Free The Robert Silverberg Science Fiction MEGAPACK® by Robert Silverberg Page A

calm and wise and good about the grotesque creature; something relaxing, and terribly fragile. The rough grey skin looked like precious leather, and the hood over the skull appeared to shield it from worry and harm. A faint musty odor wandered through the room.
    We looked at each other—Knight, and Gloster, and McHenry,  and I—and we remained silent. Now that the Shaulan was here,  what could we say? What new thing could we possibly tell the  ancient creature?
    I resisted an impulse to kneel. I was fumbling for words to express my emotion when the sharp buzz of the phone cut across the room.
    Gloster nodded curtly to McHenry, who answered. The man listened for a moment. “Captain Knight, it’s for you.”
    Puzzled, Knight took the receiver. He held it long enough to hear about three sentences and turned to me. “Loeb, get a landcar from someone in the compound and get back to the ship. Murchison’s carrying on with one of the aliens.”
    * * * *
    I hotfooted down into the compound and spotted an enlisted man tooling up his landcar. I pulled rank and requisitioned it, and minutes later I was parking it outside the Felicific and was clambering hand-over-hand up the catwalk.
    An excited-looking recruit stood at the open airlock.
    “Where’s Murchison?” I asked.
    “Down in the communicator cabin. He’s got an alien in there with him. There’s gonna be trouble.”
    I remembered Denebola, and Murchison kicking the stuffings out of a groaning frogman. I groaned a little myself, and dashed down the companionway.
    The communications cabin was Murchison’s sanctum sanctorum , a cubicle off the astro deck where he worked and kept control over the Felicific ’s communications network. I yanked open the door and saw Murchison at the far end of the cabin holding a massive crescent wrench and glaring at a Shaulan facing him. The Shaulan had its back to me. It looked small and squat and helpless.
    Murchison saw me as I entered. “Get out of here, Loeb. This isn’t your affair.”
    “What’s going on here?” I snapped.
    “This alien snooping around. I’m gonna let him have it with the wrench.”
    “I meant no harm,” the alien boomed sadly. “Mere philosophical interest in your strange machines, nothing more. If I have offended a folkway of yours I humbly apologize. It is not the way of my people to give offence.”
    I walked forward and took a position between them, making sure I wasn’t within easy reach of Murchison’s wrench. He was standing there with his nostrils spread, his eyes cold and hard, his breath pumping noisily. He was angry, and an angry Murchison was a frightening sight.
    He took two heavy steps toward me. “I told you to get out. This is my cabin, Loeb. And neither you or any aliens got any business in it.”
    “Put down that wrench, Murchison. It’s an order.”
    He laughed contemptuously. “Signalman First Class don’t have to take orders from anyone but the Captain if he thinks the safety of the ship is jeopardized. And I do. There’s a dangerous alien in here.”
    “Be reasonable,” I said. “This Shaulan’s not dangerous. He just wanted to look around. Just curious.”
    The wrench wiggled warningly. I wished I had a blaster with me, but I hadn’t thought of bringing a weapon. The alien faced Murchison quite complacently, as if confident the signalman would never strike anything so old and delicate.
    “You’d better leave,” I said to the alien.
    “No!” Murchison roared. He shoved me to one side and went after the Shaulan.
    The alien stood there, waiting, as Murchison came on. I tried to drag the big man away, but there was no stopping him.
    At least he didn’t use the wrench. He let the big crescent slip clangingly to the floor and slapped the alien open-handed across its face. The Shaulan backed up a few feet. A trickle of bluish fluid worked its way along its mouth. Murchison raised his hand again. “Damned snooper! I’ll teach you to poke in my cabin!” He hit the