Anywhen by James Blish Read Free Book Online Page B

hundred fifty light-years from here. All alone there in a ship no bigger than a beer can."
    "A scout?"
    "What else? All right, he's ready." Matthews looked at the two hard-faced enlisted men behind the Enemy's chair. One of them grinned slightly. "Ask him where he's from."
    The grey creature turned fiat, steady eyes on Jahnke, obviously already aware that he was the interpreter. Sweating, Jahnke put the question.
    "Hnimesacpeo," the Enemy said.
    "So far so good," Jahnke murmured. "Hnimesacpeo tce rebo?"
    "Tca."
    "Well?" Matthews said.
    "That's the big province in the northern hemisphere of Vega III. Thus far he's willing to be reasonable."
    "The hell with that. We already knew he was Vegan. Where's his station?"
    Whether or not the Enemy was Vegan was unknown, and might never be known. But there was no point in arguing that with Matthews; he already thought he knew. After a moment's struggle with the language, Jahnke tried: "Sftir etminbi rokolny?"
    "R-daee 'blk."
    "Either he doesn't understand me," Jahnke said resignedly, "or he won't talk while he's in the chair. He says, 'I just told you.'"
    "Try again."
    "Dirafy edic," Jahnke said. "Stfir etminbu rakolna?" "Hnimesacpeo." The creature's eyes blinked, once. "Ta hter o alkbëe."
    "It's no good," Jahnke said. "He's giving me the same answer, hut this time in the pejorative form—the one they use for draft animals and children. It might go better if you'd let him out of those irons."
    Matthews laughed shortly. "Tell him to open up or expect trouble," he said. "The irons are only the beginning, if he's going to be stubborn."
    "Sir, if you insist upon this course of action, I will appeal against it. It won't work, and it's counter to policy. We know from long experience Outside that—"
    "Never mind about Outside; you're on Earth now," Matthews said harshly. "Tell him what I said."
    Worse and worse. Jahnke put the message as gently as he could.
    The Enemy blinked. "Sehe et broe in icen."
    "Well?" Matthews said.
    "He says you couldn't run a maze with your shoes off," Jahnke said, with a certain grim relish. The phrase was the worst insult, but Matthews wouldn't know that; the literal translation could mean little to him.
    Nevertheless, Matthews had brains enough to know when he was being defied. He flushed slowly. "All right," he told the toughs. "Start on him, and don't start slow."
    Jahnke was abruptly wishing that he hadn't translated the insult at all, but the outcome would probably have been the same in the long run. "Sir," he said, his voice ragged, "I request your permission to leave."
    "Don't be stupid. D'you think we're doing this for fun?" Since this was exactly what Jahnke thought, he was glad that the question was rhetorical. "Who'll translate when he does talk, if you're not here?"
    "He won't talk."
    "Yes, he will," Matthews said with relish. "And you can tell him why."
    After a moment, Jahnke said stonily: "Ocro hli antsoutinys, fuso tizen et tobëe."
    It was a complex message, and Jahnke was none too sure that he had got it right. The Enemy merely nodded once and looked away. There was no way of telling whether he had failed to understand, had understood and was trying to avoid betraying Jahnke, or was merely indifferent. He said: "Seace tce ctisbe." The phrase was formal; it might mean "thank you," but then again it might mean half a hundred equally common expressions, including "hello," "good-bye," and "time for lunch."
    "Does he understand?" Matthews demanded.
    "I think he does," Jahnke said. "You'll be destroying him for nothing, Major."
    The prediction paid off perfectly. Two hours later, the grey creature looked at Matthews out of his remaining, lidless eye, said clearly, "Sehe et broe in icen," and died. He had said nothing else, though he had cried out often.
    Somehow, that possible word of thanks he had given Jahnke made it worse, not better.
    Jahnke went back to his quarters on shaky legs, to compose a letter of protest. He gave it up after the first