“Name it.” Mondrian’s face was pale and dull-eyed, but he was relaxing again.
“You must stay here. Travel the Earth, This planet was the scene of your earliest and most hidden experiences. You may not recognize the original source of your fears, even when you encounter it; but I will know it, through your unconscious responses. And then, at last, I will be able to help you.”
“I can’t do what you ask. I am too busy to spend more time on Earth.”
“You must. Until you do so, your problem will not be solved. Think upon this.” Skrynol swayed up, away from Mondrian. “That is the end of the session for today. I can see your weariness and your distress. Put on your shirt, and I will lead you back.”
Mondrian sighed, and shook his head. “Not yet. We have one more item of business.”
“You are exhausted. For your own sake, make it brief.”
“I cannot promise that.” Mondrian reached into his jacket pocket and took out a black wafer the size of his thumbnail. “This is a summary of human expansion plans. It provides only a broad outline. Before you receive more, I must hear through official channels that full control of the Travancore operation will belong to the Anabasis. That control must not be subject to interference from our ambassador, or from anyone else. I also want it agreed that the Anabasis will be allowed to quarantine the planet Travancore while the escaped Morgan Construct is being hunted.”
Skrynol reached out and took the wafer delicately from his hand. She bobbed her head from side to side, examining the small black square. “I will try to do as you ask. Already I am doing as much as I can.”
“Why is it taking so long?”
Skrynol waved a forelimb at him reprovingly. “Esro Mondrian, you above all others should not be making the common error of your species. Pipe-Rillas are individuals, as much so as humans. Each of us has her own preferences and agenda. There is as much variety of thought and desire among us as there is among your people. And so I must seek a consensus before I can act. That is not easy, since my species does not trust yours. But this” — she waved the black wafer — “will simplify my task. Have patience. If you have given me what I need, the Anabasis will control access to Travancore.”
“Don’t look for much detail in those plans. What you have is only an outline. The rest will be available in ten more days.”
“For the moment, this is enough.” The Fropper placed the wafer carefully in one of her body pouches. “You see, even if the plans that you have given me are wrong in some details — wrong even in every detail — that is not of great importance. Your species went through the mental processes needed to create such plans. It is those mental processes, the broad concepts, that we want more than the plans themselves. To my species, it is inconceivable that such ideas could ever be imagined, still less that the actions they describe might be carried out. “But we have read human history. When it comes to war and fighting, the human species may not — I give you the benefit of the doubt — be wholly aggressive. But you are certainly aggressive. And you have a saying, that where all are blind the creature with a single eye will prevail. In matters of conquest and destruction my species is blind, as are the Tinkers and the Angels.”
“All the other Stellar Groups seem to think of humans in the same way.”
“I am afraid that we do. Why else would I be here on Earth, alone? In the case of tine Tinkers, their feelings are partly a consequence of your appearance. The human form resembles that of a small carnivore on their home world of Mercantor. It is not dangerous to them, but it is mindless, ferocious, and annoying. Such associations are of course irrelevant to a creature of perfect intellect, but to most of us such factors carry large weight. I would say all, except that one can never be sure of the Angels. To the rest of us, small points can be very important. For example, to a human a Pipe-Rilla’s voice sounds cheerful. And even this gesture” — Skrynol bowed her head, and placed her forelimbs high on top of it -
“which to us indicates shame or embarrassment, to you appears amusing. To humans, the worries and sorrows of a Pipe-Rilla look and sound comical, no matter how deeply felt.”
’They do. But I certainly do not think of you as comical.”
“In this as in many things, Commander Mondrian, you are an exception. I respect your opinions, but I would be more interested to Know how other humans regard us.”
“I think you know. As you pointed out, neither humans nor Pipe-Rillas form a uniform group. There is diversity of opinion among us. But the popular view of Pipe-Rillas is that you are conscientious, self-deprecating, and a little dull. In human terms, you also lack initiative.”
“Initiative for the warfare that you find so popular?”
“For more than that. As most humans will tell you, we found you in our exploration, you did not find us. And there is an old story that summarizes the general human view of all species of the Stellar Group.”
“A true story?”
“Only in the sense that all parables are true, because they reveal a group’s common perspective. According to the story, a ship carrying a human, a Pipe-Rilla, a Tinker and an Angel made an emergency planetary landing.”
“Aha!”
“You have heard the story?”
“I think not. Continue.”
“They did not have time to send out a distress signal, and no one had any reason to search for them. The four sat down and reviewed the situation. Their onboard food supply was small, their communication equipment damaged beyond repair. If any other ship visited the planet, it would almost certainly not be for years.”
“A grave problem indeed. What did they do?”
“The human asked for suggestions. The Pipe-Rilla said that she was of course sorry that they were in such a fix, but a mere Pipe-Rilla would not be able to solve the problem when another species had already failed. She left the ship and went on alone into the wilderness. “The human asked the Tinker for ideas. The Tinker said that there was really no problem. The planet had abundant winged insect life, so there was no food shortage. All one had to do was resolve into individual components, fly off, and catch as much as one wanted.
“The human turned to the Angel. It agreed with the Tinker: there was no problem. The soil of the planet was very fertile. All one had to do was settle in and put down a root system.”
“And what, Commander Mondrian, was the human suggestion?”
’The human made no suggestion. After hearing the others, the human set to work. In ten months the crippled ship was repaired enough to fly home. What others see as aggression, we see as human diligence and initiative.’
“You have a poor opinion of your fellow-members of the Stellar Group.”
“Not as bad as the story would suggest. Like many parables, this tale exaggerates to make its point. Humans like Tinkers. We enjoy their sense of humor, though we find them — if you will pardon a human joke — ‘flighty’ and ‘scatter-brained.’ Angels we regard as accurate and precise, but almost totally incomprehensible. As for your species, humans think that Pipe-Rillas sound amusing, look terrifying, take their responsibilities seriously — and worry too much.”
Skrynol had listened in silence. Now she settled far back on her hind limbs and began to rock gently from side to side. “Fascinating. I said that I had not heard your story, and that was true. But I had heard something very like it. Did you know that we have our own tale of a similar shipwreck, and that the Tinkers and the Angels acted just as you describe? But in our version the human wanted to hunt, kill, and enslave the native animals.”
“And the Pipe-Rilla?”