The two scout ships slipped below the interference of the thunderstorm almost simultaneously, detected each other, and instantly went to battle mode. The alien wreck was somewhere between them, hidden in the thick jungle below.
The logic of the situation was inevitable, the reaction foreordained. The battle program in each computer took charge, performing an immediate all-sensor scan followed by a probability analysis. Each then devised its first tactical maneuver. The recommendations appeared on the emergency screens of the two pilot consoles. Ten seconds was allowed for the slower biological computers in the heads of the pilots to override, or the plan was automatically confirmed. At the end of the waiting period the two scouts shot toward each other, at the max accel the pilots could safely endure.
As the small ships flashed past one another, each turned off its shield for a few milliseconds at the time in a random program. During these off intervals each computer fired a series of discharges from its ship�s discrete magnetic-field generator. When almost through the two programs, each scout finally caught the other with its shield down.
All electronic controls on both ships were fused into instant immobility, except those in the separately protected pilot-escape modules. Each pilot then made the only decision possible, and pressed the two red eject buttons in the proper sequence. And several seconds later two large parachutes opened automatically, and two living pilots descended to the ground, to be swallowed by the waiting green jungle.
* * * *
Neil Jones hung by his hands from the bottom rim of the escape module, kicking vigorously to start himself oscillating. After several gradually widening swings he was able to lock his legs over a thick limb. He released the escape module and let it fall back, to hang suspended by the ripped and tattered parachute. He was almost thirty meters above the ground.
Keeping a tight grip with his legs, Jones worked his way slowly down the limb to the trunk, then stood up. His uniform boots and spacesuit were not designed for tree climbing. The bole was too thick to grip with arms and legs. To reach the ground, he had to trust his eighty kilos to the vines that wrapped around it in tangled profusion.
The vines proved unexpectedly strong. When his feet touched soil, Jones breathed a big sigh of relief. The Il-Strath, with their feline ancestry and still usable claws, could climb with ease. He had watched Y-Sith�s slim form scamper up several trees during the past year. For him it was more difficult.
The jungle was quiet. The animals who had been surprised by his noisy crashing in the treetops were still hidden. And thinking of Y-Sith reminded Jones that he had to get moving. The first one to the wreck could claim it for the home government.
But first he slipped the escape-module emergency pack off his back and opened it. The laser pistol with its separate belt went around his waist. Acting on a program he had memorized a dozen times, but never used except in practice checks, he looked for the spare charge; it was in the pack. Next he slipped the insect-repellent vibrator in his pocket, and swallowed the red capsule that contained a live virus. The strain was one virulent enough to kill any germs he breathed in, but harmless to humans. The concentrates, emergency handtools, protectosuit, and medkit were all there. His wrist sensor indicated that the automatic distress-and-locator signal in the module overhead was steadily sending the bad news back to headquarters.
Jones did a final mental run-through of the emergency planetary-landing procedure. Except for the option of putting on the protectosuit, he had completed all suggested precautions. Now he had to try to reach the wreck before that Il-Strath pilot got there first.
Which aroused an immediate and haunting question. Could the other pilot have been Y-Sith? The timing that had made him the only one available to check out this discovery�just starting leave after a year of shared patrol�might also have applied to his Il-Strath shipmate. If the cats were as shorthanded of pilots as the humans, it quite likely was.
Theoretically, whoever reached the wreck first could claim it, this being a neutral primitive planet. In fact, it belonged to anyone who had the strength to seize and hold it. The agreement under which human and Il-Strath made joint patrols of uncivilized planets did not apply to such discoveries.
Jones lifted the pack to his back and slipped both arms through the straps. There was almost surely going to be a fight, one of the thousands of such encounters never officially acknowledged by the quarreling species. He set off, walking as fast as the tangled ground growth permitted, glancing occasionally at his locator and keeping one hand near the laser. He hoped, oh gods how he hoped, the other pilot had not been Y-Sith!
