Grail - By Elizabeth Bear Page 0,27

that it was hard to be sure.

And they were blue.

The smaller of the two—possibly the female, as seemed near universal in placental mammals where males were, organically speaking, more expendable—stood in the front, although Danilaw was not sure whether her action was in defense of the larger one or a display of dominance. And perhaps it was overhasty to call her blue, exactly, because her hair was brown and straight, and the irises of her deep-set eyes were a perfectly pretty shade of hazel. Her thinness could have been explained as the result of short rations for a long time, though she seemed superficially healthy. It was hard to be certain, however, because her skin—which would have been strikingly pale even if the blood-tint showing through its lightly pigmented translucence was a familiar, comfortable pink—had a distinctly cyanotic hue. Her lips were blue-lavender, the tongue with which she wet them—nervously or in anticipation—liver purple, the corners of her eyes a faint aqua. Her chest was remarkably deep; the rib cage belonged on a biped two and a half times her size.

The larger one, at her shoulder like a lieutenant or a bodyguard, was equally thin. Bones projected over his sunken cheeks, the flesh spare and parchment-thin and flushed with aquamarine. Danilaw could see blue veins spidering across his neck and collarbones below the open collar of a white shirt of seamless construction. The alien’s hair, long and loose, glowed white with the light behind it. His eyes glowed too, through the irises, cobalt as a young star.

Danilaw could have stared much longer, but the smaller spoke, and her voice was indeed a woman’s. The words were familiar, the sounds and rhythms echoing lyrics in hundreds of songs that Danilaw knew intimately. English, and not too much changed from its twentieth-century cadences. She had a light, strong voice, more confident than Danilaw would have expected given her apparent age, and she spoke as one accustomed to wielding authority.

She said, “Greetings, if you can hear me. I am Captain Perceval Conn of the Jacob’s Ladder. My First Mate, Tristen Conn, stands beside me. We have come far in a damaged world, and I say these things not knowing if you will understand me or if you will even have the technology to hear. If you cannot mark my words, I harbor hopes that my tone and unmartial appearance will convince you that our intent is peaceful. I suppose otherwise we shall simply have to pray.

“We navigated for this system believing it uninhabited, but my Angel has uncovered evidence that other vessels from Earth reached it before we did. You have the previous claim, and we acknowledge that. Yet, in the name of charity, we beg assistance.

“Our lives are in your hands.

“We will await your reply on every channel. Thank you for listening.”

She glanced at her First Mate—Tristen, she’d called him—and he shook his head slightly. Nothing to add, Danilaw presumed. The transmission ended. There was a moment of silence, and then it began to loop, flickering live from the beginning.

Danilaw took a breath. “That,” he said, “is going to be interesting.”

Captain Amanda let it play through completely once more, leaning forward in her intentness. Then she passed a palm over the light and paused it. She translated from memory—accurately, as far as Danilaw could tell—while Jesse and Gain frowned and nodded, occasionally trading speaking glances.

“Well,” Gain said. “I guess that’s pretty unambiguous. How on earth are we going to make it work—I mean, taking them in?”

Captain Amanda, who had been staring at her hands since she finished speaking, looked up. “That’s illegal engineering. Those aren’t even human beings anymore.”

“Unsurprising that they would have gone that way.” Danilaw poured himself more water. “The crew and passengers of the Jacob’s Ladder were made up of a neo-Evolutionist cult. They believed that trials and tribulations strengthened the species, forced it to adapt.”

“Are made up,” Captain Amanda said. “Do believe.”

“Possibly do believe.” Jesse set down his infothing. “It’s been a long time for them too. Is it even illegal engineering if it’s legal in their society?”

Gain said, “Jesse is right. We must be careful of cultural relativism.”

Captain Amanda’s tone remained uncompromising. “Criminals or not, we still can’t let them on-planet without scrubbing their genes. Which, from the look of them—”

“We’ll table that for later discussion,” Danilaw said, making a note in the minutes for a reminder. “Other points of discussion?”

“Angel,” Gain said. “She said that? Her angel told her something? A mythological creature spoke to her?”

“Well,