“Components may be violent,” the middle said. “No interference. It is normal. They have no minds alone.”
“Make a note,” Hans said to Martin facetiously. “Don’t step on them.”
“We we are interested how we our components react to you,” the middle said.
“So are we,” Hans said.
The rightmost braid touched “heads” with the middle braid and smoothly disassembled. The air smelled of vinegar and fruit. The components, fourteen of them, lay in an interwoven pile, like centipedes or snakes taught macrame. Slowly, the cords crawled apart, spreading out on the floor until they encountered the humans.
Hans’ face dripped and he smelled rank. Martin felt no better.
“Shit shit shit,” Cham said, but kept his place.
The cords gently nudged their feet and calves. Several cords used this opportunity to lock lengthwise and roll back and forth.
“Mating?” Hans asked.
“Dominance on their level,” the middle braid responded. “It is not fighting to kill. You might call it rough play.”
“Your English is wonderful,” Martin said, trying to hide his fear.
“I have fine components, and am blessed with interior harmony,” the middle replied.
“Congratulations,” Hans said.
The two aggregates chirped and whistled-to each other. The air smelled of baking bread and sulfur.
One component advanced up Cham’s pantsleg, front feelers spread wide. Martin had noticed that the feelers fit into rear invaginations when the cords locked together.
Cham could barely control his trembling.
“Our companion is not comfortable,” Martin said.
“I’m fine,” Cham said.
“We we anticipate distress,” the middle braid said. “Must you get accustomed.”
“We must,” Hans said, more to Cham than in answer.
“Right,” Cham said. The cord crawled up his leg to his side.
“It is not behaving violently,” the middle braid reassured.
“By the way,” Cham said, his voice high-pitched and shaky.
“We use names to address each other.” The cord advanced around his chest, slipped, grabbed hold of the overalls material.
“You may touch it,” the middle braid said.
“How do we… what names can we use for you?”
“We we have discussed,” the middle said. “As each of we our aggregates learn language, they will pick names. You may call I me mine Stonemaker. Disassembled braid, when together again may be Shipmaker. Other may be Eye on Sky.”
“Enjoy stars,” the leftmost braid said.
“Like Hakim,” Martin said.
“Your names,” the middle braid requested.
“Our names are sounds, sometimes without meaning,” Martin said. “I am Martin. This is Hans. And this is Cham.”
“Bread and jam food,” the leftmost said.
“Cham, not jam,” Cham corrected.
“Martin animal,” Stonemaker observed. “From word lists.”
“Hands for picking up with,” said Eye on Sky.
Hans smiled stiffly.
“Do you like component, Jam?” the middle braid asked Cham.
“It hurts when it grabs,” Cham said. “Can you speak to them?” The cord’s feelers explored his face. Cham bent his neck back as far as he could.
“No,” Stonemaker said. “But we we make them assemble. Looks it enjoys humans.”
“Wonderful,” Cham said.
“No biting,” Stonemaker observed.
“Yes, we’ve had some concerns… about that,” Hans said. “Can they hurt us?”
“That would be distressing,” Stonemaker said.
“End of aggregate whose part did wrong,” Eye on Sky added.
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Cham said. He put his hands up to stroke the cord, which had crawled lower. It had wrapped around his chest, tail under right arm, head and feelers under left, and stopped moving.
“It likes the way you smell,” Martin said to reassure his crewmate.
“Very true,” Stonemaker said. “To me self my you smell friendly.”
“Good,” Hans said. “If Stonemaker agrees, we’ll try a larger group next. Twenty of our crew, twenty of his individuals. Then we’ll combine
Stonemaker chirped and the room smelled of tea and lilac. The cord dropped abruptly from Cham’s chest and landed on the floor with a hollow smack, then aligned with the other cords beside Stonemaker and reassembled. The braid reared and stretched until it touched the base of the pylon, twelve feet over their heads.
“We my components reproduced and made Shipmaker,” Stonemaker said. “He is either brother or son, perhaps we we talk which sometime.”
Twenty of the human crew and twenty Brothers gathered in the schoolroom. Martin could not tell the Brothers apart yet. Clicks and chirps and bowed violin speech; Rosa Sequoia, approaching and embracing a Brother; Paola Birdsong singing to another; there was a carnival atmosphere to the meeting that set Martin at ease. However strange the Brothers might seem, there was enough common ground and likable traits for both sides to demonstrate quick, almost easy friendship.
Ariel stayed close to Martin after the first ten minutes. “It’s going well,” she said.
“Seems to be.”
“I thought it would take a while,” she said.
“So did I. They haven’t broken down into cords yet. Cords aren’t quite as personable.”
“So Cham told me. The difference between animals and people. Will that cause problems?”
Martin pushed his lips out, frowned. “Probably,” he said. “I think we can adjust.”
“We’ve been stuck with each other for so long,” said Jennifer. “It’s nice to have somebody new to talk to.” She walked past Martin and Ariel, a Brother following closely, chattering in broken English about numbers. Martin smelled cabbage cooking and wrinkled his nose.
Giacomo played a finger-matching game with another braid. He lifted his closed hand, shook it twice, opened two fingers. The aggregate reared back, shivered with a sound like corn husks, weaved its head through a figure eight, said, “I we am wrong, wrong.”
Rex Live Oak approached Martin. “Hans wants the past Pans to convene in a few minutes in his quarters.”
Cham and Joe Flatworm accompanied Martin along the connecting hallways. Joe was ebullient. “Christ, they’re snakes, but they’re real charmers.”
“Snakes charming us, is that it?” Cham asked.
“Ha ha. Much easier than I thought,” Joe said. “We can work with them.”
Hans seemed gloomy as they entered his quarters. They sat in a broken circle and Hans squatted to finish the loop. Rex Live Oak stood outside the circle, arms folded.
“Stonemaker and I talked a little,” Hans said. “He still has the best English. I asked questions about their command structure. Here’s what I’ve learned so far. Every few days—our days, not theirs—they create a command council by pooling cords, each braid donating two. The pooled cords make a big slicking braid called Maker of Agreement or something like that. This braid uses memories from all the cords and makes decisions. The cords take these decisions back to their braids. There’s nothing like giving orders. That worries me.”
“Why?” Joe asked.
