Weisenberg took a smoky sip. "Can't you ask the skipper for a job?"
"I hate to add to his burdens. Besides, you are our general technical expert. If you could give me a suggestion for me to make to him-do you see? You and I may communicate better than most. I heard you spent years in Peru, working for Aventureros."
Weisenberg nodded. "I studied nuclear engineering in Lima. There was no school of it then on Demeter. Afterward, yes, I did take a job with your company. That was what got me hooked on being in space. But I loved the city too. It's beautiful, and gave me many glorious moments. I was there when the Covenant was signed!"
"Why did you return, if you don't mind telling me?"
"Oh, mainly for my parents' sake. It was not easy working groundside, though raising a family kept me reasonably cheerful. When Dan started Chehalis, I jumped into his employ."
Rueda stared at his tumbler, drank, and stared again, as if it held an omen. "Space," he murmured. "Yes, we must each of us be obsessed with space, no? Why else would we be here? I think I was first caught in boyhood, on a cold and brilliant night at Machu Picchu. The stars above the Incan ruins were like a host of angels."
"Or of Others," Weisenberg said as softly.
Rueda gave him an examining look. "Are you among those who make the Others into God?"
"No, not really." The conversation was becoming intimate fast; but only forty hours of peace remained. "However, I went to Neo Chasidic rabbinical school in Eopolis. A man can bear the marks of that his whole life, no matter if the faith has gone."
"Well, I am a Catholic of sorts, I think, but I must admit those years at Beta made me wonder a lot. Until then, I'd almost taken the Others for granted. But when the Betans, with their fantastic capabilities, turned out to be mortal and troubled, the same as us -mystified and awed by the Others, the same as us-yes, it upset a great deal in me." Rueda grimaced. "I was a political conservative too. Now I see how things I never dreamed of have been infecting government, and that faith also shakes." He knocked back his whisky. "It continues possible to believe in the power, wisdom, and benevolence of the Others. May it always continue possible."
Having taken a sip of water, he lifted the liquor bottle off the table beside him and made an offering gesture toward Weisenberg. The engineer shook his head. Rueda glugged forth a refill for himself and started on it.
"I am not a cultist about them," Weisenberg said. "For instance, I do not believe they are working secretly to guide us and the whole universe. Maybe they are, but their Voice denied it, also to the Betans. By and large, I'm agnostic about them, and will stay that way till we get some direct information, which may well be never."
"Still, they are important to your soul," Rueda observed.
Weisenberg nodded anew. "Fundamental. Especially when I'm watching the sky in space. Though they probably do not play at being gods, it does seem impossible-well, impossible for me to accept, at least-that they're indifferent to us . . . that they let us use their gates merely because we can't hurt anything of theirs, and show us a single path to a new planet in idle kindliness, like a man feeding pigeons bits of a sandwich he isn't going to eat. No, obviously they did, somehow, study us closely before ever Fernandez-Davila left Earth. Can they since have lost interest in us?"
"They may have gone elsewhere," Rueda said. "Remember, nobody, including the Betans, nobody has seen a ship of theirs."
"Maybe they keep their ships invisible. Maybe they don't need ships. It does not make sense they would abandon those T machines-think of the investment of energy and resources-or, I'm certain, that they would abandon us. I can easily imagine they keep out of our sight. We could be overcome by their presence, crushed. But damn it, they must be benign. They must care."
"This is a big galaxy. Apparently millions of intelligent races, or billions. Could they spare the time?"
"If they can build T machines around-how many suns?-they can follow what happens on the planets."
"Like God? `His eye is on the sparrow."
"Oh, the Others hardly have infinite powers. We might not be able to tell the difference, though."
Rueda turned grim. "They're not doing much in the way of helping us, aboard this ship, are they?"
"They never passed any miracles for individual benefit that I heard of," Weisenberg admitted. "I've tried and tried and failed and failed to guess what their relationship is to us, how their concern expresses itself. I'm only convinced to the marrow that they do care-that the Voice didn't lie when it said they love us."
