Worlds in Chaos (71 page)

“Gee,” the brunette said to her companion. “Now there’s one I haven’t heard before.”

“You see, Roland—the same genes everywhere,” Blair said to Cade. Blair was some kind of scientist involved with behavior and biology, formerly with the University of California. Nowadays, he conducted private research, a lot of it at the Hyadean mission, trying to learn more of the aliens’ sciences, since just about everything he had believed before they showed up had turned out to be wrong. He had been explaining to Cade that the reason why human and Hyadean forms were so alike, confounding traditional ideas of evolution, was that the genetic programs that directed the building of life forms didn’t originate on planets at all, but arrived there as space-borne microbes. Planets were simply assembly stations where cues provided by the local environments triggered the programs to express themselves differently. So, similar environments would produce similar collections of shapes and forms. Earth’s was more diverse, hence richer in diversity, that was all.

“So where do these programs get written in the first place?” Cade asked.

“They don’t know.”

“Do they have any theories about it?’

“Not really. They’ve never really thought about it.”

Cade turned his head incredulously. “You’re kidding!” Although no scientist, he assumed that would be the obvious question.

Blair motioned with his glass. He looked the academic, with graying hair brushed to the side and parted, metal-framed spectacles, and a rubbery, expressive face that made a joke of any attempt to conceal his mood. As a concession to the occasion he had donned a dark jacket with tie and slacks. But he could have added an evening shave while he was at it. “That’s the amazing thing. Their minds just aren’t like that. They don’t make big theories that try to explain everything. They just look at the evidence that’s there and stick to that.”

“So is that how come they got here, but we didn’t get there?” Cade queried.

“Maybe that’s what it needs—just accepting the facts and not trying to go beyond them. They don’t have religion either. That’s another thing about us that fascinates them. Krossig says Hyadeans could never have come up with anything like that. But they see a lot of what we think is science as being not very different. We get wrapped up in our own inventions and then convince ourselves that what we see is really out there.”

Neville Baxter sauntered by, telling a joke to a petite blonde in blue who was clinging to his arm and looking appreciative. “. . . and God said, ‘It doesn’t cost anything. It’s free.’ So Moses said, ‘I’ll take ten!’ ” He nudged Cade in passing, as if to say,
See, even fuddy-duddy, middle-age-spreading New Zealanders can make out okay too
.

The group that included Norman Schnyder had got onto the subject of Terran industries folding because of cheap Hyadean imports, and the increasingly militant political opposition movement. “I’ve never understood why we need those markets,” one of the Hyadeans commented, maybe trying to be diplomatic.

“Oh, I’d have thought it’s obvious,” Schnyder said. “To earn currency here that can be reinvested in land. That’s where the big payoffs are going to be. Industrial trading is just the key to the door.”

“Isn’t that what the guerrilla war in South America is all about . . . ?” Anita Lloyd began, then faltered as she realized it wasn’t a good topic to bring up in polite Terran-Hyadean company. Cade rescued her by stepping closer and moving things along.

“You’re bound to have clashes when different kinds of people meet, and there’s change. But it always works out better for everyone in the long run. The hotheads will get hurt, but they bring it on themselves. There’s nothing you can do.” He smiled as Julia came over with a fresh drink for him, and slid an arm around her waist. “The woman I used to be married to was a hothead like that,” he told the group. “Not accepting change; thinking she could stop it. Well, she’s not here anymore, and all of us are. That should say something.” He wasn’t quite sure himself what it should say, he realized; but it sounded good.

Damien Philps, the arts and crafts dealer that Cade had mentioned to Schnyder earlier, was listening to Erya, the Hyadean educationist who was on her way back to Chryse, marveling at the powers of human creativity. Vrel and Dee were with them along with Wyvex, a colleague of Vrel’s from the mission, who was currently collecting information on Terran art forms to satisfy the interest being generated back home. He was tall, even for a Hyadean, and had dark rust hair with orange streaks, cropped fairly short to a central point. Hair styling was one of the few modes of personal expression that Hyadeans seemed to permit themselves—maybe as a consequence of the wide natural variations of colors and textures. Although attired in the unvarying Hyadean gray tunic, he had made the virtually unheard-of concession of adorning it with a badge sewn on the breast pocket, showing a colorful Navajo design, proclaiming his newfound specialty on Earth. Apparently, it had never occurred to Hyadeans to ornament clothing and other objects for no other reason than pure aesthetics. The practice had begun catching on lately on Chryse, putting research like Wyvex’s in great demand.

“Erya has discovered Terran classical composers,” Vrel told Cade. “She’s started learning the violin and wants to set up a music school on Chryse when she gets back. Do you know any teachers who’d be interested in emigrating?”

“I’m sure I could find a few,” Cade answered.

“
Ode
is causing a sensation there,” Erya said.

“So I heard.”
Ode to Joy
was an exported Warner movie about the life of Beethoven. Cade thought for a moment. “How soon will you be going back?” he asked Erya.

“I’ll be in LA for a week. Then flying down to Brazil a day before launch. Why?”

Cade’s eyes twinkled, as if he were stretching out something suspenseful. “How would you like one of the actual violins used in the movie as a present to take with you?” he asked. He knew someone in Hollywood who he figured could probably swing it.

Erya stared at him disbelievingly, and then, evidently not knowing what to say, asked her veebee for a suitable expression. “You’re kidding!” she told him finally.

