The Candle of Distant Earth (2 page)

It was beautifully appointed, the citizens of Therapp and the surrounding district being proud of their accomplishments and those of their local artisans. A conical central skylight of synthetic crystal flooded the interior with sunshine lightly tinted gold by the swirling, stained panel attached to it. Directly beneath the skylight, a round desk sat embedded in the mosaic stone floor. There the Delineator of the Day of Therapp sat and worked. Placing the desk slightly below floor level compelled each of them to look up at approaching citizens. In this manner, humility was enforced on the Overwatch's principal public servant.

Delineator Phomma qi Administrator sa Nine looked up and chittered a polite traditional greeting, followed by, “I specifically asked staff to grant me a two day-slice period of privacy. You must have considerable influence to have gained admittance in spite of that.” Her long, drooping whiskers inclined toward him as she spoke, the aggressiveness of their posture belying the civility of her words. Unusually, he noted, they were tinted a pale red.

“I am Ussakk the Astronomer, and I have no influence: only bad news.”

“Proceed forward.” Rising from her seat, she stepped away from the trio of readouts that floated in the air before her. They started to follow obediently until she thought to wave them away. “What news can simultaneously be so bad and so influential?”

He descended the six short ceremonial steps, each corresponding to one of the whiskers that dominated the Hyfftian visage. “This morning I regret to say that I was forced to reconfirm certain previous significant observations made by my facility's instrumentation. Three starships have entered our system from deepspace. Though it has not happened in my lifetime, I know from history that infrequent visitors to our world invariably arrive in only one such vessel. One time, by coincidence, two such marvelous craft arrived at Hyff.” He blinked meaningfully. “The presence of more than that can mean only one thing.”

As an educated person, the Delineator Phomma knew what it meant, too. To her credit, she neither fainted nor shook. But moisture did begin to appear at the lower edges of both eyes. She wiped it hurriedly away.

“This leaves no time for advance lamenting. That will have to come later.” Turning, she moved purposefully back to the seat she had been occupying when he had arrived. Her hovering tripartite readouts had to move fast to hold their positions in front of her eyes. This time she did not dismiss them. “The Great Government must be notified immediately. You will provide all details. Work must be started to minimize the inevitable panic that will greet the official announcement.” As her hands moved, the four short fingers on each waving instructions at the readouts, she glanced over at him. “Who else knows?”

Ussakk considered for a moment. “Only the two sub administrators whose permission I had to seek to enter here. Their personal reactions,” he added thoughtfully, “were as might have been expected. Otherwise, not even my colleagues at the observatory know. Yet.”

She chirruped an acknowledgement. “Then this can be handled appropriately. Or at least, as well as can be hoped.” He thought he saw tears begin to rise again, but the Delineator shut them down before they could dampen the neatly trimmed brown fur under her eyes. Leastwise, the formal face paint that streaked and speckled her plump cheeks did not run.

“If you do not require my presence any longer,” he murmured, “I should be getting back to my work.”

She replied without looking up at him, her hands busy with the readouts. “Your work is here now. As Delineator of the Day for the Overwatch of Therapp, I am requisitioning your services to city administration. When your coworkers have been notified, they can monitor the approach of the…” She could not choke the name out, did not want to get the name out. “Of the incoming vessels,” she finally finished.

Ussakk was appalled. “I am an astronomer, not a bureaucrat or civil servant. I answer to the Great Science, headquartered in Avvesse. Of what possible use could my extended presence be to the city government of Therapp?”

She paused in her work to study him. His whiskers quivered slightly under her suddenly intense stare, but he held his ground. “It is clear you are not a politician, either. Very well; if you need a reason, I feel that your continued presence in an urbanized area will in itself help to provide some small modicum of reassurance to the general populace.”

His small black nose twitched. “How can that be?”

“By showing that you have not run away.” She returned to manipulating the readouts. “In the coming days, that may prove critical. I don't suppose you can tell by the angle of approach of the Iollth ships where they intend to put down on Hyff?”

He reminded himself that this was not a fellow scientist he was talking to. “Angle of approach means nothing. They may decide to go into extended orbit around Hyff before choosing a place to—put down. Or they may decide to land at three different places. History shows that—”

“I know what history shows,” she barked irritably. He took no offense at the sharpness of her response. Helplessness bred frustration, and frustration bred anger. He felt like doing some yelling and screaming himself. As a scientist, he realized the futility of such reactions better than most.

A tenth of a day-slice later, she waved both hands simultaneously, and the readouts that had been hovering before her vanished. With a weariness not even her elaborate ceremonial makeup could dispel, she turned back to him.