* * * *
Y-Sith moved easily through the undergrowth, breathing deeply of the fresh air, admiring the colors of the bright tropical flowers. The gentle breeze carried a hundred different scents, most of them pleasing to the nose. The day was warm, but not uncomfortably so. It was a pleasure to be out of the confining boots, to feel the resilience of growing plants beneath bare feet. This was like being free to roam through a hunting park for an unlimited time, with no worry about making your kill in the allotted span.
Y-Sith stepped soundlessly past a thick growth of weeds. Ahead was an open glade, its grass dappled by sunlight slipping past a high roof of locking branches. A small herbivore was feeding at its far edge. The creature was a long-legged rodent, one of the billions who served no purpose except to become meat for the hunters of the galaxy. A puff of breeze brought its scent across the grass, the smell similar to uncounted lifeforms on a thousand worlds�yet each always subtly different and unique.
Saliva suddenly filled Y-Sith�s mouth. To drop the emergency pack; to stretch lean muscles in the joy of chase; to follow the twisting, dodging animal; to inevitably close, talons grasping, the teeth in the furry throat, a quick clean kill, and the taste of blood and fresh meat. . . No, too dangerous to eat the flesh of untested animals. No matter how tired One grew of cooked meat, how alike it all seemed when heated until flavor and texture were lost, still it was safest. Most wild animals carried unknown germs.
Y-Sith stepped forward. The rodent glanced up, saw the tall and unrecognizable figure, and hesitated. And then some ancient instinct identified �hunter,� no matter that the stranger was alien to this world. The herbivore turned and loped hurriedly away, glancing back over one shoulder.
Y-Sith suppressed the almost automatic desire to pursue, sighed, and resumed walking. One had to give up a great deal to become civilized. Often the thought came that perhaps the joint human-Il-Strath contact missions took away from primitive peoples as much as they gave.
But that was a disloyal thought. The group share-mother would never approve it in communion. Human and Il-Strath had been locked in this grim posture of cooperation-competition for some forty years now, with little hope of a change in the near future. The contest must go on, until a true peace developed or the humans were driven back from the stars.
At least One could hope the person struggling toward the wreck from the opposite direction was not N-Jones. But if the humans had as few trained pilots as the Il-Strath, then it most likely was. And that would be a shame. To have to fight with N-Jones if he reached the wreck first, to perhaps kill�it was a dreadful thought. The idea that One could learn affection for a hairless human had seemed preposterous before the joint patrol began, but over the months of shared adventure and danger that liking had slowly appeared, until in the end it was perhaps even more. No, killing Jones would be a difficult task. But if duty compelled . . .
Y-Sith stepped up the pace. Best try to reach the wreck, claim it, and then worry over whether the opposing human was indeed N-Jones.
* * * *
Jones worked his way through an unusually thick tangle, and into trouble. A rumbling growl of warning sounded just to his left. Jones froze, but he was too close, and that was the wrong reaction. The growl changed to a fighting snarl, and seconds later the carnivore who had been sleeping by last night�s kill came charging through the brush. It was a wide-bodied, massively muscled creature built like a tank armed with teeth, running low to the ground.
Jones had drawn his pistol after the first growl. He took careful aim, waiting to be certain of a clear shot�a miss could be fatal. The heavy form crashed over the last bush, three meters away, and he burned a hole through one eye to the savage brain.
The four crooked legs kept the dying killer moving. Jones sprang to one side and let it pass. A few meters farther on it stopped, shivered violently for a few seconds, then collapsed in a heap.
Reaction set in, and Jones shivered himself. When his heart slowed to only racing speed, he started walking again.
He thought of Y-Sith, and felt a small stir of envy. This was just the environment she loved, a wild and savage place where she would feel immediately at home. Their year together had taken them to many such uncivilized planets. And she was usually better at dealing with primitive peoples than he, regardless of their physical build. It seemed to be a quality of the mind, a more direct contact with the basic drives of animal life.
