The Songs of Distant Earth by Arthur C. Clarke Read Free Book Online Page A

have him as an enemy, but she was certainly interested in having him as a friend. Or better …
At the same time, she did not doubt that Kaldor was a much nicer person. In his face and voice she could already discern wisdom, compassion, and also a profound sadness. Little wonder, considering the shadow under which he must have spent the whole of his life.
    All the other members of the reception committee had now approached and were introduced one by one. Brant, after the briefest of courtesies, headed straight for the aircraft and began to examine it from end to end.
    Loren followed him; he recognized a fellow engineer when he saw one and would be able to learn a good deal from the Thalassan’s reactions. He guessed, correctly, what Brant’s first question would be about. Even so, he was taken off balance.
    “What’s the propulsion system? Those jet orifices are ridiculously small – if that’s what they are.”
    It was a very shrewd observation; these people were not the technological savages they had seemed at first sight. But it would never do to show that he was impressed. Better to counterattack and let him have it right between the eyes.
    “It’s a derated quantum ramjet, adapted for atmospheric flight by using air as a working fluid. Taps the Planck fluctuations – you know, ten to the minus thirty-three centimetres. So of course it has infinite range, in air or in space.” Loren felt rather pleased with that “of course”.
    Once again he had to give Brant credit; the Lassan barely blinked and even managed to say, “Very interesting,” as if he really meant it.
    “Can I go inside?”
    Loren hesitated. It might seem discourteous to refuse, and after all, they were anxious to make friends as quickly as possible. Perhaps more important, this would show who really had the mastery here.
    “Of course,” he answered. “But be careful not to touch anything.” Brant was much too interested to notice the absence of “please”.
    Loren led the way into the spaceplane’s tiny airlock. There was just enough room for the two of them, and it required complicated gymnastics to seal Brant into the spare bubble suit.
    “I hope these won’t be necessary for long,” Loren explained, “but we have to wear them until the microbiology checks are complete. Close your eyes until we’ve been through the sterilization cycle.”
    Brant was aware of a faint violet glow, and there was a brief hissing of gas. Then the inner door opened, and they walked into the control cabin.
    As they sat down side by side, the tough, yet scarcely visible films around them barely hindered their movements. Yet it separated them as effectively as if they were on different worlds – which, in many senses, they still were.
    Brant was a quick learner, Loren had to admit. Give him a few hours and he could handle this machine – even though he would never be able to grasp the underlying theory. For that matter, legend had it that only a handful of men had ever really comprehended the geodynamics of superspace – and they were now centuries dead.
    They quickly became so engrossed in technical discussions that they almost forgot the outside world. Suddenly, a slightly worried voice remarked from the general direction of the control panel, “Loren? Ship calling. What’s happening? We’ve not heard from you for half an hour.”
    Loren reached lazily for a switch.
    “Since you’re monitoring us on six video and five audio channels, that’s a slight exaggeration.” He hoped that Brant had got the message: We’re in full charge of the situation, and we’re not taking anything for granted. “Over to Moses – he’s doing all the talking as usual.”
    Through the curved windows, they could see that Kaldor and the mayor were still in earnest discussion, with Councillor Simmons joining in from time to time. Loren threw a switch, and their amplified voices suddenly filled the cabin, more loudly than if they had been standing beside them.
    “ –