Closed System

cabins.

The village was connected, he saw, as he liftedSkimmerfor an overall view of the area ahead, toother villages by a network of roads. The roadswere not paved. There was no evidence of grading,for there was no need for it in that rainless climate. The roads showed an overall pattern which intrigued him. He movedSkimmer again and hov­ered over a large stone building, low, walls high,apparently thick, and sloping slightly upwardtoward a roof which was paved with light metals inslabs, slabs taken from the partitions which hadbeen removed from the abandoned colony ship inorbit around the planet.

OK. So he wasn't going to get discovery rights to a planet. It was, obviously, populated, and by the descendants of the people who had come onthe big ship.

From the stone building, the roads radiated outlike the spokes of a wheel to the outlying villages. Obviously, the stone building was the center ofthings. The ship's sensors were picking up life em­anations in quantity in the villages and in thecentral area, where the same style of rude cabinslined the streets radiating out from the stonebuilding.

Pat decided not to land at the heart of that littlecommunity of villages, not because he was afraidfor himself, but for the safety of the people downthere. It was obvious that they'd reverted to primi­tivismand had shown little advancement in thethousand or so years they'd been on the planet. Notelling what they remembered about the civiliza­ tion which had sent them forth. They might seeSkimmeras a threat and attack, and Pat didn'twant to have to use modern weapons, even inself-defense, against people armed, perhaps, withbows and arrows.

He picked a rather isolated hut near the out­skirts of one of the outlying villages. He lowered the ship on flux, saw, as the ground neared, thatthere were two men, yes, men, standard model,unmutated, two arms, two legs, one head, workingin a field near the isolated cabin.

They heard the whispering thunder ofSkimmer's flux thrusters, dropped their tools, and stood, faces upturned, as the ship blew dust and lowered tosquat about a hundred yards from them. Theycontinued to stare as Pat opened the hatch.

Man knew little about his origins. History esti­mated that only a small number of people, per­haps less than one million, left Old Earth beforenuclear war devastated the planet, riding outwardfrom that small, isolated sun on ships far more primitive than the old colony ship which circledthis world.

The people from Old Earth had settled, it wasfelt, only four or five planets in the original wave of colonization from Old Earth. Various portions ofthe UP claimed to have been the original points of settlement, including the older planets of the Zedesystem. In all cases, the small groups of settlerswere unable to maintain, on virgin planets, thelevel of technology which had sent them into space.In fact, the best estimates of historians were thatit had taken between ten and thirty thousand yearsfor the space children of Old Earth to soar backout among the stars.

It was felt that one Old Earth 'country,' or,perhaps, a small group of 'countries,' had beenresponsible for sending the starships up, for therewas a surprising singularity of racial types in the entire race of UP man. Earth history was nothingmore than semimyth, or legend, but the old talessaid that on Old Earth, there had been red menand yellow men, black men and brown men, andlight-skinned men like modern man. And legend/myth said that each different type of man on OldEarth had had his own language. Some historianssaid that that fact alone would have accounted forEarth's constant warfare which led to the final conflagration.

Only a specialist, such as ex-professor Pat Howe,understood the concept of different languages.There'd been a brief flurry of interest in the popu­lar media when an expedition brought back fromthe colliding galaxies in Cygnus a book in an alientongue, but that flurry faded quickly. Pat, ex-occupier of the one seat of language study atXanthos University, knew of the extensive archeo­logicalwork on Old Earth which had begun imme­diately when man accidentally stumbled onto theplanet of his origin. Through the bravery and thedream of one of the mutated humans who had survived Earth's nuclear agony, this work had beensteadily adding to modern man's store of phrases, words, and some fragmented works of literature inthe various languages of Old Earth.

It was not surprising, then, to Pat, to see, as thetwo men approachedSkimmer, that they were ofthe usual racial type, two fine specimens, as amatter of fact, and that they seemed not in theleast awed by the landing of a spaceship. Theywalked boldly, with longbows—yep, bows and ar­rows, Pat thought—in one hand, quivers with ar­rows slung over their left shoulders. They pausedat a distance of about a hundred feet and looked athim in silence.

'I am a friend,' Pat said, raising his right handin salute. The two men shifted their longbows totheir left hands, raised their right hands in return salute, and one of them spoke in a harsh, gutturallanguage.

Pat's old interest in languages soared. This wouldknock the socks off the ivory-tower eggheads backat Xanthos U.

But it would, he soon realized, be an immediate problem for him. If these people had evolved alanguage of their own during their thousand ormore years of isolation, it might cause quite aproblem in communications.Skimmer's computerdidn't have the kind of philology programmingwhich, long years ago, had enabled translation ofthe Artunee manuscript.

Pat waved, saying, 'Come closer. Friend. Comecloser.'

The two men came to within a few feet, lookedup at him from guileless blue eyes, smiled, madethat salute with the right hand again.

'I come from the United Planets,' Pat said. 'Icome as a friend.'

'Ichsighgorben,'one of the blue-eyed men said.

They were dressed lightly for the warm climate.Their strong legs extended below a short, girdledskirt, chests were bare, feet semiwrapped in a typeof sandal. The material of the skirts was rough,most probably woven from plant fiber.

'My name is Pat Howe,' Pat said, punchinghimself in the chest.

'Ichsighgorben,'was the answer, the man, too,punching himself in the chest.

Bells began to ring in Pat's head. He'd beengood in his field when he was a professor of philol­ogy, and one of his last big research projects had been to compile a grammar for one particular Old Earth language from the fragments of books and inscriptions unearthed in a dig on the fringe of thelargest continental mass of Old Earth.

'Ah,' he said, pointing to the man who hadspoken. 'Gorben.'

The man nodded and spoke. Pat tried to identifythe words he'd helped translate with the soundscoming from the blue-eyed man. It took a while.He came down out of the lock and squatted, invit­ing the two to join him. They hunkered down, stillholding their longbows. He encouraged them totalk, nodding, smiling, putting it all together until he thought he had it. Of course, some rough rulesof pronunciation can be compiled from the writtenlanguage, but theyare rough, and when he firstspoke the two men cocked their heads in puzzle­ ment.

It got easier. There were certain gutturals whichgave Pat some trouble, but he soon mastered them,and then he said, 'You speak an ancient tongue,friend, a language called German.'

The man called Gorben looked startled. 'Howdo you know that?'

Pat smiled and tapped one finger to his temple,saying in English, 'Smart, smart joker.'

Gorben looked at his companion. Both wereyoung, physically fit. Well-developed muscles toldPat they were not unacquainted with some form ofphysical work. 'The one who flies from the starsspeaks our language.'

'Yes,' Pat said, and added, 'Why does that sur­prise you?'

The silent man's face went pale then. He looked at Gorben, his mouth open, something akin to fearin his eyes. 'Only the gods,' he whispered.

'Yes,' Gorben said. With a swiftness that startled Pat, the two youngmen kicked their feet backward and fell to lie onthe ground before him, heads nodding. 'Welcome,Honored One,' Gorben said. 'We pray that you come in friendship.'

'I come in friendship,' Pat said. He put hishand on Gorben's shoulder. 'Please rise,' he said.'This is unnecessary.' They rose, looking at him with awe. 'Then youhave come, at last?' Gorben said.

'I am here,' Pat said. 'May you, Honored One, give your blessings toourDorchlunt,' Gorben said. 'You will want to talk with our elder.'

'Yes,' Pat said. So they had reverted to primi­tivism, clinging to an antique language, space lostto them, perhaps even the memory of it, and hewas being greeted as, if not a god, at least a pow­erful friend.