“The appropriate authorities have been advised. The Great Government is now in motion.” Eyes as red as her whiskers met his. “All continental representatives are to meet here tomorrow. That is as fast as travel allows. Each of the eight continental Overwatches will determine how best to respond should an Iollth vessel set down in their territory. If all three approaching craft send their landers to one place, a worldwide response will be coordinated.” The tearing started again, and this time it did not stop. “As we have throughout our history, we can only hope to minimize the destruction.”

Stepping forward, Ussakk took her in his arms. The fact that she was the day's Delineator and he a research astronomer, and that they had never met before this moment, meant nothing. The Hyfft were a species as emotional as they were demonstrative, among whom close physical contact was not only commonplace but expected. Anyway, Ussakk was glad of the opportunity to embrace someone.

He needed the warming physical contact as badly as she did.

They traveled to Therapp from all over the continent of Vinen-Aq, Delineators who under the newly imposed regulations of emergency had found their terms of office extended indefinitely beyond the usual one day. It was not certain that each was the best of their kind to deal with the crisis at hand, but there was no time to process extended evaluations. If you were Delineator on that dire day, you found yourself chosen.

Having come from far and wide, they assembled the following morning in the circular chamber of Therapp's administrative center. Informed of Ussakk's discovery, his scientific colleagues had promptly dropped all other work to devote themselves to the single task of monitoring the approach of the three ships. That left Ussakk free to exhibit himself to the general public. True to Phomma sa Nine's observation, his presence did seem to have a reassuring influence on public opinion.

That did not prevent some panic from spreading as word slipped out. At least by the time it did, the efficient and fast-moving Hyfftian authorities had been given a breathing space in which to prepare. The worst of the panic was quickly contained. But nothing could stop the consequent rush of city dwellers toward the countryside. Every conveyor route out of every conurbation was soon jammed with desperate, would-be refugees. Even so, the lines were orderly. The few seriously unbalanced individuals who actually ignored the designated routes in favor of taking off across private property were quickly apprehended and suitably chastised.

The Hyfft might be prone to panic, but they did so in an orderly fashion.

Within the chamber, designated Delineators from dozens of Vinen-Aq's largest communities milled and conversed. There was no yelling, no piercing echoes of raised voices. Administrators were not allowed that kind of emotional release. But the general conversation was certainly borne along by an uneasy edge.

Nestled in one ear, a communicator kept Ussakk in constant touch with his associates at the observatory. Every similar installation on Hyff had likewise abandoned its regular work schedule to focus on the incoming craft. Thus far there had been no attempt at communication. If history was any guide, Ussakk knew, that would come once the Iollth had settled themselves in orbit and chosen the unfortunate location or locations for their landing. In the past, they had been known to destroy a city center or two from orbit, just as a preliminary object lesson. Or perhaps for entertainment. On that aspect of Iollth psychology, there were few details.

All across peaceful but tense Hyff, ten billion individuals now spoke one thought with one mind, albeit usually in private so as not to offend their neighbors.
Please don't let them land here.
In silently wishing this, Ussakk unashamedly had to admit that he was no different from his less scientifically inclined fellows.

No one thought of mounting an active resistance. Confined to their planet and happy to be so, at peace among themselves for thousands of years, the Hyfft possessed no weapons of advanced destruction: nothing more offensive than nonlethal police gear. Nor did they need any such—except when the Iollth came calling. Discussion of developing such weaponry, which was certainly within the technical ability of Hyfftian science, had come to naught. The one time such a thing had been tried, over a hundred years earlier, an Iollth landing craft had actually been destroyed. Its three companion vessels had escaped to orbit, one badly damaged.

Safe high above the surface of Hyff, their mother ships had proceeded to kill some two hundred thousand Hyfft. After that, their subsequent visitations had met with no further resistance.

Wandering among the dense crowd of visiting, apprehensive Delineators, Ussakk had the opportunity to eavesdrop on numerous ongoing discussions. All he could do was listen, having nothing tangible to contribute. He would much rather have been back at the observatory, even if there was nothing to do there but monitor the rapid progress of the three incoming starships and agonize about possible landing sites.

There was one good thing. Given the speed at which the Iollth vessels were traveling, they should arrive by tomorrow, thus putting an end to all the increasingly nerve-wracking speculation. He felt himself to be as ready as any of his kind for whatever might come. His elderly parents had been sent out of the city, to a (hopefully) safe refuge deep in the agricultural countryside. He was not mated and not courting. He had no offspring. If anyone was suitable for sacrifice at the hands of the Iollth, it was him.

But he didn't want to die.

I
t very puzzling.” Sobj-oes's neck frill flexed repeatedly as she stared out the port at the beautiful, lush world above which the three Niyyuuan ships had entered orbit. “Is ample evidence here of large population having achieved an advanced level of technology. Seaports, carefully laid out urban cores of modest dimension, atmospheric travel, very advanced and widespread agriculture. Local electromagnetic spectrum is full of noise. But communications specialists say despite repeated attempts, is no response to any of our transmissions.”

