“The simple answer to your question is that we do not have, for example, imaging transmission because we forgot how to do it.”

“You forgot.”

“Yes. We forgot. And we choose not to remember.”

“Why? How is imaging transmission dangerous?”

“It has led to social decay. In some eras, it became a tool for enslavement. For controlling the masses. You didn’t watch it. It watched you.”

“What sort of government have you?”

Phyl spoke again: “He does not understand the question.”

Rudy gave it another try: “Who builds the roads?”

“We have people who specialize in highway construction.”

“Who provides leadership? Who makes decisions of general consequence?”

“We have leaders.”

“How do you decide who leads? Do you hold elections?”

Mr. Smith responded. Phyl said, “He does not understand the question.”

“Try it this way: ‘How does one become a leader?’”

“We do not replace leaders.”

On their private channel, Antonio commented that it sounded like a dictatorship.

“What happens when they die?”

He needed a moment to reply. “The security is very good.”

Rudy was showing signs of frustration. “What happens when they die of old age?”

“Explain, please.”

“When their bodies wear out and they cease to function.”

“You’re talking about animals.”

“No. I’m talking about your leaders.”

“They do not die. Not of natural causes. Why would you think that?”

That brought confused glances. “Mr. Smith, if I may ask, do you die?”

“If there is an accident, of course. Or if I choose to end my life.”

“You’re telling us,” said Antonio, not believing what he’d just heard, “that you live forever?”

“Not forever. Nothing can live forever. But we have indefinite spans. Is that not true of you also?”

“No,” said Rudy. “We age. Like other animals.”

The thing snorted again. “I’m sorry to hear it. I believe I would rather have my life than your starship.” He seemed sympathetic. “Tell me, what can I do for you while you’re here? Would you like to meet with some of our more prominent citizens?”

“Perhaps another time,” said Rudy.

Mr. Smith folded his arms. It wasn’t exactly a fold, Matt saw. The arms were more flexible than their human counterparts. They more or less entwined. “As you wish,” he said. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Would you like me to arrange a sightseeing tour?”

“No,” said Matt. “I think not. But thank you.”

Rudy was still trying to digest everything. “Is it possible we could obtain a history book?” he said. “Something that would allow us to learn of your culture.”

“Regrettably, I don’t have one available.”

Hutch’s voice: “You have company. Looks like about six of them, Matt. They were hiding in the boathouse.”

“If you’d care to come back in a day or so, I’m sure I could come up with something that would satisfy you.”

“Thank you,” said Rudy, showing no sign that he had heard Hutch’s warning. “We’ll pick it up next time.”

“Two of them are moving toward the lander. The others are splitting up. Two at the front door. Two in back.”

“You’re leaving, then?”

“Phyl,” Matt told her. “Get out of there. Get some altitude.”

“Leaving now, Matt.”

“Yes,” said Rudy. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can for the evening.”

“They’re armed,” said Hutch. “I can’t determine the nature of the weapons.”

Matt removed his laser and showed it to Mr. Smith. “Who’s outside?”

“The ones outside?” If Mr. Smith was surprised, he did not show it.

“Yes.”

“Very good. How did you know?”

Matt leveled the weapon at him. “We’ll be leaving now. You lead the way. And warn your associates if there’s a surprise of any kind, you’ll be the first one to go down.”

“Matt,” he said, “they will not allow you to leave. If that means I must die here, then that will be the outcome.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re priceless. You and your friends are the most exciting thing to happen here in a thousand years. Moreover, you have a vehicle that is not subject to gravity. And you have a starship that travels multiples of light speed. How could you possibly think we would allow all that to walk away from us?”

“You just got finished arguing that advanced technology is dangerous.”

“Ah, yes. If you had lived as long as I, you would not look for consistency. Now please lower your weapon. It can do no good, and might only needlessly get us both killed.”

“I’m not prepared to do that.”

“You have no choice.”

“Of course we do.”

“Matt,” said Phyl, “I believe I am safely out of range.”

Matt exchanged glances with Jon and Antonio, then signaled the alien to start out the door.

“I don’t wish to comply,” he said.

Matt hesitated.

They were all on their feet now. “Shoot if you must.”

“Do it like General Lee,” said Antonio.

Of course.

“Phyl.”

“Yes?”

“Do Battle Cry.”

“Okay, Matt.”

Matt lowered the laser and looked down at Mr. Smith. “Have it your way.”

Somewhere, a bugle sounded. Outside the windows a terrible cry exploded out of the darkness. It was the shriek of angry banshees, filled with rage and bloodlust. Then the night was gone, dissolved into bright light. Gray-clad troops poured out of the woods and charged the lodge. Heavy gunfire erupted on all sides. There was a brief crackle of electrical weapons.

“They’re clearing out,” said Hutch.

An artillery team arrived just outside the window. They dragged a cannon, which they quickly turned, loaded, and pointed at the living room.

A wave of cavalry rolled out of the forest and headed along the lakefront, whooping and yelling.

Mr. Smith shrieked and ran from the building.

Matt, Antonio, Jon, and Rudy strolled out behind him. He was the only alien in sight.

ANTONIO’S NOTES

It was hard to believe, looking down on those earthbound cities, that these were the same creatures that had sent starships across vast sections of the Orion Arm, that had shown us Babylon and its Hanging Gardens, that had demonstrated a relentless interest in the rise and fall of civilizations in distant places. And had done it all without FTL. I couldn’t imagine what had driven them to such accomplishments. And I wondered where it had all gone wrong. Maybe when they stopped dying?

—Monday, December 24

chapter 27

THE SECOND MISSION objective was to investigate Sigma 2711, probable source of the radio transmissions received near the end of the last century at the Drake Center in Cherry Hill. They needed three weeks and three days to get there, and it would be an understatement to say that Matt was happy, finally, to arrive back in normal space. The ship’s calendar indicated that, back home, it was Thursday, January 17.

The atmosphere on the McAdams was less congenial than on the Preston. For one thing, there were only two people; for another, both were males. Jon was friendly enough. But the problem was that he could content himself for hours on end with the ship’s library. It might have been less annoying had he been reading books on particle physics, or some such thing. He did do that. But he also read biographies of political and military leaders, commentaries by Roman philosophers, contemporary novels, and pretty much anything else that caught his eye. The result was that, even though Jon offered to watch VRs with him, Matt understood it was an imposition. “No,” he invariably said, “stay with your book. I’ve got stuff to keep me busy.”