If her husband didn’t take a hand in the other discussion soon, Easy would have to do something herself, she decided.
I’ve heard all about that side of it before, and I still don’t buy it!” snapped Mersereau. “Up to a point it’s good common sense, but I think we’re way past that point. I realize that the more complex the equipment, the fewer people you need to run it; but you also need more specialized apparatus and specially trained personnel to maintain and repair it. If the land-cruisers had been fully automated as some people wanted, we could have got along with a hundred Mesklinites on Dhrawn instead of a couple of thousand at first; but the machines would be out by now because we couldn’t possibly have landed all the backup equipment and personnel they’d need. There aren’t enough technically trained Mesklinites in existence yet, for one thing. I agreed with that, Barlennan agreed with it; it was common sense, as I said.
“But you, and for some reason Barlennan, went even further. He was against including helicopters. I know there were come characters in the Project who assumed you could never teach a Mesklinite to fly, and maybe it was racial acrophobia that was motivating Barlennan; but at least he was able to realize that without air scouting the land-cruisers wouldn’t dare travel more than a few miles an hour over new ground, and it would take roughly forever to cover even Low Alpha at that rate. We did talk him over on that basis.
“But there was a lot of stuff we’d have been glad to provide, which would have been useful and have paid its way, which he talked us out of using. No weapons; I agree they’d probably have been futile. But no short-range radio equipment? No intercoms in the Settlement? It’s dithering nonsense for Dondragmer to have to call us, six million miles away, and ask us to relay his reports to Barlennan at the Settlement. It’s usually not critical, since Barl couldn’t help him physically and the time delay doesn’t mean much, but it’s silly at the best of times. It is critical now, though, when Don’s first mate has disappeared, presumably within a hundred miles of the Kwembly and possibly less than ten, and there’s no way in the galaxy to get in touch with him either from here or from the cruiser. Why was Barl against radios, Alan? And why are you?”
“The same reason you’ve just given,” Aucoin answered with just a trace of acerbity. “The maintenance problem.”
“You’re dithering. There isn’t any maintenance problem on a simple voice or even a vision, communicator. There were four of them, as I understand it, being carried around on Mesklin with Barlennan’s first outside-sponsored trip fifty years of so ago, and not on of them gave the slightest trouble. There are sixty of Dhrawn right now, with not a blip of a problem from any of them in the year and a half they’ve been there, Barlennan must know that, and you certainly do. Furthermore, why do we relay what messages they do send by voice? We could do it automatically instead of having a batch of interpreters hashing things up… sorry, Easy… and you can’t tell me there’d be a maintenance problem for a relay unit in this station. Who’s trying to kid whom?”
Easy stirred; this was perilously close to feud material. Her husband, however, sensed the motion and touched her arm in a gesture she understood. He would take care of it. However, he let Aucoin make his own answer.
“Nobody’s trying to kid anyone. I don’t mean equipment maintenance, and I admit it was a poor choice of words. I should have said morale. The Mesklinites are a competent and highly self-reliant species, at least the representatives we’ve seen the most of. They sail over thousands of miles of ocean on those ridiculous groups of rafts, completely out of touch with home and help for months at a time, just as human beings did a few centuries ago. It was our opinion that making communication too easy would tend to undermine that self-confidence. I admit that this is not certain; Mesklinites are not human, though their minds resemble ours in many ways, and there’s one major factor whose effect we can’t evaluate and may never be able to. We don’t know their normal life spans, though they are clearly a good deal longer than ours. Still, Barlennan agreed with us about the radio question — as you said, it was he who brought it up — and he has never complained about the communication difficulty.”
“To us.” Ib cut in at this point. Aucoin looked surprised, then puzzled.
“Yes, Alan, that’s what I said. He hasn’t complained to us. What he thinks about it privately none of us knows.”
“But why shouldn’t he complain, or even ask for radios, if he has come to feel that he should have them?” The planner was not completely sidetracked, but Easy noted with approval that the defensiveness was gone from his tone.
“I don’t know why,” Hoffman admitted. “I just remember what I’ve learned about our first dealings with Barlennan a few decades ago. He was a highly cooperative, practically worshipped agent for the mysterious aliens of Earth and Panesh and Dromm, and those other mysterious places in the sky during most of the Gravity mission, doing our work for us just as we asked; and then at the end he suddenly held us up for a blackmail jolt which five human beings, seven Paneshka, and nine Drommians out of every ten still think we should never have paid. You know as well as I do that teaching advanced technology, or even basic science, to a culture which isn’t yet into it’s mechanical revolution makes the sociologists see red because they feel that every race should have the right to go through its own kind of growing pains, makes the xenophobes scream because we’re arming the wicked aliens against us, gets the historians down on us because we’re burying priceless data, and annoys the administrative types because they’re afraid we’re setting up problems they haven’t learned to cope with yet.”
“It’s the xenophobes who are the big problem,” Mersereau snapped. “The nuts who take it for granted that every nonhuman species would be an enemy if it had the technical capacity. That’s why we give the Mesklinites only equipment they can’t possibly duplicate themselves, like the fusion units — things which couldn’t be taken apart and studied in details without five stages of intermediate equipment like gamma-ray diffraction cameras, which the Mesklinites don’t have either. Alan’s argument sounds good, but it’s just an excuse. You know as well as I do that you could train a Mesklinite to fly a reasonably part-automated shuttle in two months if the controls were modified for his nippers, and that there isn’t a scientist in this station who wouldn’t give three quarts of his blood to have loads of physical specimens and instruments of his own improvising bouncing between here and Dhrawn’s surface.”
“That’s not entirely right, though there are elements of truth in it,” Hoffman returned calmly. ” I agree with your personal feeling about xenophobes, but its a fact that with energy so cheap a decently designed interstellar freighter can pay off its construction cost in four or five years, an interstellar war isn’t the flat impossibility it was once assumed to be. Also, you know why this station has such big rooms, uncomfortable as some of us find them, and inefficient as they certainly are for some purposes. The average Drommian, if there were a room here he couldn’t get into, would assume that it contained something deliberately kept secret from him. They have no concept of privacy, and by our standards most of them are seriously paranoid. If we had failed to share technology with them when contact was first made, we’d have created a planetful of highly competent xenophobes much more dangerous than anything even Earth has produced. I don’t know that Mesklinites would react the same way, but I still think that starting the College on Mesklin was the smartest piece of policy since they admitted the first Drommian to MIT.”