Magic Destiny, Book One: Contact

By Michael Townsend

It's the 25th century, and the human race has begun to establish colonies outside the solar system. The first colony planet, Destiny, turns out to be inhabited by a primitive but remarkably human-like alien race, with astonishing paranormal powers and a deep secret. Nevertheless, the Earth people establish their colony, but must defend themselves against an attack by a hostile native faction. Eventually the colony ship returns to Earth for another load of colonists, bringing with it several Destiny natives, whose paranormal abilities are at first denounced as fraudulent by Earth's scientific and religious authorities. On its way back to the colony, the colony ship is intercepted by a second alien race; in the ensuing battle, the deep secret of the colony planet's natives is revealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Townsend
• Release date: Jun 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989445535

Michael Townsend

Michael Townsend is a retired high-technology business consultant who has served clients such as Xerox, Rockwell International, TRW, National Semiconductor, Apple Computer, and others. He lives in Southern California with his wife, Mary, and their Plott Hound, Gina.

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Magic Destiny, Book One: Contact

Copyright © 2013 Michael J. Townsend. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9894455-3-5

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

The forest swept by in an endless stream of rolling countryside as the crew of the shuttle Destiny 3 watched on their primary screen. They were cruising at Mach 1.5, five kilometers above the forest.

The shuttle belonged to the orbiting colony ship Galaxy Colonizer; for this exploratory mission it carried only a crew of four. They would be the first Earth people to land on this world, the second planet in the Tau Ceti system.

The shuttle's titanium hull, about fifty meters long, was white, with the red and blue markings of the Interstellar Expeditionary Force along the side. Inside the shuttle there was a low rumble from the engines, running just strongly enough to maintain the craft's altitude and speed. Outside, tracing its path on the ground, a sonic boom and the noise of the engines marked the shuttle's passing. Its flight was relatively smooth.

The trees the crew saw glide by on their screen were tall with feathery, bright green leaves, looking more like overgrown ferns than trees. The forests grew out of grassland that seemed to undulate as the shuttle flew along. Otherwise, the terrain was featureless, as far as the crew could see: no major mountains or rivers interrupted the arboreal landscape. The sky was a bright blue, punctuated by swatches of white clouds. Preliminary surveys made from Galaxy Colonizer had indicated that life on the planet was basically vegetative.

Matt Logan, the shuttle's commander, kept a close watch on the primary screen. The shuttle needed a relatively flat, clear area for landing, and so far, since they'd separated from the colony ship and descended to the surface of the planet, they hadn't found one. Right now the shuttle's crew was looking for a clearing that had been spotted from orbit; the plan was that the shuttle would land there, and the crew would make a reconnaissance, deciding whether the clearing would make a suitable initial base for the new colony. The five thousand colonists aboard Galaxy Colonizer were anxious to land and start building homes.

Logan was a tall blond man in his mid-thirties, wearing the maroon uniform of the IEF; he had prominent cheekbones under wide-set blue eyes. He fidgeted in the commander's seat, wondering if the clearing they'd spotted would be a safe place to set down.

In addition to commanding the shuttle, Logan was also first officer—second in command—of the colony ship. Like that of most of the members of the IEF, his was a round-trip assignment: once an Earth colony was established on an extra-solar planet, Galaxy Colonizer would return with its crew to Earth for a second shipload of colonists.

Born in the year 2402, Logan had grown up as one of his family's three children; he had a younger brother and sister. His father was an engineer and his mother was an attorney. Logan had gone to high school in Los Angeles before it was heavily damaged in the Great Earthquake of 2418. He attended the University of Chicago, majoring in engineering with a minor in astronomy. His ambition was to become commander of a colony ship of his own.

Using the ship's new entanglement technology, the transition from the solar system to the Tau Ceti system, twelve light years away, had been instantaneous. But an additional month at each end of the trip was required for traveling between planetary orbits and the interstellar departure and arrival points. The rest of what was expected to be nearly a year-long initial round trip would be consumed in unloading colonists and equipment, for which an initial landing place was required. Robotic equipment would clear the forest for kilometers in every direction, and the colonists would arrive to be housed in temporary shelters while permanent homes were being built.

