had her credit stamped, joined a throng of sightseers on the public conveyors as they moved into the building complex past the impressive neo-silk and metal monuments to past Artonuee heroines. She soon branched into lesser-used paths, entering, at last, an executive conveyor, after showing her pass of permanent rank, and was whisked into the heart of the Quad. The Palace of the Mother towered over all in shining beauty, tall, many- viewered, guarded more out of ancient ceremony than of necessity, by the brightly uniformed Home Squad, tall, young men of seemingly equal attractiveness.
'I am Miaree, Rank Three, former assistant to Charge Advisor Jonea. I would see the Mother.' She stood at respectful attention before the appointment clerk, which in itself was not a small feat, having required an hour of rank-pulling and demands.
'Your purpose?' asked the clerk.
'A matter of security,' said Miaree. 'Pass my name. Tell the Mother that I, Miaree, assure her of the urgency of my business. This I pledge.'
The clerk looked at papers. 'Could it have to do with a charge of intoxication while flying?'
Miaree’s eyes changed from blue to an imperial purple, flashing anger. 'Don’t talk like a male fool.'
To the female clerk, it was the ultimate insult. Her honey-colored neck fur undulated as she swallowed her furious reply, for the rude female was Rank Three, permanent.
'I will not accept the responsibility.' the clerk said, her thoughts colored with fire.
'Will you pass the responsibility, then?' Her tone told the clerk she had best do it.
'Wait, Lady.' The title was delivered in a surge of sarcasm. The clerk disappeared into her inner office. Miaree put her carry baggage on the floor and waited impatiently. 'Lady Jonea will see you,' the clerk said, after an interminable period of time.
'I know the way,' Miaree said, picking up her carry luggage and walking, back straight, rear tucked arrogantly, past the clerk’s desk into the great hall.
Lady Jonea rose, extended both arms, embraced her. 'Ah, the charginess of you,' she said.
'I came in great haste, Lady,' Miaree said. 'Forgive my spacecloth.'
'The smell of you takes me back to my youth,' Jonea said. She was gray. The look of her shocked Miaree. She had a flash of old Beafly. Now he was carrion on The World. 'You come directly from flying?'
'Yes, Lady. I—'
'Good soar? Tell me.' Jonea had embraced her, released her, regained her seat behind the huge desk with a sigh of weariness. 'I have not flown.' She let her eyes lid, dreaming of it.
'Lady, I must see the Mother on a matter of utmost urgency.'
'She will see you, of course.'
'It grieves me to rush,' Miaree said.
'I understand.' The instrument on her desk was a direct link. It accomplished the results within seconds.
'Come with me,' Miaree requested, 'for the information I have is directly related to your work. Our work.' And there were three of them in the surprisingly small office when Miaree began her report by playing back the in-flight recordings of her warning message to the driver pounding into the belt.
Lady Jonea was stiffly upright in her chair. Mother Aglee, younger than Jonea, but showing tired lines around her mobile lips, rested her chin in her hand.
Miaree waited comment. There was none. Jonea looked at her, face drawn in thought. 'Ladies,' Miaree said, 'it was not an Artonuee driver.'
'No,' Mother Aglee said simply.
'I beg your pardon?' Miaree asked, surprised by the lack of reaction.
'A tragedy,' Mother Aglee said, shaking her handsome head. 'A tragedy.'
'Mother, please, do you understand?' Miaree was leaning forward in her intensity. 'It was not an Artonuee driver. It used as power a source which gave the same radiations as the sun, though not so intense, of course.'
Mother Aglee rose, ran a delicate hand down the front of her robe of state. She opened a drawer, withdrew a carefully protected packet, motioned toward Miaree. Miaree rose, accepted the packet, looked at Mother Aglee questioningly. 'Open it,' Mother Aglee said.
The pictures were on duppaper, slick, indistinct in image. 'We received these three years ago,' Lady Jonea said. 'There are many more. These were the first and came from a great distance.'
The pictures were simple drawings, reproduced in dots on the duppaper. There were scars and slashes of static, but the images were discernible. A planet circled a sun, a rim sun, position indicated by a superimposed drawing of the galactic wheel. Picture two was three figures. Biped. Different, yet near the Artonuee form. A larger figure, naked, male genitalia evident. A medium-sized figure, the male identification absent. A small figure with smaller male genitalia.
Stunned, Miaree looked up. Mother Aglee smiled encouragingly. 'Life,' she said. 'Intelligent life.'
Miaree turned the next image. Stylized stars in collision, an arrow locating the planet. So near. Strange figures along the arrow.
'We think the figure represents God’s Constant,' Lady Jonea said. 'We have been working on it. Note that there are stylized rays alongside th e figure.'
'Yes,' Miaree breathed. 'It would be less than one unit, but are their units the same?'
'God’s Constant would be measured, in all probability, in relation to the planetary year. We would have to know—'
'The constellation of Delan!' Miaree said. 'Figure of the mythical beast.'
'Yes.'
'But we have not been able to see it since—'
'Since the collision in Delan,' Lady Jonea said. 'Over two thousand years ago.'
'Then they are dead,' Miaree said.
'The last image,' Mother Aglee said.
From the planet, a blunt arrow. Behind the arrow, a glare of light. A driver. Beside it more figures.
'As nearly as we can guess,' Lady Jonea said, 'this figure represents a multiple of God’s Constant.'
'Yes,' Miaree said. 'It would have to be. But—'
'Two years ago we started receiving these,' Mother Aglee said, thrusting another packet onto Miaree. Miaree opened, looked.
'A course in language?' Miaree asked.
'For children,' Lady Jonea said. 'Basic numerology. The next one advances to the periodic table, a universal language.'
'I don’t understand,' Miaree said. 'No one knew. I mean, there was no word.'
'We thought it best,' Mother Aglee said.
'But everyone could hear. These are strong.'
'How often do you monitor the electromagnetic bands above thirty thousand megacycles?'
'Not since University,' Miaree admitted. 'Not since we studied the attempts at interstellar communications.' She fidgeted. 'But I still don’t understand. Why would you keep such a great event a secret?'
'Look at the first picture,' Mother Aglee said. 'The first one in the second packet.'
It was past the language lessons. There was, once again, that obviously male figure, hand extended. On one side of the figure was the planet in Delan. On the other, an unmistakable representation of the Artonuee system. Miaree recognized the drawing of her system. It was a copy of the elementary messages sent during the abortive attempt at interstellar communications.
'It is a friendly gesture,' she said, indicating the man’s outstretched hand.
'Perhaps.' Mother Aglee admitted. 'Other observations?'
'An opporunity to learn their secrets. The power of the sun in some sort of driver engine. Speeds which would free us—'
'More basic observations, please,' Mother Aglee said.
'I don’t understand.'
'He is quite obviously male,' Lady Jonea said.
'I see,' Miaree said, nodding. 'And in the group picture, he is represented first. A male-dominated society?'
