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Once again the humans participated in the dancing and feasting, but
this time with obviously less enthusiasm than before.
Even Old Conc took note. Simna could tell from the way the old man watched
them. But he said nothing, merely grimaced and cavorted wildly as ever.
Prentice waited several days after their return to the Pendju village before
deciding to share his thoughts. They had resumed everyday routine and
all were present for the morning meal except
O Sandringham and Stevens, who were back at Base Camp looking after their
supplies and the improving but still weak Ramirez, and
Lastwell, who as had been his habit since his unfortunate encounter had taken
to rising before sunup to go walk about in the woods.
They sat at the long folding bench in the larger of their two huts. Outside,
the Pendju went about their daily business: patching clothing, drying and
storing foodstuffs, educating children, repairing weapons and fashioning
pottery, maintaining their learned shapes. With no winter to worry about there
was no reason to slave morning to night storing several months supply worth
of food. It seemed a salutary and contented life.
However essentially artificial, Prentice brooded.
 We have to move, he informed them, abruptly and without introduction.
 Move? Lejardin forked something from her plate and swallowed
delicately.  What do you mean, move?
 You want to switch operations to the Quwanga village for a while? Millie
Carnavon asked.
 No. I mean we have to move
. Everything. Our operations here  he gestured at the interior of the
hut  Base Camp, everything. We need to reload the lander, boost back to low
orbit, and find another site. A couple of hundred kilometers would be
sufficient, but if it was up to me, I d set down somewhere halfway around the
globe. There are at least a dozen outstanding possibilities.
Cedric Carnavon chose his reply carefully.  There might not,
he said slowly,  be any intelligent Xicans where we set down.
 That s possible. Prentice was unswayed.  If so, we can do a brief survey of
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the immediate vicinity and keep moving until we encounter them again.
The important thing, he went on with uncharacteristic forcefulness,
 is that they ll be uncorrupted
Xicans, existing in their natural state& whatever that is. Any
recordings we make of them, any studies we carry out, will not have
to be stained with an asterisk named Conc!
 We observe what exists, professed Millie Carnavon.
 Affected by outside influence or not, the Pendju and the
Quwanga are the local intelligence. And they can communicate. If we re lucky
enough to stumble across any in their  natural state, we may not be able to
parley with them at all.
 I refuse to accept that. Prentice gazed unblinkingly around the table.
 They communicated among themselves before this antique intruder arrived
here. If there are differences in dialect or even the language itself
among any undisturbed natives we encounter, I feel confident we can master
it. Jack?
Attention shifted to Simna, who nodded reluctantly.  Salvor s correct. With
the files I ve assembled we should be able to talk to any natural-state
natives anywhere on the planet, assuming they share common linguistic
roots with the Pendju and Quwanga.
 Assuming they have anything to say. Millie Carnavon was not convinced.
 Salvor, what if intelligent life is restricted to this part of
Xica? I don t mean the immediate coastline, but this general region.
 Then we can always return. He changed his approach, pleading for
understanding.  Look, I m getting really worried. I m starting to wonder if
despite our accumulated experience we re not getting in over our heads
here. We handled Tycho V and Burke without any trouble, but this world,
where everything has a twin something else and where the natives can make
of themselves what they wish& I m just afraid it may be too much for us.
 Then there s this Old Conc character. Is he more or less than what he seems?
We already know he has his own agenda, one that puts the natives paramount.
So far he s been tolerant of our presence here, but what if his attitude
changes? He knows infinitely more about Xica than we do. What if under the
weight of his own intentions or his fickle madness or whatever, his tolerance
abruptly gives way to open hostility?
 You afraid of one old man? Simna challenged him.
Prentice shot him a look.  You know better than that, Jack.
I m just saying that we should be cautious. Science should always be
cautious.
 I always understood that the cautious scientists ended up in comfortable
retirement and the bold ones in history books, Cedric
Carnavon declared.
Prentice rarely lost his temper.  Damnit, Ced, this planet has
enough deceptions to cope with without having to deal with a human
one as well! What do we really know about this character?
Nothing! What do we really know about what he s told his local
Xicans? Nothing. He took a deep breath.
 I m just saying that maybe we ought to try another spot.
We re not doing too well here as it is. Noosa s gone, Ramirez is better [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]