It was time to prepare yet another meal. Caitlin entered the common room on her way to the gallery, and stopped short.
The alien. . . the Betan. . . Fidelio stood, or sat, or squatted, or poised before one of the big viewscreens, staring out. Interior lighting dimmed the sky for her eyes, but she saw the Milky Way stream past his head. He was alone.
"Oh," she blurted. "Good day to you."
Though he didn't glance around, he answered in a hoarseness that whistled, "Buenos dias, seЦora Muiryan."
Caitlin went to Spanish. "Do you know me, then, already, not even looking?"
"My race has ears more keen than yours." Without practice, a gifted hearing was necessary to follow most of what Fidelio said. But he spoke fluently and grammatically. It was just that nature had never quite meant him to utter sounds of this kind. As if realizing he might have been too curt, he went on: "Each individual has a distinct odor, too. This is something else you are not evolved to notice. However, your eyesight in air is much better at long range than mine, and I can only helplessly admire your tactile sensitivity." He turned, now, in a single fluid motion-light gleamed along his fur-to confront her.
She strode across the deck until she stood before him. "I like your smell," she said. "It brings me back to my homeland, and me a child at play where the sea made the shingle grind together like millstones. . . but it's different enough, too, that I am also a child at dream on the same shore, seeing fairyland in the clouds.
Pardon. You could not understand that."
"Perhaps I could. My folk too have myths and phantoms, which are strongest in the young."
She laid hands across his webbed and clawed paws, because his own hands were further back, gripped their knobbliness, and said gladly: "I was sure of it. But I didn't know you would be so learned about us. To recognize a word like `fairyland'!"
"My work has been with other sapient species. That aids me in guessing what might matter to yours." The altogether blue gaze grew intent upon her. "I own to being surprised at your immediate comprehension of me. My accent seemed much too thick for everyone who is not off Emissary."
Caitlin disengaged and shrugged. "Well, I collect songs in several languages."
The big brown form reared up, the whiskers quivered. "Do you mean that you sing, yourself? And not formal music, such as the expedition's people played for me, but an ordinary kind?"
"Why, did they never sing?"
"Yes, once in a while, but-" Fidelio hesitated. "I remarked that my race has comparatively discriminating ears."
Caitlin grinned. "I know what you are trying to be tactful about. Well, if nonetheless you got interested in our music, from recording-I'd never call myself an outstanding performer, but-"
"Good day," said a new voice.
Fidelio had no need to see who spoke. Caitlin did. Joelle Ky stood in the main doorway.
"Oh, good day, seЦora!" Caitlin made haste to give her a soft salute. "Can I be doing anything for you?"
"No. I happened by." The holothete held her lean form as rigid as her tone.
"We were starting a chat-"
"This is the first member of this crew with whom I can freely talk," Fidelio explained.
"Won't you join us, Dr. Ky?" Caitlin asked timidly.
"No," the other woman said. Her countenance was likewise frozen. "What could I contribute? Do carry on, Senorita Muiryan. Dinner can wait. No doubt it's more important to widen Fidelio's experience of... humanity." She strode from sight.
Caitlin stared at the space where she had been. The Betan's query jerked her attention back to him: "Is there conflict between you two?"
"No. I never- that is-" CaitlIn drew breath. "After all, we have barely met, she and I. Of course, I knew about her, and was in awe, and hoped-" She half sighed, half shuddered, then squared her shoulders. "A conflict is possible anyhow," she admitted. "Captain Brodersen has told me a few things. She may resent my closeness to him. But I'm sure this is completely foreign to you."
Did Fidelio hunch over, as if defensive? "Have you not understood? We want this kind of thing not to be foreign to us."
"Well, yes-" Caitlin stammered. "I suppose- I've heard- It's stunningly strange, but-" Tears glimmered forth, though they did not go past her lashes. "What you hoped would be an opening to love has become one to hatred and dread. Oh, my poor dear!"
