The Shores of Death by Michael Moorcock Read Free Book Online Page B

distances—moving away from the galaxies—a huge white cloud—very precise patterns—feeling of length and breadth—they’re three dimensional—don’t understand ...”
    Aimer was impatient: “Look, Clovis—I’m more experienced in this kind of thing. Don’t forget the experiments I’ve done with animals. I’m sure I can get better results.”
    Clovis shrugged. “Very well, go ahead.” He was beginning to feel exhausted. What did the symbols and the emotions mean? They seemed incoherent, without logic. Of course there were difficulties—lack of mutual metaphors to begin with—but if the alients realised what was happening why didn’t they think of more specific symbols? He was tired, he decided, and annoyed at the time this encounter was consuming. He would have to set off, soon, to where he’d heard of the scientist who could help him—in the Bleak Worlds that circled Antares, where Earth’s outcasts lived if they could bear it. Usually they came back after little more than a year, but some managed to hang on for longer, by means of drugs and wired-up bodies and brains.
    Aimer’s face was calm and he didn’t look directly into the alien’s eyes, but at a stop just above his crest. He said nothing at first, and then the alien spoke.
    “Tiii-y-y-yooo...”
    Aimer repeated the word as best he could. “It might mean—not sure—maybe the personal pronoun.” The alien continued to speak. Obviously Aimer was able to make comparisons quickly and learn the fundamentals of the language by influencing the alien’s mind with his own thoughts. This was difficult and not much practised on Earth. But it was getting results now. More words came from the alien and Aimer groped slowly for their meanings. He paused for a moment to shout: “Somebody had better record this,” and then went on with the experiment.
    As recording equipment was brought up, Aimer began to attempt translating some of the simpler alien words. It was taking time.
    After an hour he had the words for the personal pronoun, the ship, a planet, the idea of intelligence, the concept of destruction and a word that might mean ‘powerful engines,’ the name of the aliens’ home and where it was.

    He established that they came from the rogue galaxy and perhaps had a plan that might help Earth—though it might only be some kind of philosophy to prepare the human race for the end, he wasn’t sure—there seemed to be something more specific, but it was taking time.
    By two hours, Aimer had managed to get a basic vocabulary of some sixty words, plus words for abstract ideas. He was sweating heavily and under a big strain. At length, he sat back, shaking his head. “That will have to do for the time—I need to relax before I can continue.” He looked triumphantly at Clovis who was slumped on his couch. “I think we’re getting somewhere, though, eh?”
    Clovis nodded.
    Narvo said: “Come—everybody to my house—we’ll continue last night’s party—we’ve got a great deal to celebrate.”
    Clovis cursed Narvo. Everything was conspiring against him to stop him being alone with himself for enough time to collect his thoughts and begin to think and act with more coherence. And he couldn’t afford to offend anyone yet—not until he had what he wanted, and then it wouldn’t matter.
    There was no other way out, he decided. He would have to return to space. He had come back because his body and mind had felt as if they were being torn apart by his prolonged absence from Earth, but he would have to find more strength, forego his rest and begin the journey again. There was another factor that helped inspire this decision—Take knew where he planned to go. With luck, Take would remain on Earth, thinking that Clovis would need a longer rest, and that would give him the chance to get ahead of Take and lose him once and for all.
    Yes, he would leave Earth, head for the Bleak Worlds.
    The aliens were climbing into Narvo’s car. The horde of