their fears. I thought it logical to allay those fears
until such time as my commander could decide the
optimum action. Was I in error?"
It is not what I would have done, T'Lera thought,
but spoke something other.
"You answered to your own logic," she said with none
of her usual irony of tone. "Kadth! It is
done. And I no longer command you in this."
Sorahl gave her a puzzled look.
"I do not understand."
"The command mode as activated by Prefect
Savar within the confines of a space vessel cannot
apply to planetary situations," T'Lera
explained. That her father's oversight in not providing
an omplanet command mode placed her in an
untenable position would remain unspoken. The
circumstances that had brought her to Earth were not dreamed
of in Savar's logic. "There are too many
variables, too many unknowns. For a commander to require
unquestioning obedience in a situation
unfamiliar to her is illogical. Therefore I
am only your mother, Sorahl-kam, and you are long
since an adult. I release you from your oath. You
must answer to your own logic hereafter."
Sorahl met the laser-sharp eyes in that ruined
face for the first time and saw in them all that T'Lera
was, all that mattered.
Restored to health, his mother had
immediately risen from the alien sickbed, observing first
with her eyes and then with her measured steps the room,
the kelp fields
beyond, and then the room again. She had
stopped at the mirror hung over Tatya's
dressing table,
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
coldly assessing the extent of damage the
ordeal had wrought upon her person.
The human healer had dared not move her alien
patient overmuch, Tatya had explained, for fear of
exacerbating her injuries, though Sorahl was
certain this was not her only fear. At any rate, the
human had wrapped T'Lera in quilts without
removing the burned and brine-stained tatters of her
uniform. Her hair was matted from the salt water,
her face disfigured less so than when she'd been
brought here, but her nose was frankly broken at the
bridge, practical flaw and aesthetic offence
against the dignity of one who had never been less than
fastidious about her person.
Yet no iota of the dignity, the mastery that was
T'Lera had been forfeit to the ordeal. All that was
T'Lera was contained within those far-seeing eyes, no
matter what had been
wrought upon the outer shell, And the mastery that was
T'Lera required a fidelity not contained in oath.
"With all due respect, Commander," Sorahl
said, mustering his own fledgling dignity. "In
wisdom and experience you are my superior.
Therefore my oath remains."
"I am honored." T'Lera lowered her laser
eyes briefly. "Yet neither a Vulcan's
wisdom nor her experience is applicable where
Earthmen are concerned. What they will choose to
understand of us, what final disposition they will make of
us, are beyond the realm of my logic. In this I know
no more than you, Sorahlkam. Perhaps less."
"Nevertheless," Sorahl demurred, placing his
life in her two capable hands, "I acquiesce
to your command."
His trust was profoundly affecting. A human mother
might have embraced him, might have wept to have such a
son. T'Lera had not the luxury.
"Hear me," she said sternly. "It may be that my
command includes your death."
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
"It has already done so," Sorahl reminded her,
though the memory of those last moments in the
scoutcraft grew less credible with time. "And I have
acquiesced."
"So you have," T'Lera acknowledged. "Very well.
I accept your fealty, Navigator, on two
conditions: first, that such fealty not preclude
the offering of correction should you find your commander in
error."
"Agreed," Sorahl said at once. Conditioned
from childhood, he had automatically assumed the
position of respect posture straight, hands
clasped loosely behind one's back, eyes
meeting one's superior's with neither pride nor
subservience.
"Second," T'Lera went on with no
acknowledgment of his swift obedience; she was in
full command mode now, "that there be no further
discussion of the merits of revealing our existence
to Earthmen. The time for theory is past. We are here,
however unwillingly, and we must accept whatever
happens. In this I will brook no contradiction."
Sorahl's hesitation was so slight a human would
not have noticed it. But T'Lera was nothing human.
"be" her son began, but she refused whatever he
might have said with a gesture.
"It is well that you hesitate," Sorahl's
mother- commander said. "I know now what it is given to me
to do."
Outside on the landing dock, a confrontation of quite
another order was transpiring.
"How'd you hurt your ankle, son?"
Jason Nyere wanted to know.
Yoshi had forgotten the huge purple bruise
on his leg from the snapped hawser, cursed himself for not
wearing jeans instead of his usual cutoffs. Or would
Jason have noticed that as well? Standing in the skiff
at low tide, the captain of the Delphinus was about
at eye level with the agrostation's metal deck
looking up at
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
Yoshi, his slate-grey eyes reflecting
simple curiosity, nothing more. Why did Yoshi
feel all his prepared speeches drying in his
throat?