Cade shrugged, not letting his amusement show. “I won’t stake my life on it, but I’ll see what I can do. We might be able to surprise you.” Hyadeans found it hard to conceive of a simple favor. Everything they did seemed to be determined by some kind of intricate cost-benefit analysis that computed tangible gain. Their actions tended to be totally pragmatic, directed toward measurable “efficiency” with little feeling for any deeper value system. Maybe that was why they found Earth so incomprehensible and mysterious.

Wyvex spoke, looking at Erya. “There is a Hyadean called Tevlak, down in South America—in Bolivia, I think. He’s very much involved in promoting Terran art back on Chryse. You ought to meet him before you go back—or at least talk to him if your schedule doesn’t allow it.”

“I’d like to,” Erya said.

“I’ll try to arrange it.”

At that moment, Luke appeared with Henry in the archway from the front part of the house and signaled for Cade’s attention. Cade excused himself and went over. Luke drew him through, away from all the attention. “We’ve got police at the door, and a Lieutenant Rossi from the ISS,” he murmured.

Cade frowned. “What’s it about?”

“Something to do with that aircar that was shot down near Washington this afternoon,” Luke said. Cade sighed and went with them to the front door. Two men in suits were waiting, with figures in police uniforms standing behind and in the driveway. The smaller of the two introduced himself as Rossi. He had fair, sleeked-back hair, a thin line of a mustache, and that cold-eyed, dispassionate look that seemed to go with factotums of enforcement bureaucracies everywhere.

“As you probably know, Mr. Cade, four individuals were assassinated in an incident that took place in Washington today, including two Hyadeans. We have reason to believe that the deaths of the Hyadeans were not planned. However, it’s still an embarrassment to the administration. As a precaution, it has been decided to keep prominent Hyadeans under extended security protection for the time being. A guard has been placed at their mission building in Lakewood. Our instructions are to escort your Hyadean guests back when they are finished here. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

Cade snorted. “We were thinking of maybe moving things out on the water,” he commented, mostly to test how serious this was.

Rossi shook his head. “Under the circumstances, we don’t think that would be advisable, Mr. Cade.”

Cade nodded. Whatever the form of the words, the tone left no doubt. He turned his head to address Henry. “I guess you’d better go and tell Warren he can stand the crew down.”

People who were smart didn’t mess with these guys. There were too many ways they could make life miserable. And apart from the occasional intrusion like this, life wasn’t that bad. So go with the flow, Cade told himself. What else could anyone do?

CHAPTER FOUR

More than twelve years had passed since the first reconnaissance squadron of five Hyadean ships was detected coming in fast from the outer Solar System. In a matter of days they had arrived. There were no claims of mysterious objects seen by questionable people, or allegations of strange happenings in unlikely places as had been depicted in generations of fictional imaginings. These aliens were here, and all the world knew it. A week later, they commenced descents to the surface.

The first landings were in parts of South America, western China and Tibet, and northeast Australia. The selected areas were similar in being sparsely settled, rugged, and having climate that varied with terrain ranging from dense forest to bare mountains. Since the aliens appeared to be shunning population centers, and their motives were obscure, official contacts were initiated by Terrans.

The effect on the nations and peoples of Earth was, understandably, stupefying. Some of the first organized representations to descend on the alien bases after the nervous military withdrew to a watchful distance and governments had presented diplomatic calling cards were by the scientists. Some of their most cherished beliefs were already in ruins, after all, and their questions came in torrents.

How was travel over such distances possible in the time the aliens said, given the limitations imposed by the laws of physics? Well, it turned out, the “laws” were wrong. Getting around inside the galaxy fast wasn’t a huge problem. And while distances beyond that were certainly vaster, and the Hyadeans had not as yet contemplated travel between galaxies, the distances to them weren’t as immense as Terran astronomers believed. The red shift had been misinterpreted.

Okay, even if the supposed restrictions were wrong, how do you get the power, when even nuclear fusion would be impractical for the superluminal velocities that the Hyadeans said they achieved? Raw fusion only tapped into one percent of the mass equivalent, the Hyadeans replied. Nuclear processes could be catalyzed to be far more efficient, in a way comparable to chemical processes. And there were other forces beyond those, anyway. The phenomena hinting of them were there all the time, but Terran scientists too concerned with protecting their theories had ignored or denied them when they wouldn’t fit. For the same kind of reason, the theory that life originated on planets was wrong, that it evolved through natural selection was wrong, and the theory of planets and stars forming out of rotating gaseous nebulas was wrong. What about the theory of the Big Bang and the origin of it all? the Terran scientists asked. The Hyadeans didn’t know. They hadn’t really thought about it. Looking at the claims the Terrans presented, they couldn’t say they were all that convinced.

So much for all of that.

The aliens had little concern for big pictures, grand designs, or greater schemes of things that went beyond advancing their immediate interests. They discovered that humans, often to their own detriment, possessed unique imaginative powers, unlike anything the Hyadean culture had known. At the same time, Earth was fragmented into a patchwork of adversely disposed political units with constantly changing patterns of alliances and rivalries, whose leaders could surely benefit from Hyadean notions of efficiency and order. Hence, a Hyadean market existed for Terran creativity; those who commanded Terran resources had a need. In other words, grounds existed for trade.