He in turn hummed a Delanian air which, to her ears, was strange and rather beautiful, in spite of its simplicity.
They crossed a great river, the roller floating on its huge wheels. Plains of flowers stretched before them, and there, on a hilltop in the midst of the Great Bloom, was the dwelling assigned to them.
The roller stopped before the entrance and the guardsmen, who had followed in a larger vehicle, took their posts as Miaree led the alien into the dwelling.
She greeted the male domestic staff and had one of the males show the alien to his room. In her own room, she freshened herself, changed from the official purple to a sheer gown which let the colors of her body show through, accepted a tray from a domestic, and ate lightly, forcing herself to take nourishment, for she was not hungry. Finished, she inspected the conference room, large, airy. From the front viewer she could look over the Great Bloom. Far away, almost swallowed by distance, a couple ran through the flowers, halted, merged into one, then parted. She felt a joyous leaping in her lower abdomen, smiled, then frowned. The feeling was short-lived. She started to summon a domestic, to send him for the drugs, but the feeling was gone and, hopefully, would not come back. She promised herself to control her emotions. That was all it was, just the emotional experience of coming to Outworld so soon after.
She busied herself in preparation for the first conference. When the instruments, carefully concealed, were ready, she called a domestic. "You may escort the—" She almost said alien. "You may escort our guest to join me."
Seated opposite her, looking at her across the large, lovingly polished table, Rei saw the change in her eyes. They went from blue to dark as he looked and her face was serious.
"We will begin," she said, "with your telling me, in as much detail as you can, the history of your people, the life style, the philosophies, the dreams, the achievements, anything which comes into your mind."
His first words chilled her. "There are thirty billion of us," he said. "We live on twelve planets of seven closely grouped stars."
Thirty billion. Why, they must breed like the insect of the flower fields.
"We trace our history back over a millennium," he continued. "We have been in deep space for a hundred thousand years. It was made possible by the invention of the hydrogen engine. Star travel was long in coming to us, and it came when the race was overflowing the planets of our original system. Our planners were not as wise as yours, apparently, for we had no system of birth control, and it was a race to determine whether or not we reached the stars or bred ourselves into extinction. Fortunately, the drive was perfected and we spread to the near stars, relieving our population problems. We knew, of course, of the dangers of the collisions. We viewed them, then, as a future problem. Then a multiple collision near our parent system showed us the effect of star union. We lost over two million dead. We had been searching the near stars for habitable planets. It seemed, as we looked, sending ships out into the emptiness, that some benevolent god had created us in the midst of plenty, for our systems were the only habitable systems in a radius of many light years. And, try as we might, we could not improve the drive, which has limitations, to the point of making it possible to explore the entire galaxy, much less leave the galaxy for a universe where the collisions would be left far behind. We had new hope when we received the messages from your people. We were not alone. Perhaps you had answers. But when it was determined that your messages were sent at mere light speed, we questioned the value of them and came to your system only as a last resort."
His words were recorded. His face was captured on film. He talked easily, changing his position in the chair only occasionally, his eyes sincere, looking mostly into Miaree’s colorful orbs. And from generalities, he moved into specifics, talking about the Delanian way of life. Miaree got a picture of a network of worlds connected by the faster-than-light drivers, busy worlds, thickly populated worlds devoted to commerce and industry
and expansion. The Delanians, she felt, made the Artonuee seem dilettante. Artonuee history, it was true, did not go back a million years, but in a hundred thousand years the Delanians had colonized the planets of seven stars. She felt weak and helpless before him. Her people could not possibly stand before a determined onslaught of even one minor extension of such a power, the approaching fleet of Delanian ships.
She slept fitfully, woke with a curious taste in her mouth. The sweetness of pleele. Dawn was red outside. She stood before an open viewer and stretched her wings. When they folded, they formed the love circle around her shapely rear. Alarm spread through her as her body sent waves of yearning. She shook her head and walked, straight-backed, into the shower, cooling her body with the perfumed water. Fur wet, she stood before a mirror and looked at herself. There was a look about her. A look which she knew.
As the first full day of talks continued, she began to form a picture of the Delanians. It was a portrait in mixed shock and admiration. The Delanian society was full of contrasts.
"We have our poor," Rei said. And she had to search, then ask, for a meaning for the word. It was inconceivable to her to think of people going hungry in the midst of plenty. On the Artonuee worlds, all peoples shared in the bounty of the good planets. Idleness was unknown to the Artonuee. There was no such thing as an unproductive Artonuee. Even severely handicapped persons found a niche in life, gave their share toward the well-ordered continuity of Artonuee society.
Then, while reviewing more Delanian history, Rei talked of the Great War. Again, Miaree had to search out meaning. And there was a wave of sickness in her when she grasped the concept of war. At that moment, she was almost ready to call a halt to the talks, to message the Mother to start the research people to working around the clock to improve the mining torch, to produce weapons capable of blasting the Delanian fleet out of existence before such animals could enter the peaceful Artonuee system. And as she choked back her dismay, Rei continued. The war had devastated three planets, leaving the Delanian society in shock, setting back space exploration for decades.
"We decided then," Rei concluded, "that man would never kill man again. And in fifty thousand years there has been no war."
In present times, the entire Delanian industrial system was working full scale to construct star ships. Before the end came, a percentage, a disastrously low percentage, of the population would be in space.
The idea of vast workshops clanking, pressing, erecting the impressive Delanian drivers took Miaree’s mind off the horror of the war and caused a flicker of admiration. She listened. She questioned. She ended the day with mixed emotions. On the one hand, she deplored the Delanians. But she had to be impressed with their racial drive. They were, after all, a race which had sought the far stars. Now, in all their billions, they faced extinction. The concept was too vast to grasp.
Alone in her room, she sought relaxation with jenk. She was feeling the exhilarating lift of the liquor when she joined Rei for the evening meal. They ate in courteous silence, then sat on the outside deck, watching the Great Bloom fade in twilight, silent as the Fires of God rose and gleamed and towered in the sky.
"We have talked little of you, and your people," Rei said.