The Draco Tavern Part 17

THE ONES WHO STAY HOME.

Pa.s.sengers from Wandering Signal Wandering Signal had come to the Draco Tavern in my hour of need. I thanked them for that, and I set about serving them. had come to the Draco Tavern in my hour of need. I thanked them for that, and I set about serving them.

Somewhere in the wreckage of the bar was a bag that looked like bird kibble. Blue Bubble would eat that, but there wasn't any point in looking. In this disorder I couldn't identify it. Too much of what I keep for my alien clientele looks like bags of kibble.

The Boojum would take salt water, a careful balance that didn't match Earth's oceans. I keep a jar of salts, and for a wonder, I found it. I mixed it with water-the tap was still running-and got the Boojum to test it for proportions.

The Chirpsithra need sparkers. Those I found. My wall sockets weren't delivering power. I was relieved to see the Chirps had brought a power pack.

Sissy didn't need anything.

I needed painkillers and an alcohol-free beer. We took it all to one of the intact booths. I had to let the Boojum do the carrying. None of my staff was present-Tony was still in the hospital-and I was still healing.

The bar, the Tavern's central pit, had taken most of the damage. Various force fields damped some of the blast. Most of the booths were intact, and a few still had float chairs and privacy fields. I picked a float chair to put me at conversation level with the Chirps.

"Yes, we fight," I said, continuing a discussion. "In most mammal species the males duel for mating privileges or property rights. We humans still do a little of that. Hey, even caterpillars fight for territory. It's universal."

"That gives no mapping for what happened here," Blue Bubble grumbled, "this lethal vandalism." Blue Bubble was as big as our large airlock, and I couldn't tell what was inside it.

Sissy was an energy pattern who lived in a bell jar of thin ionized plasma. Her native habitat was at the rarefied edge of a gas giant planet's atmosphere. Her life processes gave out a thin, wavering hiss. She spoke through a standard translator. "In the archaic state of nature," she said, "we might wrestle to overwhelm each other's magnetic patterns. We do this to gain dominance within a vortex. Victor superimposes its memory on the loser. It is not normal to die in battle, but it can happen, patterns merge and conflict, a flare, both gone."

"Then you don't have a problem with terrorists?"

"A tale out of history," Sissy said to me. "Wesshenss Bondbreaker's family vortex built an iron kite and ran it into a stratospheric storm. The tail he guided into a meeting of the Guidance Vortex. Half the Guidance was blown out. Wesshenss disrupted too. Would you call Wesshenss a terror maker?"

I said, "Not unless he was trying to frighten someone. Wesshenss was trying to kill kill the Guidance, wasn't he?" the Guidance, wasn't he?"

"Yes. I don't understand this term, 'terror.' "

"Extreme fear," I said. "It isn't what one can do to an enemy, it's what one can make an enemy do to itself. If one can put an enemy country-political ent.i.ty, culture, whatever-in a state of terror, the enemy may do crazy things."

"It's not a useful term," one of the Chirpsithra said. The two looked identical-slender lobsters eleven feet tall-and I didn't try to tell them apart.

Blue Bubble said, "When we fear an enemy, we fight him. Why would any ent.i.ty want us to fear him?"

"Among us there is doubt as to what is a person," Sissy said. "Attacker and defender may merge or trade packets of information. One may become the other. Your Golden Rule is mere common sense to us."

The Boojum said nothing.

"Terrorist is not for us a useful term. You must understand," one of the Chirpsithra said, "that no ent.i.ty would achieve interstellar flight if extreme forms of vandalism were a problem. The energies involved are too great. The power in Wandering Signal Wandering Signal would shatter most habitats. Planets, for instance." would shatter most habitats. Planets, for instance."

"What do you do about vandals?" I asked.

"Many things. Our greatest threat is from the dead universe, from kinetic energy, from impacts large or tiny. Most tool users cannot match the fury of a meteor impact or a blast of cosmic rays. We make the s.h.i.+p self-repairing. We blast small intersecting ma.s.ses and steer around large ones. These same defenses would repel many potential enemies."

"Design flaws," the other Chirp said. "Things go wrong with any machine or system. We build to resist accidental damage. Thus the s.h.i.+p will also resist imposed damage, sabotage."

"We don't land the mother s.h.i.+p," Chirp One said. "Wandering Signal "Wandering Signal now orbits the Earth's Moon. Wherever ent.i.ties probe the universe more deeply than you have, we still leave now orbits the Earth's Moon. Wherever ent.i.ties probe the universe more deeply than you have, we still leave Wandering Signal Wandering Signal out of easy reach." out of easy reach."

Chirp Two leaned toward me. "Rick, your people say 'terrorist' and 'freedom fighter' and 'soldier,' 'espionage' and 'murder' and 'homicide,' as if you must know an enemy's motive. You deal with only one species. It must be easy to predict what people of your own kind will do. But we deal with a myriad kinds of intelligence.

