Chapter 37

They had brought water, in two jugs of the same cement-like substance Igwanda had seen before. The jugs were surprisingly well-made, though with strict functionality; there were none of the designs or decorations of the earthenware of ancient human civilizations. They set the jugs down without ceremony, each opening one to show its contents.

"Good morning, Joe. Good morning, Akakha," said Meiersdottir, just as she had every morning before yesterday's attack. Trying to restore some sense of normality, thought Igwanda; probably a good idea. "Thank you for the water."

"Why you say?" asked the native unexpectedly. His tone was unreadable; it could have been anything from a challenge to a simple question.

Meiersdottir chose to take it as the latter. "It's a greeting, and a telling of gratitude—of our appreciation—for the water you brought. A thing to say to a friend when you meet. I've always said it to you."

"We friend? After yesterday?" Joe stumbled slightly over the last word.

"No, you weren't our friends then," she said directly. "It seems you weren't our friends before, either. You lied to us so you could capture 'teachers.' You pretended to be our friends, but you were not."

"Not lie," said Joe. "Lie say not true, correct? Not say not true. Not say all things, but not lie."

"Yes, you lied," interrupted Igwanda, who was having none of this nitpicking. "You lied by making us believe things that were not true. Your words are not important; it is what you did and how you acted that were your lies."

There were rarely lengthy pauses in the natives' conversation—the group mind appeared to be a highly efficient information processor—but this one lasted a good fifteen seconds before the native replied. "Not understand," he said. "Not all. We want be friend. We want protect you. That not lie."

"Friends don't do what you did yesterday," said Meiersdottir.

"Then why you greet as friend now?"

"Because we want to be your friends, and for you to be ours," she said. "We were your friends before. That was true. Now we want to be your friends again. We want you to be our friends, too—but this time true friends, not lies."

"Yesterday you make threat, three time. This friend?"

She switched ground. "Joe, why are you here now? Why did you come?"

"You ask," the alien replied promptly.

"But we did not threaten. So you came because you chose to come. Why did you choose to come?"

"To learn. Tell you before, want teacher."

"Teacher of how to make things, to build things?" she asked.

"Yes," Joe replied. She started to speak when the native continued. "More, too. Not know singles. Not know before singles think good, not know can. Singles here not think good. We singles before, not think good; others like us here singles, not think good. We think only together think good, make plan, build things. But you not together, not can. Learn how can be."

"You were singles before?" asked Meiersdottir in astonishment. "There are singles like you still here?"

"Yes, tell you."

"How long before when you were singles?" she persisted.

"Not know," said Joe. "Many year."

"But how many? What is the oldest memory of your mothers?"

Another unusually long pause. Then: "One mother. Mother, her child think together. Mother have mother-child, mother-child also think together. More mother-child. That oldest memory."

"How long ago?"

"Not sure. Long."

"So it all started with just one mother?"

"One mother, child. Many child. Then mother-child."

"A mutated gene," murmured Igwanda. "Dominant, too."

"And how many mothers now?" she asked the native. There was silence; neither Joe nor Akakha made any move to respond. After letting the delay drag on for nearly a minute, Meiersdottir said "Joe, maybe you didn't understand me—"

"He understood," Igwanda interrupted her. "That is classified. We threatened their mothers, they are not about to give us more information."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I didn't think. Joe," she continued to the native, "that's not important. But why do you want to learn about us, learn about singles?"

Joe hesitated briefly. "Need long, OK?" he said.

"Take as much time as you need," she told him.

"Yesterday bad," the alien began. "We think good plan, think plan work. Then we hear Eeghanka talk mothers. Not understand all, but make us afraid; we think you not know of mothers. We make new plan quick, too late. Remember loud noise in head, remember nothing long time, then all gone, only you, Eeghanka, and Eeghanka quick tell kill mothers." He paused; clearly the effort to twist his mouth around Standard vocabulary was tiring.

"Yes," said Meiersdottir encouragingly.

"But you not do, only threat. We not understand. You say hurt one human, hurt all. We kill Ghangamm. Why you not kill us? Think much, not understand."

Igwanda, who had flinched at the mention of van Damm, interrupted: "We killed many of you, Joe."

"Kill ... us," he said, gesturing to himself and Akakha and then to the surrounding overgrowth. "Part. Not all us. Not mother. But we know you single, one each. We kill one. Why you not kill one?"

