemed common among the occupants added to the effect. It could have been Plato's Academy adapted to hard engineering. The Thuriens made no hard and fast division between what Earth had come to views as arts and sciences. Everything they did, from carving a mural beside a path through an elevated park in Thurios to powering a spacecraft was an art, while every process that involved evaluating a matter of objective truth was "science."
Hunt found Duncan and Sandy familiarizing themselves with some of the Thurien equipment, guided by one of the Thurien students who had volunteered to help out. Sonnebrandt was elsewhere-very likely gone to make his peace with Chien, Hunt suspected. Danchekker was out on the balcony fronting the room, Duncan informed him. Hunt went on through and out the glass-panel doors. It was more a terrace garden than what Hunt would have thought of as a balcony. Danchekker was standing at the outer rail on the far side of some foliage and an artificial stream, admiring the surroundings. Hunt crossed the stream by a small footbridge and joined him. The edifices of marblelike surfaces and glass making up the rest of the institute bodied as much thought and expression as a sculpture, rising from landscaped rock and greenery amid gigantic Thurien trees.
"I thought the view from the top floor of Biosciences at Goddard was stimulating," Danchekker commented. "But after this, I fear it will never seem the same again. If I possess an artistic streak somewhere, I'm sure this is the kind of inspiration that would be required to express it. Did you ever read Oswald Spengler? He believed that human cultures are born, grow, flourish, and die to express a unique inner nature, just like any other living organism. The Thuriens are no different. Everything they do is a statement of what they are and how they view the world. It's probably impossible to change, anymore than you can make a sunflower seed grow into a rose. A ready answer, it would appear, to the futile attempts of one culture to impose itself upon another that make such a sorry story of so much of our history, don't you think?" Danchekker was in one of his expansive moods, which might make things easier, Hunt thought to himself. He was happy to remain out on the balcony, out of earshot from those inside.