Relaxing in Marcus Walker's arms so that he could see out the port, George used one paw to dig at a persistent itch, then sneezed effusively. Walker's expression furrowed.

“You could at least cover your mouth.”

The dog glanced up at his friend. “Why? Most of it comes out my nose. And paws don't provide much coverage anyway.” He looked over at the Niyyuuan astronautics specialist, meeting wide, gold-flecked eyes. “Maybe your people just haven't hit on the right frequency yet.”

Using one long, limber arm whose tip terminated in two digits that pinched together forcefully, Sobj-oes responded with a negative gesture that reflected personal as well as professional disappointment. “I assured that everythings have been tried. Most obvious reason for noncommunication from surface is that we now well outside boundaries of accepted galactic civilization. Is entirely possible that, despite obvious high level of local technology, has been little or even no contact with any of the civilized species.”

“Does that explain why they haven't come up to meet us?” Walker found himself asking.

Straightening her kilt-skirt around long, silk-skinned lower limbs in a manner that reminded him uncomfortably of the distant but not forgotten Viyv-pym, Sobj-oes turned huge, yellow-gold eyes on the human. “Are many communications satellites in multiple orbits around planet, but is no evidences of even a single spaceport. Are large facilities for atmospheric travel, but nothings to suggest locals venture into zone of no air. Not a habitable satellite, no installations on either moon or on outer planets. Nothing.”

“Homebodies,” George hypothesized thoughtfully. “Found an alley they like and keep to themselves. I can sympathize with that.” As Walker set him down, the dog employed a hind foot to scratch at one ear.

“Maybe they have social reasons for not wanting to step off their world.” Walker spoke while gazing out the port at the attractive planet below. “Maybe they're shy.”

“Spatially speaking,” Sobj-oes told them, “this system comparatively isolated. Are no other inhabited or habitable worlds nearby. Indigenous population may think selves isolated, intelligence-wise. This also help to explain why maybe no knowledge of numerous galactic methods of communication.”

“We can always communicate with gestures,” Walker pointed out.

“
If
the locals have limbs,” George put in, choosing to overlook the fact that his kind were similarly lacking in such useful accoutrements as an opposable thumb.

“Couhgh,”
the astronomer rasped. Ear-grating Niyyuuan expressions were, if anything, even harsher sounding to the human ear than their wince-inducing language. “We may yet have to resort to something that basic. But to do so means must have face-to-face contact.” Her round, muscular, painted mouth expanded and contracted as she coughed slightly to indicate amusement and her foot tall, tapering ears inclined in George's direction as she addressed the dog. “
If
the locals have faces.”

“If you're talking about sending down a landing party, I'd like to come along,” Walker told her.

She returned her attention to him. “Is realized that by historic mutual decision of multiple realms of Niyu that you nominally in command of this expedition, Marcus Walker. However, in lieu of specific recommendation from you or science staff regarding this unusual situation, Commander-Captain Gerlla-hyn already think it best you accompany any landing group.” Glancing past him, she eyed the sitting dog. “Also yous three friends, if they so wish.”

Walker frowned slightly, not understanding. “Why all of us?”

“Perhaps if this world previously visited by Tuuqalian or K'eremu representatives, locals will recognize and be able to make suggestions toward helping find respective homeworlds that we seeking.”

Tongue lolling, George shrugged diffidently. “If it's a nice breathable atmosphere full of interesting smells, I'm game.”

“Braouk loves open spaces,” Walker put in. “After having been cooped up on this ship for so long, I don't think you could prevent him from coming along. But Sque—I don't know.” He cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the port and the planet below. “I see oceans. If a landing site could be chosen that's near a shore, it might help me to convince her to participate.”

“Unresponsiveness to our arrival being universal,” Sobj-oes replied, all four tails twitching slightly, “I see no reason why cannot select local atmospheric craft port near coast for site of first contact.”

“Good.” Walker nodded approvingly. “I'll talk to her.”

George sucked his teeth. “I'd think the scientific contingent would want to put down near the biggest city.”

“Is very interesting,” the astronomer told him. “Are no urban concentrations over a certain size. Is as if a limit on such expansion proscribed by local custom.” She took the opportunity to peer out the port for herself. “All indications point to a most interesting culture, even if it one that has not pursued interstellar travel.”

“Maybe they've tried and just couldn't lick the problem of other-than-light speed,” George opined.

“When we meet them,” Walker commented with a smile, “we'll have to be sure and ask. Wonder what kind of greeting we'll get?”

Not elevated enough to see out the single port now that Walker was no longer holding him, George could only nod in its direction. “If they're indecisive, you can always cook something up for them,” he reminded his gastronomically talented human friend. “It's the same among dogs as among humans: when you go visiting, it's always polite to bring food along.”

“Like a bottle of wine,” Walker reflected, wishing he had one.

