"Or-?"
"That help will arrive."
"You think they've been sending out a distress call?"
"Sure. If they can."
"Do we have any way of intercepting it?"
"We don't know enough about their equipment. If it's hypercomm, which it probably would be, we'd have to be astronomically lucky to pick it up."
Emily suggested they try the radio again.
"Why would it be any more likely to work this time?" asked Tripley.
"They've had time to see we mean no harm. They may feel more willing to take a chance now."
Kane directed the AI to begin sending, counting to four.
"I never considered the possibility," said Tripley, "that anything like this could happen. We always assumed that, in the event of contact with celestials, they'd be just like us, curious, anxious to communicate, amicable."
A new tone sounded in the speaker.
A blip.
And then a pair of blips.
And then three.
"Coming from the turtle," said Kane.
Four.
Analyze.
Tripley banged a big hand down on the console.
They continued counting through to eight.
Joy reigned. They pumped fists, embraced, shook hands. And there were a few tears.
"My God, they're really there," said Tripley.
"Are we getting this?" Emily asked Kane. "For the log?"
The captain looked directly at the imager. "Yes," he said. "They'll be watching this in classrooms a thousand years from now."
Tripley broke out four glasses and a bottle of wine.
And they got another blip.
Then a pair.
"They're counting again," said Tripley.
Three. Five.
Eight.
They looked at one another, waiting.
"Eight," said Tripley. "What comes after eight? They're waiting for an answer."
Emily shrugged. "Thirteen," she said.
"How do you figure?"
"Each number is the total of the two preceding."
"That's good enough for me," said Tripley. He switched the transmitter to manual and tapped out the response.
The signals came again: One, two, three, five, seven.
"Primes," said Emily.
Tripley grinned, enjoying the game immensely. "Eleven," he said.
Emily stood near the window, looking out at the tiny craft. "I think it's time for a visual."
Tripley agreed. "Good. But what do we show them?"
"What are they most curious about?"
"Us," saidYoshi.
"Yes." Tripley was beaming. "Let's have someone say hello. One of the women-"
"Why one of the women?" asked Emily. "I think everybody should get on the circuit. Let them see what we've got."
"Okay. Let's do it this way, though. Emily, you've been looking for these people a long time. You go first."
Emily looked genuinely moved. "Sure," she said. "I can live with that. All right." She was already jotting down notes.
Kane was obviously vastly pleased. "Their language skills might not be a good fit."
"This is not for them. It's for those kids a thousand years from now."
"-Who are also listening to this setup," Yoshi reminded her.
"It's all right. They'll understand."
Emily sat down and signaled she was ready. Tripley adjusted her image and hit Transmit. "You're on," he told her. She looked directly into the imager and smiled her brightest smile. "We know you can't understand any of this," she said, "but we want to say hello to you anyhow. Greetings from Greenway.
Can we assist you in any way?"
The others followed. Tripley spoke with warmth of his hopes that this chance encounter would produce long-term benefits for both races. Yoshi wished a good fortune to "our interstellar friends," and expressed her hope that this marked the beginning of a new era for everyone.
Finally it was Kane's turn. He didn't look as if he expected to be called on in this endeavor, but when Yoshi identified him as their captain and reported he had something to say, he rose to the occasion.
"We're happy to meet you. If we can be of assistance, please let us know."
With that, he switched off.
"Well," said Tripley, "how'd we do?"
"I thought you guys were outstanding," said Kane.
"Any sign of a response?" asked Emily.
"Not yet."
Kane sank back into his seat. Tripley asked whether it was likely the turtle-shell would have compatible equipment to receive a visual image. Kane assured him it would.
They waited. The minutes dragged by. And a white lamp blinked on. "Incoming," said Kane.
It resembled a butterfly.
In her living room, Kim, expecting to see a misty thing, leaned forward surprised. Her pulse began to race.
The butterfly looked at them out of cool, golden eyes. They were not compound, but were rather quite mammalian. It had a thorax and mandibles and multiple sets of limbs, apparently six altogether, but it was difficult to be certain. Spotted red-gold wings moved slowly.
It wore a surprisingly mundane green blouse. The lower half of the body was not visible.
There was no physiognomy capable of supporting, in human terms, an expression. From somewhere, it was impossible to be certain where, a sound was emanating, a singsong rhythm, almost a chant, interrupted by rapid sets of clicks.
The image was being picked up on monitors in both mission control and the pilot's room, and was also being displayed in the windows.
The creature was supported on a framework, presumably a chair-equivalent. A few gauges were visible on a bulkhead, and the pilot's room, if that's what it was, appeared to be normal size. Curious illusion that: anyone receiving the transmission would make some egregiously false assumptions. The butterfly appeared to be of the same general dimensions as a human.
It raised its upper left limb in a gesture that must have been acknowledgment. It maintained that position for one minute, seventeen seconds. Then the screen went blank.
"What happened?" asked Tripley.
Kane shook its head. "Apparently end of transmission," he said. "I guess they're not much for small talk."
"Can we get a picture of the main hatch from outside?" Emily asked Kane. "Our main hatch?"
"Negative. We don't have anything that can acquire the angle. Why?"
"How about the cargo door?"
"We can do that."
"What do you have in mind?" asked Tripley.
"I think we ought to send them an invitation." She explained her idea but Tripley, after he'd heard her out, looked uncertain.
"You think it's wise?"
"What's to lose? If Markis is right and the ship's damaged, it might get us all off on exactly the right note."
"All right," he said. "Let's try it."
Kane pointed one of the port imagers at the cargo hatch, opened the air lock and turned its lights on.
Emily straightened her blouse and checked her hair. When she was ready, he went to a split screen, putting her on one side and the open door on the other.
"Hello again. Would you like to come on board?"
The image of the miniature ship was back in the windows. It floated serenely against the star-clouds.
Emily waited. And tried again.
And a third time.
"I think I'm insulted," she said finally.
"What's the matter with them?" Two hours had passed and Tripley could not begin to conceal his frustration. "You think they saw the open door as a threat?"
"Don't know. We're looking at butterflies, for God's sake. You think they've had any experience with spiders?"
"So what do we do now?" asked Emily.
"The open door should be a universal," Tripley persisted. "All it really implies is that they're welcome.
Why don't we try it again?"
"Let Yoshi wave at them," said Emily. "Maybe she'll have better luck."
Yoshi took her place in front of the imager, smiled sweetly, looked as unthreatening as she could presumably manage, and made friendly overtures.
There was still no response.
"I just thought of something," she said. "They probably don't realize how big we are. As individuals, I mean. They'd expect there are thousands of us here."
"You're right," said Emily.
"Meaning-?"