"'An eye for an eye... '," murmured Igwanda.

Joe looked at him, then went on. "We think, singles think different. Then we understand we single too. We think together us, not can think together you. So we like single. Not know how be single. We think ask you go away. But you go away before, come back. Other come too, maybe. So we must learn how single think, we must learn be single. We think you want more talk, you teach." He sat back on his haunches; clearly the long speech had wearied him.

"You want to have a relationship with us?" asked Meiersdottir. "Be our friends?"

"Yes. Real friend. Not ... pretend friend. Need learn."

"Why?" Igwanda interjected bluntly.

"So we not be enemy," replied the alien. "We see. You fight for you like we fight for us. But we not can win, you too strong. Even not many you. You threaten kill all us. We not want enemy can kill us. Want friend."

Well, that was honest enough, Igwanda thought. We have them scared so they want to get on our good side. But even as he thought it, Joe was speaking again.

"Other thing. I not lie, tell all truth. We ... interested. New thought. New thought good. Grow food new thought long before, good. House new thought, good. Iron new thought, good. Many other things new thought, good. We not many when first mother begin think together, now many, now better. Single new thought; strange, but all new thought strange. We want know if good."

My God, thought Meiersdottir. I had to come halfway across the universe to find the first genuinely open mind I've ever met. If they really mean it ... but do they? How can I know? But how can I not respond?

And so began the socialization of the first intelligent species humans had ever met in their travels among the stars.

Especially at first, it was a patchy process. When Meiersdottir suggested that they trade contributions ("We teach you about being single, you teach us about thinking together") the natives picked up the concept of trading almost immediately—a big step for a species that had never known it because in their collective culture there was no notion of individual property. But although they used the word fluently enough, the more abstruse idea of friendship proved considerably more elusive.

"Friend one you not hurt, correct?" asked Joe.

"Well, yes, but there's more," said Meiersdottir. "That's just a small part. It's why you don't hurt your friend that's important."

"Because friend can trade?"

"No," she said. "Or maybe that's part of it. But mostly it's because you like your friend. You care for your friend. You want good things for your friend. You may give your friend something even when your friend has nothing to give you, because you want your friend to have it."

"Why?"

"Joe, remember, we are singles. One mind, one body. We are alone, each of us. We want other singles to like us, we want to have the company of other singles. So we show friendship."

"Give friend thing for no thing back, that how show?"

"Well, it's one of the ways," she said. "There are many others."

"What ways?"

"Oh, many things. We take time to be with each other. We speak to each other in good ways. We smile." She showed him. "We sometimes touch each other, to show that we like each other—"

"Like you, Eeghanka in night?" asked Joe. "You want us do that?"

Igwanda and Meiersdottir turned in unison to look at each other. And both burst into uproarious laughter.

"On the overhead?" gasped Meiersdottir as her laughing began to subside.

The colonel regained control. "It would appear in our present circumstances," he said dryly, "that discretion is the better part of impossible." They broke into a new wave of laughter. "Well," said Meiersdottir, "you did say, 'not in front of the children.'" More laughter.

A moment later a static-like noise rang in their ears, a transmission from the Gardener. For a moment they stiffened; an emergency interruption? Then the noise stopped, but not before both had identified it.

The sound of many hands clapping.

"I think I neglected to mention," Meiersdottir told Igwanda with exaggerated distinctness, "that academics have a very adolescent sense of humor." The colonel smiled, reflecting as he did so how quickly the atmosphere had relaxed enough to allow this sort of repartee. Less than a day ago we were at war, he thought; today we banter directly in front of yesterday's adversaries.

Joe was clearly baffled at the response. "I say wrong?" he asked—a bit plaintively, Meiersdottir thought. She regained control of herself.

"No, Joe, you said fine. And yes, that's one of the ways. But it's not a way we'd want you to act." She'd managed to keep a straight face for most of the exchange, but at the end she couldn't suppress another brief explosion of giggles.

"Why you laugh?" Joe persisted. "Mean you think funny, yes?"

"Yes," she said.

"What I say funny?"

"Oh, my," she sighed. "Joe, do you know others on the ship are listening to us speak? Over hand-talk?"

"Not know, but think so," he said.

"Well, those who are listening did not know of ... what Igwanda and I, er, did last night. It isn't something we usually talk about. And when you said it..."

"Not good I say?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's just that ... well, when you did it you told them, the ones who are listening, something we might have preferred they didn't know."