Federation World (24 page)

"And how," Beth asked from the hypership, "will we manage that?"

At this stage of a first contact procedure he would normally project tri-di pictures showing the Federation World in space and the incredible immensity of its interior-pictures so awe-inspiring and self-explanatory that the accompanying words were often redundant. It was a beautiful and impressive demonstration, the key element in both the first contact and preliminary assessment procedures, but it was designed to inform and convince beings who could see.

Sophisticated visual aids, Martin thought as he bent down beside a small pool on the cavern floor and scraped up two handfuls of the damp, claylike soil, were no use at all to the blind.

"The new world is shaped like this," he said, when the clay had been molded into a sphere with conical projections at each pole. He placed it on the ground, balanced on one of the points, within a few inches of the burrower and went on, "It is extremely large, hollow, and situated close to the center of the galaxy where the stars are very numerous..."

It was a ridiculous and abysmally inadequate description. Martin thought as Cromonar and several others moved up to the clay model, felt its contours briefly, and moved away again. But how could he convey to them the picture of the Federation World as he had first seen it, and its effect on him?

He went on. "All around this world there are countless billions of suns like your own, with vast distances separating them, but from your position in space they would feel close together, like a great carpet of dense, spiky grass. Closer to you, and negating the feel of the distant suns behind it, is the vast, hollow world of the Federation of Galactic Sentients. It cannot be felt so easily because it does not radiate touchings, except for those needed to enable ships to feel their way to the entry ports.

"It is an unimaginably large world," he continued, "which encloses its own sun. The internal area is such that it will provide more than enough living space for the future projected populations of every intelligent species in the galaxy.

"Even now there are many different species to feel," he went on, 'together with their mechanisms, native animal and vegetable life forms, and environments. Or you may prefer, if you are suited to the work, to feel and help operate some of the mechanisms which provide the services for this superworld. For example, you could be trained to-"

"Hold, stranger!" Cromonar broke in. "Surely you exaggerate the importance of the part we would play. And you offer so much. What must we do for you in return? What is the purpose of this superworld, and are you sure that we would be allowed to go there?"

"I cannot promise that you will all be allowed to go there," Martin said. "As to what you will give in return, let me ask instead what reward you receive from your own people for trying to help them against their will? To certain psychological types, the effort is its own reward."

More and more of the burrowers had emerged from the soil enclosing their machines and were gathering closely around him as he went on to describe the tremendous philosophical and technological goals of the World and the Federation contained within it.

"Stranger," one of the burrowers broke in, "is it not a fact that a species contains within itself the seeds of its own destruction? Surely a number of these seeds will take root in your superworld?"

Blind they might be, Martin thought, but they could see a lot farther and faster than many other extraterrestrials he had encountered. He was remembering the shock to the Earth's population when, a little over a decade earlier, they had been contacted by the Federation. But the initial fear and distrust had been quickly overcome because the Federation psychologists were able people who had not tried to lie, diplomatically or otherwise. He should try to do the same.

"Examination and induction procedures will be devised for the special sensory requirements of your species," Martin said. 'These will be aimed at identifying, and where necessary excluding, the small minority of candidates who will be unsuitable for citizenship.

"These will be the sentient predators who turn up in nearly every species," he went on, "and who cause disruption and suffering out of all proportion to their number. If there are any such beings on this world, here they will stay."

The burrowers crowding around him had become very still. Perhaps they were worried, or felt insulted and angry at the thought that some of them would not qualify for citizenship. He wondered what he would do, unarmed as he was, if they reacted physically to the insult.

But was he unarmed, when all he had to do to paralyze them with shock was to open his visor and speak loudly?

"There is a third category," he continued, "which comprises the curious, restless, adventure-seeking minority that is in every intelligent species..."

Briefly he went on to describe the advantages and the few, so far as he personally was concerned, disadvantages of non-Citizen status, and when he finished, the silent stillness of his listeners was Teldin in its perfection.

Bypassing the translator, he said worriedly, "I'm not being totally honest with them, half promising things which ... They're blind, dammit! What can they really do?"

"You'd be surprised," Beth said. 'The main computer and I have been considering that very question. It seems that their hypersensitivity of touch, and the psycho-sensory matrix which evolved as a result of having one single and unspecialized receptor, gives them a unique advantage over the four- and five-sensed species. They actually feel the world about them and in time, they will be able to feel the three-dimensional relationships and constituents of space, perhaps time as well. That advantage should enable them to make significant progress toward the complete understanding of the nature and structure of the universe.

"The computer is displaying its equivalent of wild excitement," she went on, "and is making odious comparisons between the long-term potential of the burrowers and Earth-humans. And I thought that thing was a friend of mine."

