know why it thinks the question is so important.”
He cut in the translator and went on to explain the relationship between Beth and himself. He was nonspecific regarding the division of their work, but he had to go into considerable detail on Earth-human social anthropology, cultural mores, and reproduction. But suddenly the Teldin was holding up two of its four hands.
“Thank you once again for this interesting hearsay,” it said slowly, as if uncertain that the true meaning of the words was getting through to Martin. “You are answering questions which have not been asked, and not answering those which must be asked.”
The brown and yellow tricycle came into sight just then. Martin said quickly, “The vehicle which approaches us at speed and flying a flag, and the beings propelling it. Is their mission important?”
The Teldin glanced at it in a manner suggesting impatience. “It flies the pennant of the Master of Sea and Landborne Communications. Their mission has nothing to do with us and is of no importance compared with the visit of an off-planet being who avoids answering the most important question about itself…”
“Just a couple of mailmen,” Beth said in a relieved voice.
“… Your status is not clear,” the Teldin went on. “Do you or your life-mate own the vessels which brought you here?”
“My status”… Martin thought. A little light was beginning to dawn. Aloud, he said, “The vessels are not our personal property, but we are responsible for their operation.”
“But they are owned, presumably, by someone who directs you in their use?” the Teldin said quickly, and added, “You must obey this being’s directions?”
“Yes,” Martin said.
The Teldin made a loud, gurgling sound which did not translate, then it said, “You are a slave, Martin. Highly placed, no doubt, considering the nature of the equipment you are allowed to use, but still a slave…”
Instinctively Martin stepped back as one of the being’s enormous hands swung toward him. But it stopped a few inches from his chin with one digit pointing at the Federation symbol on his collar.
“… Is that the emblem of your Master?”
His first thought was to strenuously deny that he was any kind of slave, and his second was to wonder what new complication would be the result of that denial. But the Federation was, in real terms, his master, as it was the master of all of its non-Citizens.
“Yes,” he said again.
The Teldin turned its hand, which was still only a few inches from Martin’s face, to display a bracelet on its thick, furry wrist. The bracelet supported a flat oval of metal on which an intricate design had been worked in several colors.
“Like mine,” the Teldin said, “your mark of ownership is small, tasteful, inconspicuous as bents a slave in a position of trust and responsibility. But why did you ignore or evade the questions which would quickly have established your status?”
“I was unsure of your own status,” Martin replied truthfully.
He remembered their tutor telling them again and again that in an alien contact situation they must always tell the truth, although not necessarily all of it at once. Measured doses of the truth gave rise to much fewer complications than well-meant diplomatic lies.
“I don’t like what I’m hearing,” Beth said. “The Federation does not approve of slavery or any form of…”
“Now I understand,” the Teldin said before she could go on. “You thought I might be a Master and were being circumspect. Like the other passers by, I thought you were a Master and could not, therefore, speak first. But contact between ourselves and an other-world species would seem to be a project too important to be entrusted to a slave, regardless of its level of ability. My position forbids me saying anything which is directly critical of your Master, or any Master, but it seems to me that it would be more fitting if-if…”
“My Master did the work itself?” Martin asked.
“That was my thought exactly,” the Teldin said.
Martin thought about their tutor and its enormous, sprawling body, and of the sheer size and complexity of any mobile life-support system capable of accommodating it, and he thought of that species’ immense lifespan. Carefully, and truthfully, he said, “My remarks should not be considered in any way critical or disloyal, but my Master is grossly overweight, very old, and has other projects demanding of its time and available energy.”
“Since we are speaking face to face I can accept this information as factual until I have been instructed otherwise by my Master,” the Teldin said, and the sudden change in its manner was unmistakable. It added, “But my Master will not accept anything you say.”
“For this reason,” Martin persisted, “I have been instructed to land on this world and gather information about your species and its culture so that my Master will know whom to approach with the initial offers of friendship and exchanges of knowledge.”
“Your Master seems lacking in sensitivity and intelligence,” the Teldin said, this time without any apology.
“Your Master might just as well have sent a radio transmitting and receiving device.”
“That has already been tried,” Martin said, “without success.”
“Naturally,” the Teldin said.
The situation had gone sour, there could be no doubt about that. The impression given by the Teldin was that it belonged to an intensely status-conscious slave culture in which the Masters spoke only to other Masters or to God, and when a Master spoke to a slave, the slave had to believe everything it was told and, presumably, disbelieve everything it had been told earlier by a lowlier being.
This is crazy, thought Martin. “What would have been your reaction if I’d been a Master?”
“Had you been a Master,” the Teldin replied, “I would not have been able to give you any information until it had been vetted for content and accuracy by my own or another Master. Knowledge which is not passed down from a Master is, as you know, untrustworthy. The only assistance I could have given you would have been to arrange a meeting with another Master. Had you been a Master we could not have exchanged hearsay as freely as we have been doing.”
“May this exchange continue?” Martin asked eagerly. “I have many questions. And answers.”
“Yes, Martin,” the Teldin said. “It may continue until I have reported your presence and everything that has transpired between us to my Master, who will assess the value of the material and instruct me accordingly.
“My curiosity is such that I am in no great hurry to make my report,” the being added. “And my name is Skorta.”
“Thank you, Skorta,” Martin said, relieved. The atmosphere seemed friendly once more, but he still needed clarification on the Master-slave relationship. He said, “Will you make your report in person, and where?”
“Careful,” Beth warned.
“Thankfully, no,” Skorta said. “I must make a hearsay report by radio. The device is in my Master’s education complex in the city.”
“Are you a teacher!”
Martin could hardly believe his luck. It would not matter which subject Skorta taught, because it was sure to have a grounding in many subjects, and it was quite probable that the Teldin would be able to furnish them with all of the information necessary for the completion of their assignment, possibly within a few hours.
“Properly speaking, only a Master can teach,” it replied. “That is the law, I relay the approved information, suitably simplified for the age-groups concerned, to unruly little beings who only rarely think of questioning the validity of the information they receive. Even the words of a Master, as you know, may be doubted when they have been passed down through too many slaves.”
“I should like to see your students,” Martin said, “and other people in the city. Would I be able to meet a Master?…”
Martin felt like biting off his tongue. Without thinking he had blundered into that highly sensitive area again, and he could almost feel the atmosphere congeal. The Teldin made a soft, untranslatable sound which might have been a sigh.
“Stranger,” it said slowly, “your presence here is an insult and an affront to our Masters, since it is plain that your own Master thinks so little of this world and its people that it sent a slave to us as an emissary. To my knowledge there has never been a greater insult, and I cannot even guess at what the Masters reaction will be.
