and they had hair, and—
—that was where the resemblance ended.
Danilaw suspected, from the size dimorphism, that he was looking at a male and a female. They were so thin, so
And they were
The smaller of the two—possibly the female, as seemed near universal in placental mammals where males were, organically speaking, more expendable—stood in the front, although Danilaw was not sure whether her action was in defense of the larger one or a display of dominance. And perhaps it was overhasty to call her
The larger one, at her shoulder like a lieutenant or a bodyguard, was equally thin. Bones projected over his sunken cheeks, the flesh spare and parchment-thin and flushed with aquamarine. Danilaw could see blue veins spidering across his neck and collarbones below the open collar of a white shirt of seamless construction. The alien’s hair, long and loose, glowed white with the light behind it. His eyes glowed too, through the irises, cobalt as a young star.
Danilaw could have stared much longer, but the smaller spoke, and her voice was indeed a woman’s. The words were familiar, the sounds and rhythms echoing lyrics in hundreds of songs that Danilaw knew intimately. English, and not too much changed from its twentieth-century cadences. She had a light, strong voice, more confident than Danilaw would have expected given her apparent age, and she spoke as one accustomed to wielding authority.
She said, “Greetings, if you can hear me. I am Captain Perceval Conn of the
“We navigated for this system believing it uninhabited, but my Angel has uncovered evidence that other vessels from Earth reached it before we did. You have the previous claim, and we acknowledge that. Yet, in the name of charity, we beg assistance.
“Our lives are in your hands.
“We will await your reply on every channel. Thank you for listening.”
She glanced at her First Mate—Tristen, she’d called him—and he shook his head slightly. Nothing to add, Danilaw presumed. The transmission ended. There was a moment of silence, and then it began to loop, flickering live from the beginning.
Danilaw took a breath. “That,” he said, “is going to be interesting.”
Captain Amanda let it play through completely once more, leaning forward in her intentness. Then she passed a palm over the light and paused it. She translated from memory—accurately, as far as Danilaw could tell —while Jesse and Gain frowned and nodded, occasionally trading speaking glances.
“Well,” Gain said. “I guess that’s pretty unambiguous. How on earth are we going to make it work—I mean, taking them in?”
Captain Amanda, who had been staring at her hands since she finished speaking, looked up. “That’s illegal engineering. Those aren’t even human beings anymore.”
“Unsurprising that they would have gone that way.” Danilaw poured himself more water. “The crew and passengers of the
“
“
Gain said, “Jesse is right. We must be careful of cultural relativism.”
Captain Amanda’s tone remained uncompromising. “Criminals or not, we still can’t let them on-planet without scrubbing their genes. Which, from the look of them—”
“We’ll table that for later discussion,” Danilaw said, making a note in the minutes for a reminder. “Other points of discussion?”
“Angel,” Gain said. “She said that? Her angel told her something? A mythological creature spoke to her?”
“Well, that’s what the word meant a thousand years ago,” Captain Amanda said. “In this context, I’m assuming she means some sort of majordomo or servant. That’s speculation, but based on what we know of the cultural antecedents of the sophipaths who sought refuge on the colony ship, I would guess that that might be a term they use for the Captain’s servants—since angels were the servants of God.”
Danilaw watched Jesse’s nose wrinkle and felt empathy. It was uncomfortable to consider such hierarchical distinctions, but it was also an important reminder that the crew and passengers of the
As an Administrator, Danilaw had viewed historical documents that most citizens were not subjected to, and he had vivid and visceral memories of the violent images associated with those documents. Public beheadings, state-mandated torture, maimings in war, violence—perhaps most horribly—between family members and spouses.
What might seem quaint and yet disturbing when it appeared in a folk song was absolutely horrific in old flat-page photographs or—worse—“film” reels. The art and entertainments of the ancients had been full of carnage, and while Danilaw found it difficult to comprehend, he also found it a rich source of inspiration and catharsis. Human beings had been so animal, so at the mercy of their inheritance of endlessly reworked evolutionary hand- me-downs, until so very recently.
And here those atavistic hominids were again, like monsters out of time, returned to haunt him.
Judging by the stricken faces of his Administrative Council, Danilaw was not the only person thinking so. Gain traded glances with Amanda, and Jesse seemed enmeshed in some sudden, vitally important, research project for whole seconds as he got his expression—and his emotions—under control.
When he looked up, though, his eyes were clear and his brow serene.
There was no talk of refusing sanctuary, nor would there be. While Danilaw, with his historical perspective, could imagine scenarios where turning away refugees would be the only possible choice, no matter how tragic, you would have to be unrightminded to consider it beyond the option stage under the current circumstances. “I wish they’d told us their numbers.”
“It is probably,” Captain Amanda said, with a bright flash of smile, “their first time doing this, too.”
Speaking in tones of quiet reason, Jesse said, “We need to consider the worst-case scenario.” He swallowed, as if the words had gotten stuck in his throat.
“Care to illustrate?” Gain asked, facilitating whatever it was Jesse was working himself up to saying.
Jesse wouldn’t notice, but Danilaw gave Gain a little grateful smile.
Jesse said, “There used to be traveling charlatans, people who moved from town to town promising miracle cures for a variety of ailments. They’d provide a series of fake ‘proofs’ of the efficacy of their products, and then they’d ‘sell’ the patent medicines and move on. They charged money for these treatments—scrip that could be exchanged anywhere else for goods or services.”
Danilaw had a sickening sense that he knew how this would come out. “And then what was in the bottle? Cold tea?”