Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 38: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

36 . ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION had been when we first came in. Security guards lined the corridors while grim-looking army officers and harried technicians in _ laboratory smocks hurried past them. The room where the aliens were kept was a glassed-in, reconverted laboratory with only a dim, frosted bulb for illumination. We could make out a cluster of people in front of the glassed-in enclosure and soldiers at military ease along the wall. When our eyes had adjusted to the gloom, we joined the small crowd in front of the glass. Sam had seen the few photographs that had been released but I knew that hadn’t prepared him for the real thing. The room behind the glass had a sand floor with little cots of foam rubber .spotted about and, in one corner, a small pool of water. The creatures standing by the pool were small and anthropomorphic in shape, a light emerald green in color, and with the same scales that I had mentioned to Jimmy. What the photographs never showed very clearly was their finely developed hands and the intelligent cast to their vaguely human faces. ‘“‘They’re not as lively as they once were,” I said, keeping my voice low. ‘““They’re listless and they won’t take nourishment. The water doesn’t in- terest them as much as it did, either.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Does anybody know where they come from?” ‘As far as we can figure out, from some system in the general direction of Canopus—but how far, we don’t know.” He stared through the glass a moment longer. ‘“‘Nobody knows for sure just how long they'll last, do they?” **Oh, I don’t think it’s too serious,” I said, without conviction. “‘A reaction like this is almost to be expected. It could take a turn for the worst, of course, but I don’t think that will happen.” I wished that I could dis- ise my feelings better; he could probably tell from the tone of my voice that I was whistling in the dark. **“How’s the problem of communi- cation going?’ “It may be a few hours, it may be a few days, but it won’t be much longer before we have the key to their language. It’s much simpler than trying to decipher a dead language, by the way.” I paused. “You know,” I mused, “I sometimes get the impres- sion that they’re trying just as desperately hard to communicate with us as we are with them.” We withdrew to an anteroom and Sam made himself comfortable on a peeling, leather upholstered couch. I kept a weather eye on the worried - looking visitors to the room beyond. _ “Supposing,” Sam started, trying to frame what he had in mind, “just supposing that they died. Would that make their trip here a total loss as far as we’re concerned? Couldn’t you get something of value from going over their ship?” I shook my head. “I doubt it, news- paper stories to the contrary. Their machinery is a thousand years too advanced for us. It would be like Galileo trying to find out what makes a modern motor generator tick. We’ll have to learn to talk to them before we find out much.” “And there’s a possibility you'll never get that chance, isn’t there?” he asked reluctantly. *“‘Don’t needle me for news, Sam,” I said in a tired voice. “I’ve told you all I can. The worst it could come to would be a race between our solving the riddle of their language and the disease, or whatever it is, killing them off. It’s a race I think we could win in plenty of time.” Conniclboolkkxs.con