She glances at her arm, hoping she hasn't given herself a nasty cold-burn. Nothing to be seen but an odd dusty scratch. No redness. But she can feel the nerve twitch deep in her forearm. Funny! She brushes at it, and takes out the cassette with more care. It's standard record; she soon has it threaded in her voder.
The voice that speaks is so thick and blurry that she backs up and restarts, to hear better.
"Supply and Recon Team Number 914 B-K reporting," she makes out. Excitedly she recognizes the designation. Why, that's the missing ship! That is important. She should relay it to Base at once. But surely it won't hurt to listen to the rest?
The voice is saying that a new depot has been established at thirty-twenty north, forty-two-twenty-eight west, RD Thirty. That's one of the yellow suns' planets, and the coordinates Coati has on her wrist. "Ninety-five percent terraform." The voice has cleared a little.
It goes on to say that they will work back to FedBase, stopping to check a highly terraform planet they've spotted at eighteen-ten north, twenty-eight-thirty west, RD Thirty, in the same group of suns. "But — uh—" The voice stops, then resumes.
"Some things happened at thirty-twenty. There're people there. I guess we have to report a, uh, First Contact. They—"
A second voice interrupts abruptly.
"We did just like the manual! The manual for First Contacts."
"Yeah," resumes the first voice. "It worked fine. They were really friendly. They even had a few words from Galactic, and the signals. But they—"
"The wreck. The wreck! Tell them," says the other voice.
"Oh. Well, yeah. There's a wreck there, an old RE. Real old. You can't see the rescue flag; it has big stuff growing on it. We think it's Ponz. So maybe it's his First Contact." The voice sound unmistakably downcast. "Boss can decide. …Anyway, they have some kind of treatment they give you, like a pill to make you smart. It takes two days; you sleep a lot. Then they let you out and you can understand everything. Imean — everything! It was — we never had anything like that before. Everybody talking and understanding everybody! See how we can talk now? But it's funny. …Anyway, they helped us find a place with a level site, and we fixed up a fuel dump really nice. We—"
"What they looked like!" the other voice bursts in. "Never mind us. Tell about them, what they looked like and how they did."
"Oh, sure: Well. Big white bodies with fur all over. And six legs — they mostly walk on the back four; the top two are like arms. They have like long bodies, long white cats, big; when they rear up to look, they're over our heads. And they have…" Here the voice stammers, as if finding it hard to speak. "They have like two, uh, private parts. Two sets, I mean. Some of them. And their faces" — the voice runs on, relieved—"their faces are fierce. Some teeth! When they came and looked in first, we were pretty nervous. And big eyes, sort of like mixed-up people and animals. Cats. But they acted friendly, they gave back the signals, so we came out. That was when they grabbed us and pushed their heads onto ours. Then they let go, and acted like something was wrong. I heard one say 'Ponz,' and like 'Lashley' or 'Leslie.' "
"Leslie was with Ponz, I told you," says the second.
"Yeah. So then they grabbed us again, and held on, and that was when they gave the treatment. I think something went into me, I can still hear like a voice. Ko says, him, too. …Oh, and there were young ones and some others running around on an island; they said they're not like them until they get the treatment. 'Drons,' they called the young ones. And afterward they're 'Ee-ah-drons.' The ones we talked to. It's sort of confusing. Like the Ee-ah are people, too. But you don't see them." His voice — it must be Boney — runs down. "Is that all?" Coati hears him ask aside.
"Yeah, I guess so," the other voice — Ko — replies. "We better get started, we got one more stop …and I don't feel so good anymore. I wish we was home."
"Me, too. Funny, we felt so great. Well, DRS 914 B-K signing off… I guess this is the longest record we ever sent, huh? Oh, we have some corrections to send. Stand by."
After a long drone of coordinate corrections, the record ends.
Coati sits pensive, trying to sort out the account. It's clear that a new race has been contacted, and they seem friendly. Yet something about it affects her negatively— she has no desire to rush off and meet the big white six-legs and be given the "smart treatment." Boney and Ko were supposed to be a little — innocent. Maybe they were fooled in some way, taken advantage of? But she can't think why, or what. It's beyond her….
The other thing that's clear is that this should go to Base, fastest. Wasn't there a ship going to follow Boney and Ko's route? That would take them to the cat planet, which is at — she consults her wrist — thirty-twenty north, et cetera. Oh, dear, must she go back? Turn back, abort her trip to deliver this? Why had she been so smart, pulling in other people's business?
But wait. If it's urgent, she could speed it by calling base and reading the message, thus bypassing the last leg. Then surely they wouldn't crack her for interfering! Maybe she's still in commo range.
She powers up the transponder and starts calling FedBase 900. Finally a voice responds, barely discernible through the noise. She fiddles with the suppressors and gets it a bit clearer.
"FedBase 900, this is CC-One at AL. Beacon One. Do you read me? I have intercepted a message pipe from Supply Ship DRS 914 B-K, the missing ship, Boney and Ko." She repeats. "Do you read that?"
"Affirmative, CC-One. Message from ship 914 B-K intercepted. What is the message?"
"It's too long to read. But listen — important. They are on their way to a planet at — wait a minim—'' She rolls the record back and gets the coordinates. "And before that they stayed at that planet thirty-twenty north — you have the specs. There are people there! It's a First Contact, I think. But listen, they say something's funny. I don't think you should go there until you get the whole message. I'm sending it right on."
"CC-One, I lost part of that. Is planet at "thirty-twenty north a First Contact?"
Garble is breaking up Commo's voice. Coati shouts as clearly as she can, "Yes! Affirmative! But don't, repeat, do — not — go — there — until you get B-K's original message. I — will — send — pipe — at once. Did you get that?"
"Repeating… Do not proceed to planet thirty-twenty north, forty-two-twenty-eight west until B-K message received. Pipe coming soonest. Green, CC-One?"
"Go. If I can't make the pipe work, I'll bring it. CC-One signing off." She finishes in a swirl of loud static, and turns her attention to getting the pipe back on its way.
But before she takes the cassette out of the voder, she rechecks the designation of the planet B-K are headed for. Eighteen-ten north. Twenty-eight-thirty west. RD Thirty. That's closer than the First Contact planet; that's right, they said they'd stop there on their way home. She copies the first coordinates off on her workpad, and replaces them on her wrist with the new ones. If she wants to help look for Boney and Ko, she could go straight there — but of course she hasn't really made up her mind. As she rolls back her sleeve, she notices that her arm still feels odd, but she can't see any trace of a cold-burn. She rubs the arm a couple of times, and it goes away.
"Getting goosey from excitement," she mutters. She has a childish habit of talking aloud to herself when she's alone. She figures it's because she was alone so much as a child, happily playing with her space toys and holos.