"More than that, there are deviants. Few species evolve toward the conditions of interstellar travel, therefore it is deviants who board our s.h.i.+ps. We must be very wary of our own pa.s.sengers. Even ourselves, even crew may go mad.

"So, our concern is not with who might try to damage us, or why. Some of you use another term, 'threat estimate.' For every creature or hive or plausible grouping, there is a threat estimate. How much damage could it do to us? How shall we protect against it?"

"That sounds insanely complicated," I said.

"Intrusive," said the Blue Bubble. "We were probed down to our atomic structure before we were allowed to board. We entered Wandering Signal Wandering Signal naked, and found life support inside. All are so treated. What the crew learns is useful for medical treatment, so we are told." naked, and found life support inside. All are so treated. What the crew learns is useful for medical treatment, so we are told."

"That sounds likely," I said.

"Objection!" Blue Bubble said. "Medical repairs interfere with our ongoing evolution! What if we refuse the probes?"

"Stay home," one Chirp said.

"To stay home is easy," the other said. "Stay within the bounds of one's evolution. Stay where dangers are known. Most sapient species can't travel. They would need life support so extensive that they could not perceive the universe beyond. Information flow is so easy. Why do we go?"

I asked, "Why did you?"

She didn't answer. I looked to the Boojum, who said, "I was made, an elaborate multisensual camera. I was to carry sensations home to my makers, who were not able to leave their swamp. The swamps dried despite all efforts. To stay home is only relatively safe. May I show you some of the wonders I have collected?"

I said, "My systems are down."

"But the danger to Wandering Signal Wandering Signal suggests its own solution," the Blue Bubble said. "Why not bar everybody? Why not explore as the Boojum's people do ... did?" suggests its own solution," the Blue Bubble said. "Why not bar everybody? Why not explore as the Boojum's people do ... did?"

I thought: why doesn't Congress shut down all airports?

The Chirp said, "Knowledge. All this mingling of near-infinite varying viewpoints is certain to produce new tools, ideas, techniques, philosophies, art. Whether these things are worth the risks is a judgment call. A tiny few of us choose to travel. Ten-to-the-fourteenth Chirpsithra stay home, those who see risks as greater than rewards."

Blue Bubble said, "Yet you claim all red dwarf stars."

"Only travelers settle other worlds, mate and breed. Most Chirpsithra descend from travelers. Most of every species worth talking to descends from travelers."

I said, "Robert Heinlein once wrote that you do not truly own anything that you can't carry in both arms at a dead run."

"Yet you stay home, Rick Schumann," said one of the Chirps.

"And look what that got me."

"You will rebuild. Somewhere among your population are the vandals who attacked the Draco Tavern. They will be brought to our justice. We have set Folk in charge of finding them. Half our pa.s.senger complement is playing the detective game, enjoying themselves greatly, building or borrowing forensic techniques-"

Like a role-playing game, I thought. Wait, now-"The Folk?"

"Who better?"

The Folk are hunters. They don't eat unless there is prey to track down.

The thought gave me a moment's vicious pleasure. Then I asked, "What if there are a lot of terrorists involved?"

"The law is already established. One of us died in the explosion. They belong to our justice. Why would numbers matter?"

Whole nations had backed the killers who brought down the World Trade Center. The bomber who attacked the Draco Tavern might represent a political party, a nation, a religious movement, or-it was not beyond possibility that a whole world could be held responsible.

I said, "A sense of proportion can be a valuable thing."

Trucks were pulling up outside. These must be the repair crews I'd asked for, though of course they'd have to get through our security. "I'd best deal with this," I said.

One of the Chirps said, "Vandals of a species now deceased once destroyed a planet housing four times ten-to-the-ninth of our kind. What sense of proportion should we have shown then? Would it matter that most of us escaped?"

But men in hard hats were waving at me, and I went to answer them.

BREEDING MAZE.

The Draco Tavern can be hot and cold, wet and dry, the air compressed or rarefied and of varying composition. Booth-sized temperature zones inside the dome must serve an eerie variety of alien visitors. But outside the Tavern, the Mount Forel environment is thin and frozen, the vegetation spa.r.s.e and hardy.

We use the cold in various ways. Storage for an unearthly variety of perishables is behind the Tavern, along with a wide range of toilet facilities.

But we use the Tavern's facilities too. Housing for me and my staff is a wing of the Tavern, and the climate control is the best on Earth. We don't get colds or allergies. Working the Draco Tavern isn't for everyone-it can freak you out, and some of my staff have stayed only hours-but it has its compensations.

One of last night's animals came in loose. I looked around for its owner and didn't see him.