Colonization was not intended to be the final solution to the Earth's population problem. An eventual fleet of up to a hundred colony ships would move perhaps half a million people per year outside the solar system, assuming suitable planets could be found. With the colonization that had already taken place in the Moon and on Mars, the few millions of humans living off Earth would not make a meaningful difference in the eleven billion who now lived on the planet. Yet, colonization was hoped to serve as a key safety-valve for the draconian population control measures that had been put in place on Earth. Among other things, this included severe limitations on childbirth; it was becoming harder and harder for a couple to obtain a license to have a child. Already there had been rioting, and the planetary government was heavily publicizing the future of interstellar colonization which would, among other things, require no childbirth limitations.

Possible landing zone detected, said the shuttle's robot pilot.

There, said Logan, I think that's the one. He boosted the magnification of the screen. It showed a rectangular meadow mostly surrounded by trees with a small stream along one side. It was about a kilometer long and half a kilometer wide, more than enough for their immediate purposes. And more to the point, it looked relatively flat, at least from the shuttle's altitude.

Pilot, land at indicated position, execute, said Logan. It seemed a reasonable gamble; he could abort the landing at the last moment, if something strange or dangerous showed in the screen.

The robot pilot froze the image of the meadow on a secondary screen, with an icon indicating exactly where the shuttle would land unless Logan intervened: about fifty meters from the stream, more or less in the middle of the meadow, lengthwise. The stream looked to be about a meter wide; it appeared to be moving sluggishly.

This ought to do it, said Logan, looking over his shoulder at the rest of his crew seated behind him. The two civilian members of the crew were dressed in slacks and shirts in muted colors, while the chief defense officer, Jenna McKinley, like Logan, was dressed in a maroon IEF uniform.

McKinley was feeling superfluous, since there had been no sign of animal life—intelligent, threatening, or otherwise—in the tens of thousands of square kilometers they'd surveyed from the shuttle before finding the meadow. Possibly little for a chief defense officer to do. Nothing but trees and hills; there seemed a good chance that, as predicted, what animal life there might be on the planet—which the colonists had come to call Destiny—would be limited to insects and birds. The surveys made from orbit by the colony ship had failed to detect specific animal life or, particularly, intelligent animal life. The scientists aboard the Galaxy Colonizer felt certain that there would be no large animals awaiting Destiny 3 when it landed.

Mostly vegetative Destiny might be, but it was otherwise an Earth-type planet, with gravity and an atmosphere similar to Earth's. It orbited Tau Ceti once every seven and a half Earth months, at a distance that kept the planet's temperatures within the range of liquid water, in what the astronomers referred to as the Goldilocks zone. Destiny rotated on its axis once every twenty Earth hours.

As the primary screen froze on the meadow, Logan ran the preceding few seconds through his mind. There was something—

Secondary screen, retrace previous five seconds! he shouted. The secondary screen began to show the rolling countryside they'd just crossed over.

Logan blinked and said, what's that?

The feathery trees had momentarily given way to what looked like a series of foliage-covered lumps on the ground.

Fix secondary image aim point, Logan said quickly. The image in the screen fixed in place. Logan stared: the foliage-covered lumps were arranged in a circle.

Approaching hovering state, said the robot pilot. The shuttle's engines changed pitch, increasing thrust. Hovering now… descending. The sound reverberated in the shuttle's cabin as the craft sank slowly to the clearing. Logan watched the landing on the primary screen, switching his gaze back and forth between it and the secondary screen.

As the shuttle descended the scene in the secondary screen shifted to an increasingly horizontal view. Just before it was blocked by nearby trees, Logan and the rest of the crew got a good side look at the foliage-covered lumps.

They were huts, or houses, with tan walls, glass windows, doors, and green thatched roofs.

Destiny was inhabited.

Touchdown, said the robot. Engines into standby mode. There was a slight lurch as the shuttle rested completely on its landing struts as the engines' roar diminished, then cut off altogether.

Landing recovery program, execute, said Logan.

Everyone started talking at once, excitedly. Logan backed up the image on the secondary screen to where the circle of huts was plainly visible.

My God! he heard from someone behind him. There's people over there!

Over the clamor McKinley asked, Matt, why are we in recovery rather than shutdown? The recovery program would keep the shuttle's systems, including its engines, in standby, in case there was an emergency need to take off.

Emergencies were McKinley's main concern. She was a dark-eyed brunette in her late twenties, whose maroon uniform showed a slender, athletic figure. Her father and mother had both been military officers; before volunteering for the IEF, she had been a member of the planetary government's Special Forces. While in the Special Forces, McKinley had taken part in the effort to put down the anti-government riots in Mexico City. Like Logan and most of the other IEF personnel, McKinley was unmarried. She and Logan had worked together extensively during the loading of the Galaxy Colonizer; they had become good friends.