"Oh, um'took a spill in the foil
yesterday," he stammered. "Some chop came in ahead
of that rain, wasn't it? Banged myself up pretty
good."
"Not like you to be so clumsy," Nyere
observed avuncular. "Didn't expect to find
you in. Thought-you'] be out on the lower forty checking
for storm damage."
"Yeah, well, getting a late start is all,"
Yoshi excused himself, feigning embarrassment,
finding a hook for one of his prepared
stones. "Truth is, Tatya and I had a bit of a
blowup last night. Cabin fever or something Lots
of yelling, some dishes broken. You know how these
things are. Lovers' quarrels."
"Um-hmm."
Jason Nyere waited rock-steady in the
bobbing small boat, hands in the pockets of his
windbreaker, trying to get the younger man to meet his
eyes. Yoshi looked everywhere else but, his long
hair flying in his face as he studied the far
horizon away from the big ship, or his bare toes
against the deck. Jason couldn't remember ever seeing
him in shoes.
"So, I mean, we neither of us got much sleep,
Jace, is what I'm trying to say," the younger man
babbled on. "We're in pretty much of
a mess right
now. Ordinarily I'd ask you in, but Tatya
doesn't want to see anybody, and I don't
dare cross her. You know the kind of temper she's
got."
Um-hmm, Jason thought. Like I know the kind you
don't. "Lovers' quarrel!" Why don't you
tell me the truth, son? Make it easier on
yourself.
Sawyer had been furious with him for
electing to go over alone.
""Regulation 17-C, Subparagraph 3:
Disposiffon of Extra-Orbital Vehicles
and/or Personnel Aboard Same,"" she
recited at him from the reg book as he
STRANGERS FROM THE 5 tilde
clumped about his cabin deciding which of his uniforms
would appear least threatening to indigenous andlor alien
life forms. A lifetime of standoffs had taught him
that the best way to get shot at was to flash a lot of
fruit salad, ""Anything entering Earth
atmosphere from beyond standard orbital range (as
defined in Subparagraph 2) will be presumed to be
potentially irradiated or contaminated with
microbes or other organisms deemed harmful
to human life. Said object, or any fragment
thereof, or any living being found thereon, will be handled with
extreme precautions, including the use of radiation
suite""
"Melody, get off my easel" Jason had
rumbled, settling on a work tunic with the least amount
of braid and the windbreaker with its small insignia
to wear over H. The overall effect was Just
Folks, almost. "If there's anything that
virulent over there, we're already in range of it and
Yoshi and Tatya are probably dead. Anythtug
else has got to be contained inside the station, and I
can't step foot one on that deck if Yoshi
doesn't want me to."
"You ought to at least wear a red suit,"
MeJody protested.
"And do what?" Jason demanded. "Assuming I
could maneuver the boat in the damn thing, I'd scare
the bejesus out of anyone. They'd think I was the al
en'"
He buckled his belt, laced his boots, ran a
brush through his dose curled, near tilde ray
hair. He caught Melody s reflection in the
minor, and her face looked drawn. It was the face
of an old friend, not a fellow off cer.
"I don't like the thought of you going over there
alone," she said, and her voice had gone all soft
and concerned to match her face. "Let me tag
along, Jason, please?"
"Absolutely not! You'd blow off and have us in
trouble in no time."
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
"Then take one of the crew, at least
to steer boat and cover your back."
"The fewer people get a look at whoever or
whatever's over there, the easier it's going to be after the
fact." He zipped up his windbreaker, adjusted his
cap. Goddamn scrambled eggsl Well, maybe
an alien wouldn't understand their significance, would think
they were merely decorative. Assuming they saw
things the same way humans did. Assuming they had
eyes.
Assumir tilde Jason Nyere shut off his
coniectures at the source. "Mel, get out of
my way now; I mean it."
"You'll at least go armed," she begged, a last
resort.
Nyere started to object, reconsidered, went
to his private weapons locker.
"That I will do," he acknowledged, choosing the
smallest laser pistol and secreting it in his belt
beneath the windbreaker. "No need to advertise."
"I am going over there expressly to assess the
situation," Captain Nyere informed his first mate,
deliberately within earshot of Ensign Mcry, who
stood ready to lower the skiff.. "You are to take no
action whatever at this end. In the unlikely event you
see me faJI dead on the dock over
there, you are to back the ship out of here with all
deliberate speed and report to HQ on the
situation. That is all. Do you read me, Sawyer?"