As it stalked toward the bar from one of the small airlocks, I watched uneasily. Who might help with this? There hadn't been any Chirpsithra in the Draco Tavern last night, and there weren't any now. Rory was watching too, but he was across the room serving customers. The customers didn't seem disturbed, but it's not easy reading alien body language.

The beast would ma.s.s around a hundred and thirty pounds. It was hairy and musky. It walked as a biped: two short hind legs, four short, powerful-looking arms, and a mouth not quite like any marrunal's, but not insectoid. I'd looked for teeth last night, but seen none. I couldn't guess what it might eat.

It moved up against the bar, close enough that I could smell doggy breath, and suddenly reached over. I s.h.i.+ed back. It s.n.a.t.c.hed up a loose translator and snarled at it. The translator spoke.

I reached for my stun, and then the sense of the words reached me. "Was I stupid last night?"

I said, "Stupid? You were-" and stopped, feeling very foolish. "Yeah."

"Did anything bad happen?"

"Two of you came in with one of the spindly aliens, a Joker. He had you both on a leash, a tether. We don't allow pets in the Draco Tavern, but I wasn't quite ready to raise the point, because none of the crew were in." The crews of the interstellar liners are all Chirpsithra, and they're more or less in charge. "I thought it was their business, not mine, long as you stayed leashed. Also, I wondered which of you was the pet. In here you can't always tell."

"I comprehend."

"The Joker brought you up to the bar and started talking. Talking fast." It was starting to dawn on me that I'd been played for a fool. "And one of you voided something smelly against the bar."

"Sorry."

"The automatics got it. The Joker told me the two of you had been thawed by accident. Pets and children travel frozen, right? That's if the liners will have them at all. But you were pets and you'd been thawed, and you had to be kept exercised until ... it sounded like legal problems."

"Jokers are well known as practical jokers," the beast said.

Given the species name, you wouldn't think I'd need to be told that. But the Joker was a tall, spindly creature with dead-white skin partly covered with green hair or moss, and a triangular, somewhat manlike face with a jutting jaw and a permanent grin. I'd thought, Batman reference, Batman reference, and my brain stopped working. No alien would have thought to warn me of and my brain stopped working. No alien would have thought to warn me of that. that.

I'd got to talking to the Joker. He sounded like someone dancing on a bagful of walnuts, a rattling sound, but his translator took care of that. He seemed intelligent, interested. I told him about running the Tavern. He talked freely, it seemed, about his own background and species. A hotter star than Sol, a planet with a longer year, cultivated land losing fertility.... His pets were a little whiny and not quite housebroken- I asked, "Were you drugged?"

"No, not drugged. We are Pazensh. We grow intelligence when we come into heat."

"Really?"

"Yes, we need intelligence to seek and find and test a mate. At other times we survive on reflexes and paranoia. You-?"

"With us it's pretty much the other way around," I said. I had no mate right now; Jehaneh was visiting family in Iraq. "And you chewed up a stool. The Joker paid for that, but the Bebebebeque on the stool had to leap for its life. I never knew it could do that." The big yellow bug had jumped about four meters.

The Pazensh said, "I remember not quite enough about last night, but it ended with a whiff of female scent, and a door that closed and locked. It took me some time to gather my wits, and more to solve the lock and get out of the lander. Then I followed her scent here. Here I find my own scent, and scents of many species, and now I must ask how badly I've embarra.s.sed myself."

"Nothing we can't handle," I said. "I've done this dance before. Let's see, you didn't use the restrooms, but that happens with other species too. They can be complicated. The little bug's okay-" and it wouldn't matter much if the Bebebebeque had been eaten; they're a hive species. "All's clear."

"Good. Now I must find my mate." The Pazensh started to climb over the bar.

"Hold up." I showed him the stun. "What are you doing?"

He stopped. "Following a scent trail."

"One of your females is back behind my bar?"

"Is or was." The Pazensh settled onto a stool. His many-toed feet dangled; the long toes thrummed with his eagerness. "Name me Ha.s.s. My companion, my will-be-darling, she is Tens.h.i.+r. You?"

"Rick."

"If we were more than one female and one male, I would smell it. Tens.h.i.+r is using your establishment as a-" The translator hiccoughed, then said, "breeding maze."

I said, "Ha.s.s, we have laws to block your mating against your partner's will."

"When I have found Tens.h.i.+r, you may ask her wishes. For now, she must test my intelligence."

"You're following a scent trail of pheromones. That's intelligence?"

His toes stopped moving. "That doesn't make sense, does it? Following her scent will hardly engage my mind. But she has marked the domain, the perimeter of the breeding maze. She is here and I must find her." Ha.s.s surged over the counter and down the stairs into the storerooms, running on all sixes. I followed his path with the point of the stun, but didn't fire.