Of course Spy knew enough about human nature not to be surprised by that, as it was not surprised when we then visited the kitchen, where Namir pleases himself and the rest of you by preparing your food in various original ways. Neither we nor the Others see the point in changing the appearance and flavor of fuel.
I think we shared a thing like humor over your counterproductive need for variety in these commonplace aspects of life. I don’t think its motives regarding me are friendly, though, or simple; it seemed to be testing me. Perhaps it will do the same with you humans at a later date.
We heard Namir and Dustin making noise down by the swimming area, and backtracked to watch. They couldn’t play pool in zero gee, so they had improvised a three-dimensional variant, more gentle and slow than the original. I could not quite understand the rules, which amused them. Dustin said they had to make up the rules as the game progressed, since nobody had ever played it before.
This may be important: Spy revealed that the Others have a similar activity. Much of their time, like yours, goes to individual contests that have only a symbolic relation to real events. The compact way it described those contests did not reveal much, except that the physical actions are not accomplished by individual Others; they are done by beings like Spy, biological constructs that are autonomous but obedient. And the point of the game is not to win, but to discover the rules.
We completed the circuit by investigating the lounge and work areas, where most humans spend the waking hours that are not given over to strictly biological activities.
When Spy began to put on its helmet, Paul came over to operate the air lock. One person can do it alone, but it’s simpler to have someone outside the lock pushing the buttons. He told Spy he would start to fire the steering jets at 0230; best to be inside by then.
Before the outer door was even open, Carmen and the others were bearing down on me with questions.
4
OTHER-NESS
Fly-in-Amber let us grill him for exactly one hour. Then he said he would submit a written report tomorrow and went off to rest.
Namir wondered aloud how he would do that. Lying down is irrelevant in zero gee, but they never actually lie down, anyhow. Hard to sort out all the legs.
Having a conversation was odd, too, without a physical up and down. By convention, most people tried to stay upright, but if you didn’t hang on to something, you could start to drift. Paul let himself go every which way, I supposed to demonstrate how natural the state was to an old space hand.
We were in the compromise lounge, and it was cold. I told Snowbird we had to move into the dining area. She said she would come along for a little while.
Namir had put a collection of ration bars in a plastic bag with a drawstring. I took a peanut butter one and passed the bag around.
Snowbird bounced gently off the refrigerator and grabbed onto the dining-room table with three arms. “You were not too pleased with what Fly-in-Amber remembered?” she said to me.
“We could wish for more. But we’ll have years.”
“The next time it visits, we’ll have plenty of questions,” Paul said.
“Can you establish a radio link?” Meryl asked. “Or would it be better not to?”
“No reason not to,” Namir said. He looked around with a stony expression. “It’s a good thing we have nothing to hide. They’re probably hearing every word we say.”
“Through vacuum?” I said.
“Any Earth spook could do it. Spy could have dropped a microtrans-mitter in here while it was walking around, but you could be even more direct than that—attach a sensor to the hull and have it transmit the vibrations it picks up.
“I don’t think that would work once the main drive starts up again,” Paul said. “The vibrations would overwhelm your signal.”
“Maybe so.” His expression didn’t change.
“They’d have something like S2N,” I said. It’s a spook program to coax out data that’s buried in noise.
That brought a little smile. “How on earth do you know about S2N?”
“I haven’t been on Earth since ’72,” I kidded him, “but you can learn a thing or two in orbit.” It was an unpleasant memory. Dargo Solingen had used S2N to spy on Paul and Red and me, overhearing our whispered conferences under loud music. A day later, our secrets were headlines on Earth, and the Others decided it was time for us all to die. Sort of a turning point in one’s life.
“What it said about the Others playing games,” Dustin said, “to find out the rules. I want to know more about that.”
“They might view us as contestants?” I said.
“Or pieces,” Namir said. “Pawns.”
“Anything but rivals,” Meryl said. “If they perceive us as a danger, we won’t even get close to them.”
I nodded. “No matter what Spy says, we have to assume it can destroy us if it thinks we present a danger to the Others.”
“We ought to figure out a way to talk to its buddy,” Paul said. “The speeded-up Other.”
“Hard to visualize a conversation,” I said. “Eight minutes passing for us, for every minute it experiences.”
“Say something, play a round of poker, then listen and respond,” Dustin said. “Spy will always be our intermediary anyhow.”
Namir nodded. “We could do something like that. We just have to find a way to present it so it appears to give them an advantage.”
“Home team?” Dustin said. “We agree to go over there to talk?”
“That would be our advantage,” Namir said. “Get a look inside their ship.”
“Wait,” I said. “We’re not fighting them. It’s the opposite. We want them to feel safe, cooperating with us.”
Namir laughed. “Like a mouse negotiating with a python.”
“She’s right,” Meryl said. “We can’t see it as a contest. We already know what the result would be, in a contest of strength, or will.”
“I don’t know about will,” Namir said.
Elza snorted. “Spoken like a true man. You have balls, darling, but they’re no advantage here.”
There was a loud ping from the control room. Paul launched himself in that direction, somersaulting in midair, and slipped through the door. I could hear him saying a few words, responding to the radio.
He walked back, with his gecko slippers, looking thoughtful. “Interesting coincidence. We have an invitation from ‘Other-prime.’ To come over for an audience with His Nibs.”
“All of us?” I asked.
“Just four. You and me and Namir, and Fly-in-Amber.”
“Any danger?”
“Well, we’ll want to be tethered down on the way over and back, in case of a course correction blip. I can fix that easily with a guideline. Once we’re over there…” He shrugged. “We’ll be at their mercy. Exactly as we are here.”
Paul put off the turnaround rotation, even though it probably would make little difference. He got a roll of cable and a couple of pitons, ice spikes, out of the workshop, and I went along as fetch- and-carry. It was the first time either of us had been outside in over three years; we’d all done it as a safety drill before the engine started. You wouldn’t want to do it during acceleration. Like being perched on top of a rocket. One misstep, and you’d slide off and drop forever.
Hammering in a piton wasn’t simple in zero gee. There was nothing to hold him to the “ground,” so after each swing, he would rotate away from the spike. He’d foreseen this, of course, and brought along a hand drill to make a preliminary hole.
I held a light for him but looked away from it to preserve my night vision. The sky was beautiful, the stars brighter than on Earth, the Milky Way a glowing billow across the darkness. I wished I knew the constellations well enough to tell whether they were different. Orion looked about the same. Paul pointed out where our Sun was. A bright yellow star, but there were brighter ones.