Yet the Il-Strath were as capable of abstract thought as Man. Their theories of math were subtly different, and yet beautifully symmetrical and complex. The two species had contributed equally to the design of these jointly operated small scout ships. Their civilization was fully comparable to Man�s in technology, though some of their personal habits seemed savage and revolting. Y-Sith had told him that their favorite sport was chasing down animals left wild in parks, killing them with short but still sharp fangs, eating the meat raw and bloody .... Jones shivered again.
When Y-Sith had learned how the controlled hunting affected Jones, she asked how anyone could make a habit of using baited hooks to tempt creatures as stupid and harmless as fish. And fishing was still the most popular sport on Earth.
Besides, Il-Strath fangs barely extended past the other teeth, and did not show in a normal smile. Only when the pink, down-turned full lips drew far back in anger�or passion!�had he noticed Y-Sith�s carnivorous dentition. In repose her hairless face seemed almost human, the feline ancestry obvious only in the slanted purple eyes and pointed, flexible ears. She wore her hair long, rising in a high crest of rich, brownish red shot through with white, sweeping back from the high forehead and cascading down the back and sides . . . hair that rippled and moved like a living animal when she tossed her head . . . the very white skin of her face never tanned ... the short, fine hair that covered her body felt like mole fur to the touch, smoother and sleeker than human skin.
Funny, how impossible and alien such a creature could be on first meeting, and how easily he had learned to accept the differences between them�even developing a heightened appreciation of the strangeness. Il-Strath wore a body harness, but no clothes. Y-Sith was almost two meters in height, taller than himself, and very slim. She looked fragile, easily broken, a person that one hard fist could sweep away in collapse. In fact, the streaked-brown-and-red roan fur hid a body of spring steel and powerful muscles. He could lift a greater weight, but Y-Sith could jump her own height in 1G, bound twice that distance forward, and run like a charging lion.
And she was the loveliest woman he had ever seen, on any world. The two breasts were small, hardly bulging her chest, but the nipples were large and protruded past the fur. To Jones they seemed sexy. If his mind was not occupied, he could become aroused just looking at them. To Y-Sith, and all other Il-Strath, there was nothing erotic about nipples. Nor was there any importance in the fur-covered genitals, though they were prominent on the males. To an Il-Strath, sexual excitement was a matter of intention. They seldom grew amorous through accidental stimuli.
The Il-Strath had evolved on their planet along the same evolutionary path followed by the hominids of Earth. Physically the two species were far more alike than different, so much so that a strong attraction was possible. But culturally they were far apart, and these joint crews used to contact emerging intelligent species were the best cooperation to date. So far, genuine military conflict had been avoided, but a hundred unreported and unacknowledged battles had occurred in the hidden corners of explored space.
There had been many times when Jones thought he and Y-Sith were at the height of a peaceful joint endeavor, only to discover violence lurking close beneath her surface. He rubbed the claw marks on both buttocks, and felt a sympathetic twitch in the scarred skin across the backs of his calves. She liked to grasp a lover on each buttock, pulling hard, while the long slim legs rose high above their heaving bodies, bent at the knees, the thin feet resting on his calves. And at the height of passion the extensible claws came curving out, gripping and digging into his flesh!
Though they were not as long and sharp as the killing weapons of their distant ancestors, the Il-Strath claws could still hurt. Yet he had never seen Y-Sith use teeth or claws in a fight. The weapons provided by science were far more potent, and the Il-Strath used them with great skill. Their teeth were employed only for recreational kills, and the claws as the final involuntary caress in a kil�a�cu session.
Jones had barely noticed the scarring at the times it happened. But over their last five months on patrol he had been heavily marked by Y-Sith.
* * * *
Y-Sith glanced at her wrist locator, estimating the distance covered. The other scout had gone down considerably closer to the wreck. In open country One could easily outpace a human, but in this thick jungle she was probably no more than twenty percent faster. Which meant the other pilot was going to reach the wreck first.
That could be an advantage. The first arrival had to occupy the structure, then defend it. His location would be known. The opponent could choose the time and place for an attack.
