The Garments of Caean

He turned to see a long, quite huge shape bearing down on them. He did not really have to pick out its features, for only the starlight illuminated this, its eclipsed side, and it did not seem to shine as metal did.

‘What is it?’ Lana screamed.

He did not know. He had never known cyborgs to build anything like this, in fact they did not come into space very often.

‘Flee, Lana, flee!’

But she scarcely needed to be told. Her main propulsors burst into action, as did his, and they hurtled uprange.

The home rings were far away, and there was no cover here. Alexei veered away from Lana, ordering her to change course. His hope that he could draw the pursuer off Lana was fulfilled; it followed him, and he saw that its speed far outpaced his.

Something shot from the bow of the big object. Despite all his twistings and manoeuvrings Alexei could not escape it. Though little more than a flat platform with a dome set upon it, it was able to pace him easily, and soon was almost touching him. Alexei cursed desperately as strong, lash-like cilia extruded to entrap him, imprisoning his arms and dragging him inexorably towards the menacing black shape.

‘Should we bring it aboard?’ Estru asked. ‘It might be dangerous. A robot bomb, perhaps?’

The middle-aged woman with purple tinted hair glanced up at him from the table, where she was watching the events on the vidscreen. ‘You’re too suspicious,’ she reproved in a mature, controlled voice. ‘We’ll deep-sensor it in the lock before we bring it in any farther, but I don’t think it’s a bomb. What I’d like to know is, what were the two of them doing when we came upon them?’

Estru bent to look over her shoulder at the screen. The object being brought in was apparently metallic. It had arms, a bulky, interestingly accoutred main body incorporating a drive unit, and what looked like a helmetlike head section with tubes and antennae that presumably were sensors.

‘What does it look like to you, then, Amara?’

She tilted her head. ‘Well, it looks like some elaborate kind of spacesuit.’

‘Who needs a spacesuit as big as that? Unless there’s a giant inside. And anyway where’s their vehicle? We’re miles from anywhere out here.’

Amara shrugged. ‘Well, we’ll soon know.’ She flicked a switch. ‘Aspar, did you say those things were transmitting when we interrupted them?’

A man’s voice came over the intercom. ‘Yes. Some form of UHF, very richly modulated. Can’t make anything of it; probably some kind of machine talk. Then there was a break, and then a fragment of spoken conversation.’

‘What language? Caeanic?’

‘Not Caeanic; I don’t recognize it at all.’

‘Let’s hear it.’

Amara held down the record key while the brief exchange came through. ‘Thanks, Aspar,’ she said, then cut him off. A frown on her face, she played back the scrap of tape several times: first a woman’s voice, then a man’s.

‘I don’t recognize it either,’ said Estru. ‘What is it?’

Her face took on a wondering look. ‘It sounds like – well, it is, as far as I can tell – some variant of Old Russian.’

‘Russian?’ Estru laughed disbelievingly, then recovered himself. ‘But Caeanic isn’t descended from Russian, is it?’

‘No, not particularly. There are traces of Russian in it, but there are in nearly all languages. Russian itself hasn’t been spoken as a living language for centuries.’

‘Well, they’re speaking it. What are they saying?’

‘Not much. They’re obviously referring to ourselves.’ She played the frightened, urgent voices again. ‘The girl says “What’s that?” She’s pretty startled. Then the man says something like “Run, run”. I think he uses the girl’s name; Lana.’

‘Hmm. Lana.’ Estru was thoughtful. ‘Maybe they’re spacesuits after all. I’d be more inclined to think they’re on remote. Anyway, there’s presumably some kind of civilization in this system, or at least nearby.’

‘“Presumably” is the operative word. There’s been precious little sign of it so far. You’d think we would have noticed.’

Estru nodded. As usual, Amara’s observations were acute; she was, as a general rule, right.

But of course, Amara’s knowledge was vast, as was evidenced by her unhesitatingly identifying a meagre four or five words as belonging to a long-dead language. She was, in fact, one of Ziode’s greatest authorities on cultural anthropology, and that was why she was here.

In consideration of the possibility of war with Caean, the Directorate had ordered a closer study of that little-understood civilization, of its aims and origins. The Callan was part of that study.

It was necessary to proceed cautiously; they were, in the strictest sense of the term, trespassing. They had begun outside Caeanic civilization proper, on that part of the Tzist Arm along which it was presumed mankind had migrated. They hoped to find early settlements, bypassed outposts, which might give them some clues as to how the peculiarities of Caeanic culture had developed.

The Captain’s voice interrupted them. ‘Well, Amara, do we continue on course?’