Those dwellings, or whatever they are, said Logan, until we know who or what lives there, and what their attitude toward visitors might be, I think we need to be ready to go again, as soon as possible.

I guess that's right… but what do you think the size of those houses is? There seem to be twenty-five or thirty of them. McKinley was thinking ahead to a possible confrontation.

We can find out easily enough, said Logan. Secondary screen, back up fifteen seconds, freeze and use scale grid. The view of the houses was restored, and a grid appeared on the screen, keyed to the nearest house in the view. It showed that it was about three meters tall, compared with the twenty-meter trees off to the side.

Well, if that's the local town, said Don Brimley, one of the two civilian scientists aboard the shuttle, where're the people? The doors of the houses were closed; there was no sign of life in the frozen view on the screen.

Brimley, a professorial man in his fifties, was tall and wore a short beard. The other scientist was Jill Taggert, short and auburn-haired; she was in her mid-thirties. A large exploration crew would come down from the colony ship on one of its other shuttles, once the meadow had been declared suitable by Logan and his crew.

McKinley undid her security belt; Brimley and Taggert unbuckled and started to stand up.

Hold on people, said Logan, "We're not going outside yet. I'm going to have to call this in… Logan to Colonizer."

The communicator screen lit up and in a moment showed the face of Earl Comfrey, the chief communications officer aboard the colony ship.

What's up, Matt? asked Comfrey. We see you're down, but your engines are in recovery mode. The shuttle had automatically relayed its position and status to the colony ship.

Behind Comfrey's image in the communicator screen was a view of the communications room, mostly filled with screens, equipment and blinking lights. The room was adjacent to the ship's bridge.

Earl, I need to talk to the captain, as soon as you can find her.

Okay, Matt, she's right here. Stand by.

Comfrey's face was replaced by that of Eliza Stirling, in command of Galaxy Colonizer. Stirling was a tall woman with dark hair and eyes; she was in her mid-forties. After having graduated from the Space Academy at Luna City, she had worked her way up in the passenger service supporting the Moon and Mars colonies. For the last four years prior to her recent assignment as captain of the colony ship she had been in command of an orbit-to-orbit interplanetary passenger ship on the Earth-Mars run.

I see you've found some possible intelligent life, Matt, said Stirling. She was on the bridge of the colony ship, to where Comfrey had forwarded the image of the thatched huts.

Well, that remains to be seen, Captain, said Logan. We've found what might be some dwellings, but so far there's no sign of inhabitants.

Where are those dwellings in relation to your current location, Matt?

They're about a kilometer north of here, right under our path as we were descending onto this landing zone. We were probably a kilometer high when we passed overhead. If whoever or whatever lives there has ordinary hearing, there's no way they can have missed us.

We must have overlooked that village in our initial scan. Hold on, we're reconfiguring our surveillance interpretive program based on how your discovery looks from the side view… take another few seconds… okay, now we've got a confidence level of ninety percent that there's at least a Level Two civilization down there. That figure was less than twenty-five percent when you de-orbited. The computer's listing additional village sites around your location, if what we're looking at is a village… okay, now the computer's checking back through its scan archives… there's the signature of a good-sized town about a hundred kilometers northwest of your location; it looks like several hundred dwellings, all with thatched roofs. There are several other structures there, larger than your dwellings, embedded in hillsides. The computer just updated to show an eighty percent confidence in a Level Three civilization. Level Three corresponded to early Renaissance Europe.

We're receiving your data now, said Logan, but how'd we miss that town in the first place?

Hmmm. According to the program notes, originally it interpreted those large structures and their thatched roofs just as part of the natural topography. The discovery of your village caused it to reassess its interpretation. Apparently the locals like to build things that blend in with the landscape. Do you suppose that's for defensive purposes? In which case, against what or whom?

We may have the opportunity to find out pretty soon, said Logan. As I said, the sound of our overflight won't have been missed. I'd guess we can expect inquisitive visitors any time now. And here I was starting to think we might have this planet all to ourselves. In any case, we're going to go on as planned with an EVA to look around and get oriented.

All right. I don't have to tell you to keep your eyes and ears open. People who live in thatched-roof houses may not threaten the shuttle, but they might threaten you and your crew.

Logan signed off, stood and turned to face the crew.

"Okay, engine shutdown, execute.

