“Traffic on the road.” Winnie’s voice. As planned, she was watching through the ship’s scopes and satellites. (The ship by then was over the horizon and somewhere on the other side of the world.) As long as the sky stayed clear, the Jenkins would have them constantly in view. “Looks like two of them. And a cart.”
“Thanks, Winnie.”
“And a few more behind. Three on foot. And a second cart. Make that two, no, three, more carts. They’re coming from the south. About a half kilometer from you.”
Around the curve.
They waited, listening to the wind until they heard the sounds of creaking wheels, snorting, heavy clop-clops. And music. Pipes and stringed instruments, Digger thought. And thumping on a drum. And voices in allegro, maybe a little high-pitched.
The song, if that was what it was, lacked the easy rhythms of human melodies. “They’re not exactly Ben and the Warbirds,” Kellie observed.
Well, no. The voices were a bit lacking. But the critical news was that Digger hadn’t heard anything yet that wasn’t within the range of human capabilities.
“But you’ll need women to do it,” commented Kellie.
A large animal rounded the bend, hauling a cart, and lumbered toward them. It was one of the rhinos they’d spotted from orbit, big, heavy, with long tusks, and a body shaped like a barrel. The eyes were larger than a rhino’s, though; they were saucer-shaped and had the same sad expression that was so prominent a part of the inhabitants’ physiognomy. The eyes turned their way, and Digger got the distinct impression the beast could see them through their screen of shrubbery.
“Maybe it can smell us,” said Digger.
“No.” Kellie’s voice had gone flat. The way it might if she perceived danger. “Not through the e-suit.”
Jack activated the recorder in the notebook.
The cart was loaded with plants. Vegetables, maybe? Two Goompahs sat in the vehicle, singing at the top of their lungs. It was all off-key.
“I’m tempted to take my chances,” said Jack, “and just go out and say hello.”
“Don’t do it,” said Kellie.
And there came the three on foot. And the other three wagons. They were filled with passengers. Everybody was singing. They plucked on instruments that looked like lutes, blew into pipes, and pounded on the sides of the carts. They were having a roaring good time.
“They know how to travel,” said Kellie.
There were eleven Goompahs in all. “Too many,” said Jack. “Let them go.”
“Why?” asked Digger. “They’re in a good mood. Isn’t that what we want?”
“If they turn out to be hostile, there are too many. I want to be able to get clear if things take a bad turn.”
Some had mammaries. All were clumsy. Hadn’t evolution worked at all on this world? Digger couldn’t imagine how they’d avoided predators.
The convoy passed, gradually climbed to the crest of the hill and disappeared beyond.
TEN MINUTES LATER they got their chance. They heard the crunch of footsteps coming over the hill. A lone pedestrian appeared at the top. He carried a staff and swung it jauntily from side to side as he started down.
He wore boots and red leggings and a shirt made of hide. A yellow cap was pulled almost rakishly over one saucer eye. “Ladies’ man,” said Kellie.
The sky was clear. “Anybody else on the road?” Jack asked Winnie.
“Not anywhere near you.”
It struck Digger that the fact the creature was traveling alone said a great deal about the kind of society in which it lived. In early Europe, strolling about the highways without an armed escort would have been an exercise in recklessness.
Digger felt Kellie’s hand on his shoulder. Here we go.
Jack waited until the traveler was immediately adjacent. Then he switched on the projector. Digger’s avatar appeared gradually atop the crest opposite, as if striding up from the far side, paused on its summit, and waved.
The traveler swung his large head in the avatar’s direction. “Hello, friend,” the avatar said cheerfully, in English. “How are you doing?”
The Goompah stared.
The avatar raised its hand and waved again.
The Goompah’s eyes widened, grew enormous.
The avatar started slowly down the slope.
The Goompah growled and showed a set of incisors Digger hadn’t seen before. It retreated a step, but quickly found its back against a tree.
“How are you today?” the avatar asked. “What a lovely day this is. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop by. Say hello.”
“Careful,” said Kellie.
The Goompah edged away from the tree, back in the direction from which it had come. It bowed its head, and Digger could see its lips moving although he couldn’t hear any sounds. It was, if he was reading the signs correctly, terrified.
“What’s happening?” asked Winnie.
Kellie told her to wait a minute.
The creature was shaking its head from side to side. It moaned and choked and spasmed. It threatened the avatar with its staff. It waved its hands, odd gestures, signs almost.
“This isn’t going well,” said Jack.
“Where are you headed, friend?” asked the avatar, oblivious of the effect it was having. “By the way, my name’s Digger.” It waved yet again, in the friendliest possible fashion.
The Goompah opened its mouth and said “Morghani,” or something very much like it. Then it turned and sprinted back the way it had come, moving far more quickly than Digger would have thought possible. It swayed wildly from side to side, tumbled but picked itself up without breaking stride, charged up the hill at the end of the road, and disappeared behind it.
When it was gone, the avatar said, “It’s been good talking with you.”
Kellie couldn’t resist snickering. “You are pretty fearsome,” she said, “now that I think of it.”
DIGGER THOUGHT THEY should go back to the lander and rethink things. But getting back there would be a battle, and Kellie told him he was giving up too easily. Jack agreed and that was the vote that counted.
“The problem,” Jack argued, “was that the image wasn’t responsive. The thing got scared, and the avatar can’t shrug, and say, ‘Hey buddy, it’s okay, don’t worry.’ ”
“But who here can speak Goompah?” asked Digger.
“Don’t have to,” said Jack. “All we need is a rational reaction. A sign that we can deal with them on a one-to-one basis. Nonverbals will do it.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“We dispense with the avatar.”
IT DIDN’T MATTER. The second attempt, with Digger in the flesh trying to be friendly, went pretty much the same way. They passed on a couple of single travelers, selecting instead a group of four, bouncing along in a wagon pulled by one of the rhinos. Should have been enough to grant a sense of security to the proceedings. But they took one look at Digger, the real Digger, safely perched atop his hill so that a quick retreat was feasible, and went screaming back down the road, abandoning their wagon and the rhino.
“Well,” he told Kellie, “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m not quite as charming as I always thought.”
“Eye of the beholder,” she said, turning to Jack. “What do we do now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How about walking in through the front door? Just stroll right into the city.”
“I don’t think so.”
He asked Winnie to send a report to Hutch, informing her that initial attempts at contact had been unsuccessful.
“Do you want to say that we’ll try again?”
“Yes,” he said, but Digger knew that tone. He’d decided it wasn’t a good idea.