predatory. “Hole ships don’t blow up, you see. They dissolve like they’re made of nothing but air, piece by piece. When you hit one hard enough, when they die, everything on the inside spills out—and if you’re careful, or lucky like I was, you can time it just right to make sure none of it gets damaged.”
Alander glanced at Hatzis and saw understanding dawn in her eyes, but it was he who managed to speak first. “You caught one of their bodies ?”
“Even better than that.” The view of conSense before Alander began to darken as Axford talked. “Remember, they have access to Spinner technology, just like us. They have hole ships and ftl communicators. In fact, they probably use the libraries to locate suitable stars for our colonies and scout them until the Spinners appear. I’m sure they dipped into the library as I have, seeking new ways to modify their hole ships. But more importantly for us at the moment, they have—”
“I-suits,” finished Alander, staring at the figure materializing before them in the darkness.
Axford didn’t try to hide his pleasure. “Caryl Hatzis, Dr. Peter Alander, I’d like you to meet my guest, the first alien I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet in person. I call him Charlie. You’ll have to forgive him if he isn’t very talkative, though; he really hasn’t been himself since he arrived. In fact, I think he might even be dying.”
Alander stared in amazement at the gangly, frail looking alien that appeared on the screen. A long silence ensued as neither he nor Hatzis could speak, and it was only broken when Axford glibly muttered, “I don’t suppose either of you would have any idea what these bastards might like to eat, by any chance?”
* * *
The alien was, to all intents and purposes, right there in front of Alander: living, breathing, solid, but as motionless as a stuffed museum exhibit. He didn’t doubt for a second that it was real. After all, what would it benefit Axford to fake something like that? It was too important, too critical a moment in the evolution of humanity. Not even someone like Frank the Ax would invent something like this —although there was little doubt that he would use it to his advantage.
But that didn’t matter to Alander right then. At last, after many frustrating weeks of dealing with the nebulous Spinners and Starfish, here was a creature he could actually touch.
The image rotated so he could see it from all angles. That Charlie was a biped was immediately obvious, but its proportions were all wrong. Its legs were much longer than a human’s, compared to its trunk; long, tapering shins flared upward past the knees into enormously strong-looking, triangular thighs. The knees were bent so it looked like it was crouching. Its trunk was barrel-shaped, almost literally a cylinder, with strange, pouchlike folds and flaps in waxy, gray green skin. Partially hanging from this was a coarse-looking vest, while covering upper parts of its legs was a kilt fashioned from the same material. Alander assumed that the garments were decorative, as they offered no real protection. Much like his own, beneath the I-suit.
The creature’s forward-mounted arms were folded protectively across its chest, rising and falling with every rapid breath—the only movement Alander could discern. The hands were small and thin, and had several digits sprouting from each, but it was unclear how many there were or how precisely they were jointed. Two flat plates extended from its back. Vestigial wings? Alander wondered. They were more like an insect’s wings than a bird’s, or the sheaths that might once have covered them, at least.
When the image rotated around to the front again, its face captured his full attention. The head was roughly the same shape as a biscuit barrel and seemed smooth all over. There were no obvious protuberances. Instead, it had a marked pattern of pigmentation across its face: stark black lines with a perfect vertical
Alander glanced at Hatzis and saw understanding dawn in her eyes, but it was he who managed to speak first. “You caught one of their bodies ?”
“Even better than that.” The view of conSense before Alander began to darken as Axford talked. “Remember, they have access to Spinner technology, just like us. They have hole ships and ftl communicators. In fact, they probably use the libraries to locate suitable stars for our colonies and scout them until the Spinners appear. I’m sure they dipped into the library as I have, seeking new ways to modify their hole ships. But more importantly for us at the moment, they have—”
“I-suits,” finished Alander, staring at the figure materializing before them in the darkness.
Axford didn’t try to hide his pleasure. “Caryl Hatzis, Dr. Peter Alander, I’d like you to meet my guest, the first alien I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet in person. I call him Charlie. You’ll have to forgive him if he isn’t very talkative, though; he really hasn’t been himself since he arrived. In fact, I think he might even be dying.”
Alander stared in amazement at the gangly, frail looking alien that appeared on the screen. A long silence ensued as neither he nor Hatzis could speak, and it was only broken when Axford glibly muttered, “I don’t suppose either of you would have any idea what these bastards might like to eat, by any chance?”
* * *
The alien was, to all intents and purposes, right there in front of Alander: living, breathing, solid, but as motionless as a stuffed museum exhibit. He didn’t doubt for a second that it was real. After all, what would it benefit Axford to fake something like that? It was too important, too critical a moment in the evolution of humanity. Not even someone like Frank the Ax would invent something like this —although there was little doubt that he would use it to his advantage.
But that didn’t matter to Alander right then. At last, after many frustrating weeks of dealing with the nebulous Spinners and Starfish, here was a creature he could actually touch.
The image rotated so he could see it from all angles. That Charlie was a biped was immediately obvious, but its proportions were all wrong. Its legs were much longer than a human’s, compared to its trunk; long, tapering shins flared upward past the knees into enormously strong-looking, triangular thighs. The knees were bent so it looked like it was crouching. Its trunk was barrel-shaped, almost literally a cylinder, with strange, pouchlike folds and flaps in waxy, gray green skin. Partially hanging from this was a coarse-looking vest, while covering upper parts of its legs was a kilt fashioned from the same material. Alander assumed that the garments were decorative, as they offered no real protection. Much like his own, beneath the I-suit.
The creature’s forward-mounted arms were folded protectively across its chest, rising and falling with every rapid breath—the only movement Alander could discern. The hands were small and thin, and had several digits sprouting from each, but it was unclear how many there were or how precisely they were jointed. Two flat plates extended from its back. Vestigial wings? Alander wondered. They were more like an insect’s wings than a bird’s, or the sheaths that might once have covered them, at least.
When the image rotated around to the front again, its face captured his full attention. The head was roughly the same shape as a biscuit barrel and seemed smooth all over. There were no obvious protuberances. Instead, it had a marked pattern of pigmentation across its face: stark black lines with a perfect vertical
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