Well, here we go. The first time any human has stepped out on an extra-solar planet. Very probably within a kilometer or two of us right now are members of the first race of aliens we've ever encountered. Except, of course, that they aren't the aliens here—we are. The speech was necessary, but Logan felt a little self-conscious making it.

You all know what we have to do, and why we have to do it that way. As a minimum, we want this first contact not to deteriorate to something hostile or even just contentious. Best case, we'd like to begin building a positive relationship with the natives, if that's possible, but at least we don't want to do anything that will antagonize them—even though we don't really know yet what's likely to tick them off, one way or another. The best we can do is to take it slowly and thoughtfully, and like the boss just said, keep our eyes open.

McKinley knew that a big part of the responsibility for easing the shuttle crew into an unknown situation was hers. She would have to be alert for hostile intent and movement—but also be willing to cut the natives, if there were any, some slack if by any stretch it seemed called for. The basic rule was to keep her weapon concealed unless the situation became desperate enough to justify its use; the priority was protection of the crew and the ship.

Nominally, because he was the commander of the mission, Logan outranked McKinley, but as a practical matter, she was the one with the military experience and responsibility.

Okay, said Logan, let's see if we have visitors yet. Is the external check complete, Don?

Brimley looked up from where he'd been standing over his computer and nodded. Yep, most of it's Earth-normal, except there's a lower atmospheric pressure and a higher percentage of oxygen in the air, around thirty percent. But there's nothing toxic. And as you know, the gravity here is only about ninety percent of what we're used to. His normally smiling face concentrated as he studied a set of readouts on his computer screen. Most of the readings were confirmation of the remote assessment that had been made from the orbiting colony ship. As far as anyone could tell, Destiny was a benign, human-suitable planet.

Then I guess it's time we took a stroll, said Logan. Out of the corner of his eye he checked to confirm that McKinley's weapon was concealed in a uniform pocket. It was. Jenna, after you.

McKinley walked over to the airlock, followed by Logan, with Brimley and Taggert bringing up the rear. Anticipating that there might be contact with natives, Logan scooped up a small backpack and put it on, running a lead from the pack to his left ear. A second lead ran to a microphone clipped to the front of his uniform shirt. He checked to make sure a small green light at the top of the pack was on. It confirmed that his autotranslator was powered up, and that the members of the landing party would receive its output in their own earplugs.

McKinley opened the inner airlock door and stepped in, followed by the others. Logan closed the door behind them, then lowered the pressure in the airlock to match the outside environment. He triggered the outer door, which slid upward into the hull of the shuttle. McKinley turned and slid down the ladder that opening the door had caused to deploy. She hit the ground and stepped aside so the others could follow.

Hitting the ground after her, Logan looked around. The shuttle had come to rest about fifty meters from the small stream; on the other side of the stream was a solid mass of trees. More trees surrounded the meadow. Feathery foliage was concentrated at the tops of most of the trees; their trunks were smooth, ranging up to a meter in diameter. A slight breeze rustled through the branches.

Beneath the crew's feet was soft, curly vegetation punctuated here and there with small bushes. The ground vegetation was uniformly short.

The soft breeze rustling the trees came from the direction in which they'd landed; it caused the trees to sway gently. There was a slight odor of camphor, or something similar, in the air. The temperature seemed to be about twenty-five degrees or so, just on the warm side of being comfortable.

The crew spent several minutes getting used to their new surroundings. It had been more than two months since they had last stepped on a planet. They had a series of tasks to perform, particularly with regard to the water in the stream.

Taggert had just started to walk toward the stream, an instrument in her hand, when Brimley said quietly, well, hello there. Everyone turned to see where he was looking.

A figure stood between two trees on the side of the shuttle away from the stream; it was partially shaded by the forest. The figure was humanoid (arms, hands, legs, a face) and somewhat less than two meters tall. It seemed to be dressed in a dark brown robe. The figure stood motionless with empty hands, staring at the shuttle and the crew. In the dim light the expression on the figure's face, if there was one, wasn't clear.

A small animal, covered in tan fur that matched the shade of the tree trunks, stood by the figure's side. It looked like a four-legged animal, but it was sitting on its haunches with its forelegs up in the air.

My God, if I didn't know better I'd swear it was human, said McKinley, referring to the larger figure. The others stared at the figure, which shifted slightly in its position.

Logan walked a short distance away from the boarding ladder, to where he stood out in front of the rest of the party. He slowly raised his right hand, while showing his left hand—both hands were empty.