George nodded approvingly. “Or a dead rat,” he added, wishing he had one.

Sobj-oes indicated confusion as she fiddled with the translator clipped to her right ear. “Not sure I understanding. No matter.” She turned to go. “Notification of time of down-going will be forthcoming. Interpretation of preliminary data suggests climatological requirements to be minimal.”

Walker nodded knowingly. “I'll change clothes anyway. Want to look my best. First impressions are always important.”

Ussakk was compiling statistics when Eromebb the Assistant rushed in and interrupted the work. The face of the younger male bristled with brown and white fur that had not yet begun to curl downward. Whiskers half the length of Ussakk's stuck straight out to the sides of his short muzzle, stiff as needles. He was breathing hard in the short, quick gasps of his kind and his eyes were wide with a fusion of fear and fascination.

“The Iollth are coming!”

Emitting a soft whistle of acknowledgement, Ussakk turned resignedly away from his work. “That is known. It was too much to expect that they would simply arrive in strength, sit in orbit for a while, and then leave. I as well as others
told
the representatives of the Great Government that failing to respond to their landing requests would not work. You cannot make a threat go away by ignoring it.” He whistled again; the equivalent of a soft sigh. “There was no harm in hoping, I suppose. And history teaches us that responding with surface-based weapons only brings immediate reprisal.” He gathered himself for the inevitable. “
Where
are they coming?”

“They have signaled their intention to land a small vessel at Pedwath Port. Because of the terrain, much of Pedwath's landing site is constructed atop shallow reclaimed sea bottom. What this signifies, if anything, no one knows.”

“It may connote nothing in particular,” Ussakk told him. He considered. “Pedwath is on the west coast. I could be there in a couple of hours.”

“Less.” Eromebb eyed him with the look one reserved for the incubator of a fatal disease. “The Great Government is putting together a team to meet with the invaders, in the hopes of restricting their depredations as much as possible. A police aircraft is already standing by and waiting for you at Therapp Port to transport you to Pedwath.” He puffed out his cheeks, a nervous gesture that inflated the lower half of his face to twice normal size. “That is the message I was sent to deliver to you. I'm sorry, Astronomer Ussakk. I've always liked you personally, as well as working with you, and have been proud to labor in the same work-warren.”

Rising from his backless seat, Ussakk leaned forward so that the tips of his whiskers curved toward the younger researcher and lightly brushed his face. “I'm not dead yet, Eromebb.”

In reassuring the other male, Ussakk was expressing a confidence he did not feel. As near as he could recall from what relevant history he could remember, few Hyfft survived personal contact with the Iollth. They had a habit of engaging in killing demonstrations, just to remind the local populace of what they were capable.

Well, except for not having formally bred, he had lived a good life, marked by professional achievement and relative contentment. And his lack of a mate meant that he had sired no offspring, so there were no family or warren connections there to be broken. No doubt some sharp eye among the authorities charged with putting together a sacrificial pack to meet the initial wave of Iollth had noticed that and had taken it into consideration. Coupled with the fact that Ussakk had been the first to track the incoming ships, it made him ideal for the purpose.

The farewells of his coworkers at the observatory were marked by strong feelings. Plainly, they did not expect to ever see him again. Not all was emotion and angst, however. Among the tears and touchings and uneasy tail twitchings were hopeful, even desperate requests for him to do his best to try to mollify the Iollth. Perhaps, if the sacrificial greeting pack was inordinately persuasive, the invaders might confine their traditional demonstrative rampaging to the west coast of Vinen-Aq, and depart satisfied with the tribute and plunder they would demand. In that event, the rest of Hyff would be spared all but the cost of cleaning up afterward.

He was understandably distracted as an official conveyor bore him toward the airport. His escort, consisting of two police, said nothing, concentrating their attention on attaining the highest safe speed possible. All other traffic, from commercial to individual, was efficiently shunted aside to allow the law enforcement conveyor to rocket past. He had not even been given time to pack. No doubt the authorities who had consigned him to the greeting party had not bothered to take that into consideration.

After all, a dead Hyfft would have no need of personal paraphernalia that would only be left behind.

As he was rushed through the small terminal reserved for official business, there were few who did not turn to regard him with a mixture of hope and pity. He wanted to speak out, to reassure them, to settle their nerves in the traditional communal Hyfftian manner. Unable to ease himself, there was no way he could reassure them. The best he could do was try to project an aura of calm and not add to the already widespread sense of hopelessness.

Much to his credit, he did not throw up until he was on the aircraft.

Little more than an hour later, he arrived in Pedwath with nothing on his back and little in his belly. Officials were there to meet him and escort him to the terminal that had been chosen as the site of contact. There was no mistaking the sense of growing dread among everyone he passed. Fear permeated the air like farts. Glimpses beyond the corridor down which he was being hustled showed no activity outside.