The Il-Strath had a prior claim; it had been their ship that found the wreckage. But the coldly efficient humans had intercepted the message reporting the giant find, including the fact that the solar observatory making the discovery was not equipped to land. Since the hard-won agreement on alien artifacts specifically required actual possession, the grasping apes had promptly dispatched a scout ship. The scouts were not only jointly designed but identically equipped, leading to highly predictable outcomes when they battled each other.
But on the ground it was a different matter. The humans admittedly functioned well in their vast concrete cities, where the environment they had created was as alien to nature as themselves. Here in the jungles of the galaxy, only the Il-Strath still felt at home.
The humans were cunning, though. Earthmen made a habit of attempting to enforce an agreement even if the circumstances that produced it had changed. They tried to insist that new facts did not justify unilateral amendments to an existing understanding, that both parties had to agree to the changes before they became effective. This was a matter hard for an Il-Strath to grasp. Eventually they had simply accepted the peculiarity, as an alien�s way of thinking.
Y-Sith glanced at the chronometer dial on the wrist locator; an estimated two more hours to the wreck. One wondered what could have survived the original crash, and the probable million revolutions the hulk had lain rotting in this jungle. Only a very stable planetary surface had kept it from being buried long ago. But it was a full-sized ship, the first ever found that belonged to the tantalizingly elusive people who had left the marks of their exploration over known galactic space. If they were substantially ahead of Il-Strath and Man in scientific knowledge, the wreck could yield a treasure trove of data. They might even find some powerful weapon or new physical principle that would at last place the Il-Strath in a superior position to the hairless apes.
The human pilot would barely have time to occupy the structure before One would arrive. If One waited until after dark . . . But no, that would give the opponent two hours to prepare a defense. And the tricky devil could rig traps or prepare alerting systems that would more than compensate for an Il-Strath�s better night vision. Best to start the attack immediately. The human had to be removed, and all signs of his prior physical presence eliminated. The riches to be gained here belonged to the Il-Strath, by right of discovery. Only the humans would insist the freak of chance that made the observatory ship unable to land did not change the specific terms of the agreement. But their dogged insistence on adhering to their own inflexible cultural patterns had been well demonstrated in the past. One had no choice but to kill the other pilot and hide the body.
And that made One hope again that logic was wrong, and the coming opponent not N-Jones. One had developed too much affection for Jones during that year of forced intimacy. He was a poor partner in kil�a�cu, short-winded, quick through to the end, not aggressive enough to give One more than minor thrills�but he was also more considerate of One than an Il-Strath male. Over the second half of the tour, when they had gotten well into the kil� a�cuing stage, she had learned to appreciate the unaccustomed gentleness and patience. He was . . . quite different from One�s own kind, but oddly satisfying, in a pleasant and less fast-blooded way.
One hoped the humans had sent some pilot other than N-Jones.
* * * *
Jones did not realize at first that he had found the ship. It loomed ahead like a high rock ridge, covered with trees and brush on the slopes. And then something of the size it must have been dawned, and he frowned. The overly large and the sophisticated seldom went well together. The normal growth of technological expertise was toward precision and smallness.
It had been a relatively easy trip here, even though slowed by the thick growth. He calculated that the Il-Strath pilot had landed at least five kilometers farther away. Perhaps he had an hour before his faster opponent would arrive.
He needed to get inside the wreck, but its size made it obvious several days would be required to run even a preliminary inventory. For now he should mark it �claimed� and then try to gain an advantage over the other pilot. Would it be best to wait inside, or ... ?
No, that was the obvious move. Jones set off again, paralleling the kilo-long mound. About a third of the way down he saw what he was seeking, an area of bare metal near the top. That was the most logical place to attempt an entrance; otherwise, digging was required. He climbed the sharp slope at that point, sweating heavily from the effort, being careful to leave a noticeable trail. If his opponent was as smart as Y-Sith, she would know he had arrived first, make a. circle of the mound, and try to pinpoint his chosen entrance. And if the Il-Strath did the obvious thing, and silently followed his trail . . .