'These non-Citizens," Martin resumed, knowing that his smile of visible relief was lost on the burrowers, "are the kind of people who might volunteer to go to the Federation World, to experience the hypership journey there and the interesting touch of beings whose shapes they can scarcely imagine; to touch every part of the situation and to report back on it to the main population. I feel that many of your future non-Citizens are here now."

"I understand, Martin," Cromonar said. "But all these matters must be discussed and made known to our people before we can give you our decision about visiting or moving to your Federation World. And you must be anxious to escape from what is for you an unpleasant environment, and to rejoin your life-mate and your vessel. Might I suggest a method which will not bring your violent machine into our research establishment?"

"Please do," Martin said warily. The thought of another slow, claustrophobic crawl back to the digger was making his pulse hammer again. Cromonar was immediately aware of his discomfort.

"Do not be disturbed, Martin," it said. "At the other end of the cavern is a fissure leading to within two of your body lengths of the surface. We can eat a path out for you and ensure that the area remains free of dangerous predators while you are waiting to be retrieved. May we retain your digger for examination?"

Just in time Martin stopped himself from laughing out loud with relief. He said, "You may, with all the other models and devices which we will construct and send down to you, so that you can give a full explanation of the situation to your people."

Cromonar moved closer and briefly touched the side of Martin's leg. It said, "Please follow my friends. I cannot accompany you because I have already eaten much more than was good for me while clearing the tunnel, and must rest. Thank you again, Martin."

As he turned to go Martin gave Cromonar an unseen wave, and was about to say "Be seeing you" when he thought better of it.

"We'll stay in touch," he said.

IN the eight years since contact had first been established, they revisited the planet of the Blind Ones three times. The visits had not been strictly necessary, but special provision had to be made for the education and subsequent examination for Federation Citizenship of a candidate species who possessed only one sensory channel. While Cromonar's people were not distrustful of the Federation's motives, when situations arose which were particularly delicate or complex, they preferred the personal contact of Martin and Beth to the cold, artificial touchings of induction center robots.

These extended visits had been allowed, the supervisor told them, because there was nothing more urgent or important requiring their attention. In answer to persistent questioning they had been told that first-contact situations were still occurring, but that the physiologies and environments of the life forms concerned were such that the assignments could not be carried out by warmblooded oxygen-breathers without an unacceptable level of risk.

As a result they had been given a succession of assignments which, however interesting, varied, and demanding, were simply odd-jobs. And this latest one, Martin thought as he stared through the aircraft's nose canopy, involved a trip inside the World itself.

Far below them there unrolled a rich, dark carpet of synthetic soil which stretched endlessly toward the nonexistent horizon until sheer distance, even in this pellucidly clear and cloudless sky, made it disappear into haze. At this latitude it was possible to circumnavigate the globe without seeing any change in the scenery, so widely scattered were the inhabited areas. But if their atmospheric craft's respectable Mach 3 could have been maintained without stopping for the replacement of age-expired components, or crews, circumnavigation would have taken more than two centuries.

In the controlled and utterly calm atmosphere of this world, the airborne seeds and spores from the seven-thousand-miles-distant cultivated area which was their destination did not propagate at anything like Mach 3, and so the soil below remained fallow.

"This place gives me the creeps," Beth said as she stared intently into the incredibly distant haze. "It's too big. I feel much more comfortable in the more confined depths of interstellar space."

Martin laughed sympathetically. "With me, it is a feeling of awe mixed with utter boredom. Knowing our masters, the feelings are being engendered deliberately. They want to remind us of our origin and purpose from time to time, so that when we speak of this place to others it will be with conviction.

"When we say big," he added, laughing, "we will mean big."

"And our passengers?" Beth asked.

"Even though they live here as Citizens," Martin replied, "I expect they need to be reminded, too. Especially when they decide to go calling on their neighbors."

Beth sighed and said, "We'll be landing before midday meal tomorrow. Maybe we should go back and try to talk to them again about the difficulties they can expect. Not to frighten or discourage them, of course. We must try to be realistic but reassuring, if that isn't a contradiction in terms."

"It is," Martin replied shortly, then added, "They don't even like us, and don't seem to listen to anything I say. Citizens!"

"Fortunately," she said, smiling, "you're the contact specialist. I'm just the driver. Let's go."

The lounge currently being occupied by the passengers smelled to high Heaven but, because the body odor was alien, it was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. In addition to the smell, the air was filled with an alien gabble which was being processed by his translator into the buzz of excited conversation. The sound faded for a moment as he entered, then continued at a higher level.

Martin tried to control his irritation. From a species which had been Federation Citizens for three generations, he had expected better manners.

When he and Beth had been recalled to the Federation World they had wondered what, if any, work could be found for a hypership captain and a first-contact and assessment specialist to do there. But they had quickly discovered that a Ship Handler One was expected to handle vessels of all sizes down to small atmosphere craft, and a Contactor Three had to do his job whether he was at the outermost edges of the galaxy or at home.