Free Emprise by Michael P. Kube-McDowell Page A

window. “They would know enough about us to realize our curiosity—and would want to give us something to satisfy it. But at the same time, they would be disturbed by our violent nature, as well as all the other lesser and greater faults we’ve so freely admitted to them. But, being advanced, they wouldn’t want to prejudge us.” He turned to face them. “I’ll tell you why that message doesn’t say when they’re coming—because it’s a test.”
    “One we’ve passed, thanks to Agatha,” said Aikens.
    “No! That message contains more information. We’ve only broken it on one level—the simplest one, the child’s level. That final sequence, addeghn-rorgh , is likely the key to the next level—an interlocking code. The information in each level of the code would change the way we answer them. That’s why we have to put all our efforts into breaking the rest of the message. We’ve only passed first form. If we answer them now, they may not come at all. Or they may come with a different purpose entirely.”
    “There are too many assumptions in that for my taste, even though I do find the whole scheme somewhat elegant in its subtlety,” said Schmidt. “I can offer a simpler reason why the message contains no date of arrival—they don’t know it. Even were they to be as close as Proxima Centuri, crossing space with living beings and a ship is a bit more tricky than merely beaming a radio signal into the void. They haven’t left yet, is my guess—or at least, not when that was sent. They very well might not leave until we answer.”
    “Whether you’re capable of believing it or not, that message has more secrets,” Eddington said angrily. “I think you simply need to believe that to salvage your wounded ego,” Aikens said bluntly. Eddington’s gaze swept across their faces like a cold wind. “Is that what the rest of you think?”
    Schmidt shrugged. “We know so little—everything is so tentative. I’m not ready to judge. But as I said at the beginning, you are free to shape your own path, and I wish you success.”
    “Oh, no,” Eddington said threateningly. “You can’t push me aside like that.”
    “He didn’t mean it that way. No one is denying you your right to a place in this,” Anofi said soothingly. “No? Who’ll go out and make the contacts? I know who ranks here—and it isn’t me.”
    “We’ll all go,” Anofi said gently, looking to the others for confirmation. “But we’ll need a spokesman. You, probably,” Eddington said, jabbing a finger toward Schmidt.
    “I’m inclined to think that we’ll have the opportunity to take turns,” Schmidt said dryly. “Come now, Laurence—isn’t it obvious to you that it’s time this stopped being an intellectual exercise for a clique of old codgers? We can explore the wheels-within-wheels once we’ve brought this to the attention of the people who have the power to act on it. Don’t create a false dilemma. It’s not one or the other. The question is, what do we do today? ”
    Eddington’s gaze flicked upward and across their faces. “I work on the code. You knock on doors, if you must.”
    “I think we must,” Aikens said, standing. “Straight away, with or without Larry.”
    “There is one more matter to be settled,” said Schmidt. “Winston.”
    “What about him?” Anofi said scornfully. “He made his choice last night.”
    “Is that how you all feel?” Schmidt asked, surveying the room. “Very well, then.”
    As they filed out of the room, Anofi stopped by Eddington and grasped his elbow. “Where is Agatha today? I wanted to talk to her.”
    Eddington’s features grew rigid. “She’s not here,” he mumbled. Pulling his arm free, he turned his back on her and stared out the window at the grounds.
    When they were gone, the cold rage he had been fighting overtook him, and Eddington quite methodically and with no small satisfaction turned the hundred-year-old furnishings of Agatha’s much loved Garden Room