When Jones finally stood on the alien metal, he took a hasty look around the jungle below. He was above most of the trees; only a few growing on the slopes still spread branches several meters over his head. He saw nothing in the wilderness below, of course. But he made a fine target, if there was anyone below to see him. Hastily he crossed to the other slope, where he stayed in the thick brush and headed for the tallest tree�then recovered just in time from what could have been a serious mistake.
Jones changed his course to one of several trees about equal in height. All of them overlooked the area of bare metal he had crossed. If the coming battle was with Y-Sith (Let it not be! He remembered the peculiar musky smell of her, and how it changed when she was ready for him in kil�a�cu. He remembered the long, long talks during the runs between planets, the way her wide mouth opened when she laughed, the feel of the full soft lips against his . . . the funny manner in which she arched and curved her body when he touched her, the way she urged him to be more aggressive, hold tighter. . . . Let it not be!), she was quite capable of following his thinking. He would have to be extra-clever, unusually subtle. She might ignore the wreck completely, and simply make a silent approach to the tallest tree that looked back over his obvious trail.
Was she capable of shooting him from ambush? It would be her safest bet; he was a better marksman with the laser. Would she be capable of sending a searing beam of coherent light through the body that had held hers so often in kil�a�cu? (That marvelous form of Il-Strath lovemaking, where actual sex was only the final caress?) And could he shoot at her, even to save his own life?
Y-Sith was fanatically loyal to her own people, as were all Il-Strath. Did he think equally well of his own? He could leave, return to his escape module, claim he had been unable to find the wreck because of an inadequate fix before the scout was shot down. Did the potential of this old ship matter that much to him?
Jones answered himself that it did. And besides, he could not know for certain it was Y-Sith now making her way through the woods toward him. It might be some other pilot, perhaps even one of the arrogant males, none of whom could get along with a human pilot well enough for a year�s tour. Earth sent both sexes on joint patrols, but all Il-Strath were females.
Jones hoped it was a male. Then it could not be Y-Sith.
* * * *
Y-Sith stared at the signs of recent passage, thinking hard. If the human wanted One to follow . . . She looked up the steeply rising slope to the single area of bare metal. The obvious first place to try for an entrance, establish a claim. But when One�s opponent was a devious, subtle human�like N-Jones, whose mind seemed constantly to explore ramifications whose importance became apparent only later�he might choose to guard the entrance area, and from the outside. No other ship would arrive for several rotations. The claim could be established after there was no one left to dispute it.
Trying to think like an Earthman was difficult. They so seldom went directly to the point or concentrated on the immediate present. But if One assumed it was N-Jones, then One had a background on which to draw. He would think of staying outside.
In which case he would find a hiding place overlooking the bare spot and attempt to gain a major advantage over his opponent . . . and if he succeeded, instead of instantly and painlessly burning down the other pilot, probably do something sentimental and foolish when he knew for certain it was Oneself. He might attempt to get One to surrender, or disable without actually killing. There was a certain point with humans at which logic and deepness of thought gave way to self-indulgent emotionalism.
Y-Sith moved several steps through the brush to the right, then slowly worked her way up the slope, paralleling the human trail without following it. In a case like this, One longed for the delicate nostrils of One�s ancestors. She knew Jones�s odor intimately, especially when he sweated heavily in kil�a�cu. A human climbing this slope would be sweating also; but only if he was reasonably close could a modern Il-Strath smell him.
At the edge of the brush, not far from the first shining metal, Y-Sith paused. It was less than an hour before dark. If there was a human watching this area, he almost had to be in one of the nearby trees. . . . Yes, there was the best vantage point, a close one with heavy foliage that stood slightly taller than its companions.
For several minutes Y-Sith remained motionless, watching the highest tree. There was no sign of life. But there wouldn�t be, if the man hiding there was N-Jones. He had the patience of a rabgrul, waiting all day with just one nostril out of the water, until the herbivores came to drink at dusk.
But if One approached the tree while keeping behind cover . . . Not hard to do in this thick brush. Y-Sith crouched low and moved away, back from the open area and in a wide circle that would bring her toward the tree from the rear. There should be just time enough to reach it before dark. And if One could get close enough, perhaps her nose would tell her if the man waiting in ambush was N-Jones.