McKinley used a handheld holovid to capture the image of Logan slowly walking toward the figure. This was a calculated gamble; they didn't want to alarm the native by pointing something, but, on the other hand, a record of this first contact was vital.

Without making a gesture the figure turned and walked into the gloom of the forest. The four-legged animal bounded along after him.

"Who was that? said Taggert. And what was that stuck in his belt—it looked like a sling." Taggert's training was in anthropology, among other things.

Well, that was pretty tentative, for a first contact, said McKinley, lowering the holovid. "On the other hand, he didn't seem particularly frightened or alarmed. Anyhow, I guess it was a 'he.'"

Maybe he left to get someone in authority, said Brimley.

I can't believe that, uh, native looked human, even down to wearing clothing and having a primitive weapon. Not to mention having a pet which looks like a meerkat, said Taggert, I mean, what are the odds? And where are the green skin and tentacles? She seemed a bit disappointed, and to be speaking for everyone, who stood there stunned at the sight of the native.

Logan used his hand communicator, relayed through the shuttle, to report to Stirling; McKinley forwarded the holovid image she had captured.

Taggert turned to Brimley. That sling tells us something—he looked full-grown, but if he was hunting, and that was the best he could do for a hunting weapon, we're not looking at a very advanced culture.

***

Galrad peered cautiously from between the tree trunks at the scene unfolding in front of him. He was a tall, slender youth with brown hair and eyes that matched his brown robe. He had been in the forest hoping to catch a nerfl, a large bird, drinking at the stream; his sling was tucked into the rope around his waist. While the staple diet of Galrad and his village was derived from the fruit and fronds of the pompesette trees, the occasional animal contribution to the stew pot was always welcome.

Galrad's pet k'ring, Dexra, sat patiently by his side.

Galrad continued to watch the strange people who had emerged from the white object as they wandered around, examining the ground and low shrubbery. At least they looked like people.

He had first heard, then seen, the white object fly through the sky and land in the meadow in front of him. A great roaring sound accompanied it.

He was a bit afraid, but also curious; the white object didn't match anything in his experience. Very tentatively, he stepped out from behind a large tree trunk. He wondered if the strange people would see him, despite the shadows cast by the trees. Dexra moved with him.

As he stood there, first one, then all of the strange people, noticed him. He thought he heard one of them talking. Another—one of the people dressed in a single color, with a pack on his back—stepped forward and gestured toward him. The gesture that the leader, if he was the leader, had made—one hand up, the other down, both empty—seemed harmless enough, but these were obviously strangers whose gestures, Galrad reasoned, weren't to be trusted. And the other stranger, a woman, dressed in the same color as the man with the pack, was pointing something at him.

What seemed like a friendly person might actually have been a wizard preparing to make a casting. He made a protective gesture, turned and slipped back behind a tree trunk, snapping his finger at Dexra, getting her to follow him.

Threading his way through the pompesette trees, treading softly on the ground vegetation, he quickly made his way back to his village.

When he reached the village he saw that no one was outside. The boom and roar that he'd heard in the forest they'd have heard, also, in the village, and fearing a hostile casting, stayed indoors. Wizards with hostile castings were not common in Y'Mrene, but no one was willing to take a chance, when it was possible to stay prudently indoors. Everyone had heard stories about wizards.

Galrad stepped up to the house of the senior village elder, M'Roan, and knocked loudly on the door.

Elder M'Roan, open up. It's me, Galrad, and I have news.

After a moment the door swung open and a wrinkled head poked out.

Are you alone, youngster? asked M'Roan.

Yes, elder, except for Dexra. But I've seen the object that made that roaring sound.

Come in, then, and tell us about it.

Galrad stepped into M'Roan's house. He noticed that two other village elders were there, also. Grunther, a bachelor, lived next door to Galrad and his widowed mother and sister across the village commons. C'Calister also lived in the same village. M'Roan, a widower, lived by himself.

M'Roan's house was made of tan-colored, weather-resistant boards cut from pompesette tree trunks; it had a thatched roof made of pompesette fronds. Viewed from above, it was oval in shape.

Inside, the house was a mess, with cooking utensils and papers and lots of other things jumbled together on the floor, on the bed, and on the single table. Galrad always thought that M'Roan's house smelled a bit gamy. The three men occupied the only three chairs in the house. Galrad stood with his back to the door, while Dexra bounded over to the fireplace and made herself comfortable in front of the fire.