The convention of the military saute had ceased
to exist with the activation of the United Earth
Aeroationav Forces. Jason Nyere was old enough to have
seen it employed; Melody
Sawyer was r of. Neverthelesa, she saluted.
"Loud and clear tilde uhl"
"Good. Carry on." Nyere stepped into the skiff
and Moy lowered away.
"What's he mean,. sir?" Moy pestered
Sawyer as Nyere's resolute back in the small
boat receded from them down the access lane of the
agrostation. "About
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
him Iying dead over there? Thought we were after a
satellite."
"Microbes!" Sawyer snapped. It was what
Nyere had instructed her to say, but it damn near
killed her. "Thing was on a scoop mission and
might've picked up some bugs."
"But, sir his
"Break out the binoculars and give me a
report on whatever happens over there," Sawyer
cut him off. "Call it in on the intercom. I'll
be in Spectrography and I'm not to be disturbed."
"Wasn't expecting you until this afternoon," Yoshi
said pointedly. Sometimes the best
defense . . . "How come the change in
schedule?"
"I think we both know the answer to that'"
Jason Nyere saw quietly, and Yoshi felt the
Earth shift out from under him. "Want to tell me what
it is you found out there yesterday?"
Their eyes met at last. There was no bluffing
"I can't do that, Jason."
"Yes you can. In fact, face it, son: you can't
do anything else. It's out of your hands. Too big
for you. Why don't you give over to someone who can
handle it? Make it easier on yourself."
Yoshi held his hair out of his eyes with one hand,
extended the other in a gesture of
helplessness.
"Jason, I swear to you, if it were just you But it
isn't. It's the people who cut your orders, and the people
over them. It's the video people and the weirdos swarming
around anything that's new and different.
I can't explain it, but I can't let that happen
to them."
Nyere listened, truly listened, to what Yoshi was
saying. "Them." More than one, and living,
intelligent.
"How many of them are there?"
"Two," Yoshi said, though he hadn't meant
to say anything. It was all going wrong. He stood
staring at 128
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
the waves lapping beneath the metal deck, literally
at sea.
"Are they like us?" Nyere didn't know what he
meant by that. Like humans in what way? In
appearance, in outlook, in what? He needed something
to hold on to.
"Like us? Jaceeathey're so much better than usl"
Yoshi's face lit suddenly with a kind of
rapture. "Better, different can't begin
to describe thorn. But I spent last night sharing
ideas with someone b
orn ten lightyears from here and felt
like I was talking to a brother . . ."
What he described was a pristine, beautiful
encounter. What Jason Nyere heard could have been
only that. Or it could have been the ramblings
of someone drugged, hypnotised, coerced. Something of
what he was thinking must have shown on Jason's face.
Yoshi picked up on it immediately.
"You think I'm nuts, don't you, Jason? You
think they're in there holding Tatya hostage until
I do what they want."
Mentally Nyere reached for his laser pistol,
allowed his mind to caress its outline, feel the grip
of it in his hand. If he inhaled, he could feel its
real, hard presence against his side, reassuring.
Thirty-seven years in the service and he had never
killed anyone, had never wanted to. But if he
must
"You can tell me different, Yoshi. No human
could've survived that crash. If they're so much like
us, how did they?"
"From what Sor from what one of them told me,
they're more adapted to heat than we are. And they have this
ability to heal themselves; I don't understand it
completely, but it's some kind of mental process .
. ."
He stopped, remembering how the healing had frightened
him even after he'd grown
accustomed to Sorahl's presence over a
number of hours. Trying to explain it
to
someone who had not seen the Vulcans, 129
STRANGERS FROM THE SKY
could not know the magnetism, the
centeredness they projected
Yoshi shrugged, defeated.
"I don't know how to convince you we're all right,
Jason. You want Tatya to come out too, so you can
see? But I can't let you in. Not without certain
assurances."
Standing by the port in the other room, Tatya
watched and listened, saw Jason Nyere secure the
boat and, with surprising agility for a man his size,
swing himself up to where Yoshi had finally calmed down enough
to sit on the dock. Assured by the relaxed curve
of their backs that the two men would go on talking for some
time, assured by the quiet murmur from the bedroom that
her alien guests were similarly engaged, Tatya
decided to take the law into her own hands.
She sat at the comm screen and punched in a call
to her favorite aunt, who incidentally happened
to work for a news cooperative in Kiev.
"Tante Mariya?" she interrupted the usual
exchange of pleasantries, lapsing into rapid