* * * *
Jones stared at the rapidly lowering sun, worry tugging at his mind. Unless the other pilot appeared soon, he would be trapped in this tree for the night. He would not dare descend to the ground after sundown. Even if he could climb down quietly, which was doubtful, he was no match for an Il-Strath in the dark. Not only did they have the hunter�s night-vision, they could actually smell humans!
There was a brief flicker of movement in the bushes to his left, a lingering afterimage of reddish-brown. Jones�s heart seemed to rise and lodge in his throat, choking him.
He knew. Logic, common sense, the inevitable logistics of interstellar transport�all said it had been Y-Sith in that other scout. He had not actually made out the form of the approaching enemy, much less seen the face, but that flash of vivid color was enough.
Careful not to disturb a single leaf, Jones slowly shifted his position and scanned the area ahead of the traveler. The brush was almost impenetrable to the eye on the ground, but from above there were dips and shallow places. Almost directly below his own perch was a small open space, with a line of high bushes at the side facing the tall tree. To someone walking, the spot would seem shielded from view�assuming the enemy was in the obvious place.
And then the brush yielded Jones two more brief glimpses of brown, and finally a partial view of long reddish hair, swinging freely back from a narrow forehead. These civilized Il-Strath did not have quite the stalking capability of the two-legged cats who were their ancestors.
With a hand shaking so badly he could hardly hold the grip, Jones drew his laser. He felt a sense of dark, oppressive foreboding, as though it was himself instead of Y-Sith walking into an ambush. And perhaps, on a level of conscience and morality that would be meaningless to her, he was, and would be trapped forever after a few more steps.
But why was it necessary to think in terms of either-or, as he had learned was Y-Sith�s normal pattern? Why not think in ifs? If he could shoot to wound or to destroy her weapon, if he had capture instead of killing as his aim . . .
Jones slowly shifted the barrel of the laser toward the open space below, and waited.
It was less than five minutes before Y-Sith ghosted into the clearing. She stopped, studying the barrier of tall brush at the inner edge. This was the best vantage point she would find to observe his supposed hiding place. Y-Sith drew her laser, seemed to pause a moment, as though gathering resolution for a final effort, then dropped flat and started carefully worming her way through the bushes.
Jones took careful aim, hesitated, and then fired as he simultaneously yelled, �Y-Sith!�
* * * *
Y-Sith involuntarily jerked her hand back as a blue beam smoked into the leaf mold just ahead of her pistol. The voice and the action were enough. Both belonged to N-Jones. He had outthought and out-maneuvered her, but then lacked the strength to kill.
For a frozen second Y-Sith hesitated, still clutching the laser, body outstretched and vulnerable. If One surrendered, and admitted being beaten by a more cunning mind . . . But then the high, hot pride of a thousand ancestors who had died well in the enemy�s teeth came to her rescue. She whirled and threw herself to the side, rolling toward the nearest shelter as she brought up the pistol. If One could frighten or jar Jones with a close beam ... He would be aiming to disable her, probably at the laser again. She kept the gun in motion, weaving the arm separately from her body, sending beam after beam burning upward through the leaves.
And in one flashing glimpse when her face was up, Y-Sith saw the darker shadow that was Jones. She managed to aim, with that instinct that does not require the use of sight. A killing beam lanced upward, one she knew would touch that shadow. And then the fallen trunk toward which Y-Sith had been rolling was close at hand, and after one more turn she was safe. Then the exposed one would be Jones.
* * * *
Jones fired a final time at the brown-furred hand holding the laser, knowing he would miss again . . . and did. Her last shot had burned a smoking hole through the sole and into the side of his right boot. If he lived through this, he would know pain. But at the moment not even the shock had reached him, and his hand was steady.
With no conscious intent on his part, the laser shifted toward the far larger body, which he could hit even in motion. And in that split-second before Y-Sith would be hidden and himself become vulnerable, a torrent of memories poured through Jones�s mind in a confused and tormented stream.