Tell us what you saw, Galrad, repeated M'Roan. He was stooped over a bit, a slender man in a green robe with a fringe of white hair surrounding his otherwise bald head. His eyes were green. He had big ears, which stood out from his head.

I was in the forest looking at the meadow downstream from here. I saw a white object with red and blue markings about seventy klings long and twenty-five klings high. It was shiny and smooth. It flies, Elder! Like a bird! I saw it fly down to the meadow by the stream. It paused up in the air and then slowly lowered itself down to the ground. It made a roaring sound until it got onto the ground, then the roaring sound stopped. It had slender legs that came out to hold it in place once it was on the ground.

Galrad, you wouldn't make fun of some old men by telling them a fantastic story, would you? asked Grunther. He was taller and straighter than M'Roan but dressed in the same green robe favored by older Y'Mrenians. His hair, worn long and clamped at the back, was black.

Oh, no, elder, I wouldn't make up something like that. Besides, there's more to the story. Some people climbed down a ladder from the object and stood in the meadow. One of them, who looked like the leader, saw me and made a gesture at me.

What did these people look like? asked C'Calister.

Well, just people. Two of them were dressed in a single red color, and the other two were dressed differently. Their skin color ranged from light to dark. There were both men and women, but no children. None of them looked like wizards.

And what kind of gesture did the leader make? asked M'Roan.

Galrad demonstrated.

Well, that seems innocent enough, I suppose. Did the leader do anything else?

No, he just stood there with his hand in the air. I turned around and slipped behind some trees and came here.

M'Roan turned to his companions. What do you think of this?

I think this is a fantastic story, said Grunther. But Galrad's a reliable boy. Maybe we ought to go to the meadow and take a look for ourselves.

C'Calister nodded his agreement.

All right, I agree, said M'Roan. But first, C'Calister, you stay here and pass the word for everyone to stay inside until we know what this strange object, and those strange people, are about. Galrad, you take Grunther and me back to where you saw the object and people.

Galrad, M'Roan and Grunther set off through the forest, headed for the meadow. When they reached it they saw the white object while they were still some distance inside the forest, where they couldn't be seen by anyone in the meadow.

See, Elder, it's as I said. That's the white object.

Well, I can certainly see that it's a white object, said M'Roan, but by what magic can a gigantic thing like that fly? It doesn't have wings at all large enough.

No, but it has a tail, though. It looks a bit like a giant nerfl egg—with a tail—doesn't it? asked Grunther. He made the Y'Mothistic sign intended to ward off evil even though the state religion of Y'Mrene, Y'Mothism, formally denied that wizards and their castings existed. None but the most devout believed that particular tenet of the religion.

So far I don't see anything in particular to be worried about, but it certainly is strange, said M'Roan. Let's get closer.

The three walked as quietly as possible through the remainder of the forest until they were within a tree or two of the border with the meadow. Although they were still hidden by the trees, they could see the people that Galrad had referred to, doing things with strange-looking tools.

Do you think those things are weapons? asked Galrad.

I don't know, said M'Roan. They don't look especially sinister. One of them is poking holes in the ground with that stick-looking thing. Another is waving his stick around in the air.

They're different kinds of sticks, said Galrad.

One of them seems to be wearing a bundle of something on his back, said M'Roan. I wonder what purpose that would serve?

That's the one I think is the leader, said Galrad.

Should we expose ourselves to see what they would do? said Grunther.

Doesn't seem like a prudent thing to do, said M'Roan, but I suppose we won't learn anything more if we just stand here in the forest.

You know you're going to have to report this to Y'Mall, said Grunther. Y'Mall was the nearby town, the capital of Y'Mrene's Grunall Province. What will you say when they ask if you investigated thoroughly?

Do you think we'd learn something if we stepped out from behind these trees?

Well, Galrad did, didn't he?

M'Roan sighed. I suppose you're right, he said. Galrad, you go first, since they've seen you before.

***

Look, he's back, said Brimley. He gestured quietly with his head, leaving his hands at his side. The forest-person, if it was a person, was again standing at the edge of the forest.

Well, okay, I'll try this again, said Logan. He put down the soil analysis probe he'd been carrying and stepped forward, looking at the brown-robed figure in the trees. Once again, he raised his right hand, empty palm out, and kept his empty left hand at his side.

In the trees the figure stepped forward a bit out of the gloom, and the landing party could see that it was the same one they'd seen before, or his twin brother. Something about the figure had led them to agree with McKinley that he was probably male. In any case, the figure raised his right arm in the same gesture that Logan