Robert Silverberg - Certainty

Wharton said, How long ago was this picture taken?

About an hour, sir. But you were in Deepsleep, and we didnt think

No, you didnt think, Wharton said acidly. O. K., lets have the rest of the story. You sent warnings to the ship, I hope.

Crosley nodded. We beamed them wide-channel in Terran, General Galactic, Dormirani, Leesor, and Fawd. We sent the same message in each language: telling them that this is a Terran observation outpost, that they cant land here without prior permission, that they would have to depart at once, By this time they had completed their landing. We estimate their position at about one hundred twenty miles northeast of here, on the Creston Plateau.

And did you get an answer?

A few minutes ago. It was in what Breckenridge says is a Fawdese dialect. They said, in effect, that they didnt recognize Terran sovereignty over this planet, for one thing, and for another they had come here to make certain scientific observations. They said theyd leave here in a week or two, after theyve completed their observations.

To which you made what reply? Wharton said.

Crosley shook his head. None, sir. I got word that you were coming out of Deepsleep, and so

And so you passed the buck to me. All right, lieutenant. In your position Id have done the same thing. Get me Breckenridge.

Yes, sir.

Lieutenant Crosley performed a smart little salute and about-faced. Alone, Wharton shook his big, shaggy head sadly. This was what came of a century of unbroken Galactic peace. Youngsters like Crosley didnt even know what war meant. And a bunch of aliens thought it could put down on a Terran outpost planet without as much as a by-your-leave. Wharton sighed, feeling his age, admitting to himself that he had hoped to serve out his last few years without incident. He was getting close to the hundred-twenty-five-year mark; mandatory retirement came at age one hundred thirty. And only an hour and a half of Deepsleep every day kept him going now. Well, there was going to be an incident, now, whether he liked it or not. Colonel Wharton straightened his shoulders.

Captain Breckenridge entered the room. The linguistics man was short and stocky, with choppy, irregular features and stubby red hair. Sir?

Breckenridge, you say this alien ship spoke to you in Fawd?

A Fawdese dialect, sir.

Thats what Im getting after. Where is that ship from? The Fawd Confederacy knows better than to plonk a ship down on Terran property. Unless the Fawds are looking to provoke a war, that is.

Breckenridge said, Oh, these arent Fawds, sir. They simply speak a Fawdese dialect. Plenty of peoples in the Fawdese sector speak Fawd without belonging to the Confederacy.

Youre stating the obvious, Wharton said irritably. I want to know where these people are from.

The best I can give is an educated guess.

Well?

They come from the western tip of the Fawdese lingual sector. Thats plain from their shifted vowels. There are three Fawdese-speaking races out that way: the Cyross, the Halivanu, and the Dortmuni. Breckenridge ticked them off on his fingers. The Cyross arent a technological people. They wouldnt be sending ships this far for centuries. The Dortmuni are passive-resistance nonbelligerents. They wouldnt be looking for trouble either. That leaves the Halivanu as the likely senders of that ship up on the plateau. You know, of course, the legends about the Halivanu

Just legends. Thats all they are.

Theyve been documented pretty well. Its been proven that

Nothings been proven, Breckenridge! Hear me? Nothing has been proven about the Halivanu. Wharton rose, gripping the edges of his desk. He realized that his legs were quivering. Just to hammer the point across, he said, Im not interested in hearing about any strange powers the Halivanu may be thought to have. Im interested only in getting them off this planet, and getting them off fast. Come on across to the signal room with me. Ill send these Halivanu packing right now.

There were all sorts of legends about the Halivanu, Wharton admitted dourly to himself as he and Breckenridge crossed the clearing and entered the outposts communications room. Spacemen venturing into the Fawdese sector had brought back stories about mental vampires that could suck a mans mind dry, and similar gory tales. But nothing had ever been proven. The Halivanu were introverted humanoids who had little to do with the rest of the universe, keeping to themselves and seeking no outside contacts. Eerie legends always sprang up about recluses, Wharton thought. He shrugged away his uneasiness. His job was to protect the integrity of the boundaries of the Terran sphere, boundaries which these Halivanuif they were Halivanuwere clearly transgressing.

Set up contact with that ship, Wharton ordered.

Signalman Marshal acknowledged and began turning dials. After a few moments he looked up and said, I cant get them to recognize me, sir.

Thats all right. Theyll be listening, never worry. Breckenridge, youre better at this dialect business than Id be. Pick up the mike and tell them that theyre trespassing on Terran ground, and that they have exactly ah, make it three hours three hours to blast off. Otherwise well be compelled to treat their landing as an act of war.

Nodding, Breckinridge began to speak. Wharton found that he could understand most of what was being said; he knew the basic Fawd tongue, of course, since it was one of the live great root-languages of the galaxy, and the Halivanu language differed from Fawd only in a broadening of the vowels, minor grammatical simplifications, and inevitable vocabulary shifts.

There was silence for a full minute after Breckenridge had finished.

Repeat it, Wharton said.

Breckenridge recited the ultimatum a second time. Again, the only response was silence. Nearly two minutes ticked by; fidgeting, Wharton was on the verge of ordering yet another repeat when the speaker sputtered and emitted, in a dry, rasping tone, the word, Eritomor

It was the Fawdese for Earthmen. A moment later came more Fawdese words, spoken slowly and carefully. Whartons face went steely as he listened. The Halivanu spokesman was explaining politely that since the Free World of Halivanth did not recognize the Terran claim to this uninhabited world, there was no reason why the Halivanu ship should leave. However, the Halivanu had no desire to claim the planet for themselves, but they simply wished to carry out certain solar observations over a period of some nine or ten Galactic Standards days, after which time they would be glad to depart.

At the conclusion of the statement, Breckenridge said, They declare that they dont recognize our claim and

Wharton shut him up with an impatient gesture. I understood the message, lieutenant. He picked up the microphone himself and said, in halting Fawdese, This is Colonel Dean Wharton speaking. If you want to make solar observations here, youll have to clear it through regular diplomatic channels. Im not authorized to grant any landings. And so I have to request that you

He was interrupted by a voice from the speaker. Eritomor vor held dchayku kon derinilak

It was the same speech the Havilanu spokesman had delivered before, repeated in the same slow, flat tone, as though spoken to a wayward child. Annoyed, Wharton waited till the Havilanu was finished, and tried to speak again. But he got no more than a few words out before the Havilanu reply started for the third time.

Its a tape, Marshall murmured. Theyve got the ends looped together and its going to keep repeating indefinitely.

Lets monitor it for a while, Wharton said.

They monitored it. After the tenth successive repetition he ordered the signalman to shut down. Nothing was going to be gained through radio ultimatums, obviously. The Havilanu simply would not listen. The only thing to do, clearly, was to send an emissary over to the alien ship to explain things in person. And if that didnt work