He remembered waking in the night to hear her teeth clicking as she dreamed, the slim body stretching and turning restlessly where it lay against his. . . . The way she tossed her head when she disagreed with him, flinging the long hair back over her right shoulder. . . . The time they had spoken of love, and discovered they had no mutual terms with which to communicate. . . . Above all, her eager mouth and caressing hands in the long, long sessions of kil�a�cu, the many times he had approached total exhaustion, the unbelievable ecstasy when she drew still one more climax from him, and his backbone seemed to melt and flow like heavy oil out of his drained and collapsing body. . . . The day he had realized he could never again be completely happy with a woman of his own species, and what this would mean to his life in later years. . . . And finally, the total numbness of mind and heart he had felt since coming off joint patrol.
And then he pressed the stud.
Jones saw the hit, the instant change of color from brown to black directly below the neck, and knew Y-Sith was dying when she fell out of sight behind the log.
Jones holstered the laser and hurriedly climbed down, feeling the physical pain of his burn now, and an inner pain no medicine could relieve, or time fade from memory.
But death had been almost instantaneous, and he did not reach Y-Sith in time to use the words she had never really understood, and say once more that he loved her.
* * * *
There was no entrance in the bare area visible above the soil and undergrowth, and the ancient metal proved impenetrable to any cutting tool aboard the survey ship. Finally they admitted defeat, took some seismic profiles by setting off small charges against the stubborn hull, and located a discontinuity on one side. A few well-placed explosives cleared the way, and when the dirt and roots settled, they had found a door�of sorts.
It took another day, but there was an alien psychologist in the crew who could twist his mind into new channels. He solved the apparent secret, and the true simplicity of the mechanism became obvious.
The ship captain was the first man inside, but Jones limped in just behind him. The two men realized almost at once that the imperishable hull and its ingeniously simple door were likely to be all they would find here of value.
The bottom third of the ship was covered with a compost heap of ancient slag, most of it not even metal anymore. Over the eons that the great vessel had lain there, defying the outer elements, the inner machinery had rusted into dust. There was no shape or structure left, no function, not even a hint of purpose. The hull was of one metal, the interior works of many others. There was no conceivable way these ancient grains of metallic dust could be made to tell their story.
As Jones could not tell his.
* * * *
Joseph Green writes:
One of my abiding interests in life is that hard-to-define human peculiarity we call �prejudice.� As a child raised in a small country town in the Deep South, I was exposed to racial prejudice at an early age�in fact, indoctrinated, and quite successfully so. One of my more vivid memories is of fighting two black youths my own age, one after the other, while the older boys of both races gathered in two half-circles and yelled us on. I was about thirteen or fourteen before my omnivorous reading habits brought me into contact with some material that adequately debunked the racial myths.
Like many another American before the Feds tried to integrate the schools of Boston, I thought racial prejudice was confined to the South. It was a terrible disillusionment to move to Long Island in my twenties and discover that supposedly modern New York had just as much prejudice as Florida�it had been removed only from the statute books. I�ve now traveled or lived in most of the country, and am convinced of one fact: racial prejudice is an abiding and consistent pattern of thought with many millions of people. And I strongly suspect that it has been that way since the dawn of man.
But if we find ourselves reacting unfavorably to the minor physiological differences between black and yellow and brown and white, what will happen when we meet a genuinely alien species?
In most science-fiction stories the �aliens� are humans with oddly shaped bodies and unusual speech patterns. I doubt that it will be this way. I�ve written a story postulating that it will be impossible for human and alien to have truly meaningful communications, due to totally different cultural backgrounds (�A Custom of the Children of Life,� Fantasy & Science Fiction, December 1972). I consider this more likely than that handy and ubiquitous gadget, the �universal translator
And good ol� sex . . . Yes, what would happen if a human and an alien between whom sex is physiologically possible were placed in circumstances in which each was the other�s only possible choice? Would the different smell-feel-response attract or repel? And if the alien is more alien in thought patterns than in body, if the cultures but not the sexual organs are basically incompatible, how will the two react to each other when the cultures clash? It�s an interesting line of thought.