and…”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Beth whispered. “But for that I really do insist on privacy and freedom from other-species Peeping Toms. No. Besides, you have a headache.”
You aren’t joking, Martin thought as they lay on their sides with his body pressed tightly against her back, his free arm around her and their legs drawn up inside the blankets. Gradually they began to feel warm, although Beth still broke into sudden fits of shivering which she said were caused by cold feet.
Martin was not feeling particularly brave himself right then.
Half a mile away, their lander stood, impervious to all external force and unapproachable by anyone but themselves. It represented the simplest means of escape or of summoning assistance, but plainly the First was not going to allow them anywhere near it. And high above Keida, the hypership, which was capable of unleashing forces that their captors could not even dream of in their worst nightmares, orbited in complete ignorance.
“You said that there is a coded message that will bring down big brother,” Martin whispered, “and the guards have one of our watches. They will be suspicious if any attempt is made to shout a message through the grill. But I’ve had a knock on the head, and if I acted delirious and screamed a lot of nonsense words at them, they might not notice when I moved to the grill to shout the real message.”
“Sorry,” Beth whispered over her shoulder. “You’re forgetting that it’s set to translate and record. You would have to get your hands on it, undisturbed for about two seconds, to make the change to communication mode.”
“Don’t worry,” Martin said, “we’ll think of something.”
Even through the double thickness of blanket, Beth’s body felt warm and relaxed, and the pain in his head was abating. He made a loud, untranslatable noise that another Earth-human would have recognized as a yawn.
It had been a long day.
They were awakened by the sound of loud hammering on the door. The lights came on and an eye appeared at the grill and remained long enough to see that they were fully conscious, then they were left in darkness and silence again.
“Sleep deprivation,” Martin whispered, “is an important part of brainwashing technique.”
“Do they also deprive prisoners of sanitary arrangements,” Beth asked, “or are we expected to use the bucket you knocked over?”
“Often,” Martin replied. “But not this time. That low box with the hinged lid is it. I looked inside while the guard was searching the place. Be careful, I’ve no idea how it works.”
Three times they were roused by the switching on of lights and banging on the door without any clear idea of the time that had elapsed between awakenings. The fourth time that the lights came on the only sound from the door was of the bolt being drawn, and suddenly the First and the guard wearing the translator were standing at the bedside staring down at them.
“I shall consider the damage to the blankets a small, additional obligation,” he said, “and not a matter for physical chastisement.”
They wriggled to the edge of the bed and sat side by side with their legs dangling before Martin said, “Thank you.”
“It is customary to stand in my presence,” the First said.
“Is it a gesture of respect,” Martin asked quietly, “or obedience to authority?”
“Like the torn blankets,” the Keidi replied after a long pause, “It is unimportant.”
Being allowed to keep the blankets had been a small concession, Martin thought, and this had been another one. Whatever the Keidi leader wanted from them, he wanted it badly enough to ignore this act of insubordination by a prisoner. But now it was time to soft-pedal and not push the First too far.
As if reading his mind, Beth said suddenly, “Are your granddaughter and the newborn well?”
“They are well,” the First said. “But henceforth I shall ask the questions and you will answer them.”
The Keidi leader wanted to know the exact capabilities of their two ships with a view to possible use in offensive, defensive, and various civilian support roles. Aware of the danger of being caught in a lie, they tried to make their answers truthful but incomplete. The First seemed to believe them, but was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with Martin’s answers. When the head injury was mentioned several times as an excuse for a certain confusion of mind, he began to direct more and more of his questions at Beth.
“You tell me that your lander is a low-level observation vehicle,” he said, his speaking horn an intimidating few inches from her face, “and that it is the mother ship which holds the power. Under your direction it has the ability to travel between the stars, to fabricate devices, vehicles, and power generation equipment, and to constantly replenish the energies used by absorbing the radiation of any nearby sun. But it seems to me that these capabilities are insufficiently used. I want to know how these vast energies can be utilized and directed toward objectives on the surface of Keida, other than by burying us in a pile of unwanted gadgets?”
Beth did not move or look away from the speaking horn as she said, “You are correct in assuming that the mother ship is not being put to its fullest use on this assignment. That is because it is designed for first contact operations with new intelligent species on strange planets. Keida and its people are not strange to us, your language is already held in our translation computer, and your political and social structures prior to the Exodus are known to us. We were sent here to update that material and help you…”
“For now,” the First broke in, “I want to know about your mother ship, and how it can be used to help us.”
“There are many ways it could be used to help you,” Beth replied, “but it was not designed for offensive operations.”
“But surely,” the Keidi said impatiently, “its power could be so used?”
“Its power,” Beth said, speaking part of the truth in a firm voice, “is used primarily in support of first-contact operations. For that reason it is exercised on the non-material level, as a means of disseminating information concerning the Federation World to those whose knowledge of it is incomplete or nonexistent. The methods used to provide this knowledge, which include local demonstrations of weather control, the clearing or drainage of forested or flooded areas, and the projection of three-dimensional instructional pictures on a small or large scale, are both highly sophisticated and extremely power-hungry.
“I will repeat,” she went on, “the mother ship has immense power but no offensive weapons. However, we both realize that many innocent objects can be used for criminal purposes. Even something as harmless as water becomes a weapon if it is forced into the breathing passages of an air-breather.”
The First looked across at Martin, who remained holding the back of his head in silence, but kept his speaking horn trained on Beth as he said, “So your ship is not intended to inflict physical destruction. But it might be useful to me, and beneficial to you in your present situation, as a propaganda weapon. Can these demonstrations, and the three-dimensional pictures it projects, be used to warn and perhaps frighten as well as to inform?”
Beth paused to give Martin a chance to answer that one, but he thought she was doing just fine and kept silent.
“Yes,” Beth said.
It was obvious that the First had been waiting on that answer, because he gestured to the guard by the door and waited while two large, screw-topped jars of water were brought in and placed on the floor. These were followed by the foodpack and analyzer, four extra blankets, and the most welcome sight of all, their boots!
“I must consider this matter,” the First said, moving its horn slowly from one to the other. “It may be that you will be useful to me, and that you will be able to obey your instructions to help the Keida population while at the same time deepening my obligation to you. While you are considering ways in which this can best be achieved, your rest will not be interrupted and your accommodations will be lighted. If you require darkness during periods of rest, or light after a period of darkness, strike the door firmly, twice.
“I leave you,” he ended, and turned to go.
“Please wait,” Beth said quickly. “My life-mate has a head injury, and the diagnostic equipment is in the ship. Is the doctor…”
The door slammed shut, cutting her off in mid-sentence.
It was not until an indeterminate time later, after the water in the jars had been tested and the food concentrates added to make a bulky as well as a sustaining meal, that they were able to justify signaling for the tights to be switched off so they could go back to bed to discuss the situation.
